feederxutjja

This should be you. You should be struggling to even find yo..

This should be you. You should be struggling to even find your manhood under all that blubber. Belly too fat to lift, thighs pressed together like thick slabs of meat, fatpad utterly engulfing your cock. I want you to feel how hard it’s getting to show off. To watch yourself swell and spill over… until even spreading your legs becomes a struggle. That’s what I’m growing you into.

Do you really think you’re still fit enough to make love to ..

Do you really think you’re still fit enough to make love to me, fatty? Look at you… soft, slow, out of shape. Could you even handle the weight of just one of my massive legs on your shoulders? I doubt it. Not with how heavy you’ve gotten. You’re turning into such a pathetic little puffed-up piggy—weak, blubbery, breathless under the slightest strain. And I love it. Keep growing for me. Keep proving just how useless that body’s becoming.

Happy Easter and/or 4/20, Love. I hope that you and yours ha..

Happy Easter and/or 4/20, Love. I hope that you and yours have a wonderful holiday.  I’m taking the day off to rest, fighting off a head cold and giving my body the break it’s been begging for. I won’t be online today, so if you message and don’t hear back, please know I’m not ignoring you—I’m just prioritizing some much-needed recovery time.  

You should want this. You should crave the feel of a fatpad ..

You should want this. You should crave the feel of a fatpad so swollen it hides your cock. A soft, heavy slab of blubber that proves how deep you've sunk into your gluttony. Imagine needing two hands just to dig through your fatpad to find your cock. That’s what I want for you—your manhood buried, smothered, engulfed by the result of every lazy, greedy, indulgent choice you’ve ever made.

My whole body’s just a sagging, blubbery mess, and I love it..

My whole body’s just a sagging, blubbery mess, and I love it. This is what happens when you let yourself go completely. And this is what I want you to become. No tone, no muscle—just fat. Useless, slow, soft, and sloppy. Keep eating. Keep growing. You’re nowhere near the pathetic blob I expect you to be.

Look at these udders. Hanging heavier, fatter, and softer ev..

Look at these udders. Hanging heavier, fatter, and softer every day. Sagging lower under the weight of my gluttony—just like yours should be. You see how far I’ve let myself go? No shame. No restraint. Just fat piling on fat. I want your tits to look like this. Big, sloppy, stretched from stuffing yourself stupid. 

Look at me. Just sprawled out like a big, soft, greedy blob—..

Look at me. Just sprawled out like a big, soft, greedy blob—taking up the whole frame with all this delicious, useless fat. I've gotten so massive, so heavy, so gluttonous. And you? You better be growing too. No more excuses this year. If I’m turning into a big fat piggy, you sure as hell better be keeping up. I want to see you become just as soft, just as lazy, just as blobby and helpless as me. You were made to get fatter for me.

Getting fatter makes you so aroused, doesn’t it? Feeling you..

Getting fatter makes you so aroused, doesn’t it? Feeling your massive gut spill onto your thick thighs, struggling to reach past all that soft, heavy lard—it’s overwhelming in the best way. Every pound you gain just makes you want more.

How would you please feeder for turning you into such a huge..

How would you please feeder for turning you into such a huge, greedy hog?

Explore your fat with me. Feel every roll, every heavy inch ..

Explore your fat with me. Feel every roll, every heavy inch of lard you’ve packed on. This is what you were meant to be—a greedy, gluttonous hog, growing softer, rounder, and more pathetic with every bite. Appreciate what you’ve done to yourself… and know that I expect you to keep getting bigger.

I want you so fat that you can’t even take care of your own ..

I want you so fat that you can’t even take care of your own needs anymore. Imagine it—your gut so massive, your fat pad so heavy, that you can’t even reach your own manhood. Just a big, useless blob of lard, struggling under the sheer weight of your own gluttony. Every inch of you is swollen, soft, and helpless, completely dependent on me because you’ve grown too big and too heavy to manage even the most basic of actions. That’s what I want for you. To turn you into nothing more than an overfed, ever-growing mass of fat; a human lard storage tank. And trust me, pig—I’ll make sure you get there.

Look at me. Look at how much space I take up, and I am takin..

Look at me. Look at how much space I take up, and I am taking up more and more room with every pound. This is how a real pig should look. More pig than human, a big, wobbling blob of ever-swelling lard. And yet, here you are, still not fat enough. Still not huge enough. If you really want to impress me, you’d be growing just like this—rounding out, taking up space, becoming the heavy, overfed hog you were meant to be.

Look at all this lard. Heavy, hanging, soft—exactly what I e..

Look at all this lard. Heavy, hanging, soft—exactly what I expect from a properly fattened pig. So why isn’t your gut this big and flabby yet? You don’t think I’d let you stay smaller than me, do you? I expect no less from my pig than I do of myself. You should be growing, swelling, piling on pounds until you’re just as soft, just as heavy, just as utterly gluttonous as I am. Now, tell me—are you keeping up, or do I need to push you harder?

Hey everyone! I wanted to share a quick update regarding my ..

Hey everyone! I wanted to share a quick update regarding my schedule. Starting this week, I’ll be shifting my days off from Tuesdays and Wednesdays to Saturdays and Sundays to support a friend who is going through a challenging time with her health. I’ll be helping by taking care of her son on the weekends. Because of this, I’ll only be available to text on Saturdays and Sundays by prearranged appointment only. My weekday availability will remain the same, and I’ll continue to be active and present for you all during that time. Thanks so much for your understanding and continued support — it truly means the world to me! 💖

Go on, lift that massive gut and drop it onto the table. Fee..

Go on, lift that massive gut and drop it onto the table. Feel the weight of it, see how it spreads, how all that lard piles up in front of you. That’s years of indulgence, years of greed, years of turning yourself into the soft, heavy pig you were meant to be. And you’re still not big enough. I want more. I want that belly so huge, so packed with fat, that it overflows the edges, pressing against your lap, too heavy to lift without effort. Keep eating, keep growing—until your gut owns every space you try to fit into.

Go ahead, grab your chest. Do you get a big handful? Do your..

Go ahead, grab your chest. Do you get a big handful? Do your soft, growing moobs spill over your fingers, heavy and flabby, jiggling at the slightest touch? If not, then you’re not eating enough. You should be able to squeeze and feel nothing but fat—thick, hanging, impossible-to-ignore softness. That’s what I want. That’s what you need. So keep stuffing, piggy. Keep growing, keep fattening, keep turning that chest into heavy, drooping, sagging lard. And don’t stop until there’s more than enough to grab.

Can you feel it? That heavy, growing gut pressing down on yo..

Can you feel it? That heavy, growing gut pressing down on you, pinning you beneath your own weight? Every bite, every pound, it gets bigger, softer, heavier—spreading wider, sagging lower, making it harder to move, harder to sit up, harder to do anything but sink into your own softness. And that’s exactly what I want. I want you to feel trapped under the weight of your own gluttony, every inch of you growing, piling on, swallowing you whole. Keep eating, keep getting heavier—until you’re nothing but a massive, helpless blob of fat. That’s what you were made for, after all.

Imagine this is your fat pad: ever-thickening, creeping forw..

Imagine this is your fat pad: ever-thickening, creeping forward, burying more and more of your manhood under layers of blubber. Every pound you gain, it gets harder to see, harder to reach… until it’s just a buried little afterthought under your greedy, growing gut. And you know what? That turns me on. I love watching you eat yourself into a helpless blob, your body overtaken by fat, your size making everything harder—literally. Keep stuffing, piggy… I want to see just how deep it can disappear.

Look at these soft, saggy tits—so heavy, so full, so flabby...

Look at these soft, saggy tits—so heavy, so full, so flabby. This is what real indulgence looks like, and it’s exactly where you’re headed. Keep eating, keep growing, keep piling on the pounds until your chest is just as heavy, just as soft, just as impossible to ignore. I want you fattened up, your pecs swallowed by blubber, your body weighed down by every greedy bite. No more muscle, no more definition—just heavy, hanging softness, jiggling with every step. Keep stuffing, piggy… I won’t be satisfied until you’re just as fat and flabby as me.

Just look at this fat FUPA—soft, squishy, hanging like a hea..

Just look at this fat FUPA—soft, squishy, hanging like a heavy sack of pure lard. A true testament to my gluttony. Now, it’s your turn. Go ahead and inspect your own growing fatpad. Feel how it's starting to plump up, soft and heavy, just like mine. This is what happens when we feed ourselves like pigs—getting bigger, softer, and greedier every day.

Gulp, chug... So good, so greedy. Just guzzling down these e..

Gulp, chug... So good, so greedy. Just guzzling down these endless empty calories, and let me tell you, it feels amazing. You should be doing the same—feeding your fat body more and more, making it even fatter with every sugary sip. Don’t hold back, don’t stop—let your body grow, soften, and expand just like mine.

Look at me—so soft, so flabby, every inch of me proof of my ..

Look at me—so soft, so flabby, every inch of me proof of my endless indulgence. But now it’s your turn. Go to the mirror. Really look at yourself. Take in every roll, every inch of softness that’s taken over your body. This is what happens when you let go, when you feed like the greedy hog you are. And you love what you see, don’t you? I know I do.

Oof—so gassy… but what do you expect from a greedy pig like ..

Oof—so gassy… but what do you expect from a greedy pig like me? You and I both know social norms don’t apply to us. Manners? Restraint? Decency? Useless. All that matters is gorging ourselves to the limit, packing in more and more, and making room for even more. No shame, no stopping—just endless indulgence, no matter what.

I look so wide and bloated—lazing around all day, stuffing m..

I look so wide and bloated—lazing around all day, stuffing myself like the greedy pig I am. But what about you? Have you been keeping up? I expect no less from you than I do from myself. In fact, I expect more. You’re supposed to be outgrowing me, packing it on until you’re double my size. So if you haven’t been eating like a true glutton today, you’d better start making up for it right now.

Good morning, Love! Just a quick update—I’ll be taking today..

Good morning, Love! Just a quick update—I’ll be taking today and tomorrow as much-needed rest days to recharge. It’s been a busy stretch, and sometimes a little time off is essential to keep things running smoothly. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, feeling refreshed and ready to bring you even more of what you love. In the meantime, feel free to browse my content, and I’ll see you all very soon! 💋

Just look at how wide I am—soft, heavy, taking up more space..

Just look at how wide I am—soft, heavy, taking up more space every single day. But what about you? Have you been keeping up? Go on, check your own girth. Run your hands over that growing belly. If you know it’s not enough to impress me, then you know what to do—get up, waddle over to your fridge, and empty it. I want to see you catching up, getting softer, heavier, and even greedier for me.

The neon sign flickered above the buffet, casting a warm glo..

The neon sign flickered above the buffet, casting a warm glow over the parking lot as we pulled in. I’d been waiting for this moment all day, watching you drive, your thick belly pressing against the wheel, your heavy frame settling deeper into the seat with every mile. I knew you were hungry—I could hear your stomach grumbling even over the roar of the engine—but I wanted more than just a simple meal for you. I wanted to see you let go, to feed without restraint, to gorge yourself like the greedy hog I knew you could be.

Inside, I made sure your plate was never empty. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes swimming in butter, mac and cheese so thick and creamy it clung to the spoon—every bite only making you heavier, lazier, needier. “That’s it, baby,” I whispered, rubbing your belly under the table as you groaned between mouthfuls. “Eat like you’ve never eaten before. Show me how much you can handle.” Your gut swelled round and tight, pressing hard against your waistband until you finally had to give in—undoing the button, unzipping your jeans with a relieved grunt. The sight of you, stuffed and helpless, your belly rising and falling with every labored breath, made my thighs clench.

By the time you’d cleaned every plate, you were too full to move. You sat there, dazed, panting, your stomach bulging against the bottom of your stretched-too-tight t-shirt. “Come on, piggy,” I teased, helping you waddle out the door, your belly jiggling with every step. The cool night air hit us, but you were too stuffed to even shiver—all you could do was clutch your overfed gut and groan. Getting back in the rig was a struggle. You tried to hoist yourself up, but you were too heavy, too bloated to manage it alone. I smirked, planting my hands on your soft, round backside and giving you a firm push. “Up you go, fat boy.”

Once inside, I didn’t waste a second. My hands roamed over your stuffed belly, feeling how tight and full you were, how soft and heavy you’d become for me. “That’s my good, greedy boy,” I purred, lips brushing against your ear. “You ate so well for me. Now it’s time for your reward.”

Should I continue this story?

If you want to earn your reward, you know what you have to d..

If you want to earn your reward, you know what you have to do—every single bite, swallowed down until you’re bloated, breathless, and teetering on the edge of bursting. No excuses, no stopping. I want you stuffed so full you can barely move, so heavy with food that all you can do is groan and swell. And if you make it—if you truly push yourself to your absolute limits—I’ll let you use my soft, heavy belly rolls for your pleasure. But only if you prove yourself to be the greedy, gluttonous pig I know you are.

You’re descending deeper into gluttony, surrendering to the ..

You’re descending deeper into gluttony, surrendering to the pig you were always meant to be. No more restraint, no more shame—just pure, unapologetic indulgence. Society wants you to hold back, to hide your hunger, but you know better. A real hog eats whenever, wherever, as much as they want. Burp, bloat, expand—make more room for your next feast. Give in completely, let go of every last shred of control, and embrace the greedy, gluttonous life you were born for.

Has furniture ever collapsed under your weight, fat boy?

Has furniture ever collapsed under your weight, fat boy?