I love (love, love, 🥵, ugh, love) an overfed boy. It's the very best thing. Stuffed to the brim, swollen and heavy, absolutely destroyed by taking a good thing to far? I become instantly feral, incapable of any focus other than "fill every sense with this overladen man and see how many times you can cum."
But, look. The words "I stuffed myself" are intreguing but not the whole game, okay? I need to know how full you are.
I want to see you reclining, trying to give your belly space, clutching your tight, round gut as if it might explode if you don't hold it back.
I want to hear you panting, unable to draw a deep breath as your stomach crowds out your lungs.
I want you to look at me with pleading eyes, aware you can't unbuckle, can't get up, can't get off without my help.
I want you to burp and hiccup and moan, and squirm trying to find a position to sit or lie that doesn't ache.
I want you to complain about how you over did it. Show me how bloated you are and where it hurts. Demonstrate how much bigger you are than last time. How much worse the damage is. Tell. Me. Everything.
If you are just sitting there or standing there, posing comfortably with your little food baby? Darling, I am going to be so bored.
But give me even a taste of how gorgeously stuffed you can be, of the viceral experience I crave? I will help myself.
I am going to use every tool in my considerable kit to convince you to have another serving, another slice, another shake. I will tempt you, I will bully you, I will gaslight you, I will bribe you, I will reward you.
If you can stand, I will make sure you cannot.
If your belly has give, I will fill it until it is about to burst.
If you can speak, I will reduce you to moaning, groaning, and whimpering.
Want my help? Show me what I could have.
And p.s. don't tell me the next day how stuffed you were the night before. How dare you keep that to yourself. I want you the most when you are suffering.
origamiaround
izzy806
tangentwithtanner
jimmyeatworldofficial
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
