Your belly is packed and overblown to what seems to be its fullest. Just barely budging from your labored paints and heavy moans, It sits begging you not to fill it any more. Groaning when you groan, moaning when you moan, your belly has stretched your midriff into a bloated mess that your top can no longer disguise. Then unbeknownst to you, a pair of unsuspecting hands clutch that sensitive sphere...?WhereHowWhat? (Bedroom,Shower,or Kitchen?) (Pampered or Forced?) (Inflation or Stuffing?) :3c
labored paints....mom’s spaghetti












