You notice how you're appetite has grown. How you can eat what used to be a challenge without even breaking a sweat, and yet still crave more. You notice that those jeans you just bought are feeling a bit too snug around the waste. You notice that you've been ending every night lately with an obscenely stuffed gut that makes it difficult to get comfortable. Despite that you fall into a food coma and when you awake the next day your tummy grumbles for breakfast. You notice how round you look and how hungry you feel. You notice how hungry you are...
I love when clothes are stretched tight around bellies. When a cute belly has been so stuffed full that it's poking through a tight shirt. The way the shirt bunches up along the sides and is smooth in the front as it slopes over a globularly stuffed gut. They way the buttons of a too small shirt stretch and the spaces in between open up to reveal a peak of squishy belly underneath. The way the sleeves get tight around the arms and it stretches over the chest. The way it rides up when you've eaten too much...
horny over the idea of you being so dedicated to feeding me that you…help decide meals for me. it’s too overwhelming for me to decide all the time, and you know where to find something delicious and belly expanding.
“Shhhh…quiet now, pigs don’t talk, they eat. Now be good and open up”
She stroked his cheek lovingly, wiping away the sweat dripping down his face. She snuck in a hefty pinch of his large, flushed cheek. Her finger scratched under his large double chin, like one would to a pet, as she brought the next doughnut to his mouth.
“Don’t upset me now, we still have half a dozen to go, then maybe we can discuss a break. Consider yourself lucky I’d even consider letting my hog rest, pigs don’t usually get that choice. Thank goodness you’re so cute, and pitiful. Now, open up…..that’s it….good boy”
She shoved the other half of the doughnut into his mouth, as he let out a whimper and forced himself to chew. She placed a hand on the largest swell of his gut, giving it a rough jostling and firm slaps. He moaned every time his gut was forced to move. He felt like he swallowed a boulder, and couldn’t believe she had grown his appetite to be so immense. He always fantasized living this kind of life, submitting to a feeder, growing recklessly and losing all inhibitions. He knew it would be hard and painful, and he thought he was ready for it. What he did not expect, is just how ruthless his girlfriend would get as he grew.
It started as roleplay, kink exploration, and slowly became more concrete from there. Occasional stuffings slowly became nightly affairs, then morning session were added, until now, when every meal felt like an eating competition to see just how much more she could stuff into him.
She became more enthralled by letting her feeder fantasies free, finding a partner who not only accepted her perversions, but begged for them. She was shy and nervous when she first force fed him, worried she may overdo it or make it awkward. Those fears slowly died as he grew, and now she couldn’t imagine a life without glutting a pig multiple times a day. She became obsessed with the control, the numbers rising on the scale, and just how pathetic she could make him every day.
“Two more doughnuts pig, don’t make me ask you to open again”
She roughly pinched his nipple, seizing the opportune gasp to shove more sugar and junk into his mouth. She picked up the last doughnut, rubbed it against his nipple, then forced it into his mouth, even though he hadn’t finished the last. She stared at him, as she bent down to lick the frosting from his engorged nipple, giving it a firm bite when she was finished. Her hand rubbed his gut slowly, up and down, occasionally lifting up his heavy belly hang and letting it drop. She never knew someone could feel so soft and heavy, she had always imagined it but now that she was living it, it was so much more exhilarating.
“Please……I finished…help….please…”
It hurt him to talk, even breathing felt like a struggle, but he to needed her to help him.
She smirked, knowingly exactly what he was asking
“Oh? Does piggy need to go to the washroom?”
He shook his head pathetically, not that
“Do you want me to help you to bed for a nap?”
Again, he shook his head ‘no’
“Oh, maybe piggy needs some….relief?”
He whined and nodded, trying not to move too much
“Does piggy want me to crawl under all this lard, search through all those rolls to find that pathetic little cock of yours, and make you cum? Is that what you want?”
He whined louder, not wanting to admit it, but unable to hide how aroused this made him.
“Well, unfortunately piggy, I had to make sure you ate everything…again! You’re too pathetic to eat it all yourself. So…no!”
She laughed devilishly at him, watching his will crumble
“We made a deal, all those weeks ago, that you only get that privilege, when you eat everything I give you. No complaining, no refusing, no resistance. Yet every meal since then, you’ve failed. If you wanna cum, then impress me. Til then, keep eating, keep glutting yourself, and keep fucking up that little brain of yours, until you can even get hard without eating. If you don’t do better, you may never cum again. Now…rest up, dinner is in two hours, I’m gonna make sure we outdo ourselves.”
When I get home from work, all I can seem to do is eat. It's like I fall into a trance after the exhaustion of the day and constantly stuff my face until I pass out.
I come home and start snacking right away, munching away while I tie up the loose ends of the day.
Of course, then it's dinner time. It's bulking season so why not stock up on extra steak and rice this week.
Then I just continue snacking because I'm gaming with friends... and by the time I'm done I'm breathing heavily and and stifling burps.
Then it's time to go to bed, but I end up staying up an extra hour, voratiously shoving food into my mouth and watching my belly expand until it looks like I've got a bowling ball in my gut~~~
I'll edge, pamper, and spoil you so much, you won't know what happened to you until you try putting on clothes again after weeks spent in bed, and nothing fits anymore ~
hi can I play with your tummy while you eat? and kiss your neck as you swallow each mouthful of food? I can rub your tummy for you and massage where it's tight. dont worry, I'll be very gentle :) you've done a great job and eaten so much 🥰 but it's ok if you still want more, there's plenty of room in your tummy - and plenty more food! how about I keep rubbing you and cover you in kisses, and I'll let you feel how wet you've made me - and you can finish the rest of your food?
Summary: Devon broods about the ball. Rosalie has a delicious solution.
Word Count: 1.3k
Contains: Shortish but sweet, and kinky, small cakes, hand feeding, brief immobility fantasy, dirty talk, mild teasing, so brief finger sucking, weight gain as healing, turning horniness into sappiness because wow these women are sappy
One week before the ball the energy at Daring Woods had transformed from its usual sleepiness. Rosalie herself was filled with excited agitation, and she could tell that Devon was experiencing agitation of the regular variety. The other woman didn’t brood, exactly, but she could be found on more than one occasion staring vacantly into space, a crease between her brows. When she was caught, she would quickly assume a more pleasant expression, and repeatedly denied that anything was the matter. Rosalie appreciated her attempts not to spoil her excitement, but also wished she would just be honest about her worries.
Rosalie found her seated in the library, fit so snuggly into a wingback chair that she was unsure how she managed to wedge her rather wide hips into it. Lost in thought, Devon inadvertently gave Rosalie an opportunity to admire her. Any trace of a jawline that she may have had when they met had disappeared, and her round-cheeked face seemed to radiate the beauty of the full moon. She had foregone a restrictive jacket, as she tended to lately, and her linen shirt creased above the curve of her belly, which now sat mostly in her lap. She had rolled her shirtsleeves up to the elbows, revealing large, thick forearms and broad hands, fat completely disguising the musculature that Rosalie knew lay underneath. The button of her trousers was concealed under the roll of her belly, but she was sure it was straining to contain her wide hips, her thick thighs tightly pressed against the sides of the chair.
Rosalie was seized by the urge to go to her, to perch on the little space left in her lap, to kiss her firmly but tenderly, but she restrained herself. In truth, she was unsure what kind of intimacy their complicated relationship would allow. Devon had certainly become more physical with her, in ways that made her heart pound, but perhaps those displays were only casual? Instead of succumbing to her desire, she made her way to Devon’s side, who glanced up upon realizing she was there.
“I thought you might like these. Freshly made.” She brandished the plate of petit fours, iced to sweet perfection. She declined to mention that she had been the one to request that Ella make them, and also that Ella had given her a deeply knowing look in response.
Devon smiled, perhaps a bit ironically. “Of course I would.” But she did not take the plate in hand, merely gazed at Rosalie expectantly, her mouth opened a fraction. She waited patiently for a moment until Rosalie realized she was expected to be hand-fed. Heat rose in her face at the prospect of having trained her wife to rely on her even to eat.
‘Trained’? Where had that come from?
Carefully, tucking her skirts beneath her, she perched side-saddle on Devon’s soft, warm lap, barely able to conceal the pleasure it gave her to feel herself vying for space with the woman’s belly. Carefully selecting a delicate iced cake between her fingers, she brought it to brush against Devon’s lips, who seemed almost to sigh in response.
“Ah,” she murmured, pressing the pastry into her willing mouth.
Devon nearly whimpered, her eye closing in relief or bliss as she ate, her face slackening, easing the crease between her eyebrows. She looked so at peace, as though eating was her ultimate purpose in life, getting fatter her contribution to the world. Rosalie was swept away in imagining an even heavier version of her wife, one who was unwilling or even unable to leave her bed without assistance, whose sole occupation each day was to eat well past the point of satisfaction, growing softer and wider until her enormous corpulence filled the entirety of the bed, who relied on her for everything, so very fat and obedient and happy.
“These are so very small,” she said, feeding her wife another cake. “Surely you can eat the whole plate.” There were perhaps twenty cakes in all, and together in fact they were quite a substantial meal, especially considering the large lunch she knew Devon had already had. But she only nodded, her mouth already warm against Rosalie’s fingers, taking another and another without a word of complaint.
“You’re doing so very well. Always so willing to gorge yourself for me.” She seemed to be speaking without permission from herself, the words emerging from some deep, subconscious part of her. “What a dear, fat girl you are, and getting fatter every day.”
Devon’s eye opened, her pupil completely blown, color rising in her cheeks. Without breaking eye contact, she took Rosalie’s wrist gently in her hand, holding her steady so as to wrap her mouth around her fingers to the knuckle. Rosalie could feel her tongue tracing her fingers, licking off stray remnants of icing. If she were still able, she knew she would be stiff beneath her skirts.
“You like this, don’t you,” she practically whispered. “Eating for me, getting heavier and heavier, so very big you don’t even fit into the furniture.”
“I love it,” Devon corrected, her voice low and raw.
Rosalie had to kiss her then, tasting her sugary mouth, tangling fingers in her sleek salt and pepper hair. Devon moaned into her, as though Rosalie were the best thing she had ever tasted. Inspired, Rosalie pulled back, placing the next of the petit fours between her own lips suggestively. Devon understood at once, leaning forward to press their mouths together, taking it into her own. The plate was more than half empty.
“You’ve made me so huge,” Devon swallowed. “Taking such good care of me. So much more of me now than before.”
“You were doing just fine on your own, I think,” Rosalie replied, nipping at the other woman’s flabby jaw. Devon huffed out a laugh, wrapping a thick arm around her waist.
“I can finish the plate. Another.”
Rosalie complied, feeding her with one hand and sneaking the other around to grope the roll at her waist, soft and practically flowing through her fingers. Devon’s breath caught as she jiggled it gently, watching ripples go through her gut even through her tight shirt. She did it again, and Devon’s head fell to rest their foreheads together, clearly overwhelmed. She was panting lightly, Rosalie noticed, from arousal or fullness or both.
“Full?”
“My belly feels so tight,” Devon murmured, taking Rosalie’s hand and placing it on her gut. It was certainly firm, but Rosalie had felt it much firmer. Still she complied, beginning to rub the tight circles that she had learned Devon preferred. “Been so greedy today.”
“And every day,” Rosalie corrected, feeding her another cake. “Always eating, stuffing yourself, gorging well past the point that would make another person feel ill. Such a glutton.”
“I can’t help it,” Devon moaned pitifully around a mouthful of pastry. “I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I need it.”
“You’ve eaten nearly twenty cakes. Most people would have eaten three or four.” Rosalie coaxed her, head swimming in arousal. “What happened to that lithe, disciplined knight who rode into battle, sword aloft?”
Devon stilled, and Rosalie’s thoughts came to a screeching halt as she realized the boundary she had crossed. She was about to apologize profusely, but Devon beat her there, looking searchingly into her eyes.
“This is who I really am,” she gestured to herself, her rolls of fat overtaxing the chair. “Greedy, and desperate… and my body my own.”
Rosalie felt she could have cried. Instead, she smiled so hard her face hurt, leaning forward to kiss her wife sweetly. The plate was empty, Devon’s belly taut and round pressing against Rosalie’s hand.
“Well done.” She murmured against the other woman’s mouth. She felt Devon smile against her, just a fraction.
“I may outpace even the extra room in my new waistjacket.” Devon replied, sounding perhaps even a bit proud of herself.
blatant public stuffings are probably one of my favourite things ever. eating is normal! but um, well, hey, isn't this your third time ordering?
haven't you already come back to this stand a few times?
is this all for you?
Something is just soo hot about the public display of hedonism to me. It starts off normal but as more and more food dissapear into that belly, it gets more and more risky. The dishes start to pile up.
Maybe the waiter starts to judge you after a few plates.
Maybe people walking by you at the fast food place can just see how much you ordered, and by the looks of it, it's all yours.
Restaurants are fun since someone keeps up with your orders, though at a fast food place or a buffet you can do it on your own and save the embarassment (kiosk or getting up to grab your food). Also, Cruises. But i think cruises deserve a post of their own.
And when you're done you have trouble getting out of the table. You have to waddle towards the exit with your overstuffed belly.
