EDIT: MADE A NEW BLOG THAT IS IT'S OWN THING AND NOT A SIDE BLOG
Intro Page
Hi! This is my first ever nsfw blog! I'm Merry Nights Time, but just call me Merry for short! I've been writing fanfics for a long while, but only recently (last year) have I publish them online. And now I'm using this blog to dabble into more graphic/self indulgent shit for the first time (that is not connected to any of my mains). If you have any writing requests, send them via asks. Only fandoms I'm obsessing over rn are Billy and Mandy/Ghostbusters (specifically The Real Ghostbusters).
synopsis: Kylie has been gaining weight recently, no thanks to the constant stress of juggling college and ghostbusting gigs. She uses excuses like "freshman fifteen" and "winter weight", however nobody buys it, especially the Grundel. Which is why this year, he plans to stuff her with enough treats that will last her until February.
The Grundel watched as Kylie entered into the basement with her usual guarded stride, though lately it has been accompanied by the faintest wobble of new softness beneath her punk attire. Her usual oversized band tee hugs her midsection just a bit tighter, her jacket's buttons struggled to not pop from the pressure, and her black skinny jeans strain ever so slightly at the thighs. She plops down on a chair, glaring at the specter that was inside the Ectoplasm Entity Projection Unit. Although she tried her best to look brave and in control of the situation, her constant shifting in the chair revealed her nervousness.
The Grundel's glowing, yellow eyes flicker with amusement as he leaned against the unit's wall. "Kylie, Kylie, Kylie. You've been visiting me so often lately. I'm starting to think you like our little chats." His grin widens as his gaze lingers in the way her shirt rides up just enough to reveal a soft crease of flesh peeking over her belt. "Or maybe, you just like what I've been feeding you."
Kylie's cheeks flushed with a tint of red at the monster's comments, prompting her to cross her arms defensively. However, the action only served to push her chest forward rather than showing her outward irritation. Though she wouldn't say it out loud, she had been enjoying her visits a little too much. At first, she only did it for the sick, twisted enjoyment that came out of seeing her tormentor behind bars, where she and other victims of his manipulations could never be used again.
Yet as days passed, she felt the urge everyday to use the Projection Unit to talk to him, and everyday the urge was satisfied. And it was alllll thanks to the treats the Grundel was able to conjure out of thin air with the limited amount of magic he still possessed. No matter how hard she attempted to resist, someone with a strong sweet tooth like hers would eventually succumb to the temptation.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Kylie muttered, avoiding his eyes. "I've just been… stress-eating. Exams. Ghostbusting. Whatever."
The Grundel chuckled, reaching into his trench coat to pull out a wrapped candy cane. He dangled it in front of her with a knowing smirk, swinging the candy from side to side. "Oh, I'm sure. But tell me, how many of those stress snacks have I given you, hmm? That hot cocoa last week? The gingerbread cookies before that?" His voice then dropped to a teasing purr. "Face it my dear. You're enjoying this. And deep down, you want more~"
Kylie stared at the candy cane once it levitated past the Unit and into her lap. She gritted her teeth. She knows she should refuse, should toss it back in his smug face, but her fingers twitched towards it anyways.
The Grundel was quick to sense her hesitation. He watched her intently as she carefully unwrapped the candy cane.
"Go on," he coaxed, his tone oozing with faux friendliness. "It's a special candy cane. Just for you. With a special touch to spice things up~"
Her heart raced as she brought the candy cane to her lips, biting off a chunk. The sweet, peppermint flavour exploded across her tongue, and she couldn't help but moan softly. Then, a strange, tingling warmth speared throughout her body, one she has grown uncomfortably familiar with. Her cheeks flushed hot as her stomach lets out a deep gurgle, before expanding outward against her short with alarming speed. The fabric tightens visibly, buttons straining as new softness pushes against them. Her thighs pressed together more snugly in her jeans, seams groaning in protest.
"Guh—Grundel!" she snaps, glaring at him through her embarrassment as she clutches her now rounder belly with one hand. "You asshole, I didn't say you could— fuck!" She sifted in her seat again, feeling the extra weight settling heavily on her hips. Even her face felt fuller, her chin softening slightly as she scowled.
The Grundel stroked his chin as he watched her squirm with the chair.
"Oh, don't act like you didn't know what would happen," he purred. "You love how it feels. Admit it."
Kylie's scowl deepened yet her body betrayed her as her stomach let out another hungry growl, louder this time.
She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the way her hand had a tight grip in her hand.
"I hate you," she muttered without the usual venom.
The Grundel's grin turned wicked. "No, you don't." With a flick of his wrist, another candy cane materialized between his fingers, this one shimmering faintly with coated sugar. "Want another?"
Kylie glared at the new candy cane like it's personally offended her, but the pink flush creeping down her neck gives her away. Her belly pressed against the table now, soft and round under her stretched thin shirt. The buttons looked dangerously close to popping, one wrong move and they might just give up entirely.
Yet despite this, her fingers tightened around the first candy cane, already half-eaten, as she reached for the second with her free hand. The moment her hand grabbed it, she felt another rush of that addictive, tingling warmth. Her hips widened with an audible creak of denim, thighs pressing harder against the chair. Her breath hitched as her belly swelled another inch, forcing her to sit back with a soft oof.
"You're, nngh, suck a dick," she moaned. She was too busy showing the rest of the first candy cane into her mouth, cheeks bulging as she chewed furiously. The magic surged through her again, her arms plumping, her double chin deepening. Her jacket made a sharp PING, signalling the top button finally giving in.
The Grundel's laugh was low and pleased, sending tremors of pleasure down the goth's body. "Look at you~ Barely fitting in that chair now~" He flicked another candy cane towards her, this one coating in a chocolate glaze. "Go one. You know you want it."
Kylie hesitated for exactly two seconds before snatching it up with a grumble, practically inhaling the cane into her insatiable gullet. Once again, the magic made her body respond immediately. Her belly lurched forward, pressing against the table with enough force to make it groan under her newfound weight. The last surviving button of her jacket popped off, revealing the soft, doughy expanse of her stomach, now taut and round from her indulging.
Her thighs spilled over the edges of the chair, the denim seams giving away with tiny, diamond shaped rips. Even her arms jiggled as she lifted a hand to wipe chocolate from her lips. The Grundel watched the goth, entranced by her blue eyes flickering between irritation and sheer, shameless enjoyment.
"Mmmph, shtop…uhngh… grinnin' at'sh me like that'sh," she slurred through a mouthful of candy, even as she reached for another treat: now a frosted gingerbread cookie that materialized in front of her. Her cheeks burn crimson m, but she doesn't hesitate before taking a bite.
All the while, the Grundel watched her, savouring the moment of his archenemy acting like the spoiled brat she was when around sweet treats. He continued summoning more and more food for Kylie to eat, not caring about depleting his energy or the goth Ghostbuster's stomach being unable to take anymore.
By the time the hour was up, Kylie was practically unrecognizable from her once petite figure. Her stomach was now swollen outward in a massive globe, its surface stretched thinly to its limits. Her arms grew to be doughy and soft, while her thighs were thick as tree trunks. She sat on the chair, which barely held her weight, her flabby back pressed against the backrest. Her face was now found, her once double chin developing into a triple chin while her cheeks plus neck dimpled with softness. Her jacket was discarded and left sprawled on the floor. The bottom of her band t-shirt rolled up some time ago, exposing her belly in all of its glory.
The Grundel floated in his tube-like unit, his eyes talking in her new, plumper form with undisguised pleasure. He pressed his hand against the glass, making sure that Kylie saw what he was about to do. With nonchalant flare, he drew a circle on the surface and closed his eyes as ectoplasmic green energy danced around his body. In a blink of an eye, he teleported outside of the unit and in front of Kylie in a crouch position. The Grundel took a moment to stretch, his body aching from being in such confinement.
"Much better," he mused to himself, flexing his now free hands. His gaze fell back on Kylie, now a bloated, overfed mess in her seat.
He rose to his tall height before teleporting again, this time to Kylie's side He leaned down, inspecting her rounded belly with a critical eye, his fingers barely tracing over the taunt skin. Kylie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to deal with the embarrassment of her acting like a total glutton earlier.
"You really let yourself go," The Grundel taunted, prodding her belly with his index finger. It didn't budge an inch, solid as a rock. "Such a greedy glutton~"
Kylie huffed, crossing her arms, or at least trying to. Her glare was half-hearted, cheeks still flushed pink from both indignation and lingering warmth from those treats.
"Fuck off," she grumbled, shifting in the chair, only for it to let out an ominous creak beneath her large ass. "T-This is your fault, you—BWAAAAURP—gremlin!"
The Grundel's grin widened, revealing sharp teeth glinting in the dark. He reached from his coat to retrieve another treat: a frosted, snowflake-shaped sugar cookie, dusted with white powder and sprinkles. He dangled it just out of reach, watching her conflicted mind right before him.
"Tell me you don't want it~ Go on, say the words~"
The cookie smelt like vanilla and butter, her stomach, already stuffed to capacity, gave a traitorous gurgle.
"I hate you," Kylie said, before snatching the cookie from him and shoving it into her mouth with a muffled groan. Once again, her body began swelling another visible inch, her chair groaning in protest.
tags: consensual force feeding, weight gain, feedism, ghost hands
characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)
synopsis: It's Thanksgiving, and Peter is about to get the stuffing of a lifetime by Samhain, the Ghost of Halloween
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Peter Venkman was working late in the Firehouse.
And by working, he was actually reading a magazine with his feet resting on the desk instead of looking over some research notes Egon gave him.
The place was was eerily silent this late at night, save for the occasional shuffling of pages and the city's ambience outside.
Suddenly, the sound of a door opening broke the silence, followed by a familiar voice calling out. "Peter?"
Peter looked up from his work and a small grin spread across his face as he recognized the voice.
"In here," he replied, setting down his magazine to see Samhain manifesting in front of him in a thick smoke of black.
"Hey, big guy," Peter greeted, his eyes lingering on Samhain's body. "What brings you here so late?"
"I came to check on you," Samhain said, his deep voice slightly echoing through the space. "You've been working late a lot lately. I wanted to make sure you were still taking care of yourself."
Peter rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for the ancient spirit. "Oh, come on," he said, resting his chin on an open palm. "I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."
Samhain glided closer, his towering form looming over Peter. "Maybe not, but you do need someone to make sure you're eating properly. You've been so focused on your work that I'm worried you're forgetting the basics."
Peter opened his mouth, about to protest that he was fine, but was quickly cut off by Samhain placing a small container down on the desk.
"Here. I brought something for you."
Peter raised an eyebrow at the gift, yet opened it nonetheless, popping off the cover to reveal a heaping slice of golden-brown pumpkin pie. It was still steaming hot and the unmistakable autumnal spice scent filled the air with its presence. He blinked up at Samhain. "You… baked this for me? Mr. 'I am Halloween' used a oven?"
Samhain crossed his arms, his cloak rustling in invisible wind as he mumbled. "Do not mock my efforts, Venkman. I mearly thought you deserved a treat for your hard work."
The brunet managed to stifle an incoming chuckle. Him and "hard work" didn't really mixed well. But who was he to deny some good ol' slice of pie? He lifted up the slice with one hand, slowly bringing it to his lips before taking a large bite. He moaned instantly, the rich flavors already awaking his taste buds to a food experience of a lifetime. Samhain clearly put his heart (and maybe some magic) into making such a decadent slice.
"God," Peter said with food in his mouth. "This may be the best pie I've ever had! I must be lucky to catch you on a sentimental day, haven't I Sam?~"
Samhain's cheeks seemed to grow bright with blush. He quickly turned his head away as an attempt to not let Peter see. "F-Foolish mortal. Do not mistake this for sentimentality! It was clearly to make sure you had something in your stomach for tonight."
Peter took another exaggerated bite of the pie, licking some of it off his thumb with a smirk. "Uh-huh. What's next? Gonna feed me a whole turkey dinner while complaining about it."
The Spirit of Halloween stiffened, fists clenching at his sides before he suddenly faced Peter eye-to-eye again.
"ENOUGH! If you must know…" the god's voice dropped to a low grumble. "I require… input. Input on your preferred sustenance for your pitiable mortal feast." A pause. Then, a quiet, "What do you want?"
Peter leaned back against the chair, licking the last remaining pie filling off his finger with teasing relish. He gave Samhain a slow, hungry once-over, one that has nothing to do with the food.
"Okay, pumpkin," He purred, his voice dripping like a spoonful of honey. "Since you're begging for my Thanksgiving wish list…."
He counted off everything he wanted-
A turkey so juicy that the meat fell off the bone-
Mashed potatoes, extra butter, extra heavy cream, until it was a main dish all on its own rather than a mere side-
Stuffing that's stuffed with different kinds of sausages-
And pumpkin pie once again made by Samhain's hands.
"And let's be real," Peter murmured lowly as he tugged at Samhain's cloak, bringing the mighty god down to his level. He rested his hand on his belly which started to become more softer thanks to Samhain's cooking. "By the time I'm done eating this dinner, I'm gonna need a new uniform after being stuffed like your damn turkey~"
Samhain made a noise somewhere between outrage and embarrassment.
"You," the spirit rasped between clenched crooked teeth, "are truely a mess, mortal."
"Your mess," Peter corrected, his grin growing wider. "I'm your mess~"
The Ghostbusters rolled back into the Firehouse just after sundown, all of them covered in ectoplasm and exhausted from a long ghostbusting gig. Peter removed his proton pack with a dramatic sigh, rolling his shoulders.
"I swear I'm gonna need at least three showers to get this gunk off of me-"
He stopped mid-rant when his noise caught the scent of food coming upstairs. He quickly walked to the source, already imagining the dinner Samhain cooked for him. But nothing could prepare him for the sight that awaited him in the sleeping quarters.
Samhain stood by his makeshift dining table (that were actually two filing cabinets next to each other with bedsheets thrown over), his arms behind his back, almost like he was hiding something. Gone was the long, flowing purple cloak that hugged his figure and replacing that was a equally long, brownish-red "Kiss The Cook" apron. The apron strings dug into thick orange curves that made Peter's heart skip a beat.
And on the said table?
A spread so excessive it could only be called sacrificial. Golden-brown turkey drowning in its own juices beside a bowl filled a monstrous amount of buttery mashed potatoes smothered in gravy. The stuffing was practically bursting from its glass dishware, and the pumpkin pies still steaming fresh out of the oven downstairs. Other side dishes, like carrots and rolls, sat in massive amounts as well.
Peter swallowed hard before finding his words again, somewhere in between awe, appreciation, and horny panic.
"So, uh."
He gestured weakly toward Samhain's outfit while trying very hard not to think of anything dirty, yet failing spectacularly to do so.
"You really went all out for dinner, have you? And it's-"
"All for you? Yes," Samhain confirmed with pride evident in his voice. "Speaking of dinner, why don't you… come here?"
The pumpkin-headed entity summoned spectral hands that appeared out of thin air to begin unzipping Peter's uniform with practiced ease. Peter's breath hitched as the ghostly hands tugged at his jumpsuit, peeling it away like he was the turkey about to be carved.
"Jesus- Samhain, are you seriou-"
The spirit cut him off with a flick of two fingers. Soon, those hands were everywhere: one shoving him into a chair while another yanked his belt loose with an audible snap, a third already piling his plate high enough to block his view.
"You said," Samhain began, already behind his lover and leaning over his shoulder to drip gravy over the mash with a large cup, "And I quote, 'Gonna need a new uniform after being stuffed like my damn turkey.'" A pause occurred as another hand forced a fork into Peter's grip. "Consider this a warmup to your fitting."
Peter groaned around the first, obscenely rich bite, his mouth flooded with butter, cream, and sheer excess, before managing to glare over his shoulder.
"Ohhh, so this is why you kept insisting on cooking for me." He barely dodged a fourth hand shoving a cranberry-smeared roll in his face. "Sammy, i swear if the guys walk in on me like this-"
A fifth hand materialized just to slam the bedroom shut with finality as Samhain smiled at him.
"Then they will learn why mortals pray before meals. Now. Open wider."
A forkful of turkey went down Peter's throat. The food was delicious, don't get him wrong. But, this was waaaaay too much for a guy like him. It didn't help that he could already feel his stomach distending outward like a balloon as it tried to accommodate everything.
He took another shaky bite of stuffing, barely resisting the urge to close his eyes and succumb to Samhain. "You're insane," he managed between bites, his cheeks flushed. "I'm gonna burst before I finish this all-"
A hand suddenly pinched his chin, turning his face toward the god.
"Oh no. You will."
The hands didn't let up, not as Peter groaned around another forced bite of sweet potato casserole, certainly not when two more materialized to knead shamelessly at the swollen curve of his belly beneath his stretched-thin undershirt.
"Fuck, Sam!" Peter gasped out loud, his hips jerking against the chair as one of those ghostly fingers dipped teasingly under the hem of his shirt to trace the sensitive skin beneath. His breath came in ragged pants now, each inhale earned him another grope while each exhale earned him another forkful shoved between parted lips.
Samhain observed how wrecked he looked, blushing from collar to face, belly rounding obscenely under kneading palms, the sight practically being a feast all on its own.
"You sound," the god mused like summoning yet another hand to drag a dripping spoonful of honey-glazed carrots down Peter's throat, "like you enjoy this far more than your pride lets you admit."
Peter whimpered around the mouthful before choking out,"Nngh, keep t-talking like that and I'll-" He cut himself off with a sharp cry when one bold hand slid lower to press his lower belly, right underneath his straining arousal that already soaked his undies with pre-cum.
"Tell me," Samhain purred, kneading the swollen curve of Peter's belly while his other hand grabbed a side flab, "do you think Santa would approve of this kind of feasting? Because I have plans for Christmas too. More pies… more stuffing… more rounds. And when you think you hate this, you'll beg for it again by New Year's."
tags: pumpkin tf, rapid weight gain, immobility, dirty talking, a bit of fat shaming, mouth-to-mouth force feeding, seed eating
characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)
synopsis: The Ghost of Halloween, Samhain, has escaped the Containment Unit once more! With the Ghostbusters distracted by another bust, he would be able to bring eternal night forever! Because of this, Peter, who stayed behind due to a fever, has taken upon himself to stop the Class VII ghost on his own. But when Samhain's trail led to a large pumpkin patch, he would soon find that the ground he walked on possessed ...very interesting properties to say the least.
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The full autumn moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the pumpkin patch Peter was investigating. He was dressed in his brown uniform, slightly rinkled from not being used in a while. His P.K.E beeped louder and louder as he walked down an open trail, passing various, oversized pumpkins that looked ready to burst. Samhain was here, he knew it. He may have been all alone, but he could handle a powerful spirit. So what if the lingering of his fever, from his heated face to the sweat on his forehead, still affected him? He's a Ghostbuster!
As his ego continued hyping himself up in his mind, he failed to notice a familiar figure dressed in a purple cloak floating behind him. It only took the sensation of a soft bump against his back that jolted his senses.
"What the..."
Turning around, Peter's eyes went wide as he found himself face to face with Samhain's round belly. The spirit loomed above him, casting a great shadow over the mortal.
"Ghostbuster." Samhain's deep voice echoed like the autumn breeze as his yellowed teeth curled into a creepy smile. His hollowed eyes fixed Peter with a glint that the Ghostbuster has never saw before.
He stumbled back a step, instinctively reaching for his particle thrower, then remembering that he left the proton pack in Ecto-1. He gave Samhain a weak, sheepish smile, trying to annoy his way out of this mess.
"Whoa there, Jack-O-Junk! What happened? Did you raid a McDonalds before coming here?"
Then without warning, the ground began to grow warmer with every second. The impressively large pumpkins seemed to grow in size as well, their vines wrapping them in an embrace akin to snakes with their prey.
Samhain chuckled at the question. "No, Ghostbuster. This patch, it is filled with potent magic pulsating in its fertile ground."
He placed a clawed hand on his swollen gut.
"All of this power, coursing through my very veins, and it only costed one little thing."
Peter's eyes gazed down at the doughy middle, his thoughts a mix of disgust and surprisingly arousal. The more he stared at it, the more it looked more deletable. He wondered how soft it would feel if his hand—
Peter shook his head quickly, snapping out of his fantasies as his eyes met Samhain's once more. He scowled, trying to mask his true feelings and the odd shiver than ran through his body. "Heh, well, it seems the Great and Powerful Samhain let himself go, huh? You could lose some exercise, big guy. Maybe a Jenny Craig meal plan while yer at it."
Samhain's hollow eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger burning in them.
"Watch that tongue of yours, mortal."
Despite his irritation, the Spirit of Halloween's smile was still plastered on his face. He sensed the uneasiness in Peter, how the brunet's eyes took glimsaes at his lower half. With his hand on his belly, he gave it a good SMACK. The heavy gut quivered beneath his touch, jiggling like jello before settling down. "You stand on the most fertile spot of this land, or should I say... fattening~?"
Peter swallowed hard, nervously backing away as Samhain glide closer and closer towards him. He tried to keep his glare locked on the god, however it becomes increasingly more difficult to do so as that belly was blocking his view.
With the snap of his long fingers, Samhain summon the veins in the patch to his command. They didn't hesitate as they all wrapped themselves around Peter in a deadly grip; some restrained his arms, and others his legs. The Ghostbuster struggled breaking free to no avail. He was truly defensive, no proton pack and no backup to help him.
"Fattening?" Peter questioned, his voice cracking a bit. "Don't tell me, yer gonna what, stuff me with pumpkins until I look like a Thanksgiving turkey."
Samhain's clawed hand was gentle yet demeaning, titling Peter's chin up towards his lips. He lowered his pumpkin head down, his eyes managing to glint a strange look of hunger in them as he leaned close until his lips met Peter's.
It was surprisingly soft and warm, nothing like the harsh grip of his hand. At the same time, Peter felt something, or rather somethings, spilling into his mouth. They were tiny, gritty, and had the weird aftertaste of... dirt? Wait-
Peter's eyes widened as he realized Samhain was feeding him seeds like a mother bird to her little babies. He could taste the earth, the sweetness of the pumpkins, and a weird spicy flavor that tingled his taste buds. Unable to spit them out, Peter had no choice but to swallow every tiny seed that Samhain so readily fed him in their bizarre kiss.
Finally, the Lord of Halloween broke the kiss, his smile widening as he watched Peter struggling to swallow the last of them. The ghost's eyes gazed at the man standing in front of him, taking in the flushed cheeks, the quick rise and fall of his chest. Even in the night, he could see the faintest bulge in the Ghostbuster's midsection, and how the fabric now strained against it.
"I must say," Samhain purred. "You look full already~"
Peter's face flushed a beet red from the comment, but he couldn't deny it or say that the spirit was just pulling his leg. He could feel it, the subtle swell that certainly wasn't there beforehand. He tried to summon up a smartass remark, but all that came out was a shaky whisper.
"D-Damn pumpkin seeds..."
Suddenly, his belly let out an ominous gurgle, causing him to look down at himself. There before his eyes was that same, small pouch expanding ever so slightly with each second. His skin was beginning to change as well. At first, it started to feel more rougher, as if a strange coating covered his being. He gasped as he saw his skin turning a tint of orange.
He was transforming into a pumpkin.
As he watched, the skin continued the next stage of its transformation, its surface taking on the texture of a pumpkin's outer layer. The gadget belt around his waist strained harder, threatening to pop open. A wave of dizziness wept over him, making the world spin in his head. The ground felt warmer, his body heavier.
Samhain's hand continued to caress Peter's growing gut before slowly drifting down to his belt. In one fell swoop, he pulled on the belt, instantly breaking it.
"Oops," Samhain said, all the while not looking or sounding apologetic for it.
As Peter's belly swelled and rounded out, it eventually bumped against Samhain's own gut. The contact sent a dizzy shiver down the Ghostbuster's spine, the doughy surface of Samhain's contrasting with the hardness of his own. His face blushed a deeper red at the thought of him becoming even bigger than the ghost and his already impressing figure.
"U-Uuuugh.... I'm... so huge."
Samhain laughed, throughly enjoying the sight of the once cocky Ghostbuster now a blushing mess.
"Yes, you are. You're growing quite nicely in fact. Soon, you'll be the biggest one in the patch~"
Peter gasped as new changes wrecked his body. His chest swelled, pushing against the fabric of his uniform and causing it to tear further down the seams. The roundness continued down his sides, his hips widening until the vines that restrained him simply gave up and plopped him onto the ground. His ass ballooned out behind him like a pair of pumpkins, pressing into the earth with mighty force. His thighs thickened, as well as his arms, legs, and face. Finally, the transformation stopped for good. The once lean Ghostbuster was now a gigantic, spherical pumpkin of a man, completely immobilized and utterly helpless, like a prisoner of his own flesh.
Samhain circled around him like a lion examining its prey, marvelling at the work he has done to Peter. Once behind the massive blob, he ran his hand over his ass, his fingers practically sinking into the swollen yet blubbery fat.
"Perfect. You're perfect like this."
"Y-You'll never *huff* get away," Peter panted, his voice muffled by the shear mass of his own body. "Ray... Egon... Winston... they'll find me. They always do..."
"Then, let them come. By then, you'll be so fat and round you won't even want to be saved."
Samhain took flight, appearing from behind to right in front of Peter. Then, he levitated down onto his belly. He let out a relaxed sigh, getting comfortable on his new seat, as if he belonged there.
"Such a big little one you are," Samhain cooed, his voice taking on a paternal tone. "So ripe, so fertile. Just a perfect, big pumpkin, ready for the harvest season."
The spirit leaned closer, his hands cupping Peter's face in a gentle gesture unexpected for such a human-hating god. His eyes, now glowing gold, bore into Peter's with deep intensity.
"Do not fight against it, Peter Venkman. Accept this gift and many more to come soon enough. Right now, until your little friends come to the rescue, you belong to the patch. You belong... to me~"
His voice wrapped around Peter's mind like thick vines, slow, soothing, impossible to resist. The Ghostbuster's eyelids fluttered, his breathing deepened, and just like that, he stopped struggling. Samhain pressed forward, kissing him deeply, and as their lips met once more, another flood of warm pumpkin seeds spilled into Peter's mouth. He swallowed reflexively, completely under Samhain's spell.
All thoughts, hopes, dreams, stresses and worries disappeared from his mind without a trace.
Besides—
Why would a pumpkin like himself need to hold on to such trivial things?
Emotion eaters who are always hungry, overfeed themselves until they're stuffed to the max, and yet still want more is very specific, but I love it so much
Hundreds of years ago, during times of old, the Celts held many feasts and festivals in the names of their gods, the Tuatha Dé Danann. But there was one god celebrated by them more than the rest: the one and only Samhain.
No mortal knew where he came, who sired him—
All they knew that he was a god, a terrifying one to boot.
Though not purely malevolent, he at first had contempt for the mortals of Ireland, mostly from their hesitance to celebrate Samhain, his namesake and day.
As divine punishment, he laid a curse upon them, that they would know insatiable hunger and yet not know the feeling of fullness, no matter how much they ate.
This led to days of people gaining weight, sporting a much rounder figure that strained their rags, but still claiming that they had more room in their bellies for just one bowl.
Children were completely unaffected by this curse. Samhain possessed a soft spot for them similarly to his ghostly little ones, for it was only them who celebrated his day by offering sweets and playing games in his honor.
Eventually, the Celts grew tired of their predicament, and thus promised to Samhain that on his day there would be three times the festivals, three times the feasts, and three times the offerings.
The Feast of Samhain was truly a feast for the god. Pig roasts, wine, mead, apples, honeyed cakes, and more were common offerings. And three times the amount kept Samhain and his Midnight Army full, satisfied, and at bay.
Years passed, and each generation of Ireland kept their end of the deal made with Samhain.
That was until the current refused to do this. Their minds and hearts were, as the gods saw it, poisoned by the new settlers of the country. They preached that they were worshipping devils in disguise and they would only be saved by worshipping their one good heavenly God.
Thus, all of the Tuatha Dé Danann retreated either underground into the Sidhe mounds or into Tír na nOg. And Samhain, the last pagan god left, was trapped in a stone clock by his Druid priests, locked away forever, as his people traded their ancient ways for a new, better god.
Yet this was not the end of Samhain.
The sarcophagus made its way to modern New York, to be placed on display in the city's museum. Because of this, his presence brought out more ghosts and spirits in the opening, eagerly waiting to serve their master. And once his two loyal goblin minions found his location, he was freed from his prison.
The god, angered by mortals forgetting about him, planned to halt time itself and bring eternal night around the globe. Under his new world order, Samhain would rule a society where the once persecuted ghosts roamed while the humans slaved under their master for entirety.
However, this (and many other attempts) would fail, as the Ghostbusters stopped him every time. There came a point where Samhain did not struggle or thrash as his very essence was pulled into a Ghost Trap anymore. The god, sitting in the Containment Unit, had lost his spark, his fiery passion. He thought it was the end, that there was nothing else for an old god like him in the new world.
Then one day, the Spirit of Halloween was released from the Unit, though not without chains in the form of a power dampening coller. The Ghostbusters wanted to interrogate him, mostly because Ray and Egon needed info for their revised edition of Tobin's Spirit Guide. They allowed Peter to do the job as he was the most talkative of the group. Despite Samhain's annoyance at Peter bothering him, it did make him talk.
The two eventually talked more and more about whatever topic on their mind. The spirit did not understand why, but he began to (secretly) enjoy the brunet's presence with each day. It only took until the god noticd how warm his face became where Peter made a teasing remark.
He, Samhain, the Lord of Dead, was falling for Peter Venkman.
Of course, the god tried at first to hide his true feelings, however that proved difficult. The mortal loved what he called Samhain's dad bod and seemed to have a goal of getting it even bigger. Every day, Peter brought takeout, too much usually, and knowing of the pumpkin lord's appetite, he helped out by feeding him himself. Samhain did little to none to resist. The food was amazing and the way Peter took action unlocked something inside of Samhain.
The way his hands rubbed circles on his engorged belly-
The way he praised the god for taking his fill-
The way he coaxed him to have one last bite, even when they both knew it was a lie.
It was exilterating for someone like Samhain.
For someone who took care to be taken care of.
Eventually, the Spirit of Halloween's lips spilled the truth out one day.
And to the suprise of the god, Peter didn't rejected him.
Instead, he admitted that he thought the god was "pretty cute too".
The two started off casually, to see how things would look.
Soon there was no turning back, for the god and Ghostbuster were deep in love as one could be.
And now on October 31st, instead of causing mischief or mayhem onto the world-
Samhain rested in the Firehouse as Peter fed him candy he brought. In utter bliss was the Spirit of Halloween, with his mortal lover pushing a Reese's cup past his lips, his belly swollen with sweet treats.
Feedist Kinktober
Day 30: Delivery App 🛍️ / Old Castle 🏰
Characters: Samha1n (Gh0stbust3rs)
Tags: weight gain, stuffing, food addiction, delivery services
(prompts created by @fatguarddog)
Eldritch Eats was slowly becoming one of the best delivery services in the entire Netherworld. Not only were the prices cheap, but the food was always in good quality/conditions. And it wasn't just the common ghost folk who loved it, but the gods, overlords, and other powerful entities also.
One frequent customer was none other than Samhain himself. Although ambivalent about it at first, the Spirit of Halloween quickly became a top paying customer of the service once he sampled some options from their menu.
He told himself that he would only use EE as a treat once in the wild.
He told himself that he wouldn't overindulge like some of his colleagues were doing.
But he simply couldn't help it.
It was like a siren's call, tempting him with fantasies of hedonism and fullness.
He ordered more and more, almost forgoing eating homemade cooking made by either himself or his servants.
He was starting to get bigger and fat.
His dad bod was no longer something to be considered as one.
His belly jutted out for all to see.
His cloak, a bit too tight.
Yet, he kept calling and calling.
And the food would always be delivered by his old, impenetrable castle.
His little ones would take on the task of bringing it to him.
Laid out on a high table, Samhain then grabbed the food with his hands and ate his way through it.
It didn't matter how messy it was, with all of the grease and other liquids spilling out and tainting his cloak. With the twirl of his finger, the stains were removed immediately, the cloak now looking as fresh as new.
And when he finished, the god leaned back against his throne, his usual scowl replaced by a blissful smile, and his massive, protruding belly resting in his lap.
Sometimes, he feared that this was slowly becoming an addiction.
Tags: weight gain denial, hurt and comfort, belt popping, wardrobe malfunction
(prompts created by @fatguarddog)
Samhain stood before the large mirror, his reflection staring back at him with a deep frown on his face. His belly, once a small pouch, expanded massively against his cloak. He tried sucking in his gut, however it was tiring. Frustration and insecurity washed over him as he looked back at his reflection.
Memories of his time with Peter flooded his mind.
The way Peter's smirk softened when Samhain let his walls down.
Their quiet moments in the Firehouse when no one was there.
How Peter fed Samhain his favorite takeout like lo mein or pizza.
How Peter would stretch across the couch, his hand absent resting on Samhain's growing midsection, loving how soft his lover was becoming, how fa-
"No," the god growled before he could finish that thought. "I am not weak, I am not... soft."
With the wave of his hand, Samhain summoned a belt, wrapping it around his waist, silently hoping that it made him look less big.
————————
Peter stood in front of Samhain who now sat regally atop his throne of gnarled wood. His eyes flicked over the way the god's purple cloak now hugged every curve of his body. Vines and golden thread adorned his new attire. The golden belt around the god's middle looked ready to burst any second now.
"Wow," Peter drawled, his hands gripping his neutrona wand as he walked forward. "Going full autumn harvest this year? Very fashionable."
His smirk didn't reach his eyes as he added in a soft tone.
"You've been busy."
A muscle twitched in Samhain's jaw. His knuckles whitened, his long fingers sinking into the arms of the throne. When he spoke, it was low, measured, and colder than any chill of October's winds.
"You should not be here, Ghostbusters."
Despite his best efforts, his voice came out more strained than he would have liked, as if his body was betraying him. Samhain sucked in his belly once more, trying to keep the belt from popping open.
"You're really gonna start with that?" Peter took a step closer, his grip around the wand tightening. " I'm not the one who left without a word."
Samhain's face showed no chance. But a part of him felt a sting internally.
Peter didn't yell or raise his voice. But the quiet behind each word cut deeper than any shout could. It made something in Samhain's chest ache. He averted his gaze, letting his eyes linger down on his enlarged midsection.
There have been so many reasons.
Fear of vulnerability.
Pride refused to admit he'd craved Peter's warmth in that bed they'd shared.
The whispers of his Nightmare Army, how could he, their leader, their father, be so... soft for a mortal?
"I was— I am doing what's best for both of us," he muttered.
"Best?" Peter let out a bitter laugh. "You ran the second you could, like a damn coward! You were so afraid of losing face in front of your ghost buddies that you left me—"
"Don't you think I—" Samhain interrupted, his hands glowing with dark energy, but the rest of the argument was cut short when the belt (and cloak) finally gave way with a loud rip.
His empty eyes widened, a burst of surprise slipping through his composure. He quickly covered a hand over the exposed expanse of his stomach, his softly, round stomach, blushing deeply as he met Peter's bewildered face.
Then without warning, Peter's hand settled right on the soft swell of his belly, fingers splaying wide against it.
"P-Peter!" Samhain's voice cracked like dry twigs underfoot. A deep flush bloomed across his pumpkin face, glowing a faint orange under the dim light. He tried to shrink back into the throne, but there was no escape.
Only warmth.
"Look at you," Peter murmured, his thumb brushing over the curve of the belly. "All this stress, for what? To prove you don't need me?"
He leaned in, his smirk returning, though much softer now.
"I'm gonna bring you back home. And I'm gonna feed you so much. Pancakes with syrup, greasy diner burgers, pumpkin pie 'til you can't move, just like before. Gonna stuff my favorite pumpkin king so full he glows from the inside out~"
Samhain shivered.
Yet he didn't resist.
Didn't fight back.
He couldn't even if he wanted to.
He was like putty in Peter's hands.
And for the first time in centuries, he let himself be wanted by another.
