Weak mpreggo sub, who's so sensitive, that he has uncontrollable orgasms just with your touch on his overstretched belly. His belly button is swollen red, and other hidden parts are even more sensitive. An orgasm at this point is like torture to him, overstimulated, no pleasure just pain. Orgasms cause severe cramping and Braxton hicks. He's screaming and begging, regretting getting pregnant as you put a hand straight on the belly button
poor thing, so full. uncomfortable, heavy, aching, and cramping. his belly is so big and round that he can't fight back or resist. he's pinned down under the weight of it all, along with the pressure i'm applying on it.
i feel his belly, enjoying how big and full it is because of me. i feel babies kicking inside and know that i'm the one who put them there. i feel his muscles tightening under the skin, belly cramping under my touch. he sobs and begs for mercy, but he should know by now that i like it better when he suffers.
I’d love to breed you, fucking you hard as many times a day as I can until we fall asleep at 3am, exhausted, and you’re so full of my seed that you look like you’re already starting to show from pregnancy. I keep fucking you like that until you really are showing, long after your pregnancy test comes back positive, just to make sure—but then your hormones kick in and you’re begging me to fuck your boycunt every day anyway.
Finally you’re due. Then you’re overdue, and you’re huge. We know it can’t be one baby, but that’s why we fucked so much. You begged me to put two or three or six babies in you.
You can barely move as another week goes by, the babies kicking you and squirming, ready to be born. When another week and then another week draws to a close you’re begging me to fuck you until your water breaks. So I do. How could I resist you while you’re this gravid? Your water does break and gushes around my cock, and we’re both wet.
I fuck you slowly a while longer while you start laboring, the pain building and ebbing as I bring you to orgasm again and again for the next two hours. You’re whimpering with pain and overstimulation. We know you’re full of my seed and you’ll be pregnant again by the time you push out the placenta. But you already know—from being deliciously overdue for weeks—that you want to be pregnant again, quickly.
Finally you moan that you have to push. I pull out and go behind you to prop you up. You feel my cock, hard and leaking, pressing against your bare back. Just like we practiced—I pull your legs apart and lay them over my knees so you’re draped across me, your boycunt gaping and ready to birth out my babies. We both put our hands on your taut belly.
It’s time to push.
You tuck in your chin and strain as our first baby batters its way through your cervix. Birth fluids and cum spray out of you. When you feel the first stretch in your birth canal you whimper and gasp out, “It’s BIG.” Of course it’s big. You’re almost a month overdue. They’re all big.
I stroke your hard belly and tell you you’re my good boy, pushing hard for me like this. You’ve been such a good boy, holding my babies in for this long so they can come out strong and healthy. You push again and feel your birth canal fill with the baby’s head. You moan in my arms, “It hurts.” I know, baby, I put some big babies in you. This is going to hurt so fucking bad, I tell you, but after you’ve pushed out every baby I’ll make you cum over and over while I fill you back up with my seed.
“I think I’m gonna cum NOW,” you whimper. You buck your hips and whine long and low while you push, and then the orgasm hits and you feel the baby surge forward to hit the inside of your lips. You scream—it’s blinding agony and blinding pleasure. You push during the aftershocks, bucking and screaming.
“Fuck, it’s gonna crown!” Good boy, push hard, crown out my first baby. You’re panting in between every push, your belly hard under my fingers and your legs shaking. Suddenly the burn hits you, hard, the ring of fire as my huge baby starts to stretch your boycunt open. Instinctively you reach down to your boycunt—not that you CAN reach it. You haven’t been able to touch yourself for 7 weeks. You still can’t reach down that far and you start thrashing in my arms, crying and screaming. “It hurts! It’s crowning, it’s crowning, oh my god it huuuurts!”
I pin your legs open and lean forward, forcing you to fold towards your belly and putting pressure on your still-full womb. PUSH, boy.
“No! No! Oh my god, oh my god!” And then your voice is lost in a scream as my baby’s huge head eases to a full crown, then pops out with a rush of amniotic fluid. We collapse back against the pillows.
You’re sobbing in relief, “Oh my god, it came out. It came out. I just gave birth. Fuck it hurt so fucking bad.”
I rub your belly and tell you it’s not out yet. You practically go limp in my arms, weeping with pain and exhaustion. That’s fine. I wasn’t going to let you push right now anyway. You start squirming, “Something’s happening. It hurts…” I tell you the baby is rotating so you can push out the shoulders. Your legs are shaking again. “I think I’m gonna cum ag—“ And your sentence finishes in a scream as you cum, hard, and the shoulders shoot out of your boycunt. Your screams tip me over the edge and my cock spasms against your back, pumping hot cum between us. The aftershocks roll through both of us as you finish birthing out our baby onto the bed.
“Fuck, fuck, I feel empty,” you moan.
I roll out from behind you, sticky, and crawl between your legs to retrieve our firstborn baby. I pick her up and put her on your chest. She must be at least nine pounds. You’re such a good boy, pushing out such a huge baby all on your own. You’re nearly delirious with painful contractions and the haze of cumming so hard. I feel deep inside your boycunt and you squirm around my fingers.
“Babe, I-I need to push again,” you whimper. “I need to push so bad.”
But I already know that. I can already feel the next baby’s huge head stretching your cervix even wider than the first baby.
This is so good, I don't know if I should fuck myself about it or if I should cry because I want to be bred like this so bad 🤭🤤
character having tummy issues but they have a bad partner who treats them horribly
sickee puking over the side of the bed during the night and their partner getting mad and making them clean it up themselves
sickee getting horrid food poisoning at a restaurant but their partner making them stay because they are not done hanging out with their friends
sickee having a nasty stomach bug and ending up severely dehydrated because their partner won't bother and help them through their symptoms
sickee having a fever that makes them more sensitive and teary to their partners remarks, which makes sickee's partner more impatient with them
sickee's belly being really upset and gurgly in public and their partner saying their stomach being so loud is embarrassing
sickee crying to them about their stomach symptoms (vomiting, diarrhea, bloating, ect) and sickee's partner getting angry at them because sickee grossed them out
sickee's partner refusing to be quiet while sickee has a migraine which eventually leads to them vomiting just from the pain
chronically ill sickee getting forced out anyway by their partner during a flare because "they always say they feel sick"
Hola, Doomers! Tis the season! Well, maybe not yet, but we don't actually acknowledge a proper calendar around these parts, do we? That said, it's time for the first-ever Doomer-requested Holi-DOOM Bingo Card!
What the heck's Holi-DOOM?
It's a bingo card. Each square has two prompts. The top prompt is a whump prompt, and the bottom one is a festive prompt! You pick which one you want to do (or do both)! The point is to get bingo—row, column, diagonal, four corners, even postage stamp!
This event will run during December. If you want your work reblogged here, just tag @juneofdoom in your post. Anything tagged before December will be put in the queue for December 1st. The squares don't follow any sort of day schedule— just post whatever prompt on whatever day, any time in December.
Rules
Tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.
AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.
Be cool. We're cool here. Don't like, don't read. Don't start none, won't be none. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it. Let people be happy. 💕 (But if someone's comin' at you within the confines of this challenge, let me know ASAP.)
FAQ
You can participate with original and fan works!
You can do so with whatever medium you want!
You can combine this challenge with other challenges!
You can start/ finish this challenge whenever the heck you want! And I'll reblog it here if you tag the blog, even if it's not December!
You can use one, some, or all of the prompts listed for a given day however you want! The point is to be creative!
You can mix and match prompts from different days!
Angst, hurt/comfort, and lighter/funnier forms of whump are welcomed and encouraged! Torture takes many forms! :)
[AO3 Collection] - Opens late November 2026
If you have any questions, comments, shout outs, ideas, or just need some encouragement, inbox me anytime!
Have fun, Doomers! ❄️
June of Doom Prompt Lists: 2023 || 2024 || 2025 || 2026
someone coming down with a fever because their body has finally decided it’s had enough. they feel completely drained and exhausted. their eyelids are heavy and their head is pounding. they can feel heat radiating from their own body beneath the blankets, yet they’re shivering at the same time. they press a pillow against their chest, searching for some kind of comfort, wishing someone was there to hold them. with trembling fingers, they grab their phone and open the first conversation they see. the bright screen makes their eyes hurt. "hey, can you come over please? i don’t feel well". they type the message and hit send.
idk if this is a common trope but I loove when a character feels so nauseous to the point even talking upsets their tummy, so they're forced to go mute. bonus points if their caretaker is stressing / struggling trying to figure out why they're not talking, what's hurting, when they need to be sick, why they might be crying, ect.
In terms of a guy struggling in the bathroom and being overheard I’m thinking about a junior executive finally being allowed to fly on the company jet. it’s him and the rest of the executive team. suddenly the plane food doesn’t agree with him and he bolts to the toilet. the private plane is so small that there’s not a seat on board that can’t hear what’s going on. within earshot of his entire professional network he’s voiding helplessly at 30,000 feet.
Oooo I like this one!!
Maybe the food is really rich and heavy, nothing like what he normally eats. And his guts already feel twisted with nerves, it’s his first time being invited on a work trip. His boss clearly must like him somewhat if he’s invited him, but what if he says something dumb and messes up! He does his best to brush off his anxiety as he chats and gets closer with his higher up coworkers. He’s too distracted by the atmosphere to notice that, whilst chatting, he had consumed a ridiculous amount of the nice salmon and fancy cheeses that were among the food offered on the plane. It’s not until a lull in the conversation that his attention is brought to his bloated stomach, all the food he ate feels like concrete in there now.
Later on each businessman is asked to go back to their respective seats and buckle up, some rounds of turbulence were expected. The man finds a seat for himself. His boss ends up in the seat next to him, which makes him feel awfully squirmy. His anxiety only spikes once the turbulence starts. The shaking swirling around all the heavy food in his tummy. It feels like it moves his stomach more than the rest of him. Almost like the weight of all the food made it rise and fall with more force. It was disorienting and made him feel queasy. His face pales when a groan comes from underneath his suit, a sudden stop in turbulence making the sound clear as a bell.
He silently goes to unbuckle his belt to make a quick run to the bathroom, but an attendant is at his side immediately.
“You need to stay in your seat, sir”
She sounded a bit irritated, he guessed that having to work while a bunch of rich businessmen have a get together would sour anyone’s mood.
His boss kindly offers him a sick bag, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell him that’s not what that noise meant. He’s glad the man isn’t put off by his unwellness though. If anything, he actually seemed concerned! The extra attention made his belly flutter a little, and he tried to soothe the extra movement with a palm against his middle. Butterflies didn’t feel too good when you had a nasty tummyache.
So he sits in silence the best he can. The assumed motion sickness gives him an excuse to wrap his arms around his tummy to muffle its groans. He feels his hole twitch a little in his dress pants, clearly desperate to get this rich food out of his system. The plane has started to bounce again and his stomach feels like a shaken soda can. Speaking of-his boss has very kindly offered him some ginger ale, a concerned smile pinching his face.
“You look like you need it, remember the bag is here for you too.”
He downs the can in a display of faux gratefulness, and he really is grateful that his boss is so caring. It’s just that his help is adding carbonation to his already groaning stomach. The soda feels like it’s angrily fizzing against his insides, protesting along with everything else he’s put in there.
He has to muffle a few burps into his fist, each contraction pushing the gas up also making his asshole flutter. He’s able to keep it closed, but he can already feel burning mush right at his opening. If he drops his guard at any point there will surely be a mess in his pants. Another growl from his guts does just that. It’s so intense that he can feel it in the top of his tummy all the way down to his asshole. He gasps and he feels his ass give a little. A small bit of sludge just barely escapes, and he can feel the slime coating his asshole.
“You sure you’re alright, kid?”
His boss is looking at him again. God, he wished he wouldn’t. His eyes just made his face burn hotter and his tummy churn harder.
“I don’t know if I can…keep holding it” the man admits quietly. Squirming a little in his seat as another cramp squeezes him.
“It’s alright if you can’t, that’s why we have the bag” he smiles and gently pats him on the back, the gesture is so comforting. He wants to lean into his boss and demand more of that comfort. Curl up in his lap while his tummy tortures him. But he needed to be professional. He couldn’t afford any stains on his reputation now that he had come so far.
The muscles in his abdomen are literally quivering by the time the turbulence lights switch off. Finally. He can shit. He just needs to make it to the back of the plane without looking too desperate. A flash of heat traveling down his spine erases that thought, and he’s fumbling with his seatbelt before practically throwing himself out of his seat. He does a humiliating half waddle run as cramps start to build in his belly.
The door to the tiny bathroom slams shut and now he’s working through the last barrier between him and relief, his pants. He fumbles with the button, his hands are pressed against his stomach and he can feel the vibrations against his hands. His tummy his swirling and filled to the brim with diarrhea and he wants it out so bad.
He shoves his pants and boxers down and is finally given sweet relief. He feels his tummy contract as it forces out the mess as hard as possible.
“Mmmmghgg!” There’s literally nothing he can do to stop the sounds coming from him. His belly is tightening so viciously and his sphincter is pushing so terribly hard. It’d be like trying to stay silent while you get punched in the stomach.
The heat hits him again, it’s a sticky feeling that feels like it’s clogging his lungs. He feels his vision start to go. He tries to push away rising panic and slumps to the side, resting his head against the wall that’s way too close to him. He gulps in deep breaths in between pushes, which does the trick and that horrible icky panic fades with each round of slop splashing into the toilet.
“Ah! Owowow fuckkkgh” a boiling cramp launches him into another push. He feels half formed chunks of shit pop past his burning hole. The rest is just a pure mudslide of sickness. He gasps as the cramps let up, and is horrified at the hitch in his breathing. He’s really going to cry over this?? But his tummy just hurts so bad, he feels so embarrassed and he’s been so stressed that waves of emotions are bombarding him now, his body wants to release in every way. The thought that his colleagues can definitely hear everything that’s happening sends him over the edge. He feels fat tears start to run over his nose, down to his lips bringing the taste of salt.
His lips wobble around a sob while he bends over at the middle, a spluttering fart sends a little more mess into the filled bowl. He’s not shitting as much anymore, but his stomach still feels terribly unsettled. Like one poke or jostle will launch him into another round. He leans back and puts both hands to his bloated gut, pushing in a little to see if his theory is true. All it does is push out a deafening fart that has him gasping with relief. The gasp ends with an ugly sound as he chokes on a second sob.
He’s so upset. He desperately wanted to make a good impression on his boss. And everyone there for that matter. They had been kind enough to invite him and his boss had even been patient when he thought he was airsick. And now he’s literally crying and shitting in the man’s private jet. He spends the next several minutes trying to recover from his meltdown. He’s gotten his sobs under control, and no matter how hard he pushes nothing else is leaving his body. He flushes at the sound of his ass opening and closing as he gives a few more repetitive pushes.
He tenses when he hears a knock at the door, eyes wide. It’s the attendant from earlier. She’s letting him know he’ll need to leave the leave the bathroom and prepare for another round of turbulence.
He gives a shuddering sigh and tells her that he’ll be out in a moment. The toilet paper is harsh against his puffy hole while he cleans up. The cool water from the small sink is soothing, and he splashes some on his face. Hoping the chill will soothe some of the puffiness in his eyes.
He keeps his head down as he sits back down in his seat, offering a small, quiet apology to his boss. His kindly boss is having non of it, however.
“Why didn’t you say you were feeling that kind of sick!”
His hand is on his back again, staying this time instead of the chaste pats he was offered earlier.
A couple of gross jokes are thrown his way, one man is clearly mimicking his grunts and he feels his face burn with shame. A couple snaps from beside him quickly shut up the jokesters.
His boss reassures him that they’ll be off the plane soon, and that he doesn’t need to worry about anything work related until his stomach is feeling better. He smiles at his words, feeling a bit less like his world was crashing down.
thinking about a guy filling up his guts in the shower, only to be interrupted partway through by his buddy who needs an urgent favor
he figures it's gonna be something quick, and it's gonna take a while to deflate, so he gets dressed, tries to hide how round he is with a big t shirt, and goes downstairs. he'll just release in a few minutes
turns out, his buddy has his car keys in hand, and it's not a real emergency, he's just excited to drive him somewhere and show him something. "c'mon, c'mon!" he's so excited, he bowls over the guy's hesitation
now the poor thing's in a car ride with nowhere to go, and now that he's seated there's no way to hide how huge and round his churning tummy is
meanwhile, his buddy is trying to suppress a rapidly swelling boner. finally, he can't resist pulling over and offering to bloat his tum up a little more. with his dick, or maybe with the contents of his 30 oz water bottle first
by the time they get to wherever they're going he's prob woozy with how much he's trying to keep inside him. his belly is spilling out from beneath his shirt, gurgling like crazy.
but he's got a new boyfriend that he didn't have before he got in the car, and he kinda wants to see if they can find a little more to pump inside of him before he loses control
I would die to see a video of your perfect round bloated belly, but with some burps or farts (whatever you feel comfortable with of course).
Have you ever been so backed up that all the air and everything starts to come out the other end instead? imagine the sickly belches as undigested gas from your poor constipated tummy desperately tries to find a way out, with nowhere to go but up.. you get to feel the relief of letting air out, but only for a split second at a time, as its quickly replaced by a new gassy cramp as your body forces the next burp up.
Maybe you're able to fart, you think you're finally going to be able to go... but you cant. everything is still sitting in you like bricks. The gurgly farts just hurt, and make you feel even sicker, but you cant stop them.
Sometimes I really have this condition - stomach bloat from indigestion with sick burps. This also comes with stmach ache usually. But I cannot control it to cause for purpose. Its just a side effect my periodical overindilgence
Okay but here me out, credits to @avillicit for their posts but: consider smuggling & rapid pregnancy.
You're the best of the best when it comes to getting something illegal across lines, your record is fantastic, youre making a ton of money off of every drop, and you're on the top of your game. Unfortunately though, you're also a massive fugitive almost anywhere you go. This is the toughest job youve ever had to do, and you're anxious. Your partners come up to you with a job proposal; you're going to be smuggling some sort of illegal monster eggs across the country. It sounds easy enough, but no dice. The eggs are temperamental, they're easily cracked, need to be somewhere damn, and at almost EXACTLY human body temperature, so yeah. At first its a giant fuck no to the job, but then one of your partners flashes you the amount you'll be making off of it, and lets just say- you'll never have to work again if you do this.
It was certainly not going to be an easy job, from start to finish. They were small, and blue almost like egg shaped marbles. Your partners took turns filling you up, you on your hands and knees on a hotel bed, huffing as they continued to shove at least sixty tiny eggs into your body. They didnt feel like much at first, but whenever you shifted, you could feel the whole lot clacking around inside of you, which led to a bit of unspoken horny embarrassment.
After what seemed like forever, you were the fullest youve ever been, and to top it all off by plugging you up so none of them would spill out on the drive there. You stood up, stifling a soft moan as you insisted on making your way to the car. It was barely noticable through your thick, roomy flannel shirt but you could certainly tell what was in you. Due to the plug and dedicated carefulness, you developed a slight waddle which your parents teased you about before you told them to shut up. Carefully, you lowered yourself into the back seat of the truck, holding your belly to make sure nothing got damaged.
The ride was fine at first, as you were used to traversing long distances with your line of work, but after the first hour or so, things began to feel... different. You could've sworn you felt more full than you did as you were leaving. You softly groaned, the discomfort growing as did your abdomen over the course of the ride, you could easily pass for someone nearing the middle of their second trimester. Worried, you brought it up to your partners, and they explained how the eggs had been preserved, and that the human body was the perfect environment for the eggs to rehydrate. After threatening a bit of violence, an apology from them and a stifled moan, you were reminded of the money, which calmed things down.
It had been hours now, at least three, and the growth wasn't stopping yet. Every ten minutes, or bump hit on the road illicited another groan or rub of your belly. At this point you looked almost full term with a single human child, which was starting to concern you. Your shirt was pulled taught against your massive abdomen, straining the buttons to their limit, small diamonds of flesh in between each clasp. You, albeit worried, kept your calm, rubbing your massive middle as you shifted around your plug, the slight stimulation doing wonders for the discomfort. What your partner failed to mention was the compounds in the eggs that would produce a mild aphrodisiac, there to keep the pregnant person placated while they carried. Usually the species carried five or ten, so sixty was doing things to your mind.
Five hours in, you all reached your first checkpoint. Getting pulled over and checked was never fun, and being this huge would make an escape damn near impossible. Luckily for you, the feds took one look at your massive form and just wanted to chat about when you were due, how many you were having, names, blah blah blah. You answered their dumb questions, eager to get away, but you had to play it cool. You thought one of them noticed thar you were getting bigger by the minute, but they chose not to comment on it. You bit your lip, horny, anxious, and impatient as one of your partners reached back to rub your tight belly, giving you momentary relief. Luckily you were all let go. You bounced on your plug, trying to at least work out the frustration that had built while you were being watched, god knows you couldn't reach around to touch yourself now with how massive you were getting.
The ride continued, and so did your growth. By now you were stretched out across the back seat, grunting and moaning whenever a wave of growth hit you, you didn't care about your partners hearing you, or seeing what was becoming of you now, you had half a mind to beg one of them to come back there and fuck you until you popped. But, you settled for humping your plug and rubbing your thumb over your popped navel. Your flannel was long since ruined, only buttoned over your chest to give you more room to grow. At this point you looked like you could pop out triplets or quads if you gave a miniscule push, but the eggs weren't ready yet, and you weren't where you needed to be, and sure as hell you weren't risking losing all of that money. So you sat, huffing and straining and growing, looking at the gps time getting closer to your arrival.
Things were fine for a bit, sure you looked like you were due with quints, but you were so concerned with how horny you were, you barely noticed. After a few pitstops you were almost there, and you couldn't be more ready to pop these things out. They were easily each the size of tennis balls by now, and you could feel them individually move when you bucked your hips ever so slightly. You moaned out, rubbing your sides as the ride continued, cursing and grunting as your sheer mass and the old road moved you on your plug. You were so close now, just a few more thrusts and you'd at least be able to cum. With a few deep breaths and slow movements, you thought you were going blind, until a sudden gush interrupted your thoughts. Fuck, your water broke. You shouted out to your partners, warning them, to which they told you that they could hear it happen from there. You were done. You were pushing, NOW. Bearing down, you held the sides of your enormous middle, pushing the eggs down, down into your canal, only to remember the plug. Gasping and groaning, you alnost sobbed. You were stuck. And there was no way you were getting them out, there was no way you'd be able to reach down there with as big and heavy as you were. Your partner in the passenger seat reached back, rubbing your belly and shushing you, trying to keep you calm. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, horny and contracting as your rubbed your pregnant swell.
Imagine being completely full of eggs with a still growing stomach .
You’re swollen and uncomfortable and you have the urge to push, but every time you try force one out it just won’t budge. You lay down and rub your belly, unable to work and attend your classes and needing to be brought food because it’s painful to do anything but lay down and watch tv or read to take your mind off the feeling of how full you are.
Sometimes you get on all-fours and stretch yourself to try to push out an egg. It brings momentary relief but then your body realizes nothings happening and the dull ache inside you comes back. Sometimes you just lay there and feel the sweat trickle down your forehead. Maybe you feel your stomach get a little more taught randomly half-way through a movie. You just have to wait.
Good morning! You've made it seven whole days. Wow. You poor thing. You really are stuffed. You must be aching something terrible now. With how all those laxatives and dairy didn't help you any, I'm sure you'll need an enema to get it all out
oh my god, anon…
my belly does not feel good. i think someone dropped a bowling ball into my tummy while i was asleep.
i fully intended to take a triple dose of laxatives last night, but i ended up stuffed so sick that i was terrified to put anything else in my belly that might upset it. my lower belly is completely solid now, though. all the muffins from yesterday seem to have turned to concrete like everything else.
also, i stepped on my roommate’s scale, and i’m ten pounds heavier now than i was a week ago. i can hardly believe it, ten pounds of food just sitting in my belly? ohhh, it’s outlandish. no wonder it’s so heavy and full.
i can’t suck in my belly at all. i look pregnant, honestly. i’ve never been this stuffed in my life, swollen with ten pounds of food, just sitting in my upset tummy. it’s hard to wrap my head around.
i just took a triple dose of laxatives. i hope they work this time, cause my tummy hurts too much to stay standing for too long. this is the longest i’ve ever had my belly stuck before, too. seven days— a full week! that’s a new record for me.
the worst of it is that i’m going home for dinner with my parents tonight. i don’t know if my tummy can handle my mom’s delicious southern cooking right now, i’m just too stuffed already.
i need to go lay back down. there’s so much in my belly right now, it’s hard to think. i think i might explode if i go through another day of this.
i’ll keep posting updates if anything changes, anon. you have no idea how bad i want you to come rub my tummy. i know i did this to myself, but god, it just aches so much.
why do i find lactose intolerance so sexy 😳 just wanna rub somebody's bloated, aching, gassy little pot belly while they moan and whine in pain and relief
No right I’m such a slut for like “medical” tummy issues… lactose/gluten intolerance, ibs etc. cause ooh that just takes it to a whole different level 😵💫😵💫
First of all makes it way easier to mess up their tummy heehee, just give em a little bit of milk or bread or whatever trigger food that really gets their insides churning & watch it take almost immediate effect 🥴
Oh god, my tummy... @ohgodmytummy - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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