getting someone too high/drunk to realize how stuffed they're getting so i can coax them into letting me force an obscene amount of calories down their throat >>> everything
not Fully satisfied with it but fed carmelo to marianne at last
[stuffing with a little teasing & encouragement]
Carmelo tilted his head as he slowly read the menu, trying to focus his eyes. Ordinarily, the encyclopedia of all the diner had to offer might overwhelm him, but his heart was on the breakfast page tonight, safe from the perilous maze of lunches and dinners. He peered in closer, his sweet tooth guiding him through the French toast and pancake options. There was, he noticed, a combo--a short stack of pancakes and two slices of French toast. In other words, two small but complete meals on one big plate, with sides still to accompany it. He glanced around the diner. It was quiet, nearly empty, and he was, for once in a blue moon, alone. Perhaps this would be a good time toā¦ overindulge a little.
"Well, hello there, cutie pie, can I get you something to drink?" A big, tall waitress smiled cheerfully down at him, notepad in hand.
"Umā¦" Carmelo almost asked for water out of instinct, but if he was going to go all out, why not live a little? "Can I have a hot chocolate, please?"
"You sure can. Would you like whipped cream on that? I recommend it."
He nodded.
"Comin' right up, sweetpea. You're not ready to order yet, are you?"
"Umā¦" He took a quick look at the menu. "I think I am."
"Oh, good! What'll it be, pumpkin?"
"Can I have, uhā¦" He tipped his head, squinting close at the menu. "The Fluffy Stack Platter, with chocolate chips?" She gave him a quick look up and down, and he blushed. She knew. A platter that big, she knew it was--
"Gonna be a lot for a cute little thing like you," she said, smiling approvingly, and his blush deepened. "That's what I like to see. I don't let anybody leave this place hungry! Now, how about your sides?"
With the choice of two, he decided to go with bacon and strawberries. The bacon would be good in the syrup, and the berries, well, they were just nice. The waitress--Marianne, her nametag said--left him with a smile, promising to be back soon with the hot chocolate, and as soon as she was out of sight he hid his face in his hands. What was he thinking? It must have been obvious, she could surely see it on his face, hear it in his voice, the bizarre desire to stuff himself until his belly was nearly ready to pop. If he could only have been cool and confident like his brother, or better yet, if he'd just had the sense to not order such a big meal--
"Here you go, pumpkin," said Marianne, startling him out of his moment of lament. "I had them put a little extra whipped cream on it. It'll keep you nice and sweet." She set a big mug down before him, steaming hot and almost overflowing with whipped cream.
"Thank you," he said meekly, his soft voice even smaller than usual.
"You feeling alright? You look a little nervous."
He nodded shyly.
"Well, don't you worry, sweetpea, whatever's buggin' you, I'm sure you'll feel a lot better with a belly full of breakfast."
She left him again, and he held his hands around the mug, just taking in the warmth. If she suspected his intention, she was certainly being kind about it. Maybe a little too kind--she seemed almost as eager to fill him up as he was. Well, at least there wasn't really anybody else around to notice. There was barely anybody in the diner at all right now, nearly ten o'clock on a Tuesday night, and nobody sitting near him. It was quiet, save for the soft music of the radio and the muffled noise of the kitchen, with a sleepy atmosphere blanketing everything in a slow, gentle calmness. He took a small sip of the hot chocolate. It was rich and creamy, which was pleasantly surprising; he'd expected something thin and watery. He sighed softly, and with the smooth chocolate lingering on his tongue and the warmth of the mug in his hands, he tried to let himself relax.
Carmelo sat there for some time, reminding himself to enjoy the sweet drink and the mellow atmosphere of the diner. He wished he'd gotten the food to go. If he was going to allow himself a chance to indulge his kink, he'd have felt far more comfortable doing it at home. That hadn't been his intention when he'd come in, though. He'd just wanted to enjoy a hot meal after a long and busy day. Maybe it wasn't too late to ask for it in a box. If Marianne came back to check on him--
"Here we go, one nice big Fluffy Stack Platter," said Marianne, happily setting the huge plate before him. So much for the box. "Need anything else, pumpkin pie?"
"N-no. Thank you," he stammered, eyes wide at the size of the platter. It smelled delicious, and much to his dismay, his belly rumbled audibly. He blushed again.
"Well, I'll be right around the corner if you need anything," she promised. "Now, you go ahead and feed that poor hungry tummy of yours."
Carmelo felt about ready to evaporate into a little puff of steam, both out of embarrassment and out of whatever it was that made fooling around with his belly so alluring. He would have sworn she was teasing him for it. Pulling himself back to Earth, he looked at the enormous dish awaiting him. Three big fluffy pancakes loaded with chocolate chips--it hardly seemed like a short stack, given the size of them--and two thick slices of French toast dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar, each surely worth a meal on its own. A good serving of bacon on one side of the plate, a handful of ripe, red strawberries on the other. Just the sight of the amount of food before him made his belly feel tight. He thought about how tight it would feel if he managed to get the full contents of the platter into it, and a fluttering excitement began to outweigh the anxiety. Mouth watering, he picked up his fork and dug in.
Marianne watched from across the restaurant as she idly wiped down the counter, gaze fixed on the sweet little man tucked away in that booth in the corner. He was absolutely adorable--the dark, fluffy curls, the big brown eyes, the shy, quiet voice. He had a soft, clean look to him, like a warm teddy bear fresh from the laundry, and he looked delightfully cozy in his loose-fitting sweater. She would have liked to scoop him right up in her arms and feed him the whole platter herself. That, of course, was hardly proper waitressing protocol, though, so she settled for observation--for now, at least. When he inevitably began to struggle with the oversized meal, that observation would upgrade to encouragement.
Strange desires aside, the sweet, hot breakfast was exactly what Carmelo had been craving. He was a big fan of carbs and a bigger fan of chocolate, and any combination of the two was liable to leave him stuffed silly even if that wasn't what he was going for. Everything was dripping with a salty-sweet mixture of butter and syrup, the steaming bread of the pancakes filled with gooey bursts of melty chocolate, the bacon a perfect combination of chewy and crisp, the berries bright and refreshing between rich, sugary bites. The only thing that could have made it better in his book was a little Nutella on top, but it hardly needed it. It was the perfect cozy late-night indulgence, and his anxiety melted away right along with the hungry feeling in his tummy.
Given the large size of the meal and the small size of his stomach, it wasn't long before Carmelo began to feel full. It was a pleasant, comforting fullness, the bulk of the soft bread filling out his belly like a big puffy hug from the inside--not quite a completely stuffed feeling, but a definite weight lazily blooming in his core. He decided to take his time, knowing he'd need to pace himself if he wanted a chance at putting away the whole thing. If he ate too fast, stretched his stomach too quickly, he'd wind up feeling sore and bloated before he was halfway done. That was no good. He wanted the warm, sleepy sort of fullness, the kind that would put him into a comfortable food coma. A tight, heavy pressure pushing out inside him that was immense, yet soothing. That was his goal tonight.
Marianne nearly went to check up on Carmelo, but decided to watch just a while longer. He seemed terribly shy, and as much as she wanted to tease him like a cat with its cornered mouse, she didn't want to scare him off. Right now, he looked like he was determined to make good headway on the platter. He ate carefully, with purpose. He was enjoying himself, though, she could see that. There was a soft, content look on his face, almost blissful as he stuck another syrupy, chocolatey bite in his mouth. His boyish face was a sight for sore eyes, but her gaze wandered downward, down to his middle. His sweater was big on him, largely concealing the shape of his torso, but she thought she could see the gentle swell of his belly beginning to curve out against the thick fabric. Glancing back up at the amount of food still on his plate, she knew that tiny curve was just the beginning.
Carmelo picked up another forkful of French toast. It was still steaming hot, and he ate it carefully, trying not to drip syrup on himself. Almost absentmindedly, he rested his free hand on his belly under the table. It was beginning to round out, warm and full against his palm, and he could feel the waist of his jeans growing tight around it as it began to puff out over the top. He still didn't feel too full to keep eating, though. That was good. He had a long ways to go.
"How are we doing over here, cutie pie?" Marianne approached the table with a friendly smile, no longer able to stay away. Carmelo quickly pulled his hand from his belly.
"Good," he said timidly, swallowing his mouthful.
"Fantastic," she beamed. "Well, you just keep working on that--I'm sure it won't be half as good tomorrow."
That was true. The pancakes would be mush by the next day, and he couldn't imagine the toast reheating well. Even if he wasn't trying to stuff himself, it would be a shame to let the food go to waste, and, feeling validated in his desire to eat as much as he could, he kept going. He decided to prioritize the pancakes, knowing they'd start to lose their appeal soon as they grew soggy with syrup, though they hadn't lost it yet. He'd only made it through a third of the stack, though, and he was beginning to doubt whether he'd be able to finish the rest. His stomach was growing tighter by the minute. It wouldn't be long before it became difficult to continue. Still, silently enjoying that perilous tightness in his belly, he pushed on.
The hug of his jeans was beginning to grow uncomfortable now, and he paused for a moment to try and adjust them. Setting his fork down, he carefully inched the waist lower until it rested just under the curve of his belly, and he felt his skin tighten as his middle was allowed to round out a little further. He felt surprisingly bloated now, and he gave himself a moment to adjust, again subtly holding his belly under the table. It felt snug and heavy, and it grumbled softly as it worked happily at the big meal. He would have liked to sit like that for a moment longer, just enjoying the roundness of his tummy in his hands, but when he saw Marianne returning once again, he sat upright and took his fork.
"I'm just gonna top off your whipped cream, pumpkin," she said, filling his half-empty mug back to the top. "Feelin' full yet?"
He shook his head, though they both knew it was a lie. Freed from the constraints of his jeans and filled to the brim with breakfast, his belly stuck out noticeably from his small frame now, pushing visibly against his sweater.
"Good, because you've got a ways to go. Want a little on your pancakes? If you think you can squeeze it in," she teased, holding up the can.
"Oh, um, um, sure," he said, hoping the blush on his face wasn't too obvious. She sprayed a nice big heap of fluffy white cream onto the remaining pancakes.
"There. It'll be almost as sweet as you," she giggled. "Eat up, pumpkin pie. I wanna see that plate nice and clean."
He watched her go, blushing brightly, then looked back down at his plate. He had about half of his meal left, now freshly topped with a pile of whipped cream, and, now feeling undeniably stuffed, it looked like a lot. He didn't think he'd be able to finish. Thinking about Marianne's words, though, he supposed he'd better try. He scooped up another hunk of pancake, getting plenty of whipped cream on the fork with it, and ate.
Carmelo could feel his belly grow fuller with each bite now, slowly and steadily stretching as he tucked more food into it. It felt like he had an enormous ball of bread expanding inside him. The bulky carbs pushed out firmly against the walls of his stomach, the hot chocolate seeming to soak in and swell it up even further, and each mouthful drew a quiet rumble of protest as it was forced into the overpacked space. He pushed on, though, working slowly and carefully through the plate, keeping a hand quietly on his belly as it distended taut against his palm. With the bacon and berries already long gone, all he had to do was make it through the main course.
Marianne watched again from across the diner, eyes fixed on Carmelo's tummy. It bulged out adorably underneath the table, round against the soft fabric of his sweater as though he'd stuck a pillow under it. Had somebody just walked in and looked at him, they might have assumed he was just a little plump, but knowing how undetectable his belly had been under the sweater when he'd started, Marianne could practically feel how stuffed he was, the phantom touch of his taut skin fleeting across her longing hands. She could imagine the weight of everything inside him, the solid firmness of his tightly-packed stomach just under the soft skin, the strain of his belly puffing up with each breath. She wanted nothing more than to take that puffed up belly in her hands and give it a squeeze, and that it was off limits, she thought, was one of life's greatest tragedies. He paused for a moment, leaning back in the seat, resting a hand on his tummy, clearly trying to assess whether he could fit any more, and she decided to move in.
"You're lookin' pretty full, sweetheart," she remarked, gazing fondly down at him with a playful smile. He'd finished all but a quarter of his meal, and there was no question where he'd put it all. He looked shyly up at her, face as hot as the steaming food. There was no hiding it this time--he was stuffed. It felt good. His belly felt taut and heavy, the pressure inside him warm and pleasant.
"Y'know," she went on, a sly look creeping across her face, "I bet you could squeeze that last little bit in here." She drummed her fingers across the curve of his belly, and he stared up at her like a deer in the headlights, his dark eyes wide. Now she had him.
"'Course, I wouldn't hold it against you if you couldn't," she said. "That cute little tummy looks about ready to pop. One more bite andā¦" She made a soft popping sound with her mouth, then grinned down at him, eating up the cornered look on his face. "I bet you could do it, though. Just a tiny bit more, hm? I do like to send my customers home nice and full, you know." She gave his rounded side a gentle pat, then began to walk away. She didn't go far, though. She stopped just a few tables away, then turned and leaned against the wall, watching him with a smile.
Carmelo's big eyes remained frozen on Marianne, breath held captive, heart fluttering madly in his chest like he was staring down the slope of a roller coaster. She tipped her head expectantly at him, and suddenly he snapped out of it. He looked back down at his plate, then back up at her, then quickly back down. He didn't know what to do, but then again, there was only one thing to do. Dazed and bewildered, a tingling heat whirling through his distended belly, he picked up his fork and ate.
It wasn't easy to keep going. He'd already felt stuffed to the limit when she'd approached him again, and now each bite seemed to stretch his stomach further past that limit. His belly felt like a drum. It was growing uncomfortable, but there was a wild excitement around that pressure building inside him, his belly straining under her gaze as he ate for her. He took another slow bite, then another. He was moving at a snail's pace, struggling to make space in his stomach for anything more, but he felt compelled to keep going, even as his belly groaned for him to stop. He chewed slowly, cautiously, the task of swallowing growing more intimidating with each mouthful as the tremendous pressure in his stomach urged his body to reject any more. Still, he managed to force it in, until the strain of his overstretched stomach began to ache, and he felt certain that it would burst if he tried to eat another bite. A small bit remained on his plate, but he couldn't hold any more. He let the fork fall from his hand and held his bulging tummy, slumping back against the seat.
"Well, I'm impressed, sweetpea," said Marianne, striding coolly back up to the table. "I didn't think you'd be able to fit that much in there." Truthfully, neither did he. The platter had been enormous, especially for a smaller man like himself, and he hadn't in any honesty expected to finish more than two thirds of it. Now, looking down at his swollen belly pushing out against his hands, feeling how tight and heavy it was, he was surprised with himself. He looked shyly back up at Marianne, unable to speak, and she leaned in close, her hand hovering just over the drum-tight curve of his stomach.
"You sure look like you could use a good belly rub, pumpkin," she said softly, the warmth of her breath tickling his cheek. "Why don't you come home with me tonight?"
Jammy asks her spacecraft's computer to create a "human soda she could drink all day" which the computer obliged. Turns out it made a soda she can't physically stop drinking and that is infinite :)
Fortunately for her she managed to remove it from her lips but got bigger in the meantime
got hit with motivation to draw tonight so iāve been churning these drawings outā¦.. churning like how josiahās stomach is churning with all that slime š
Someone makes a deal with a devil to get "The Perfect Summer Body" hoping to lose weight, but they forget to read the fine print
"The Perfect Summer Body" in who's opinion? Why the devil's of course. And the devil is unabashedly and enthusiastically into bigger bodies, so ready and excited to teach this mortal to love and appreciate the plush, rippling fat soon to be ballooning their body outwards. Despite being a devil, they're determined to make this perfectly rotund mortal feel gorgeous, desired and divine
Whoops and wolf-whistles sound from the people around you, all eyes on your fattening form. You hear your pelvis creak and lock into place, your frame reshaping to hold all your added weight. You let out another gasp as your gigantic tummy pulls you forward, bouncing over your thighs.
As your panties stretch thin around your enormous waist, you wobble and squirm. Soon you realize that your rear will become too large for them, and you nervously swallow. Your hips widen even more, and your buttocks grow so big and rounded they spill out. Your underwear finally gives in and plunges deep between your asscheeks. You let out an erotic moan and bite your plump lips.
Soft flab gathers in your breasts and your top tightens even more, squeezing your back fat and your gigantic belly in the strap. You bite your lips harder, an aroused whimper escaping your throat.
Murmurs spread through the crowd as it parts, and two security guards walk towards you. Embarrassed, you look at them and blush.
āIā¦ I-Iā¦ā you stammer, your sentence trailing off in a pathetic whine. The first security guard pulls a pair of handcuffs from their belt and grabs at your tender wrists. They lock your hands behind your backānot that you could run off, anywayāand hold you by your massive hips, their fingers digging into the crease where your tummy meets your waist.
āBetter make sure you didnāt shoplift anything else,ā the second security guard says with a chuckle. They walk to your front to frisk you.
Hands on your sensitive skin, they feel you up and down, cupping your bloated breasts and giving them a jiggle. It sends a ripple through your fat body, and you choke back a moan.
The security guard clicks their tongue and smirks at you, pleased with your reaction. āMmm, nothing up here. I should check lower.ā You can see a lustful gleam in their eyes, thrilled to grab and grope you. They take their time as they trace your rounded shape and tease your belly-button. You tremble at their touch, the way they fondle your soft tummy and caress your thick thighs.
Running their hands around your waist, the security guard sinks their fingers into your fat ass. You blush and pucker your lips, your legs feeling weak. Whether that was from holding up your heavy body or how horny you were, you couldnāt tell, but you wanted nothing more than to give in.
āJust one more spot I havenāt inspected yet,ā the security guard says. They put their hand over the fat pouch on your crotch and feel you, fingers slipping under your panties. You let out a loud moan and cream yourself right there and then, an orgasm flooding through you, your huge hips and pelvis rocking as your fat belly bounces and slaps your wobbling thighs, making you gasp for breath.
Both security guards chuckle and exchange glances, then look back at you. The second one clears their throat. āAhemā¦ weāll take you to the security office for the rest of your punishment.ā
You pant and make a low pleasured sound, waddling between the security guards as they guide you. Youāll make the most of this lingerie set, that much is certaināand all that comes with it.
If only that lingerie set youāve been eyeing was more affordable. Every time you visit the shopping mall, you see it. You want it. You need it. And today youāve worked up the nerve to get itāfor free.
Walking into the clothing store, you take the lingerie and head into a changing room, slipping it under your regular clothes. The top and underwear fit loose and comfortable on your slender body, and as you put your shirt and jeans back on, you begin to think that this might actually work. With a tiny smile on your face, you walk calmly out of the store, convinced youāve gotten away with it.
That is, until you reach the next store. By the time you get to the entrance, you notice yourself huffing and puffing. Maybe you overdid it with the shopping bags? You donāt remember them being so heavy. You feel your shirt growing tighter around your stomach, and you gasp when you look down. Your belly balloons right before your eyes.
You tuck in your plump elbows and clutch your shopping bags in both hands. Frantically, you try to pull down your shirt, but it rolls back up over your fattening tummy. With a panicked whimper, you feel your hips widening. Soft fat gathers in your waist and pillowy thighs, and you purse your lips uncomfortably. This isnāt realā¦ this canāt be real, right? But the way your jeans squeeze your expanding belly is too tight to deny, and all you can do is swallow a nervous gulp and watch.
Other people are starting to notice, much to your embarrassment. Your huge hips get broader, making ample room for your buttocks to fill out. You lower your head and try to shuffle away, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself, but every step you take only makes your growing body more obvious. Your breasts swell right into your top, wobbling when you move. When you glance down again, you realize your chin has doubled, plumpening your rounded face.
Blush burns in your chubby cheeks. You see more shoppers rubbernecking at your bloated body, some of them taking out their phones to film. Part of you feels humiliated by how they leer at you, but the other part feelsā¦ uncontrollably aroused. Or, maybe those parts are the same? You squeeze your plush thighs together, desperate to hide how wet youāve become. You whine and pant, feeling your potbelly pull you forward. By now your walk has become a clumsy waddle, your massive hips swaying and your belly bouncing as you try to flee.
In your haste you drop a shopping bag, revealing your swollen stomach. You grunt and hurry to pick it up, but as you bend over, you hear a loud shrrrrrrip! Gasps and giggles ripple through the crowd, and with a mortified wail, you realize that your jeans have split right down the middle. The shredded denim falls away and exposes your expanding ass, and in the next moment, your tits and tummy grow so huge that your shirt meets a similar end. With an alarmed yelp, you drop the rest of your shopping bags on the floor.
Now everyone can see your fattening body, barely covered by the stolen lingerieāthereās no way to hide what youāve done. Your breasts form a deep cleavage line, almost spilling out of your top. Your huge booty jiggles behind you, your underwear lodged tight in your throbbing crotch. With an aroused moan, you feel your belly balloon some more, stretch marks on your soft skin. You gulp and look down, a deep feeling in your gut telling you itās not over yet. šš¤
Thereās that post about pumpkins at size competitions actively still hooked on fertilizer while they sag under their own tremendous weight and are covered in veins from the rapid growth and someone should do that to me. Turn me into a very fat pumpkin you take to state fairs.
(Insert jokes here about pumpkin fucking if a tgirl is interested /j)
i think one of my more embarrassing fantasies is being the royal physician to a fattened, spoiled slut of a prince... one who's let himself go so far that i have to spend every doctor's appointment scolding him for relentlessly "snacking" (ordering dozens of pastries and sweets to his room and eating until he feels sick), or for stuffing himself at a banquet until the button pops off his pants and flies across the room, landing in the soup or pinging against the wall. i want to poke and prod his huge, doughy gut and mock him for being spoiled into morbid obesity. he can gloat to me about how i have no real power to enforce the diets ive been putting him on, proudly gather up his flabby belly in his arms and show it off to me, brag about all the junk and sweets hes been stuffing his face with--because i know exactly how to teach him a lesson.
every time he visits me, i stuff his adorable, chubby, useless face until he's crying.
hes so weak to pain, he folds almost immediately, leaning bacl and spreading his fat thighs wide enough to put himself on display for me, and begs me to fuck him, to put him in his place, punish him for being so spoiled anf so naughty.
of course i only make it worse. of course i shove rich food and treats down his throat while mocking him for how fat and useless he's gotten, that he cant even stop me. flailing his flabby limbs and begging and moaning as if im ever going to listen. i stretch his capacity and leave him empty and desperate without me, so he spends all his time eating and eating and trying to make it feel like i do when i forcefeed him, until hes clutching his belly and belching desperately, whimpering from the pain and the effort. its so much easier when i do it for him.
....so, uh, i guess you could say im a bit of an evil feeder
ellievsbear
titsay
pixelskylines
izzy806
blakekathryn
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
annaxmalina
