#knb stuffing

[drawthemfatter]

Overfilling Aomine

Thirty-four burgers, three milkshakes, and a soda sat heavily in Aomine’s belly, on top of the six sausages, twelve pancakes, glass of heavy cream, and six bananas drizzled with caramel he’d eaten for breakfast. He groaned and rubbed his gurgling aching gut. He wasn’t done. He could hear Momoi and Kuroko setting something up in the kitchen. More food would come soon. He tapped his bulging gut and tried to steal some deep breaths, but he was too full. All he could do was wheeze. Even burping failed to make room. So heavy. So tightly packed with unhealthy food. Kuroko returned with a gallon of rich chocolate coconut milk. Momoi followed behind with a fruit smoothie (likely filled with weight gain powder or appetite stimulants). Aomine’s face paled. There was no way he could drink all that, but his feeders faces told him he would, or he would die trying. He moaned and pleaded for mercy, but Kuroko grabbed the funnel and began attaching it. He poured the milk in first. It hurt. Aomine could feel his stomach stretching to accommodate it. Then some of the smoothie was poured in. It was heavier and felt like concrete in his overstuffed gut. More milk followed, then smoothie, then milk, allowing short breaks in between. He could barely breathe. His belly was as hard as a rock and noisy. Kuroko helped him burp. He must have stretched his gut nearly ten inches by the time the funnel was removed. He was too full to move or speak. All he could do was moan and burp through the horrible discomfort.

[drawthemfatter]

Clean Your Plate - Sakurai - Knb

His grandmother always insisted he have seconds because he was a “growing boy,” and leaving a single bite on the plate was inexcusable. He stuffed himself every meal, never noticing that his belly wasn’t the only thing growing. The portions were too. When the plates were too full, she bought bigger ones. When those were full, she would plop the leftovers on his plate or serve them later to “avoid waste.” He learned to wear an elastic waistband to meals, but those still left angry red marks and ripped sometimes. Every meal left him too sleepy and full to leave the table, so he often dozed and rubbed his protruding belly, which kept swallowing more and more of his lap. When he woke up after breakfast, he’d slowly lift his body up and force it into his school uniform. Every so often, he noticed his clothes stopped trying to squeeze him to death. He figured his grandmother bought him new ones. She had, and it made it easier for him to ignore his growth. She drove him to school too, since walking all that distance tired him out. After his after-lunch or dinner nap, he lumbered to the couch or his room to watch tv or study. His grandmother always brought soda, milk, or heavy cream and a plate of sweets, despite the fact he already had dessert. He usually kept a bag of chips in his room too. The snacks were the only thing keeping him awake enough to study. His belly pleaded with him to stop eating, but grades were important. When he finished, he laid down and rubbed it until he fell asleep. It had no choice but to grow bigger and heavier. Getting up became a tiring task. He paused several times on the stairs at school to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead. P.E. was impossible. Just walking a lap made him look and sound like he’d just run five miles. The teacher usually sent him to get water and sit down, worried what would happen if he didn’t let the boy rest. After class, the teacher would pull him aside sometimes and grab his fat or poke it, lecturing him about health and weight. Sakurai ignored it and went to get his snack. Bullies sometimes forced him to eat or drink weird things like the time a kid stole sticks of butter from the kitchen and made him eat it. Sometimes he ended up in the nurses office with a stomach ache and nausea. She too lectured him endlessly. But when he got home, he ate his after school snack, dinner, dessert, and evening snack like always and watched his belly swell with tons of unneeded calories.