Latest Posts by futuregodofdadbodnj - Page 2

if you whimper and pant when your belly is stuffed, you are hot as hell. i don’t make the rules

If you have plush lady lips, please put them on my belly, it really hurts, I totally lost control and now I can’t stop burping

😭😭😭

Filled with soder, I’ve earned belly kisses fr

🙏🙏🙏

My belly is in so much pain rn, I just ate more than I have in awhile, feel like I’m gonna die without a possessive feeder gf to mark my tummy with her lipstick stains

😭😭😭

I’m gonna fucking die if there isn’t a lady kissing my full belly by sundown

👻👻👻

Eating till my jeans are tight makes me feel like an ogle-able man hoe

Day 5 of stuffing my belly so much it hurts till I get belly rubs, my head is spinning and I can’t stop burping

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Got sad there’s no pretty lady touching my belly, then I stress ate, today is day 4 of this in a row, now my belly hurts… a lot 🥲

It’s just one beer after the other ughhh, it’s a crime that I’m this cold and this full, where is the funnel? And the cute lady using it to start pouring even more into my packed gut? Post feeding gut fondling feels so damn good 😭😭😭

It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk, and my belly’s filled 🎶 

I can’t help it 🥲

overstimulated boys that whine "i love you, i love you, i love you" over and over again, when they're on the verge of cumming, are the most precious little playthings !! <3

I just love filling my belly, I’ve been doing it twice a day lately 😋

Stuffed af again I need belly rubs 😭

Being stuffed is fun and all, but I’d be able to appreciate it more with hands on my gut 😵‍💫

Thinking about buying croptops just to out grow them, any lovely ladies have suggestions or links for clothes they wanna see me blow up out of?

I like how I've been in this kink/fetish for years now and yet I still feel out of place and I don't fit in like I should

I think it’s the long winded descriptions like this that really develop my fantasies 🤪

your fat, lazy pig

cw: nsfw, eructophilia, eproctophilia, immobility, slob, male feedee, piss (last few sentences)

this is pure self indulgent fa trash and excessive descriptions of sum Big Tumby™ please enjoy

• • •

You truly love everything about your fat, lazy pig. You’ve grown his belly so big and round that it bursts out of all of his clothing, destroying buttons, bulging through torn seams and jiggling with even the slightest movement. His pant button pops, and the strain of his burgeoning gut against the zipper forces it down without him even having to touch it, allowing his stomach to spill forward onto his lap.

He always has food nearby, and has done away with manners inside the house. You absolutely love hearing the results of his gluttony, love hearing him shamelessly belch and fart to make room to be able to continue eating, love hearing his stuffed stomach groan in distress at the sheer quantity he manages to cram inside it. When he sits down his ample gut takes up his entire lap, sinking between his doughy thighs to rest heavily on the seat underneath. The size of his stomach forces him back in his seat, rounding out into a huge, distended dome, the top of it so taut full of food all the time that it pushes his swollen breasts sideways. He’s too obese to sit and eat at tables anymore, so instead he rests bowls and platters on the jutting shelf of his gut. He doesn’t mind. He says it’s better that he doesn’t have to reach so far, his arms don’t get tired as quickly.

On the lessening occasions that he walks, his corpulent belly sways and bounces with every waddling step he takes, slapping rhythmically against his blubbery thighs. You can’t resist the temptation the sight rouses, groping and jiggling it in your arms, because that’s how much of it there is; armfuls of fat, undulating lard that ripples endlessly when you smack it, rolls atop rolls of soft, hefty body. Your humungous pig pants and complains until you let him sit down again, groaning tiredly and having to support himself with a hand as he lowers himself. The force of his weight impacting on the seat below him causes his whole body to wobble alarmingly like a heap of quivering jelly.

As of recently, he stopped being able to see over his gut after you’ve sat him down and stuffed him to his limit. It’s a milestone you’re both very pleased about him reaching. To celebrate, you invite likeminded people over to admire and assist, because it’s simply better when there are multiple people pushing endless amounts of food into his mouth from every angle, lovingly rubbing thick belches out of his gut, slapping his expanded belly and watching it tremble and surge outwards as his clothes give out. It’s what he deserves, all the calories and praise he could wish for.

Watching him struggle to get up from sitting down is probably one of your favourite pastimes, the way he swings his flabby arms to gain momentum, sending his bingo wings swinging madly is a sight to behold. Well, maybe it’s your favourite pastime after seeing him try to get up in the morning. It’s remarkable, how long it takes him to roll his fat ass out of bed, his gelatinous stomach pooling out in front of him when he’s lying on his side, sloshing and rippling like a big water balloon. Of course, he can’t help but rip long, sloppy farts as he tries to stand, just as he does when doing anything even slightly strenuous. At first, he was embarrassed by his uncontrollable flatulence. Now, he pats his stomach with a pleased smile and proudly announces that he feels hungry again.

For a while now, he’s found it hard to lie on his back, his immense weight suffocating him. But sometimes, it’s all he can do after a particularly hedonistic day of gorging himself far past the point of excess. When he does, he’s nothing more than a mountain of fat. Helplessly splayed out and unable to move, completely overfed and incoherent. His rotund gut rises up high, sloping roundly even with gravity working against it. It’s on days like these when he shamelessly eats too much that he finds himself profusely aroused by his own lack of control. But there’s no way he could ever hope to reach around his absurd belly to his dick should he want to relieve himself. Even if he could, his body is encased in so much blubber that even lying flat his gut still spills between his thighs and over his sizeable hips, completely obstructing his crotch.

So, you’ll let him struggle and whine for help, coo teasingly as his pudgy cheeks turn red and he grunts with effort, trying to no avail to rock his mountainous stomach from side to side just to be able to reach himself. When he gives up, sweating and out of breath, you finally give him a hand. His lower belly is plump and heavy, and pushing it out the way is no easy feat. When you manage, his poor, useless cock underneath is already so hard it’s leaking precum, pink and throbbing from being rubbed all day between his thick thigh rolls. Even fully erect, only the the tip of his weeping cock is peaking out cutely from his pillowy fat pad. You tease him, fucking your fingers into his sensitive fat pad alongside his cock, admiring how soft and pliant he is. Taunting him for his obscene overindulgence, praising him for being such a fat, insatiable glutton. He loves all of it, you know he does. Most of all, he loves when you grab a handful of his full belly and shake it, sending his lard rolling decadently and disturbing the trapped gas inside, forcing deep, gurgling burps out of him. You can’t see his face over the crest of his stomach, but you can tell he’s close by the way he gasps exhaustedly, gut quaking and heaving with every strained breath and moan he puffs out. He doesn’t last long with your enticement, and you stare in awe at the way every inch of his obese body wobbles when he comes with a gasp, a cascade of jiggling adipose that doesn’t stop even after he’s spent and lax. Overcome by exhaustion and fullness, he lets you clean him up as he catches his breath. He’s normally asleep by the time you finish, tired from doing nothing but eating all day.

Obviously, there are times when you need to leave the house. He doesn’t love it because he’s started having a hard time getting around without help. However, you leave him with plenty of food to keep him satiated, and that silences any complaints he has. On those days, it’s easy for him to get so lost in the food on his own that he eats himself into a complete stupor in bed, on the couch or on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge. Take today, for example, you watch him on the house cameras you’d both agreed to install in the case that you were out and he got into any trouble due to his increasingly limited mobility. You can see that he’s planted himself on the reinforced bench made just for him in the kitchen, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be moving. You’re enraptured at the sight of him on your phone, unable to look away as you watch him eat so much that he physically can’t move, totally beached and burping piggishly, groaning in pleasure as he caresses his straining stomach and appreciates his immense size. While he gorges, he attempts to fuck his own underbelly and fat pad, weakly pressing down on his overfilled gut and twitching his hips until he climaxes, the strain of his orgasm forcing gas noisily out from both ends. He tries to get up from wherever he’s slumped, struggling helplessly to lift his bloated body and get himself to the bathroom to relieve himself after drinking litres and litres of fizzy drinks throughout the day. But however hard he tries he’s just too fat, too heavy to support his own weight, pinned down by his ballooned belly. In the end, he gives up and starts to squirm, wincing and trying to hold it in for as long as he can. But in the haze of a food coma and post orgasm drowsiness, he lets go and pisses himself where he’s sitting, hot liquid pouring down his legs and splattering on the floor. With a desperate moan he hefts his overflowing gut upwards, attempting to angle his fat-encased dick just to piss over himself. A literal pig, stuffed stupid and covered in his own mess, completely glutted out and too fat to move an inch.

I love the idea of keeping you very well fed: never letting you miss a meal, always making sure it’s big and complete; rich in calories and with every food group represented, and always with a sweet to follow. Keeping ample snacks around for between meals, too. Taking you to bed each night just this side of stuffed; encouraging the habit of ending your days comfortably full, and rewarding you for all the plates you’ve cleaned. And, of course, admiring the effects of all my work in the kitchen as your figure softens day by day. Watching you become heavier; bigger and bigger, and your appetite growing to match.

Today I’m into the idea of corrupting a dominant feeder guy teehee 🤭

I mean just think about it… you love watching people stuff themselves. It gets you off, and you just want to be around it all the time. You can’t stop thinking about it. You’d never let yourself submit like that. You’re a big strong boy with impressive muscles. At the same time, you’re shy, and you don’t tell anyone about your fetish. Little do you know, I have the same fetish. So imagine one night, we go on a date. I start teasing you by talking about food and eating, which gets you excited. You think maybe I’m a stuffer. I order more food than I should, and this gets you even more excited. I flirtatiously ask for your help finishing all the food I ordered. You oblige, thinking even if you help me eat, there’s still so much food that by the end of the meal I’ll be stuffed. You feel yourself getting hard at the table. You can’t stop staring at my pretty lips and cute nails as I eat. I begin to daintily feed you. It doesn’t really register at first… you’re so caught up in the excitement that you’re on a date, and that I ordered too much, and how pretty I am, that you don’t realize that YOU are the one eating most of it. You feel yourself getting more and more full but you ignore it to focus on the throbbing between your legs. Suddenly, I smile sweetly at you and ask what you want for dessert. You feel bloated now, tight and a bit uncomfortable. But this is just a game, you think. It will all this be worth it in the end to see my cute little tummy. You shake your head, saying no to dessert, but insist I get whatever I want. So I do! I order triple the amount of dessert that I’d ever eat, gushing about how yummy it’s all going to be. “FINALLY” you think. You’ve got me right where you want me, right? I take a tiny bite of delicious cake and insist you try some. One bite can’t hurt, plus it looks so decadent. Just like me! One bite turns into two, then I take the fork back. And so it begins— one bite for me, three for you. One bite for me, four for you. And so on and so forth. By the end, you’ve finished three whole pieces of cake while I was content to try just a tiny bit of each. I feel comfortably sated, while you feel nearly sick with how full you are. How did this happen? You can’t figure it out… it all seemed to be going your way… until it wasn’t! You want to be angry but you’re too full, too breathless. Your shirt is riding up a bit, your jeans are painfully digging into your hips and the bottom of your belly… you look down and your heart flutters. You’re huge! You feel your face heat up with embarrassment. How did you let this happen? YOURE a feeder! How did you let yourself gorge like this? One look back at my mischievous expression is all the confirmation you need. This was my plan all along. You can’t deny you’re frustrated. But as you sit there, stuffed beyond capacity, all you can think is how good if would feel for me to unbutton your pants and reach into those boxers… having a full belly feels painful but… very pleasant… and you’re harder than you ever have been. Your body likes being this way! You feel vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before. Maybe… all this time… you told yourself you wanted to see others stuff themselves, when in reality you wanted to get stuffed yourself. You were so adamant that you were in control, you tried so hard not to give in. Maybe you were so adamant because deep down, you were afraid you’d love being submissive and full, at my mercy. But there’s no need to be afraid, baby! I’m gonna take such good care of you… you don’t have to think so hard anymore, you don’t have to try and convince yourselves of things that aren’t true. All you should worry about is your limit, and whether you’ll be too horny to stop me from pushing it.

The type of relationship im pining for, I live to be teased, to be fed, to be the object of a woman’s affection is my #1 dream

Oops, did I buy too much food for you? You polished off three adult meals so easily last time that I figured a fourth would be a good challenge for you. I really don’t want this food to go to waste, so how about I give you some nice belly rubs to make room for more? I know just the trick to ease your discomfort, and in moments you let out a big belch with a sigh of relief. Isn’t that better? You did such a good job with the first three meals, a fourth would absolutely delight me! As a reward, there’s a creamy milkshake waiting for you in the fridge. I normally try not to push you to the extreme, but today I can’t help but want to see you blow up faster than before. I crave new stretch marks forming so I can take credit to your rapidly expanding waistline. Be a good pet for me and finish everything, okay? I’ll even bring out the funnel for you to take your shake since I know it excites you so much. It takes time to create an artistic masterpiece, you know? I want to transform you in ways that leaves people gasping at the sight of you. “How can this blob of lard be considered a person?” Well, the answer is plain and simple. You were meant to grow to be unbelievable proportions, especially under my care and command. It was so easy to let you eat whatever you wanted, only for me to your weak will for advantage and turn you into this eating machine like you are now. As I share all this with you, you have cleaned off your fourth plate and asked if there is anything else to eat. This shocks even me as I thought you were nearing your limits. When I mentioned there’s the smoothie left, you groaned and said you need more food to fill your endless pit. How adorable! You’re begging me for more at this point, so I whip up the emergency XL frozen pizza I keep on hand. Too eager to wait half hour, you haul fat ass up to waddle over to the fridge and pull out some whipped frosting I was planning to use for another treat. Without a hesitation, you begin to scoop the icing with your bare hands, ensuring to lick your fingers each time to greedily shovel more calories into your taut belly. My, my. What has gotten into you tonight?! “Ugh, I don’t know. When you mentioned what people would think of me… a wave of hunger hit me like I haven’t eaten all day. I think you did this to me.” Goodness, all I did was buy you food when you wanted it. I may have funded this fantasy of yours, but you never told me to stop. You’ve grown so big and heavy by indulging on everything I have fed you. It’s not my fault you chose to laze and graze about. You could have exercised more or told me “no” more often. But you chose not to do anything. You chose to eat more instead. And now you’ve got this pizza to eat for me. You’re half way done and began to slow down considerably, but we both know I will not let you walk away without eating what you’ve committed to. I decide to hand feed you the last three so you can rub your swollen gut. It’s both the biggest you’ve ever been and also the smallest I want to see you. With some final coercing, every last bite of the pizza has found a spot to reside in your massive belly. At this point you’re huffing and puffing from how stuffed you are. You begin to whimper as you see me saunter off to the fridge to get your shake. “Uhf, I need a break. *huff* Maybe in the morning I can… *buurp* finish the shake. I… *puff* am so full. *burp* Please…” Aw. How cute. You’re begging me to stop, but the only break I give you is ten minutes so you stop sweating from how full you are. A cold, refreshing beverage is just the thing you need. Trust me. And then I’ll take you to bed and massage that orb until you fall asleep. This is where the funnel helps me here. You’re trapped by your own gluttony, and the weight of tonight’s damage has you beached on the couch. Helpless by your own greed, there’s nothing you can do but be a good pet and tilt your head back for me. With the funnel attached, you moan at how good the liquid feels as it fills every last bit of space within your belly. You nearly forgot how full you were and begin sucking down the shake until there is nothing left. I let you sit for a few moments as I take in the sight before me. Your belly forces your thighs apart and spills onto the couch. It’s so full and distended that there is hardly any jiggle left to your belly. I take my hand and lightly trace your belly, feeling how warm and agitated those stretch marks must feel as a result of tonight’s stuffing. I wonder how many stretch marks you’ll wake up with tomorrow morning? Well, it seems you’ve fallen asleep right on the couch. Best to let you stay there and digest everything you’ve eaten, I suppose.  

Where all the ladies who wanna help me finish this wg shake by tipping the cup farther back when I’m drinking? 🙏🙏🙏

Where’s the pretty doctor who will prescribe cheeseburgers by hand?

Stuffed again 🤤

Me n who fr fr

I’m so proud of you darling, you’ve been eating so well 🥵

Onlyfans & Fansly 🫶

Hi, my belly full🥲

Lost my dms again so that’s cool wtf is wrong w this app 😃

Reblog if it's okay to invade your ask box.

Always

Jingle bells, Taco Bells, I’ve gained a single pound 🥲

Taco Bell breakfast goes BRRRR