My belly is really one huge roll. It’s crazy how it snaps back into place like that tho

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

I caught myself on camera breaking the wood in the box spring for my bed

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

I carry this sack of fat, every second of every day. It’s so heavy and so big. It’s hard to walk, breathe, sit, stand. My back and neck are always hurting from carrying all this weight around my waist. It’s only going to get worse the fatter I get. The more lard I pile on this already gigantic belly, the closer I get to being immobile and the closer I get to just eating day, not working, becoming a permanent fixture in the house. Never leave and become a storage unit for jam-packing more and more with lard.

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

Who wants to get behind me??

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

Am I fat enough?

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

Fat Admiration

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

I like the thought of someone really skinny or someone really fit stuffing me every day.

TW: Mean feedee?

They feed you what they wish they could eat. (The skinny one is afraid to be fat and the fit one works too hard to waste it on fatty foods) they go to the store before they come home from work to your fat body wait for them the way they left you. They pick up so many good foods. They love going to the store hungry now because they know they will more likely pick junk food for you to eat. They don’t have to try to resist temptation when choosing your food. They can buy whatever they would eat if they could.

They get home carrying large amount of bags, setting them down to get the second trip of bags. They are so hungry they can’t wait to feed you to fulfill some dark twisted way of binging without binging themselves.

They eat a small health meal, you had been sat down at the table in front of 20+ plates/containers of food. You can’t eat until your feeder says to so you just smell and your huge belly is growling. Your feeder starts to bully you.

“How can you even be hungry? You’re fucking huge, your body doesn’t have enough lard to feed off of? Greedy fucking cow.” They stand up from their seat and walk over to you.

“Did you notice I left the ice cream out to melt?” They almost whisper

“Yes I did.” You are sure you know what’s next.

They pull out the funnel and before you know it they are pouring the half gallon of chocolate ice cream down your throat. After you’ve swallowed the last of it, you can’t help but whimper because you’re already full.

“oh no honey, look at all this food, you’re not even close to done eating, so you better open up and make room, you were so hungry your big fat belly was growling just minutes ago.”

They always start with dessert it just might be part of the temptation, not waiting to wait, they pull a dozen donuts up to your belly that is bulging over the table now.

“Go ahead and eat these, all of them, I want to just watch.” They snicker

You pick up a donut and start eating, you know you have to whether you think you can eat more or not, you will be.

“I can’t believe you eat like this. Every day. Must be nice to just laze around eating and being fed all day. Just like a pig. You’re a fucking disgusting pig and you can’t do anything to stop yourself. Even if you tried you’d always be fat. I’ll always be here to fill you until you’re overflowing.” It sounded like a threat but you knew it was loving. Before you knew what happened the box of donuts was empty.

After being stuffed and teased about it your feeder helps you waddle back to bed. They run your belly and tell you “You’re such a good piggy.” Whispering sweet nothings.

Then they edge you for an hour while your stuck pinned to the bed by your huge belly.

Before both falling asleep to do it all over again tomorrow.

He/Him, 28yo, 318lbs

Bigg Squish

I have a really shitty unfinished feedist smut (haven’t used English to articulate stuff in a long while) if anyone wants to read it I might consider posting it after fixing some things wdyt

you’ve heard of feedees/gainers being teased and stimulated as they stuff themselves silly till their feeders are happy with their performance, now get ready for

feeders who are dripping wet and/or swollen and throbbing from some kind of a toy keeping them on their edge as their feedees have their fill, the remote in their hand, perfectly in control of the situation.

bring me this. bring me that. *hiccup* oof, rub my belly… no, you can’t come yet, i’m still hungry! now go fetch me the rest of the cake from the fridge, then we’ll see. ahh baby, you’re blushing! are you okay, do you want me to go slower on you? turn it down a bit so you can manage yourself? i know i must look spectacular, but come on, you can do better than thaaat!

it goes on for hours,maybe even a whole day,and their feeder thinks they might as well go insane from anticipation, they’ve been so good for so long it’s physically exhausting to hold back, but they’re still waiting by their partner’s side/feet, trying not to moan too loudly or shiver at the sight of their full mouth and plump gut pushing hard on that tight waistband of their sweats. all they can focus on is how much they want to press their face into that delicious gut and touch themselves till they can finally- finally-

ah-hhhh…

another strong wave of vibrations shakes their body uncontrollably. their partner smiles knowingly, finally wiping their palms from tasty sugar to softly pet their obedient feeder’s slightly damp hair, urging them to look up at their beautiful face

okay, you’ve had enough. come here, you deserve a reward

I just want to wine and dine a cutie till their cheeks are flushed pink, their eyes are half-closed from being pleasantly sated and their shirt has ridden up on their rounded, stuffed tummy ❤️

I like the way you’re towering over me. In height, in weight, strength… I like that you’d dominate me with ease if that was what you wanted to do and, let’s be honest, I wouldnt say no. I’d run my mouth, always full of dirty witty words, I’d suck marks on you skin, I’d whine and try to act like I’m not losing myself below you, your body holding me down, against, hell, even up if that’s what would please you. Your large hands squeezing me so tight I’d have bruises on my ribs, hips, thighs and God knows where the next day, your teeth more and less gently scratching my skin, a nibble here, a lick there…

“Good boy.”

I’d be all yours.

But…

The way you’d look on my dick, so desperate to feel me fill you you’re not even paying attention to how much of your bodyweight is resting on my much smaller hips when you’re not hoisting yourself up. Your hair wild and sweaty, sticking to your forehead, mouth agape, hot puffs of air warming my naked chest. Wide planes of flushed skin and the way your muscles twitch below the softness I adore so much, the way you move, a bit lazily, enjoying every second of the act and the sweet nothings and praises I can’t help but offer you, over and over. You truly are mesmerising.

You whine the moment my hand leaves your side, even though the other is still resting on the place where your thigh and groin meet, inches from your leaking length (I know I’m teasing, baby, but you love it so much).

“Shh,” I tell you, as my thumb presses to the underside of your manhood, and your grip on my shoulders strengthens for a moment. You can’t come just yet. “Time for a treat.”

Your movements slow down, brown eyes hungrily following my fingers as I pick a piece of brownie from the nearly empty plate that’s laying on the mattress, and lift it to your handsome face.

“Open you mouth for me.”

You do, of course you do.

You’re both chewing steadily and lifting your hips, thighs trembling from effort.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me. Getting a bit chubby here and there, eh? You look so pretty like this, you know? Blushing and hot and heavy. All mine.”

You moan around a mouthful of cake, cheeks rosy from warmth and embarrassment and lips coated with chocolate.

It’s not that I’m skilled with my left hand, but God, I need you to feel what you’re doing to me, what your body’s doing to me…

The back of my hand is touching your rounded stomach as I stroke you.

“More,” you plead after you swallow, taking me so deep I nearly see stars. I know you’re doing this for me, and that’s what’s so hot and so delightfully sinful about all of this - control.

I pull your head down for a kiss before I feed you another slice, our lips crushing together, your beard scratching my face ever so slightly. I suck on your sugary tongue, licking further into your mouth and, fuck, you’re letting me do all of this with a hazy smile and cock resting in my hand.

It’s intoxicating.

Bite after a bite after a bite more dough disappears into your stomach, and lick after a lick my palm gets cleared from crumbs and sticky with saliva. You look ravaged, torn at the edges, feverish from arousal and waiting, waiting for climax to come.

“Fuck,” you hiccup, body jerking, palm coming to cradle your heavy stomach. Poor baby. “F-faster.”

I oblige, peaking up the pace of my movements.

And when you come, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You always are.

Writing feedist smut hits different when you do it in your mother tongue, after all those years of consuming English content

Daydreaming about a feedee laying between my legs with their soft heavy belly pressing/rubbing against my crotch and them knowing fully well what it does to me

Compression shirts on soft tummies are a crime against humanity