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everything here is fantasy unless explicitly stated otherwise
this blog isnt for you if you dont like gross weird fucked up stuff
oc can be found under #pup posts

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@indulgeindulge
this is my personal spank bank
everything here is fantasy unless explicitly stated otherwise
this blog isnt for you if you dont like gross weird fucked up stuff
oc can be found under #pup posts
Reverie
A Stuffing Kinkfic Rewrite
CONTAINS: bakery manager x reader, stuffing, light dom feedism, light eructo, belly rubs
Reminder for what this is: there were some old fics/adjacent things that used to be around that I latched onto but was dissatisfied with them because of spelling mistakes, being RPF, or feeling unfinished etc. This is the first of 3 rewrites I’ve hoped to do, but they are not connected in any other way.
Details about the original:
It was a post on Tumblr that I believe has been lost to time, I don’t know if there were any titles on the post. I hold no ill will towards whomever wrote it originally, and I love the concept too much to not try to fix it up a bit.
What I remember about the original: 2 unnamed people working at a bakery, 2nd person perspective. The character is said to typically eat a lot of the bakery’s leftovers, and this time the character is made to eat an entire wedding cake on top of that, because it was made in the wrong flavor. They stop after eating each layer though didn’t indicate which they started with and would try to rub their belly but would be encouraged to keep eating instead. This would occur until they finished the entire cake. The manager then promptly leaves and the character is forced to clean up the mess on a full stomach.
Things I wanted to fix: the spelling, the lack of detail about the cake and bakery operations, the rushed-feeling ending and withholding of relief from the full belly. Hopefully all is accomplished and more (also quick warning that it’s quite long), enjoy.
Staying Warm
Your toes are freezing. You huff and scrunch them inside your wool slippers as you shiver in your bundle of blankets. The house is frigid around you, any residual heat draining quickly the longer your power stays dead. It's the middle of the night and the snow is still falling thickly outside; there's no chance of anyone who could fix it making it to you tonight. The tea kettle starts wailing; at least you have gas to the stove still. Into your favorite mug goes a bag of your favorite tea and a pile of sugar.
Freezing, you drink as soon as it cools enough to pass over your tongue. It splashes into your belly with a comforting warmth, you quickly drain the mug with large sips - enjoying the heat that falls through your throat and into your belly. The tea warms you, but you still shake in the cold. Your fingers start numbing again as the heat fades from the mug all too soon. You fill your mug again, refilling the kettle to its maximum and pulling out your largest mug while you wait for the teabag to steep. By the time the kettle boils, you're breathing out the faintest burp after finishing your second mug. The heat stays only momentairily longer, and only leaves you desperate for more relief.
something about mad science group doing experiments to improve breeding capabilities of alien and/or mutant species
i jus need some bigger, stronger creature to strap me to their thighs, enhanced cock slowly getting thicker and a bit longer, traveling through me. i'd whine and arch my back against the restraints, my little bunny tummy, and my struggling would only help them to sink deeper inside of me, knot slowly forming just outside of my cunt
i sob and hiccup from the pressure inside of my body, aching from the inside out. but every cell in my body screamed to be bred, and i was weak to deny the pleasure of being round with this creature's brood, whatever form they may take.
i brush my paws against the imprint, standing proud through my tummy. this excites the creature, and i yelp in pleasure as it bucks its hips into my slick hole, t-dick straining as the knot grew thicker.
cum began pulsing through my insides, thickening the bulge in my tummy. i moaned as my insides strained, filled but determined to take more, to push beyond my limits, and take every drop.
by the time the creature was detached from me, my stomach stretched over two feet in front of me, sloshing between my thighs as i was sat onto a plug, as the nurses attended to my sticky form
need some alien eggs shifting around in my tummy whenever i walk, or even to hold the eggs for so long that the now hatched young are all slithering among each other inside of my womb 😵💫😵💫😵💫
being taken to other colonies to spread the species, mixed and bred to alter their traits ,, but i always keep one in my womb for me, to help me carry and expand my capacity to do so aughhhzjzgsjsb i'm losing it rn
You’d had hard boiled eggs before. It wasn’t like they were new. You’d had them a few times as a kid, and every so often you’d find them in hotel breakfast fridges-wrapped in cling film and better than pre-packaged pastries or unripe bananas. But they were far too much trouble to make and de-shell than was worth it. Yet here they are in front of you in the dairy isle: pre-cooked, pre-shelled, and packaged nicely in bags of 6.
You imagine them slipping whole through your lips in one satisfying shape. You buy every package the store has, and all that the store across town has. Twelve squishy bags. Six dozen eggs waiting to be consumed. They barely fit in the bowl you dump them in, a few falling off the pile’s precarious top. You let yourself start early and slide one into your mouth. It sits large and round on your tongue, but you can roll it around. Your teeth sink through it with a squeak before the pieces rush to your wanting stomach. A second and third slide down whole, the process difficult at first but easing as you get the feel for it.
Another three go down as you fill the bath piping hot and undress. The water’s heat makes you gasp and moan as you slide in, pinking the skin of your too-flat belly. The bowl is placed on the tray across, within easy reach as you nestle back into the tub’s seat. Another six go down leisurely, filling but not filling, and with a dozen inside you slip down so your ears are under water. The gurgles and squeaks of a digesting stomach echo louder through the water. You swallow a thirteenth egg, listening to the sounds of your swallow and the efforts of your esophagus and the egg sliding down down down to your stomach. The eggs taste different brought down through the water but the sounds are so intoxicating that the next five are eaten the same way. You burp, and bubbles roll at the surface.
At two dozen your stomach is stretching. The little paunch of your growing belly looks even larger in the bath, distorted by water and stream and the low light of candles. It’s no where near big enough, and the next few eggs go down faster.
Three dozen and you’re halfway, stomach rumbling audible even from down below. You’re beautifully overfull now, stomach complaining about the continuous additions. Your groin throbs and you stir the water around it, teasing yourself as you continue to eat with the gentle flow. If you thrust your hips above the waterline, your belly looks swollen in the air as much as in the water. Heat-pink and malleable and rounding, and you sink fingers into it to shake and play.
The heat keeps the cramps away as the fourth dozen disappears. The stretch of your stomach walls aches as it’s forced larger and larger but your skin and muscles grow easy, relaxed as they are. You toss salts in the bath and moan at the pleasant smell as you stir the water and rub your hands along your tightening belly. It’s heavy even in the water, bulging out over your thighs, and tighter, more solid. Your fingers press down rather than sink in, and it takes effort. The eggs are harder to swallow now, throat tired and stomach protesting, and you bite in every few in half. Halves or wholes, you still fill, you still grow.
Five dozen eggs fight for space in your stomach as you groan and writhe in the water. Each swallow is hard work, and your body screams for attention, but it is impossible for you to stop. Your stomach is an aching hard balloon inside you, and it bloats your belly into a tight, heavy ball that’s red with more than just the water’s still high heat. You pant around each egg, muscles crying for you to stop. You can feel the wetness of yourself even in the bath, running from your burning sex in rivulets. It’s begging for attention but you only have hands for your enormous middle. When you press you can feel the eggs sliding around themselves inside you, barely enough room to slip around. When you swallow another, they all jostle to move out of the way of the newest. Your stomach, your belly sparks every time its packed contents are added to-fighting the unrelenting stretch needed for another, the internal movement needed for another, the increasing pressure from another. Another and another and another, more more more the only thought in your brain.
Six left and your stomach has given up. It’s straining through the upper curves of your bloated belly, rock hard and conformed around the lumpy shapes of nearly 72 hard-boiled eggs. You shove the last six down in quick succession, and they stick heavily in your throat before one by one pushing, shoving in. Your body is a glorious mess, sex throbbing, belly screaming, everything tingling in heat and pressure and pleasure. You ghost your hands over your enormous bloated form and try to buck your hips into the water automatically with the blinding pleasure of being so tight so big so full, so so full. You’re huge and heavy and even with the water’s help can’t lift your hips under the weight of your gluttony.
It takes barely a touch to your groin before you’re climaxing, the painful clenching of your stuffed gut extending your orgasm in little shocks. You drift in the water, exhausted and overwhelmed with pleasure. The water is still warm, the tub cradles you safely, and you drift off. Maybe when you wake you’ll be able to stand, and go buy more.
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
Themes; Stuffing / Wg, Soft Vore, Pred-Prey relationship, mention of digestion/implied reformation
Pred that stuffs their prey regularly. They prefer their prey a lil plumped up and their prey prefers to be bloated and full. Something about the prey knowing that each bite that makes it past their own lips makes them more and more appetizing to their pred. Something about being full to the point it hurts while their pred looks at them hungrily, offering to rub their stuffed gut. Letting out little prey burps now and then as they digest a feast, knowing their pred is eager to digest them.
Ouuuuh yesss~
I loooove making my Prey nice and plump~ And getting to play with their tummy before I devour them~? Delicious ~
*stuffed, stifled burps, visibly bloated* you gonna finish that?
damn this is crazy
“food balloon” is such a sexy phrase like yes PLS gorge yourself for me till you’re so swollen and distended that taking a deep breath is difficult and you look like a literal overfed balloon
yes it is normal and also encouraged for your tummy to ache from fullness at all times. if you aren’t uncomfortably full that means you’re starving.
Nu-uh
🙈🙈 currently filling my gut after eating dinner with friends… I got nuggets, fries, and a large coffee that was mostly creamer because I wanted my guts to swell and ache 🙈🤤😮💨 but I wanted more so I’m slowly sipping 1L of tea while my belly continues to grow and expand from the dairy overload and fast food. It’s so full it sloshes…. I was supposed to eat way less today but…. I couldn’t resist the urge to stuff myself and now my belly hurts from being so full but I can feel it churning and I can’t stop sipping the tea.. I love the sloshing sounds a full cauldron like mine makes…
how was the stuffing?
god i ate way more than my belly could handle.. i did a chilis and dairy queen stuffing and my poor belly was so distended and huge. i just kept eating and eating and eating and eating mindlessly until my belly started aching a little and i couldn’t sit up anymore.. as time went on my poor achy belly got worse and i had to lay down to try and relax before i got sick 😵💫
now this morning i feel so big.. my tummy is nice and bloated and taut 🤤 bubbling here and there as i rub the bloat ugh. ice cream always makes me a big ball of a girl the next day but everything i ate from chilis definitely added to this mornings big achy bloat
Big Breakfast
ft. so many hashbrowns, almost a pound of sausage, two eggs, hollandaise sauce, and country gravy 😮💨