Ways to tell if your boy has eaten to your satisafaction:
- their stomach is visibly bloated, protruding at a sharp angle just below the ribs
- their belly rolls smooth out, the press of food on the inside stretching them taught
- the belly hang lifts as the whole belly grows rounder and firmer
- the boy arches, presses his hands into his lower back, slides down in his chair to lean backward better
- burps turn to hiccups as all available space becomes stuffed with treats, not air
- complaints and doubts become reduced to regular moans and whimpers
- patting or slapping the belly elicits a deep thump, rather than a surface slap
Additional signs in your personal very good boy may vary, but you will know by your goosebumps, the way your body seizes and shudders without warning. If you find yourself unable to resist straddling him and nestling his belly between your thighs, he is probably close.
have a soft spot for fat bois in denial of their chaotic caloric spiral, totally unaware that their eating has any consequence on their appearance and mobility. Every 12 course meal a "light snack." Every swallowed fruit a completed goal that earns an entire sheet cake. Hasn't "gained in years" ~
Just some self-indulgent drivel written late at night with no proofreading - apologies for quality :-)
She had a feeling she’d been eating more and more, needing more and more to feel completely sated during this last bout of overeating. No, she knew she had, she knew the size of her stretched stomach had grown just as her fat round belly had expanded outwards as her need to gorge became more and more frequent. But she wanted to know, wanted to be sure. Wanted to know what exactly she had done to herself. After a particularly intense night of filling herself up till her poor strained gut was racked with cramps, she decided it was time.
She’d slept badly because of her overfull stomach and woke up bloaty and achy. So she ate some oatmeal just to calm her fat gut down a bit. Once that was digested and she started feeling a bit hungry again she made some mild soup, and also some vanilla custard, not too sweet, for flavour variation.
While waiting for both to cool down, she gently stretched her stomach with several litres of warm tea. She’d learned the hard way that too hot or too cold, or too spicy or even just too rich and heavy foods made her stomach stress and contract and fill her up sooner than she would have liked. Warm tea is easy on the tummy, but it runs through you way too fast so it’s not an accurate measuring tool. You can always drink way more than your stomach actually holds because half is out the other end by the time you finish swallowing the last drops. Still, it warms up her big tummy for what is to come very nicely, and she still gets a nice big sloshy balloon belly out of it. Pulling heavily at her sides so much she has to hold it to slowly waddle up the stairs to the bathroom.
She’s wearing a soft cuddly oversized sweater. It helps keep some of the warmth from the tea in her big belly. If she had to describe how she felt, she’d say perhaps the way you feel after a good day at the spa. Happy-warm-tired. The equivalent of that but for stomachs. Empty but completely calm and relaxed and warm. Her lower belly is still a bit swollen from last night but quite comfortable at this point. It’s sticking out further than her bellybutton, which it only does when her upper belly is completely empty and her lower belly very full. Unless she got even fatter than she suspected.
All in all, conditions are about as good as they can get to measure her stomach capacity.
Leaning against the kitchen counter she fills herself a half-litre mug at a time, alternating between warm soup and warm custard. She’s often found that kind of breathing it down works best... long slow inhales and deep glugs at the same time, counting to keep a steady rhythm. Her hand is on her upper belly, feeling it swell, feeling it fill and distend as she calmly inhales pint after pint of thick, creamy liquid.
She fits 2,5 litres fairly easily, she knows what she’s doing. Her upper belly is ballooning outward, sides fully puffed out, and the mound of her swollen stomach visible between her fat little tits. She looks... pregnant. Another pint disappears into her straining tummy. 3 litres. Her breathing has become shallower and faster as her gut constricts her lungs, but she’s keeping it calm and regular still. Can she manage 4. A full gallon even?
The next mug though, is harder to finish. She’s extremely full and swollen and her back hurts from overarching it to make room for her big belly and her legs hurt from supporting all that gluttonous weight, but she manages. 3,5 litres. It's important to not slow down too much because then the measurement is off. If the first portion is already digesting, she won’t get an accurate read. This is science after all, she’s doing it for the science.
She starts an eighth mug but can’t even get half in. She has to stop and urgently breathe away some stomach cramps that are threatening to undo all her hard work. She concentrates on breathing regular and willing her overfull stomach to stay relaxed. It works, but she daren’t take another sip.
So, fat and round as a tub, she figures she currently has a stomach capacity of 3,7 litres. Which is not a gallon but also waaaaaaaay over her previous record—last time she measured she could get just over three litres into her big sloshy tummy.
Speaking of sloshy – her immense FULLNESS hits her rather suddenly, now that she’s not concentrating on breathing and swallowing. She yowls in discomfort, frantically rubbing her itching and distended sides. A warm bath is the only thing that helps, though bending over to run the taps and heaving herself in is pure torture. Finally she sighs blissfully and lets herself sink in, letting the water carry her mountain of a gut and the warmth soothe her painfully stretched skin. She stays long enough to feel her huge swollen gut slowly go down and just feel heavy and comfortable and enjoy how much it rises above the water. A fat slippery island of lard amid a sea of foam. When the water gets tepid she is almost ready to eat again. She knows from experience how worn out and exhausted her big belly will feel after the ordeal, and how immensely satisfying a light filling will feel now. So she eats. Nothing heavy, just enough to make her feel full but not stuffed. Which is quite a lot these days.
Collapsing on the sofa, she’s asleep before she’s finished massaging a soothing lotion into her tender skin. Next time she’ll fit a gallon.
Soft Belly Kink Vibes @hubbubchub - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
2087
areudirty
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
romaincrisis
