#genderless bottom

[swollenframe]

God I am having to resist the urge to stuff myself today so hard, won’t a soft bellied darling come let me push food into their mouth until their clothes can’t contain them right now 🥵

[swollenframe]

Thinking about being a servant for vampires who instead of being unable to eat human food, simply have no hunger for it and use it to stave off their blood cravings (very strong cravings 👀)

Your master being a particularly “cautious and introverted” vampire (though you’re highly dubious about this claim after how many dinner parties you have hosted) has been staving from blood for the past year; the entire time you have served him. The luxurious button up silk ruffle shirt that once draped around his lithe frame he wears is barely holding on from bursting open, straining windows of pale, soft flesh and forcing creases in his abundant middle. At least his trousers seem to be elastic, though his thighs now widened to jiggle with each step.

Today however is finally the day, a willing victim eagerly waiting with desperate lustful eyes is brought into your master’s chamber. Reclining back in his velvet chaise longue, you see the globe shape of his gut is hilighted in profile, only matched by the size of his plump chest. Now summoning for his meal to crane their neck over him, he catches your gaze and smiles before biting into his victims neck. She moans wantonly, writhing slightly before being prevented sharply by the iron grip of his suddenly veined and darkened hand on her shoulder. Theres an audible gulp and to your surprise you hear a dull pop. The first button from the bottom has gone, lower belly suddenly lurching forward, soft. Another gulp, then another, picking up pace. The victim yelps but your eyes are now fixed on your master’s suddenly expanding middle, what were once creases are no longer, the shirt now almost painted on to him. His lower belly is lengthening out to creep onto his thighs and belly button sinking lower and deepening with each second. You don’t even have a chance to breathe before another gulp and the next two buttons are gone, clicking against the floor like tiny bullets. You catch a change in his eyes, seemingly brighter and dare you say, rolling back slightly? Finally free his swollen middle wobbles from the momentum, this hefty wobbling inspiring an audible rip along the seam of the last buttons along his upper belly and another along where his right side set of ribs may once have been seen, lopsidely freeing armfuls more armfuls of soft fat to burst out every passing second. After a final gulp he stops with an annoyed look, discarding the now half conscious victim, to the ground behind the chair with such ease its a wonder that she weighed anything at all.

Now returned to regular colour and suppleness his hand reaches -though just barely- over his overfilled gut and tugs repeatedly at the buttons along the ripped seam. With a brief moment of respite you now see his massive girth in full glory, the lower portion of his belly distended out to the back height of the chaise longue and near triple the size of the rest of him. It has swollen its way to cover most of his thighs with its length and thick pale roundness. It’s a wonder that this shirt is holding on to the top half of his stomach, still restraining yet made ragged from frays except for the ruffle at the neck. You wonder how massive he would look if totally liberated from it and bite back a moan, heat rising in your body.

He’s caught you staring, with a still stubborn expression dragging his normally enchanting face. You shift your feet to throw yourself to the ground and beg for forgiveness but he raises his hand in an open palm gesture to stop. “Fetch me another shirt, servant…… of lesser craftmanship.”