#gh0stbust3rs

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober Day 11: Too Wide 🔴

Characters: The B00gi3man, Eg0n Sp3ngl3r (Gh0stbust3rs)

Tags: weight gain, stuckage, dirty talk, alcohol intox, belly rubs, burping, button popping, first person POV

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

Ugh.... —hic—stupid closet. I-I just wanted to scare that kid. How hard could—hic—it be? Now look at me, I'm stuck.

H-Hngh, my hips are stuck. I can't get out!

Egon?

What brings you here? Come to gloat about my hic predicament?

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up...

Wait, what are you—

Ohhhhh~

Hey, maybe go easy on the hand there, Egon. My belly's already feeling stuffed...

Aaah, alright fine. You want to know how I got so big?

I might have had a bit— no, more than a bit — a fuck ton of desserts before heading here. Root beer floats, milkshakes, the works, filled with lots of—BWUARP—alcohol, of course. Didn't think they'd all—hic— pack on so fast. I look like some overstuffed carnival prize.

PING!

W-Well, that goes my one and only button. God, I'm just so—URRRRP—full right now.

Mmmmph, it's like I've swallowed a whole creamery down here~

And your hand's really helping my poor belly~ It's sooooo warm~

Egon, have you ever seen someone this overstuffed? This full? It's turning me on a little. Heh...

Y-Yeah, Eggy~ Touch me right there~

You know, I'm kinda feeling a bit... famished right now. You don't mind if you can get me something to eat, right?

Oh, don't give me that look.

You can't do just one thing for your Boogieman?~

Come ooooon~

Just give me what I want, Eggy~

Can't even get out of this doorframe, stuck like a cork in a bottle.

HIC!

But I want more; I need more.

I bet you're just a little curious.

Want to see this big, fat, stuffed Boogieman get even bigger?~

Go on, indulge my addiction~

...

Good boy~

Now, go get me some burgers.

I'm going to need a lot.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober Day 2: Bountiful Harvest 🌽

Characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)

Tags: weight gain, semi-public stuffing, relationship gains, Feeder!Peter

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

The Spirit of Halloween never anticipated himself to be in a relationship before.

How could he worry his head over the idea of a love life when the matter of liberating his fellow ghosts was more important in his carved eyes?

Well, that mindset changed the moment he became Peter Venkman's boyfriend.

Even the term boyfriend felt like a strange dream to him. In the bygone ages which he came from, it was either marriage or living a life of independency. Nowadays, it seemed that modern culture was more relaxed in their labeling of relationships.

As for him dating Peter? Even he wasn't quite sure how it started. Maybe it was the mortal's handsomeness that lured him in. Maybe it was his snarky humor or his cleverness. Maybe it was the jerk with a gold heart persona he possessed. To put it simply, and to quote a movie that Peter forced him to watch, he made him laugh.

One aspect that Samhain appreciated about Peter was his generosity as a lover. Throughout all their dates, the brunet consistently ensured that his god was well-fed. One meal turned seconds, thirds, fourths, and even sevenths if he wanted to push the limit. It was refreshing for once to have someone caring for his needs rather than the other way around.

However, the spirit couldn't help but wonder if his lover had an… affinity for stuffing him with food, especially when his hand would linger on his "dad bod" (a slang term for his pot belly.) Maybe it was just his love language, or maybe he picked it up from his family. Still, it was odd at first.

Finally, Samhain learned that Peter was a "horny bastard", as mortals would say, after their day at the local autumn festival. It was during the last week of October, the season showing itself in the falling, orange-red leaves and the chilly breeze that passed attendees as they played bobbing for apples or enjoyed some nice hard cider. It had a warm, cozy atmosphere that the Spirit of Halloween adored.

As an added bonus, he was able to enjoy the festival without any glamour or guise of sorts. Everyone around him complemented his supposed "costume" and some were asking him for tips about designing one. Oh, how so smart yet so dumb humans could be.

The moment they stepped into the festival, Peter wasted no time in dragging his ghostly lover towards every food stall they could get to. He had been saving up every dollar he can just to splurge it all on food.

There were roasted apples, slices of apple pie a la mode, candied apples, and all sorts of apple pastries. Samhain consumed them all with the royal grace befiting his status. However, that was only the beginning. Peter didn't want him dantfully nibbing on the food, using his napkin to clean his mouth. He wanted his Sam to be unabashed and loud, unafraid to let out a hearty belch or rub his belly.

So he continued brining the Spirit of Halloween more food to fill his gullet. Cornbread slathered with butter, slices of pumpkin pie with a dollop of whipped cream, pumpkin spice donuts sprinkled in powdered sugar, foot long corn dogs with ketchup and pickled jalapeños, a tall glass of refreshing apple cider, and pumpkin pie milkshake.

Throughout their feeding session on a wooden bench, Peter, being the sly man he was, decided to push Samhain to the limits. He would continually set more plates in front of his boyfriend immediately as he cleared one. He would whisper into his ear, teasing him with a few "Come on, just one more bite" mixed with some "Try this one out". Then came the belly rubs, starting atop the swell of the spirit's rounded belly before Peter's hands slipped into Samhain's tattered cloak.

Somehow, none of the other attendees noticed what they were doing. Most of them were either too busy playing games, eating food, or being completely intoxicated to care.

Samhain resorted to floating instead of walking when they left. His dad bod wasn't a dad bod anymore. It was a full on gut, tight and firm underneath a soft layer of fat. When he poked his belly, his long finger sank into the bloated orange flesh.

He couldn't believe that he ate all of that in one sitting. This was all wrong.

As much as he loved Peter, he couldn't entertain this much longer. He was the Spirit of Halloween, the embodiment of the holiday itself! He couldn't afford to let himself go!

What would his fellow ghosts think of him? They would think that he was going soft and weak.

And his midnight army? His little ones? They would see him as a hypocrite. He couldn't even blame them if they did. He was the one constantly preaching that all humans were bad, there wasn't a good human out there, humans were out to persecute ghosts like them, etc. Yet here he was, constantly eating like a gluttonous king thanks to his mortal lover.

Well, tomorrow would change, he told himself. Tomorrow, he'll get Peter to end this foolishness. Tomorrow, he'll find some spell to shrink his waistline to its original proportions.

He thought of this even as Peter groped him from behind, rambling about him having some Chinese in the fridge for him to try.

Samhain's belly grumbled at the thought.

Oh well, he might as well eat some. Besides, he can just shrink all the weight down afterwards.

If he still remembered, that is.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober

Day 14: Fae Feast 🍑

Characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)

Tags: weight gain, family dinner stuffing, public stuffing, enablement

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

The Tuatha Dé Danann were the old gods of Ireland. From kings to craftsmen to tricksters, they were talented, intelligent beings of higher power that mortals both feared and worshiped. Festivals, holidays, feasts, you named it.

Samhain was apart of the pantheon; they were his family after all. It had been thousands of years since he have seen them, since his imprisonment in a stone tomb.

But now times were different.

Now he was free again, free to do whatever he pleased.

And he planned to visit his family once now.

Thought, he wasn't doing it alone.

His visit to the Otherworld also acted as a way to introduce his boyfriend, Peter, to his family.

The mortal was caught off guard by the gesture at first. He was surprised at how their relationship, once enemies before steadily morphing into a tense friendship, blossomed into something more deeper than that. But, the brunet quickly reverted back to his snarky, cool persona, acting like it was really an honor for Samhain to introduce him to his family.

Though never one who wore his emotions on his sleeve, Samhain was secretly celebrating in his head. He'd made sure to tell Peter everything and anything he needed to know about his family, from their history to what domains they occupied. However, there was one conversation the pumpkin god felt like he needed to have with his lover.

His family, the Tuatha Dé Danann, were, in the best of terms, total enablers.

Samhain was like his father, The Dagda, in that he was a big eater. As a child, he ate and ate and ate until his stomach couldn't just handle it anymore. As he grew to be a no-nonsense, stern underworld god, he never lose his appetite, and would have grand, fantastical feasts where he would be fed personally by his most loyalist of followers. And his family didn't chastised him nor suggested that he should slow down a bit. Instead, they praised him for being just like his father. The women, like his mother, The Morrígan, would sometimes send a little care package filled with sweet treats down to Tech Duinn where Samhain's estate stood.

Samhain asked his beloved boyfriend to keep an eye on his waistline, as to not overdo it on the food. After the events of the fall festival, he needed to watch his weight. Peter promised, but the god could tell from the twinkle in the his eyes that he wasn't being serious at all.

And he was right.

Hours later, Peter sat amongst the crowded table at the family feast, a wide array of dishes spread out before them all. Samhain, now visibly stuffed, had a strained look plastered on his carved face.

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of him, reaching over to give one taut side a gentle pat. "Come on, Sam. Just a few more bites."

A soft groan escaped the god, his hands resting gingerly over his bloated stomach. "Peter, I… mmph…."

But Peter just smirked, his had moving to massage small circle into the rounded flesh. "You can do it, pumpkin. Just a little more."

Samhain let out another stifled groan but reluctantly nodded, reaching for another slice of ham and taking a shaky bite. Venkman's hand continued to stroke soothingly over his middle, the mortal enjoying watching the god slowly fill up more. As the feast came to an end, Peter took it upon himself to help his pumpkin lover with the last few dishes.

With the god's belly stretched out and tight from his overindulgence, Peter spooned up bite after bite, gently guiding them to his mouth. Each bite was rich and decadent, tender cuts of meat, buttery bread, mixed vegetables, sweetened honey cakes, and more. With every mouthful, Samhain's breathing grew shallower and his stomach fuller, the god practically whimpering with a mix of discomfort and pleasure at being so stuffed.

And the encouragement he received from both Peter and his family-

"Just one more~"

"You can do it~"

"That gut of yours can handle another meal~"

"You still look too thin~"

Damn them all, those enablers.

Yet when Peter brought a honey cake to his mouth, Samhain opened his mouth to take a huge bite out of it-

Like the pampered, spoiled god he was.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober Day 10: Eternal Hunger 🍔 / Hosed Down 💦

Characters: The B00gi3man, Eg0n Sp3ngl3r (Gh0stbust3rs)

Tags: rapid weight gain, tube feeding, ghost hands, groping

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

Boogie's eyes slowly fluttered open as he found himself awakening to a strange and unfamiliar place. He was surrounded in complete darkness, unable to see where he was. As the fog of unconsciousness began to lift, the reality of his situation sinked in. Boogie was dead.

Not defeated—

Not busted—

Not contained in the Unit—

Dead—

Dead, dead, dead.

The monster recalled back to what happened earlier, right before his untimely demise. It was during another fight against the Ghostbusters. He had escaped the Containment Unit, no thanks to recent malfunctions allowing this possibility to happen. Starved and unwilling to be caged any longer, Boogie fought with all of his might. Unfortunately, it turned out that his might was too powerful as he unleashed a blast of energy that backfired, letting him be electrocuted as Egon, pathetic Egon, watched by. The last thing Boogie saw was his former victim, how ironic. Even more ironic was Egon's reaction. The Boogieman expected the parapsychologist to be satisfied, happy even, to see the monster that haunted him as a little child dead like roadkill. However, the eyes behind the glasses showed a mixture of emotions: shock, disturbed, pity... He felt pity for the monster in his last moments. If Boogie wasn't an incorporeal ghost right now, he would throw up in a garbage bin from that thought.

Despite the embarrassing way he went out in life, Boogie only felt numb, both in a physical sense or emotional sense. He should have been mad, considering how long it takes to come back in a corporal form. But he simply couldn't. All he wanted to do now was lay down on the ground and allow this afterlife to do its process. That was until his curiosity peaked by the sight of something a couple feet away. It was some sort of strange hose hanging from a higher elevation. The hose, seemingly left unattended, seemed to beckon him closer with its mystery.

With a mix of caution and intrigue, Boogie approached the hose and reached up, grabbing it with his large hand and guiding it towards his mouth. He parted his lips gingerly, his ruby lips trembling as the cold rubber touched his jagged teeth. Above him, the hose fangled from a pipe in the sky, no source, no end, just there, like it was waiting. Suddenly, a deep, hollow hunger twisted in his gut, eternal hunger, gnawing, insatiable. He didn't think. He couldn't resist.

With a shuddering breath, he opened wide, the grotesque maw stretching unnaturally, and slid the hose past his puffy lips and yellow fangs. Thick, sweet milkshake surged into him, the flavor vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry: all making up to be neapolitan. His belly ballooned instantly beneath his waistcoat. Pounds piled on with every gulp, his blue mullet shaking as his head bobbed with every gulp.

"Mmmmph?! MMMMRRPH!"

He tried to pull back, but the hose gripped.

And even if it didn't, he wouldn't resist for much longer.

He died starved and empty—

So, his afterlife would be the exact opposite:

Full and never starved.

In the dim, flickering haze of the afterlife, ghostly hands, translucent and shimmering in violet, began to form around Boogie. Before he could react, they were on him. Slender fingers traced his pale white fur, teasing along his sides, kneading the fresh softness bloating beneath his waistcoat. One hand slipped down to grip a heavy thigh, now rounder than ever, squeezing as if testing its ripeness. Another tugged playfully at his waistcoat, almost wanting its only button, now struggling to stay in front of Boogie's gut, to pop right off.

It was humiliating for the once fearsome monster in the closet.

And it felt... weirdly good?

No! It had to be punishment!

Then, why was he so turned on?

The ghosts hands' touches continued, sometimes gentle, often teasing, always present. They explored the soft curves and rolls now forming on his body, their phantom leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Boogie squirmed, still feeling a mix of deep shame and yet deeper arousal. He wondered if Egon would even recognize him now, if he could see past the rolls of flab and jiggling mounds of flesh. Boogie's cheeks, fuller now, with his once prominent bone structure softened by layers of fat, flushed.

The image in his mind flashed: tall, calm Egon Spengler adjusting his glasses, seeing this version of Boogie, a trembling mountain of fat and flab. Would he smirk? Snort behind that serious face? Look impressed? Or worse, would he... not mind Boogie's new figure? Not mind the softened everywhere from his belly to his thighs. Not mind how naked he was now thanks to his only button popping with a ping. Not mind how indulged and spoiled he became.

Boogie grained around the hose, a sound pitiful and unbecoming of a monster like him, as fresh humiliation melted into desire.

Maybe, being seen like this wouldn't be so bad.

As long as someone saw how full he'd become.

........

Days Later

A crackle of static sparked in the void as a portal tore open. Through it stepped Egon Spengler, 6'5", pompadour perfectly coiffed despite interdimensional travel, and in the Ghostbusters uniform. His proton pack hummed at his back.

"According to these readings," he muttered, adjusting his P.K.E meter, "the residual energy signature peaks... here."

His boots crunched softly on the ground as he allowed his meter to guide him to the source. Then he saw him.

The Boogieman.

But not as he once was.

The Boogieman had become something vast, a mountainous mound of place fur and jiggling fat standing in front of him. His mullet still stood in wild tuffs atop his head, but it now crowned a face so round it looked cartoonish. His puffy red lips locked around that ever providing hose, yellow-red eyes half lidded in dazed euphoria. His belly was rising like a round, fleshy mess, not restricted by his waistcoat any longer.

And those hands...

Dozens of ghostly fingers kneaded every inch, their touch relentless, squeezing thunder thighs wide as tree trunks, groping pillow-like cheeks that dimpled under spectral palms, teasing rolls upon rolls that cascaded hips like soft lava flows.

Boogie moaned as another wave flooded into him. His strong hooves barely visible struggled to hold his weight. He didn't see Egon standing there, didn't notice those sharp, scientific eyes scanning every detail, the data filing behind glass lenses.

But then, Egon's voice cut through the haze like cold reason through a fever dream.

"Good Lord."

He adjusted his glasses slowly.

"You've gotten... substantial."

Those words, so simple, so matter-of-fact, were like a bucket of cold water.

The spell was shattered.

Boogie's half-lidded eyes widened instantly. The hose fell with a wet plop from his lips, a trail of thick, milkshake dripping onto the ground, as he twisted his massive neck to find—

Egon. Standing right there.

Watching. Studying. Cataloguing every inch of his blubbery, trembling form.

His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of purple. He tried to shield himself, to regain some dignity, but his bulk protested with a soft jiggle. Boogie's eyes darted to Egon's face, searching for a sign of disgust, of mockery. He braced himself for a teasing remark, for the sharp sting of judgement.

But Egon just.. stared at him, his expression unreadable behind the reflection of those lenses. There was no revulsion in Egon's gaze, no hint of the disgust Boogie excepted. Instead, there was something deeper, more complex. Egon's gaze roamed over him like he was an anomaly, an experiment gone wonderfully wrong.

Boogie swallowed. He wanted to speak, to explain, to defend himself, but all that came out was a soft, shaky whisper.

"E-Egon..."

The ghost hands didn't stop.

If anything, they teased more now that Egon had arrived, as if enjoying the show even more under an audience. A spectral palms gave one of his thunderous thighs a loud spank, making it wobble like a waterbed moon.

"I-I can explain!" Boogie blurted out. "This isn't what it looks like! I mean, it is, but I didn't ask for this!"

He hated how weak, how pitiful he sounded. He was the Boogieman! He was meant to terrify, not aroused. But here he was, body swollen like an overfed animal, being studied by the most stoic, detached man he knew. Through the haze of sensations and emotions, Boogie found his voice again.

"Stop staring," he gasped, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably.

"I'm merely observing," Egon replied, his voice as annoyingly calm as ever. "This is a unique phenomena. I can't just ignore it. Your mass has increased by at least threefold. It's remarkable how your form has accommodated your newfound weight."

A spectral hand gave Boogie's thigh another smack, making it jiggle. Boogie couldn't hold back anymore.

"Egon~"

He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. His mind was spinning. The sensations, the humiliation, the stares, it was all too much. And then, in the corner of his eyes, he saw something that shocked him: a faint flush of color on Egon's cheeks.

He was... blushing?

It was only a brief change, but Boogie definitely caught it. Emboldened, Boogie tried again, this time more deliberate.

"E-Egonnn~" he moaned, stretching the name out long.

Egon's breath hitched.

Just slightly.

"D-Don't," the scientist stammered, adjusting his glasses. "Don't say my name like that."

Too late.

The spectral hands, in a mischievous mood, redoubled their efforts, massing deeper into the satyr's pillowy folds, one ghostly palm pressing firmly against the soft under curve of his jaw as if urging him on.

"Eeeeegoooon~"

It rolled out: long, desperate, dripping with need.

Egon froze.

In the throes of sensation and shameful excitement, Boogie found himself lurching forward. He couldn't take the distance between them anymore. He needed Egon closer. And as if reading his mind, the spectral hands pushed him into the lanky scientist's frame. Egon let out a sharp exhale of surprise. He was suddenly very aware of the sheer size of the Boogieman. He could feel the weight of him, the pressure of flab against his body.

And it aroused him more than he could ever admit.

He didn't push him away.

Instead, he pressed against him, biting his lower lip as to stifle an incoming moan.

"G-God," Egon gasped. "You really are big."

His eyes gazed up at the now panting satyr. His hands grabbed the sides of his oversized face, forcing the monster to look at him.

"Y-You can't stay here. I'm taking you back. I'll... I'll provide proper sustenance for you. As long as I'm studying you, you'll never starve or be hungry again. What do you say?"

Silence.

And then, a quiet "Yes" answered Egon's answer.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober Day 31: Ghost Stories 💀 / Happy Endings 📚

Characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)

Tags: weight gain, feedism

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

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.

This was the new life of the old god.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

[merry-nights-time]

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.

But it was an addiction that was worth it.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober

Day 29: New Wardrobe 👔

Characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman (Gh0stbust3rs)

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.

[merry-nights-time]

Feedist Kinktober Day 26: Gooey 💚

Characters: Samha1n, P3t3r V3nkman

Tags: tube feeding, immobility, rapid weight gain, dirty talking

(prompts created by @fatguarddog)

The Spirit of Halloween groaned as another sludge of green ectoplasm rushed through the tube and into his mouth. His body, once a towering, terrifying build, now resembled a large pumpkin ready to be judged at a harvest festival. Except the only "judge" here was that infernal, snark Ghostbuster who was tasked with keeping a close eye on him.

With a press of a button on the remote, the tube was removed from Samhain's mouth, allowing the god to breathe more stablely.

"You know," Peter smirked. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually more Halloween decoration than god now. Just missing a candle in your mouth~"

Samhain pouted at the brunet, the sticky goo substance closing his jaw shut. His inability to report in this state added to the satisfaction Peter felt at seeing the once powerful being reduced to an immovable blob. He couldn't help but relish in the control he had over the situation. "Can't even talk back, huh? Looks like I've finally managed to shut you for a change," Peter taunted, his smirk growing wider.

Peter ran his hands over Samhain's vaist gut, enjoying the sharp breaths and gasps spilling out of the god.

"Damn," he purred, digging his fingers into the soft expasnees as it jiggled under his touch. "You really let yourself go, didn't ya?"

Leaning in closer, pressing his face against the mound, he lowered his voice to a teasing whisper, "I love it when big bad spirits get reduced to glorified stress balls. All this softness, it makes me wonder if I should've fed you even more. Then maybe we wouldn't even need the Containment Unit to contain ya anymore. You'd be stuck riiiiight here with me, forever~"

Samhain let out a muffled moan. He was completely at the Ghostbuster's mercy in this state. Peter chuckled in response, pressing his face against the god's gut even more.

"That's right, big guy. I'll give you all the ectoplasm you could ever want. Just be a good boy and keep filling up for me~"