Poster child of the 🤓 to 🐶 pipeline - another one of daedricmage's wonderful pages - 29|he/him - hey its me lol - happily the property of @tummytings, who is the most wonderful person I have the gift of being attached to and am perpetually grateful for
Requests and donations for my very hungry self are extremely appreciated. I'll eat anything you want to pay for, no extra fees right now! Cost of the food only 😁 and what I mean is, it doesn't matter if I've just finished an entire stuffing, if you want to pay me $6-7 to eat a double burger from Wendy's I'll do it ASAP. I want to be pushed! I'm trying to stretch myself out with food, constantly.
Instantly exchange money for free on Cash App
Obviously my deal includes a clip of me (no face) eating or finishing your item, maximum clip of *a few minutes* unless you sent more than $10!
This is a limited-time offer! And the time is only limited to however long it takes for this to become a bad idea 😋 make me eat my words, by all means!
⋆⁺₊⋆ character tummy kink prompts ( currently accepting!! )
content warnings : stuffing, belly rubs, mild public stuffing, light intox, belly noises, burping ; 1.7k words
They have enjoyed an exceptionally large dinner. Every evening, a spread is laid out in the grand dining room for the residents of Willowlake to enjoy at their leisure. There is no set dinner-time, no mandate to sit down and eat. No requirement to indulge --- only the expectation that everyone will, at some point, eat their fill. The laissez-faire attitude is so different from what Dorran has known in the past… but it suits him just fine.
Sometimes, he'll sit down to eat with Corvinus after a robust round of training; all that exertion works up an appetite, and they'll both stuff themselves without thinking, until their plates are empty and they're slumped back in their chairs, hiccupping into closed fists. Sometimes they'll meet up with their friends and dine as a group --- Aurora bringing a book to the table and reading through bites, Richard chattering about his latest theories, Aeliana animatedly telling stories. Sometimes, it's only him and Aurora, smiling at each other across the quiet tale; Dorran likes those nights the best. Dinner is certainly never lonely. It has become his favorite part of the day.
He doesn't always indulge... quite this much.
Tonight, the table groans under the weight of it. Platters crowd one another: thick slices of roast beef, glistening with gravy, their edges dark and tantalizing. A pot of vegetables in cheese sauce somehow simmers in the middle of the table. There’s a basket of bread rolls, still warm at the center --- a platter of fried onion blossom --- rich gravy, artisanal butter, mashed potatoes whipped to sinful perfection.
It's all too much — rich, excessive, indulgent to the point of obscenity. Demanding they eat to excess. But... that’s the point, isn’t it? This is standard dinner at Willowlake... and the plates never run empty.
Dorran doesn't realize how hungry he is until he sits down. It has been a long day of training, and his body aches with need; his hollow stomach gives a groan as the rich scents waft around him. Swallowing thickly, Dorran accepts a glass of crimson vintage, and downs it in a few gulps, just to have something in his stomach.
This... might be his mistake.
The heavy wine hits him like a train, soaking into his thoughts and dulling the world to a pleasant haze. Dorran licks his lips thickly as the first course is served. Somehow, every bite feels like a luxury --- every flavor feels vivid, vibrant. He cannot get enough.
"Easy," Aurora murmurs, leaning into his shoulder. He blinks, dazed... and realized his first plate has already been cleared.
"Oh," Dorran says faintly. He raises a fist to his lips, stifling a belch. "Goodness. This is... excellent tonight."
"Roast beef is your favorite," Aurora agrees... and Dorran blinks, taken aback. He hadn't realized he had a favorite food before. He certainly didn't think anyone would bother to notice. But... that's just like Aurora, isn't it? Taking note of the little things.
When another glass of wine is poured out, he tries to shake his head... but Aurora nudges his leg gently, a wordless it's okay, and Dorran lets go of any reservations. Silently, he accepts the glass.
Another drink. Another plate of food. More flavors, more of that delicious filling sensation. His belly rumbles with pleasure; Dorran burps around a mouthful of veggies, and just keeps chewing.
"Wow, you're hungry tonight," one of his friends teases. Suddenly self-conscious, Dorran manages a small smile. He swallows the last mouthful down, and tries to temper himself... but it's so difficult. Each time he finishes a course --- the last bite of mashed potato, the last slice of beef --- he looks down to find more sitting in front of him. His stomach gives a low stir, not out of hunger, but pure greed. It wants more, another bite of those delicious flavors... just one more bite, it coaxes, and Dorran is helpless to refuse. His appetite is an insistent beast --- and ever sip of wine, every swallow of food, only makes it stronger.
He ends up setting a new personal best: three plates of food, four glasses of wine, and a brownie with chocolate syrup for dessert. By the time he's finished, Dorran's head is spinning. He sprawls back in his chair, mouth hanging open; every few seconds, a hiccup jolts him, but he has no desire to stir. His stomach has never felt heavier. It swells against the waist of his trousers, rumbling like a brewing storm. He cups a hand over it... and moans, unconscious, unbidden.
"Oh, baby," croons a soft voice... and Dorran blinks in drowsy surprise. Was that... him?
"Mmm, pardon me," he murmurs, though he's not fully sure what he's excusing himself for. He's eaten past his limits, that much is clear. Gods, he's made quite the pig of himself.
"You're alright," the voice soothes... and he feels a gentle hand stroking through his hair, easing back the raven strands. Another hand settles on his belly --- tentative at first, but he feels a light pressure, the graze of gentle fingers. Something releases at his waist --- his trousers, oh gods, his trousers are unbuttoned --- and he exhales with a luxurious moan.
It takes a few agonizingly long moments before he comes back to himself... enough to realize Aurora's the one comforting him. Of course. He wouldn't want anyone else touching him so intimately, so gently.
"Hey," she says softly. Her smile makes the entire world feel warm. "You doin' okay?"
Dorran opens his mouth to answer --- and bruUUUurps, thick and heavy. His cheeks flare with heat.
"I- I---"
"Shhh." She has to stroke his belly again, a few more steadying circles, to reassure him that it's okay to lose his composure; he won't be punished for forgetting his manners. Of course, Dorran knows this, but sometimes he struggles to remember...
"I'm so full," he manages to say. "Overdid it."
"Yeah," she giggles softly. "You think?"
As reality fades back in, he realizes they're still in the dining room. Here he is, slumped in his chair, sinking into the plush velvet cushions as he belches and moans... his stomach on full display, rounded-out beneath his tunic. It's a heavy weight; when he touches it, he marvels at how solid it feels. His belly actually groans. Dorran's blush deepens, as if he'll burst into flames.
But... no one else is looking their way. Corvinus sips a glass of wine, watching with a wry smirk as Richard drenches his brownie in fudge. Across the room, several ladies-in-waiting are giggling over something --- not him, that's the important part. Across the room, there's even some other poor fellow, nursing a bellyache as he slumps over the table. It's not just him.
And... Willowlake invites this. He can feel it in the air around them --- the subtle ripple, the way the room feels even more comfortable, as though adjusting itself for his pleasure. Somewhere on the estate, Lady Adeline is smiling. Dorran's done well tonight.
"I, umm..." He stifles a belch, which turns into a chest hiccup. "I would like to go to my rooms."
Slowly, Dorran pushes himself upright. Aurora has to steady him, gripping his elbow as he sways; his belly is so heavy, he has to adjust his stance, cradling his gut like a pregnant woman. A string of sharp hiccups escape him as soon as he's upright; he's left panting.
"Are you okay?" Aurora is all concern, fluttering around him like a butterfly. "Does it hurt? Baby, you're so heavy..."
It doesn't hurt at all. In fact, he feels so good, Dorran knows he has to move --- otherwise he'll be sprawled out in that chair all night. (He's seen it happen with some of Willowlake's other guests; it's the guards' job to assist them. How many times has he carried someone to bed, heavy and overindulged to the point of insensibility?)
This time, it's Aurora carrying him. Well, just about. She steers him out of the dining room, down several long hallways, into the elevator, and up to his room on the top level of the estate.
By the time they reach his room, Dorran's head is lolling. He moves heavily, weighed down by his own stomach --- it rumbles as he walks, and a few bassy burps escape him before he reaches the bed.
"Sorry," he manages. "'Scuse me, love."
Aurora strips his shoes off, pulls off his vest, and helps him settle back on the bed. By the time he's sprawled out, his belly has never felt heavier. He's pinned down under the weight of his own gluttony. A low rumble of digestion stirs within him. Dorran licks his lips, savoring the sensations. The room is a pleasant haze around him, and he just wants to sink into it.
Only, there's still Aurora --- sitting by his bedside, her soft faze framed by loose, wild curls. Gods, he never wants her to go. It's like having an angel watching over him.
"How about," she murmurs, drumming her fingers against his mattress, "I rub your tummy? Would that help you feel better?"
"Feel amazing," Dorran protests hazily... but he can think of nothing better than Aurora's hand settled on his belly.
Once more, she begins her work. Dorran's breathing is slow and shallow, but his stomach is alive with activity. Aurora kneads into a building cramp bellow his belly-button, working at it with her fingers until it disperses. A low moan slips out of him… and Aurora has the satisfaction of feeling his belly gurgle beneath his palm.
Oh, this meal is going to put him right to sleep. He’ll be out all night, belly working overtime to digest its heavy load.
Dorran shifts... and gives a rolling, unexpected belch. His cheeks flood with heat... but he's too comfortable to feel mortified, or even ashamed. He blinks up at her, gaze soft and lazy. “Sorry. 'm a bit... sloppy tonight.”
For some reason, the words send a thrill down Aurora's spine. It really is something to see her steady, serious boyfriend lose his composure so completely. Dorran and sloppy have never belongedin the same sentence together --- until tonight.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replies softly. Her hand massages another smooth circle into his gut, and Dorran purrs.
Sure enough, he drops off to sleep in a haze of satiated heaviness... with Aurora's soft hands lulling him down to rest.
Your belly howls as noodles slide down your throat. The dense clump lands heavy in your packed stomach, and your back arches further as the pressure increases. Deep angry gurgles rumble in your churning gut, the rich pasta sitting unhappily in you. You rub the hot, tight skin of your belly as it juts inches from your form; a heavy taut mound. God you can’t believe it’s so heavy and big, so stuffed with pasta. It’s so tight and full oh god. Your moan is lost in the shoveling of more food into your mouth. Noodles wet with sauce hang from your lips as you scoop handfuls from the pot. Your stomach cries out in groans and wet belches push up past the pasta going down. There’s so little room left but you’re so hungry, so desperate for more. You need so much more.
How much pasta did you make? Five boxes? Six? Seven? You didn’t even measure as you made the sauce, dumping ingredients in the huge stock pot in ratios you know by heart.
How much pasta is swirling in you now? The pot still has a quarter left, but your stomach is rebelling. You pant as you clutch at your distended stomach, it’s curves visible where it hangs from your ribs. You can feel the contents sloshing and churning, and you whine through the belches as you massage it. You’re so fucking full, so heavy with pasta and creamy sauce that is so so delicious. You can’t fit anything else but you’re not full yet, there’s still room, you know there must still be room.
You struggle to reach the pot, unable to sit up around the enormous belly hanging off you. You pull it into your lap and shove both your hands deep into the pile of still warm pasta. Your face is flushed the same red as your gut, every inch of you hot with arousal, digestion, and effort. Every swallow makes your stomach tighter, tighter, tighter but you can’t stop yourself. It’s too good, it’s not enough, it’s too much it’s too much. Ohhhhhhmmmmmmm you’re so stuffed but you can’t stop eating. Your belly heaves with the force of every swallow, no stretch left and only pressure. Building pressure, it’s so fucking tight oh god you’re going to burst but it’s still not enough.
The pot is empty and you let it fall to the ground in your desperate scrabble for the nearly untouched liter of soda. Each gulp feels like a shove to get down, but you’re so thirsty. Your stomach shakes with growls and whines, and you moan with it as you drain more into its depths. The skin is shiny and hard and you feel like you swallowed concrete and it’s so gooood. It’s so full, oh god you’re so full, you can’t believe how enormous you are. You gulp desperately. You need to be bigger, heavier, tighter. Ahhhhhmmmmm you’re so tight. Pain lances across your stomach but you keep drinking, the pressure keeps growing, it’s hard to breathe. It’s unbearable but it’s incredible.
The bottle falls to the ground empty. You fall backward to lie flat, shaking and writhing in pleasure and pain and pressure. You can’t fit anything else inside, you’re so full, you’d burst. Your gut is a heavy, angry mass weighing on you. It’s so huge, god it’s huge and heavy and full. The pressure inside is so so high. It’s so good, it’s so tight, it’s so stuffed. All the pasta and sauce and soda that you stuffed inside yourself; you fit so much inside yourself. You’re huge, you can’t reach yourself to touch yourself, you’re tight and stuffed and huge oh god. You’re so full, so full, so full, so full, so full
For those who have missed it, a tourist in Hawaii decided it would be fun to chuck a rock (a BIG rock) at a monk seal. He missed, but he was captured on video, and when told it was illegal to interfere with them, said "I'm rich, I can pay the fine."
Is the best part that he got doxxed? No.
Is the best part that he got tracked down by a local and beaten? No.
Arrested on state at federal charges, looking at up to 5 years and 50K? Nope.
The best part is the local city council's reaction.
And the best part of that is the look on the attorney's face.
We're broadcasting this one across all the channels because there hasn't been enough instances of rich people getting consequences for their own actions lately.
penis driving face,,, bullying the tummy is a guilty pleasure 4 me that i never really post about bc it makes a lot of people uncomfortable so im always stoked when i have an excuse to do something for it
Intentional:
The age old classic--testing how much give is left. Squeezing the sides of somebody's distended tummy, pressing down on it, poking it to see how far their finger will go, etc, which naturally becomes increasingly uncomfortable as the belly gets tighter and tighter
Teasing somebody who insists that they aren't too full by offering them more and more food, stuffing them well past capacity until they have to admit that yes, they're full alright, please, they can't eat any more
Jostling and squeezing the belly of somebody who refuses to admit that they're not feeling good
"Helping" to coax up a much-needed burp by squeezing and pressing a far-too-bloated tummy
Insisting that somebody (try to) finish a massive portion of food that they screwed up making so it won't go to waste, even if it was meant for a large group of people
Unintentional:
A big tight hug, especially a hug from behind that squeezes somebody around the middle, painfully compressing their overstuffed belly
A firm, friendly pat on a too-full tummy, hitting just a little too hard and thoroughly jolting its pressurized contents
Helping somebody into a tight outfit, unceremoniously squeezing and pulling the snug garment around their belly to get it to fit
An accidental bump or jab to an aching belly as somebody tries to squeeze through a busy crowd
Using somebody's belly as a pillow when it's not feeling good, unaware that all the extra pressure on their belly is only making it worse
feedism rogue-like where each boss is a bigger feast and you have to upgrade your belly capacity or appetite or else you enter a food coma and have to try all over again and of course the bigger you are the more HP (hunger/health points) that you have 🤰
I would so walk into the MOST dangerous slime-infested section of the forest right now 🥺. Just march straight into the really sticky part of the meadow, seeing them already coming towards me, used to people trying to get away. I wouldn't even try to move. Probably wouldn't resist until enough have crawled their way down my throat that my belly is firmly bloated and my lungs are crowded. Even then I'm only trying to get them to slow down, not stop.
Secretly, though, I wouldn't super mind if they didn't slow down. I go from bloated to distended, arms wrapping around my belly as they keep just slithering in, forcing my jaws apart. Maybe they leave me alone and let me stumble away, maybe they all decide they want to make room in me whether I have it or not. As long as I got forced so full I feel like a forgotten-about water balloon, I'm satisfied.
I want to eat until I'm on the absolute razor's edge of being sick.
I want to start eating in the morning. I can never eat much right when I get up, so at very first it would be coffee, with a dose of weed butter.
I could probably manage something smooth like porridge then, and if I knew I could push myself throughout the entire day I would start with a decent amount of it.
Lunch would probably be my choice. I could do something honestly fairly basic like burgers, or I could do my favorite turkey (or chicken) casserole, which would be easier to chew, and if satiety is tied to chewing as I understand then that ought to lead to me putting more away.
Dinner is puppy food: cheap beef stew over rice and veggies. There has been talk of adding a raw egg, and while I may first have had trepidation, my tail now wags at the idea.
I also found a good recipe for dog (me) treats. They're peanut butter cookies, but i used whole wheat flour. They seemed savory and almost mealy at first, and then like four (4) bites later I fully developed the taste for them. They're tasty, but they're noticably filling, and they feel like they're healthy and nutritious 🥺 probably because of the whole wheat.
I want her to let me get full on my own, then start dropping them in front of me 5 or 6 at a time. I want her to start feeding them to me one by one while I whine because my belly is starting to stretch all the way around. I want to look her deep in the eyes while I open my mouth for another treat, even though I'm whining because I'm too full already. I want more.
