cherry valley forever
The Bowery Presents
$LAYYYTER
JVL
Jules of Nature
bliss lane
noise dept.
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
Cosimo Galluzzi
Origami Around
#extradirty
pixel skylines
Monterey Bay Aquarium
h
Love Begins
Xuebing Du
gracie abrams
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Bulgaria
seen from T1
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Russia
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Bulgaria
seen from T1
@the-2nd-one
Ask me anything you want <3
✉️
DNI:
Death Feedism (if you're into it, come one come all, but don't interact with me about the subject)
Detailed scat/piss, ABDL, heavy degradation
Under the pretense that I am looking to acquire a feedee, partner, or similar. Flirting is fun but I'm mostly just here to write stuff and talk noncommittally to other feedists. Other FFAs mainly, but there are exceptions.
Feedism jars
Some ask prompts
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How’ve you been big boy! I’ve missed seeing your fat cute self on my phone. Hope the holidays have been good for your waistline :3
I’ve been good! I haven’t gained as much as I’d have liked but ik it gets harder the bigger you are, and by normie standards I’m already somewhat massive 👀
Obese tgirl using the doorframe to rest against after trying on her new lingerie. Crotchless panties, matching bra, her beautiful soft figure cinched by lace and silk, [girl-cock/clit] peeking out from between shaky thighs and tasty, overhanging belly. Her makeup is gorgeous, her hair is styled, but now she's getting sweaty. Sex hasn't even started. You get up from your spot on the bed to help her to it because her princess legs aren't used to standing for this long anymore.
Make sure to show her how loved she is by riding her until she's crying out she can barely breathe from the pleasure and exertion.
I feel like I would want an enabler rather than a feeder.
I eat too much, too often on my own anyway, always grazing looking for snacks and getting seconds and thirds during mealtime.
But what if I had someone who kept all my favorite snacks stocked, cooked my favorite meals (too much of course, and guilt tripping me that they have to throw it out if I don't eat it) and brings me food and high calorie drinks whenever I am at the computer or just in front of the TV.
I need someone who just makes sure I spent all my free time unconsciously eating, not looking for food or wasting time by making it myself.
I am a grazing cow and to think about all the minutes I waste by not eating makes me sad.
I have constant food noise in my head and I need someone to make sure that it's quiet by providing so much food to me at all times that my brain will never have to worry about it again.
What do you think of an oblivious fatty who doesn't realise how big he is because he works in bariatric care, and so long as he doesn't need help rolling over in bed he cant possibly be too fat?
this has been in my asks for a while as i tried to think it over, but i dunno, couldn't look past the idea of him being that oblivious, especially seeing as bariatric carers require their mobility to actually do their jobs. so i tweaked it.
--
he has two patients, a man and a woman, who he cares for on rotation.
"obesity is a terrible, life destroying disease." it's like a mantra that comes with the job. he sees it first hand every day. the woman is on a medically advised diet, intending on getting her life together once and for all, so he helps prepare her meal plans and assists in her daily walks around her living room. she struggles, has setbacks, but she's progressing.
the man on the other hand has every one of his whims catered towards, wholeheartedly careless towards the concept of losing weight. he's sedentary and gluttonous. the two provide a juxtaposition for him, and he can't give input on either, doesn't unnecessarily touch or comment, he's only there to do his job.
his whole life revolves around caring for another.
once home, his partner greets him at the door, and his hand immediately goes to their stomach, which encumbering their waistband, soft but swollen a bit at the top.
he goes to change out of his uniform and to shower, and when he comes down he finds them on the couch, surrounded by a few wrappers from chips and candybars, watching TV.
"hey, gorgeous," he says, "hungry?"
"i was just gunna make dinner," they say, "you've been working a lot lately. i missed you."
"and you've been tired, it's why you've been taking so much time off work. for your health." he eyes the stressed elastic of their pyjama bottoms and softening jaw and arms. he picks up the wrappers and smiles, kissing them on the cheek. "don't worry about a thing, i'll cook. and i'll get you some more snacks to tidy you over."
"mm, are you sure?"
"of course." as they kiss, his hand gravitates towards their padded hip. "i like taking care of you."
he makes dinner. he serves them a massive, carb and cheese heavy portion that leaves them struggling.
"you need to leave your lack of portion control at your job," they groan. "how many more times..."
he hums sympathetically. "sorry, baby. but you're nearly done, can't you finish it off for me?"
he feeds them the last of it with a hand between their legs. they're flushed and gasping by the end of it.
later, he helps them to bed, washes their sweat off with a cloth because they're interning a food coma, kisses them again.
"you're treating me like one of your patients," they groan.
"no, my patients need help rolling over. see? you can roll over just fine by yourself. i'm treating you like a partner."
"mm, thank you. love you." they fall asleep as he dabs a towel over them.
he loves taking care of them. he's going to make sure he can do this for as long as he can.
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Woman who has lost her appetite to the point of losing weight / feeling sick and goes to the doctor. It’s an experimental technique, he says, but it’s been proven to work in individuals with similar symptoms.
She’s asked to dress in a white T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She’s then asked for her favorite fast food meal. It’s put in front of her and then she’s blindfolded.
She’s put in stirrups, then the crotch of her shorts are pulled aside and something cool is put right on her clit. Tell us when you’re about to cum.
She’s warned about feeling an injection in her side before it happens. The vibrator is turned on. There’s tingling in her midsection. Pleasure courses through her, but she tells the doctor when she’s about to cum, and the vibrator is turned off.
Her belly still tingles a bit, and she is shocked to find it feels swollen under her hand. About 10lbs of fat, right there.
From the injection, the doctor assures. This is normal, I wouldn’t worry. Unless… it feels unpleasant?
No, it doesn’t feel unpleasant.
She’s warned again about a needle in one of her thighs. She’s then asked how she reacts to immense stress. She says anxiously, sometimes with tears in her eyes. Her brain doesn’t settle until it’s resolved.
The doctor instructs her to identify certain smells. The next needle is in her other thigh, warned about beforehand just like the last.
Upon the first smell, her stomach gurgles with hunger. It’s immediate.
The burger from her fast food order is brought to her mouth. She takes a bite, but it’s not too big.
The next scent to identify is after a shot to her ass. The scent makes her salivate, nearly like a waterfall. Another bite of burger.
The next scent sends a pang of hunger through her violent enough to make her flinch. Another burger bite. The fourth is given with the question, which of the prior scents is this? From the way her mouth is dripping, it’s the second. The last bite of burger, then the vibrator is back on.
Keep eating. She’s fed the fries and milkshake, and by the time she warns the doctor she’s about to cum it’s too late. She does. The fries are gone but there’s a small portion of shake left. The vibe continues after another pre-warned injection to her ass, and the shake is gone by the time she’s coming down and trembling from her second orgasm.
Vibrator off, the mask comes off too. Her ankles are unstirrupped.
Her belly is bloated but layered with softness, resting a little more outwards against her bigger thighs. Her hips are a little wider too, and her ass. Her cups are straining against her tee. It looks like it’s meant to be a crop top like this. Her shorts are tighter too.
20 or maybe 25lbs total, she wants to say?
“There we are. You finished the whole meal. Your appetite stimulation test was a success. How was it?”
She casts a look to the empty fast food containers and her belly groans. She asks if there’s another one she could have as she struggles to sit up, fatigued. That flinching pain in her tummy comes back.
Well, I DID buy one for myself but… here we are. I’m glad you have your appetite back.
She scarfs the meal down like it’s her last, clit throbbing as her belly fills up a little more. She’s moaning as she finishes the food off, like it’s sexually pleasured her.
And she’s still hungry. She’s made to put her (snug) jeans back on and her soaked shorts in her handbag before being shown out, but even as she pays all that’s on her mind is food.
Shes salivating, fantasizing, and honestly she just can’t wait to get her hands on her next big meal.
Imagine a fat dear sitting there so sweetly, reading their book. It looks sort of comical, how small the book is in comparison to them. I've brought a massive plate of messy treats for them, causing them to cast a doubtful look between their book and the treats.
"Oh, no, no, no, baby. Don't worry, let me feed you so you don't get your fingers all messy. There we go, problem solved, pudding. What a good [girl/boy/baby]."
In the bath, the same problem occurs when they debate declining food or getting their bath water all dirty because of how messy they can be. They just can't help it!
"No, sweetheart. Just enjoy your soak. Open wide, just for me, love, okay?"
In bed. Crumbs in bed would be terrible.
"That's alright, I'm here. There we go."
Driving.
"Here we go..."
In the home office.
"Just keep working, my love. I'll help you, see?"
In the kitchen, when they've offered to make dinner, straining on sorry legs, I'm feeding them a platter of treats I prepared prior for them being "so sweet, taking care of me, and being the cutest chef in the world while at it!"
Not a moment will go by where they have to make the decision to eat or do. I'm here to help, of course.
sssoooooo considerrrrrrrr
het couple that's trying for a baby but they have infertility issues, but an experimental project that could get the man pregnant is offered.
he's hesitant but making his wife happy is more important so he says yes
as it turns out his genes detect a baby and go woooaaahhh baby time and he gets like SUPER chunky. like so soft and curvy even more than his wife would have
initially he's like you know embarassed but it's kind of hard to when his wife is like that one reddit post about the guy obsessed with his pregnant wife towards him-- she's so tender and doting and loving
and also really really fucking horny about him like this. complimenting him and praising him for eating huge meals 'for the baby'. touching him always. satisfying his libido now. she loves holding him. like, their roles were switched and it's like they couldn't be happier. she dumped her friends who were acting like /him/ getting fat after the pregnancy was a tragedy, as if she / didn't do that on purpose/.
and like. the guy kind of contemplates having more. hormones are making him broody and of course his loving wife says yes so he's happy! a never empty husband is a happy one!
I love this, hear me out.
Firstly, while I’m not taking any inspiration (at least not consciously) from this, I have to show you the feedism fic Baby Weight by fluffy_waffle, I think you’d like it lmao
Onto my stuff.
Mood swings are awful. One minute he’s watching TV next thing he knows there’s a commercial with a baby laughing and he’s bawling because babies shouldn’t be put in front of a camera. They don’t want to be filmed.
His wife consoles him with sugary treats because they’ve found that’s the only way now. Melted chocolate brownie and salted caramel ice cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles and heavy cream. That’s his pick-me-up treat. Chugged straight from the carton with a hand on his belly, soothing the baby.
But really he’s not eating that much. There’s so many foods he can’t eat for the baby’s sake, whether that’s new aversions or foods he definitely can’t eat as a pregnant person.
The baby is most active at night. The kicks are so frequent and he gets so hungry he has to sneak downstairs to raid the fridge.
His wife finds him, asks why he didn’t wake her up. He cries because he thinks she’s mad, so alongside all these chips and cake and soda bottles, he gets his kisses, belly rubs, and his special soother of salted caramel brownie ice cream, cream, syrup and sprinkles. The boost in serotonin gives him a hardon, so she jerks him off before bed.
He snores like hell. But that’s to be expected with such a massive, milk filled chest and a baby drifting towards your lungs.
When he’s at work, he’s basically spilling out of his desk chair, or close to it. Baby brain is the worst symptom, because it usually pairs with his cravings at work.
Empty eyed, drooling a little, he daydreams about burgers. Pizza. His wife sucking him off. He’s inadvertently tweaking his nipples as he thinks, cock throbbing, and ends up soaking through his shirt. At his weight, with his sugar-heavy diet, he lactates like crazy.
He shaves his chest (or rather his wife does) every week after he’s bathed and pampered, and then has to sneak to the bathrooms or even his car, wedged behind the wheel, to pump.
He’s providing so well for his baby. Calorie, sugar-dense milk that will have his babies all cute and chubby. And so much of it, now frozen and loads still fresh from the source.
When the baby is out, he loves it to pieces. His sedentary lifestyle is perfect at keeping him soft and ready for his baby’s needs. But… two weeks. That’s all it takes.
He feels empty. No matter how much he eats, no matter how much he cuddles his baby, or his wife, he feels aggravatingly empty.
His body has been sculpted into a tribute of fertility. Massive ass, wife hips, fat tits, fat belly. And yet he’s not pregnant.
It’s driving him up the wall. His wife senses it.
“We need another one.” He sounds depraved, desperate. He sounds like he’s been punched in the gut. He’s already getting on his back, spreading his legs and pawing at his own massive belly to pass the hint along. “I need another one. I’m serious, fuck. Please. Give me twins or something – I need that fullness again.”
So of course they have another one.
And another.
And another.
He takes the chance to work from home. Being pregnant isn’t good for his back and it’s hard to drive when your bump sticks to the wheel and swollen ankles make the pedal-work hard.
He got stuck once. His wife had to help him. He cried from the embarrassment, from the hormones, so an extra big soother snack was in his hands immediately after he sat down on his big dent on the couch.
She promised him he wouldn’t have to drive again. He’ll work from home. She’ll work towards a promotion and he’ll quit. A stay at home parent… doesn’t that sound good? His body just isn’t meant to work anymore. He’s so full and tired and doing such an incredible job raising their kids, feeding their babies. But he’s so tired. They’ll hire a nanny to help him, too. Or maybe his mom or a nice neighbor…
Yeah. That sounds good.
Imagine a therapy session where the therapist is morbidly obese. It's a shock at first but she's kind and it's easy to get over. There's chocolates on the coffee table between you two and she says to help yourself.
You start on your overachieving tendencies. How you put yourself aside and feel terrible in the aftermath.
The chocolates are good, addicting, as you talk you absently reach for more and more. Unbeknownst to you, with every bite, weight is taken off of her and piled onto you.
You become messier– you belch during a conversation about a dream you had. You fart as you knead your stomach, reaching for another. Eventually youre holding the bowl so you don't have to stretch. The couch is creaking under you.
You moan as the way your stomach is growling for food. Your shirt--once a nice button up for the meeting--is now a stained t-shirt that your massive belly is hanging out of, deep navel showing off. What were once nice slacks are now degrained, overtaxed sweatpants. What were once nice dress shoes are now a pair of slip ons because you haven't achieved doing your own laces in years.
The bowl is empty. You panic.
"And, do you always use food to cope?" your thin bitch therapist asks, snidely.
She's had it out for you since the moment you came in. You ate just to be able to ignore her disgusted gazes at you.
You fish a hand between your thighs and scratch what you can. A squeaky fart escapes. You lick melted chocolate off of your lips. "Yeah, 'guess. Feels good."
There's a bucket of chicken that you brought in with you in your left arm. Nearly empty, and cold. You devour the last two pieces. There's pit stains under your arms. Crumbs on your shirt.
"Do you only ever do things that make you feel good?"
A small belch. "Fuck, yeah."
"You're a pig," she spits.
It turns you on more. Your cheeks flush. A hand lands in the exposed flesh of your stomach that she's scrutinizing.
"That's the end of our session. I'll see you next week."
You try to get up. You can't. The couch is too low. You huff. You're so red in the face.
"You need help?"
"Yes," you wheeze.
It takes your therapist and the secretary from the lobby to get you on two feet. They frown at needing to touch your greasy, sticky hands.
"This is a wake up call," she says, wiping her hands with a wet wipe. "I'd recommend finding a new diet and exercise plan."
You nod, blushing.
You leave and drive straight for the nearest fast food chain.
groping his bulge while he’s trying to complete important tasks and watching him slowly lose his focus <3
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F A T. That's it. That's the tweet.
A guy who’s spent the whole day stuffing himself and getting ridiculously hard from his own digestion. The stomach noises, the burping, the farting. Maybe he needs to get water for an antacid from the kitchen and the latter comes onto him suddenly. Searing, sudden, sonorous. The first thing he does? He moans.
The fattest guy in the office, or anywhere really, is used to being called “big guy” and being cast a double glance when someone first sees him. He takes it in stride—says he loves to eat—but knows he’s not anyone’s type.
So he never goes for the plunge. He never picks up any signs – not that he thinks there’s ever been any.
He’s used to girls befriending him and he expects nothing more. He has a lot of female friends.
A new worker in the office befriends him, he thinks little of it. She’s a few years younger than him, a little less experienced in this field, so she’s always turning to him for help.
Little does he know she’s obsessed with him. She sees him across the room, shimmying between desks or struggling to grab something from the floor and she’s drooling around her pen.
i wanna be pitied and babied for being so fat i’m unable to do things like buckle my seatbelt or tie my shoe. i want someone to say “poor girl” and run to help me even though i did it to myself. i love enablers
Absolutely love seeing huge guys with widened hips and asses getting pegged by their skinnier partners. Always a sucker for size contrast, and seeing a fat guy’s rolls and cellulite ripple with each thrust is so damn HOT…
Especially love when their fatpad gets so huge and buried with lard that it’s like a second hole, having gotten too big to top
strap ons and fat guys are like bears and salmon. can't be divorced. when a man gets too fat to use his dick, he uses a strap and plays pretend. when he gets too fat that reality outweighs playing pretend, he gets pegged and learns to understand that once you're at a size that's barely functional outside of eating and existing, gender doesn't matter.
everyone has fat tits, ass, and thighs at that size. it's hard to prove anything when your dick becomes clit-sized when put to scale.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
basking in the sun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ
I'm really falling back to my "I just want to feel safe" side of this kink. I want to sit next to someone big on a sofa, having no choice but to be pressed against their soft warmth. I want a hug from someone with soft arms that will just envelop me whole. I want to sit on their lap and we're both in the cocoon of a huge comforter and I'm just rubbing their belly softly. I want the both of us to have a nice bowl of warm soup.
