the floor looks bad be Cause my marker died . normally not a fan of group stuffing but i cant help thinking about how disastrous this crew would be together
idk if these are outfits he would actually wear (although color could make all the difference in the world) im just playing Evil Dress Up with him for the sole purpose of showing off his full tummy
[ID: two drawings of a guy whose belly is very bloated. in the first he's wearing a fishnet crop top and some kind of sports bra, which squeeze and accentuate the curve of his belly. in the second he's wearing multiple tight belts which force his upper belly outward.]
Yet Another Marianne Story nothing special i just wanted diandre to have a nice night at the diner
[stuffing, mentions of weight gain, mentions of body image/diet talk]
Marianne thought she recognized the young man in the booth, browsing the long menu with his chin in his hand and his feet swinging idly under the table. He wasn't dressed quite as flashily as usual--a cozy oversized cardigan over a loose crop top and a soft pair of jeans seemed a fair look for a late-night diner run--but as she approached the table, it was plain to see that it was none other than Diandre Harlin sitting there reading over the entrees. And, she was pleased to see, the tabloids hadn't been lying about his recent change in appearance. She certainly wouldn't have called him fat, but the pretty singer had softened up considerably over the past year or two, complete with a sweet little potbelly poking out over the waist of his pants. He looked sleepy and content as he looked over the menu, and as Marianne came close, she heard that adorable belly rumble.
"Evening, cutie pie," said Marianne with a friendly smile. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Umm… Can I have a Shirley Temple?" Diandre looked up from the menu at her, returning the smile.
"You got it, pumpkin," she said. "Any appetizers while you're thinkin'? We just added hot pretzel sticks with beer cheese to our menu and people are loving it."
"Ooh, that does sound good," he agreed, and she was off with the order.
Diandre hummed softly to himself as he went on reading the menu. He'd been in the mood for pancakes when he came in, but now, looking over the long list of mouthwatering options, he wasn't so sure. He hadn't eaten since an early lunch, and everything looked good. He could stay within the realm of breakfast, maybe something similarly sweet and bready like waffles or French toast, or he could wander entirely off into the lunch and dinner options; fried flounder or stuffed chicken didn't sound bad. He glanced around the diner, thinking. It was late--nearly one in the morning--and there was nobody around, not near his table, at least. If he wanted to really get wild…
"Find anything good, sweetpea?" Marianne returned to the table with a sparkling pink soda and a dish of steaming hot pretzels, and Diandre looked up with a sheepish grin.
"Okay, don't judge me, because I'm really hungry," he started, and Marianne laughed.
"Oh, sweetheart, I would never judge anybody for havin' a good appetite," she assured him.
"Can I do, um, a short stack of blueberry pancakes, and a fried seafood basket?"
"Absolutely," said Marianne, grinning ear to ear. "I think that's a fabulous choice."
Diandre would have liked to say he wasn't sure what came over him in that moment, but he was perfectly sure. He was hungry, indecisive, and tired of caring what other people thought. It wasn't like he intended to finish the entire two meals anyhow; he knew he'd likely have plenty left for tomorrow. Tonight, though, he was going to indulge in his odd combination to the fullest, not stopping to think about what his manager would say, or his no-longer-slim figure, or how he'd look chowing down on two plates of food on the cover of some sleazy magazine. He picked up a pretzel stick and dipped it into the hot cheese sauce. Tonight, he was going to enjoy himself.
There were three pretzels on the plate, and they were big and thick. The cheese was hot and savory on his tongue, the pretzel pleasantly fluffy inside, and as he chewed, he felt perfectly content. Diandre loved food, but, being under constant pressure to stay thin and pretty for his fans, he hadn't allowed himself to really take pleasure in it until fairly recently. Even now, fifty pounds heavier than the scrawny fashionista who had built his image, the thoughts still crossed his mind--is this okay?--what would so-and-so say about this?--shouldn't I be ordering a salad?--but he pushed them away and took another bite.
By the time he was on the third pretzel, Diandre realized ordering two entrees may have been a mistake. He was certainly still looking forward to them, but he was hardly starving with two and a half six-inch hunks of bread in his belly. He doubted he'd even be able to finish one of the meals, let alone make a dent in both. Well, that was alright. He'd have extra leftovers. He finished off the rest of the third pretzel and took a sip of his Shirley Temple, coaxing one of the cherries to the top of the glass with his straw. At any rate, he was glad nobody was around. He'd been to diners that were busy and bustling all night long, but this wasn't one of them. Nobody in sight to catch a picture of him eating enough for two people, not unless the waitress was gonna go behind his back, but she seemed alright.
The other perk of the diner's emptiness was that the food was ready quickly. Diandre had barely finished the pretzels when Marianne returned to the table with two plates--a small stack of fluffy, steaming pancakes just waiting to be doused in butter and syrup, and a basket of hot, crispy fried fish and shrimp nestled among a bed of golden fries. It looked delicious and smelled even better, the warm mixture of sweet and savory scents wafting over him like a spell.
"Thank you!" Diandre was wide-eyed at the appealing-yet-daunting spread. "Boy, I sure overestimated myself," he added with a sheepish smile.
"Oh, nonsense, cutie pie," said Marianne. "A big dinner will do you good."
"Yeah, maybe a little too good," he chuckled, giving his belly a squeeze.
"No such thing," she assured him. "You're looking very healthy these days. It suits you!"
"Aw, thank you!" He beamed up at her, blushing.
"Eat up, pumpkin," she said with a bright smile, and she left him to it.
Despite the bulky pretzels already taking up space in his stomach, Diandre's appetite was still strong, and if he'd been questioning it before, the sight of the fresh, hot food reinvigorated it with full force. He decided to start by buttering the pancakes--that was one area where he never felt guilty about using an abundance of butter--and drizzled syrup over a small area of them before sticking his fork in and breaking off a bite. It was almost too hot to close his mouth around, but absolutely delicious, with juicy pockets of blueberry and buttery syrup mingling across his tongue as he chewed. He let out a soft hum of contentment as he took in the flavors, then picked up another dripping bite.
Once the syrupy area of the pancakes had been eaten, he turned his attention toward the more savory half of the meal. There was a large hunk of flounder, breaded and fried golden brown, and a handful of shrimp given the same treatment. Fried seafood was one of Diandre's great loves, and he knew from experience that that flounder would burn the roof of his mouth clean off if he took a bite now, so he broke it in half in hopes of letting some of the steam out while he enjoyed a shrimp. It was perfectly crispy, the heat of it balanced by the cool cocktail sauce he'd dipped it in, and in two bites it was gone, as was the next one. He followed the second shrimp with a few fries, just as hot and in no need of extra salt, then took a sip of his soda.
Diandre savored his meals as he ate, alternating between breakfast and dinner with no particular method or strategy. He had no intention of finishing, only of enjoying, and enjoying he was. Marianne could see that from her spot across the diner, enjoying the blissful look on his freckled face almost as much as he was enjoying the food. He was a cute little thing, and she hoped he'd make a good dent in his meal. His soft tummy was already delightfully round, and, especially given that it was exposed beneath the tantalizing hem of his crop top, she was eager to see it round out even further.
It didn't take long for Diandre to start feeling full. A variety of bulky carbs were pushing out the walls of his stomach, between the large volumes of fluffy bread from the pancakes and pretzels and the heavier, greasier weight of the fries and the breading of the seafood, and the bubbly Shirley Temple soaked into everything and filled in the gaps with sweet carbonation. Still, he wasn't ready to quit just yet. He wasn't planning on giving himself a bellyache, but he wanted to make the most of his meal while it was fresh. He picked up a piece of the flounder, dipped it into the cocktail sauce, and took a bite. It was a little dry, but still flavorful, and the texture was pleasant enough in his mouth to pull him right back in for another bite.
"How is everything, sweetpea?" Marianne smiled down at him, and he covered his mouth as he looked up, still chewing.
"Really good," he said, quickly swallowing the mouthful. "I think I'm gonna need a box soon, though."
"Well, you just let me know when that cute little tummy's had enough," she teased. "I always say: it'll never be as good tomorrow."
"You're so right," he agreed, and with that little bit of encouragement, he dove back in.
Deciding that the seafood and fries would be less likely to heat up well, Diandre decided to tackle that for the moment. It would do fine in the air fryer, but Marianne was right--it was at its prime right now. He picked up another shrimp, still hot but far more manageable than when it had first come out, and followed it with a couple of fries. They were some of the best fries he could recall having in his time, thick-cut and crisp, and he could happily have picked at them all night. That's exactly what he did, in fact--even as his belly grew snug and full, he kept coming back to the fries, popping one or two in his mouth between each bite. There seemed to be an endless amount of them in the deceptively small basket.
Diandre took a sip of his soda, then fished out the last cherry. He'd have to wrap things up soon. He was beginning to feel stuffed, and while the jeans he was wearing were far more forgiving than his usual tight pants, they were still growing a little too snug around his waist. There were a couple of shrimp left and about half the flounder; that would make a nice lunch tomorrow even if he wound off polishing off the rest of the fries. He decided to finish sweet. He doused another portion of the pancakes with syrup--more than he intended to cover--and stuck in his fork.
The pancakes were delicious, soft and warm and comforting, but they took up a lot of space in his stomach. Each bite made him feel considerably more full. He felt like his belly pushed out further with each swallow, and he was getting to the point where his stomach felt like it was beginning to stretch. The syrupy patch of pancakes would wind up soggy if he didn't eat it now, though. Almost absentmindedly, he popped a fry into his mouth, took a quick sip of soda to break up the dense bready feeling, and broke off another bite.
Marianne watched with great interest as Diandre worked his way through the pancakes. He'd slowed down considerably, and she could tell he was struggling now. The amount of food he'd eaten hadn't been exceptional--a few big soft pretzels, half a fried seafood basket, about a third of the pancakes so far--but even with his new weight, he was a little guy, and there was only so much space to hide it all. His belly stuck out considerably over the waist of his pants, still plush but visibly tightened by everything that had been packed into it, and the crop top seemed to rest higher on the curve than it had when he'd first sat down. The oversized cardigan framed his belly nicely, seeming to emphasize the bulge of his rounded sides. Marianne was enjoying watching that belly, watching the way it moved as he breathed, the way the mass seemed to shift inside it with each little change in position, the way it seemed to push straight out rather than let gravity weigh it down. Wanting a closer look, she decided to check in with him.
"Feeling full yet, pumpkin?" She gave him a friendly smile, her eyes fixed on his bulging tummy. "You're lookin' pretty stuffed." Diandre nodded, but the fork remained in his hand.
"I definitely need a box," he said, leaning back against the soft cushion of the booth and resting his free hand on his belly. It looked impressively taut, stretching a little tighter with each sleepy breath, and it was almost comically round, given that not only was it stuffed to the brim, but it held a good amount of the weight he'd gained recently compared to the rest of his body. Still, he looked like he was thinking about that forkful of pancakes.
"I'll grab you a couple, sweetheart," she promised. Thinking about the way he was contemplating the pancakes, she decided to take her time.
Diandre was under no illusion that he was going to finish much more, but he didn't want to bring home half-soaked pancakes. If he could just finish off the part he'd poured syrup on, he'd be happy. A few good-sized bites remained. He sighed, hand still resting on his belly, and reluctantly brought the fork to his mouth. They still tasted good, at least. Already a little soggy for his liking, but still good. He chewed slowly, almost hesitant to swallow, and when he did, he could feel his stomach stretch just a hair further, gurgling softly as its contents shifted to fit more. He dug out another bite from the pancakes, took a moment for his belly to settle just a bit, and ate it.
Marianne watched behind the counter as Diandre slowly made his way through the pancakes, just out of his sight. She still had a good view of his belly, though, the way it swelled and puffed out with each long breath, the way it pushed out almost far enough to press against the table when he sat upright and leaned forward to prop himself up on his elbows. It must have felt incredibly tight. It didn't rest in his lap despite its apparent weight; it seemed to protrude straight forward like a beachball, too firmly distended to sag. Finally, he set the fork down with a sigh and leaned back once more, now holding his tummy with both hands, and she returned with the boxes.
"Here you go, pumpkin, one for the pancakes and one for the basket," she said, resisting the urge to set them atop his bulging tummy like a table. "You gonna make it home alright? You look just about ready to pop."
"Ooh… I feel like it," he groaned, giving his drum-tight upper belly a cautious rub. "I'll be okay."
"Good," she smiled. "I hope we'll see you again soon!"
what r diandres limits stomachwise.... for science....
good quastion,,,,, hes a little deceptive bc hes pretty small but when he wants to go wild he can cram a Lot in there, more than one would expect him to be able to fit, but then that would still leave him painfully stuffed. his comfortable limits are fairly small, it doesnt take much to fill him up. measuring in pizza slices id say he would be content after one or two but he Could eat more than half of a pizza if he was really determined
i am still figuring diandre out but first and foremost hes babygirl☝️ but Also hes under a lot of pressure as a prettyboy singer to stay thin & the people around him are tough on him about it so he has to eat shitty bare bones health food & when he sees Good Food that hes not supposed to have hes very Sad Puppy about it. but sometimes☝️ he will sneak himself a Big Crazy Snack in the middle of the night
Just saw your last belly kink ask, if it's not too late I'm curious about 4, 21, & 23!
thank u !!!! its never too late
4. …bellyaches.
trying to remember if ive already answered this before bc i dont wanna name the same oc twice😭 i could give this one to leon, hes pretty suited to it given his crappy eating habits & his tendency to overeat on occasion
21. …belly rubs (and other positive belly attention).
i am such a huge sucker for this i love it for all my ocs😭😭😭 but one that comes to mind rn is sunny he absolutely adores physical affection & he especially loves having his belly touched. rubs pats tickles kissies What Ever it doesnt matter he loves it #puppy #puppy #puppy
23. …wardrobe malfunctions.
my favorite kind of wardrobe malfunction is shirts riding up, im not really big on popping buttons or ripping clothes, and sunny is Also one of my favs for that bc hes always wearing shirts that are a little too short, but since i answered him for the last one ill also pick somebody else & say diandre, pretty much for the same reason. he wears a lot of very snug clothes & sometimes they just cant contain his tummy if he has a big snack at the wrong time
