#xkeondax

[drpeppertummy]

writing commission for an anonymous person, thank you so much for supporting!!! i hope it turned out alright

[post-stuffing bloating/belly expansion, burst teasing]

Keonda settled into the seat with a tired sigh. Her ticket was for the middle spot, and she hoped to herself that at least one of the others in the row wouldn't show so she could take the window or the aisle. She wouldn't have minded a little extra space, either. She was feeling uncomfortably bloated after eating too quickly in the airport, and the idea of being crammed like a sardine between two strangers was hardly appealing.

She sat alone for a little while, but sure enough, both seatmates turned up, and before long they were off, the three of them elbow to elbow in the tiny row as the plane left the ground. Keonda was distinctly aware of the feeling of her arms pressing against the sides of her belly, and she badly wanted to burp to ease some of the pressure, but being sandwiched so close between those friendly strangers, she reluctantly kept it in. If she really needed to, she supposed she could slip off to the bathroom to let it out. Although, noticing the person in the aisle seat already beginning to doze, she wondered whether that would be a viable plan.

She made polite conversation with the person in the window seat--a fellow teacher, she learned, who worked with kids much younger than hers--as she tried to ignore the pressure building in her stomach. She'd always heard that flying could cause bloating, and it was proving to be true. All the air she'd swallowed wolfing down her lunch and whatever gas it had since produced seemed to be steadily expanding inside her. Glancing down, she was mortified to see her tummy sticking out far enough to hide the seatbelt from her line of sight, and she wondered if her seatmates noticed that she was swelling up like a balloon. She hoped not, and she smiled through the ache as she chatted with her new acquaintance.

Eventually, her stomach stopped inflating as the gas settled at its new and improved volume, but by that point, it didn't matter. Keonda felt like a balloon stretched to its limit. She could feel what she imagined must have been about a gallon of trapped air bubbling around inside her, and when her belly let out a strained rumble, Window Seat looked down at her in surprise. He didn't say anything, presumably out of politeness, but he looked worried, and she couldn't blame him. She looked like she was about ready to pop, and that ominous rumble emphasized it almost cartoonishly.

It took all Keonda's strength not to sit there rubbing her aching belly. She doubted anybody would question it, of course; she knew she must have looked pregnant, but the idea of it alone made her feel ridiculous. It also filled her with longing. Her skin felt stretched taut, and a gentle massage to soothe her straining stomach sounded divine. When she got home, she promised herself. With Aisle Seat now snoring away, a retreat to the bathroom was out of the question. She was stuck in this seat, grinning and bearing it, until the plane landed.

The uncomfortable groans and grumbles of her distended tummy drew looks of increasing concern from Window Seat, but he kept mercifully quiet, likely warded off by her barely-concealed embarrassment. She could hear a flight attendant moving down the aisle with refreshments, and she desperately hoped that Aisle Seat would be woken up by the sound of their presence so she could squeeze by and run off to the bathroom to let out a burp.

"Anything to drink?" The attendant smiled cheerfully as she stood over the compressed trio. Aisle Seat was unresponsive save for a snore. Window Seat returned the smile and asked for a Coke, which she promptly delivered to him.

"And for you?" She turned her friendly gaze toward Keonda.

"Oh, I'm alright, thanks," said Keonda with a pained smile, and her belly let out another conspicuous rumble.

"Are you sure, sweetheart? You're looking a little green, how about a ginger ale?" She handed Keonda the can, and, not knowing what else to do, she reluctantly accepted.

Drinking a can of soda did not, in Keonda's mind, seem like a great idea. She already felt like she was on the verge of bursting; the last thing she needed was more carbonation in her stomach. Maybe the friendly attendant had a point, though. The pain in her belly was making her feel a little queasy; maybe a few sips wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Sighing softly, she cracked open the can and, noticing the fizz bubbling up, quickly brought it to her mouth.

That was a mistake. The evidently-shaken soda rushed into Keonda's mouth like a geyser, with nowhere to go but straight into her already-drum-tight stomach. Her belly jutted out hard. It only took a few loud gulps for the entire contents of the can to be forced down her throat, her stomach stretching so fast and so taut she was sure it would burst open. She barely held back a moan as she set the can down, trying to keep herself from panting, and this time shame couldn't keep her from clutching her distended belly.

"Are you alright?" Window Seat's concern had reached a peak, and with good reason. Her belly was bulging straight out over the seatbelt, undeniably far bigger than it had been when they'd first boarded the plane, and there was no hiding the look of pain on her face. Still, she nodded with an unconvincing smile.

The seatbelt was unbearably tight now, and Keonda decided it was time to give in and adjust. Just as she was about to unbuckle it, though, the seatbelt sign blinked on, and she heard the pilot's voice over the intercom--We're experiencing a little turbulence. Great. The plane lurched forward in the sky, and there was an audible slosh from her now soda-filled stomach, followed by an uneasy rumble. She kept her hand on her belly, no longer caring what anybody thought of that, and as the plane jolted and stumbled through the air, she realized with horror that her seatbelt was growing tighter--she was swelling up again.

She winced at the feeling of her belly tightening as the soda fizzed up inside her, disturbed by the unsteady movement of the plane. Window Seat's gaze remained nervously fixed on her alarmingly swollen belly as though he thought it might explode. For all she knew, it might. It was sloshing, fizzing, and rumbling, and the pressure was so great inside her that she would have sworn she could actually see her belly tremble with each rumble. It grew tighter and tighter, straining hard as its contents expanded, and she braced herself, now actually worried that Window Seat might have a point. She couldn't take much more, and if she kept bloating up like this, her flight would end with a bang before the plane reached the ground.

"If you need to get up, I can wake him up," said Window Seat with an urgent worry in his voice.

"No, it's alright," Keonda insisted, trying to keep her cool. Just then, Aisle Seat yawned, and he stretched, and as he stretched a big, sturdy arm reached out and pressed hard against Keonda's nearly-bursting belly. This time she couldn't hold back a moan, and Window Seat covered his mouth in horror, certain she was going to blow.

"Watch out," Window Seat exclaimed, trying to push Aisle Seat's arm away, "she's gonna explode!"

"Huh?" Aisle Seat looked up groggily, arm still firmly pinning her against the seat, but his sleepy expression turned to shock when he saw her practically squirming under it, her dangerously distended belly trembling under the pressure.

"Holy smokes," he exclaimed, quickly pulling his arm back. Keonda let out a heavy sigh of relief, but that movement had dislodged something, and suddenly the dam broke. She just barely managed to clasp her hand over her mouth to stifle a long rush of air, and her belly deflated visibly as the burp finally released some of the pressure. Her seatmates stared in shock, and she blushed brightly, mortified.

"Jeez," Window Seat chuckled nervously, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You really must have been ready to pop." Hand still over her mouth, Keonda nodded meekly.

[drpeppertummy]

🍲 :)

keonda beautiful soup moments

[ID: a drawing of a woman sitting and holding her round belly with a content expression, an empty bowl sitting atop her belly.]

[drpeppertummy]

✈️

For Keonda would be cool!

ik i said i would write for these but the image was in my brain. i just realized i didnt even finish drawing that guys book what the fuck

[ID: a drawing of a woman sitting on a plane between two generic featureless people. she's clutching her very bloated belly with an uncomfortable expression, and the people on either side of her are giving her awkward looks. one thinks "Jeez, she's gonna pop if she gets any bigger," and the other thinks "Her belly sounds like it's about to explode."]

[drpeppertummy]

🫧 for keonda

[ID: a drawing of a woman sitting in a chair. a disembodied hand pats her bloated tummy with a "thoomp" sound effect, and she starts to exclaim "oh!" but is cut off by a burp.]

[drpeppertummy]

tiny little thing following a conversation

[post-liquid bloat, little bit of burping]

"Ugh…" Keonda flopped down on the couch, her belly sloshing at the impact. She felt like a water balloon. A very big, very tight water balloon. It was Max's fault; at least, she'd have liked to blame it on him. All he'd really done was bring her a smoothie for the meeting, which she'd happily drank. This was, of course, after going through her whole big bottle of water while cleaning up her room, and once she'd gotten home, after a hasty trip to the bathroom, she'd topped off her still-swollen belly by chugging a tall glass of cold water, feeling hot and sweaty. The water had cooled her off, but it also left her feeling ready to pop.

She rested a hand on her belly with a firm, hollow thump. Normally soft, it now felt tight as a drum, sticking out like a melon under her form-fitting shirt. The waist of her pants--not quite leggings, but softer and stretchier than what she usually wore--was mercifully forgiving, but even its broad elastic grip was uncomfortably snug around her distended tummy. Desperate to get that pressure off her middle, she pulled the waistband up almost under her chest, the soft material pulled completely over the impressive dome of her belly. Somehow, that was far more comfortable. There was still a certain pressure, but it was softer, gentler, like a pleasant hug wrapped over her belly. It was almost soothing, as though it were helping to contain the enormous weight inside her.

Slumped back on the couch, her tummy sticking straight out under her stretchy pants, Keonda let out a sigh. It had been a long day, and, especially considering the state she was in now, she was thankful she didn't have anywhere else to be. She likely would've been mistaken for pregnant, and she'd have been just as uncomfortable as if she was. She rubbed her belly, a pinched look of discomfort on her face. While the blanketing pressure of her pants was nice, she still felt achingly stretched and far too taut, her bloated stomach bubbling softly with each breath. She wiggled side to side for a moment, and it sloshed loudly.

Keonda tensed up her belly, trying to coax up a burp. She tried for a moment, but only a tiny one came up. It didn't help. Annoyed, she sat upright, the fabric of her pants straining over her belly as she did. She tensed up again, and this time, her stomach rumbled loudly, and a big rush of air erupted from her throat, her tummy deflating slightly under her hand as it escaped. That felt much better, and she fell back into the cushion again with a slosh and a sigh of relief.

[drpeppertummy]

i wasnt gonna post this bc what happened was it was Supposed to just be a toto stuffing situation but then i wound up hitting keonda with the tummy beam too, and then the focus felt unbalanced bc it started out being more about what toto has been through, and i got frustrated with it & gave up trying to fix it bc i couldnt decide whether to scrap it and go back to my original plan or balance it out more, but looking back after like a week i dont think its as awful as i thought originally so im sharing it anyways. just know that its not really what its supposed to be in either direction😭😭😭

[mild hunger, stuffing]

"You don't know how happy I am to see you smiling again," Keonda grinned, greeting Toto with a tight hug. He gladly returned it, albeit awkwardly; he hadn't yet set down his things. Still, it was far better than the limp, listless hugs she'd been getting from him for the past year or so. 

Toto had always been sort of melancholy; optimistic though he was, there was always a tint of sadness hovering over him. After his wife left, though, that sadness had come crashing down on him with the weight of the universe, and he remained in that crushing depression for about a year, barely able to eat or sleep, steadily losing weight, still dutifully working and parenting but with all the liveliness of an empty shell. Then, Cecilia had come along. Cecilia wasn't like the woman Toto had been chained to before. In fact, she was the complete opposite. She never hit him, never belittled him. She loved him, fully and unconditionally, and he loved her, and within days of meeting, she'd begun to bring him back to life.

They'd been together a few months now, and Keonda was beginning to realize that maybe that hovering sadness hadn't been inherent to Toto but to the presence of his ex-wife. He seemed happier than ever now, and healthier too--he'd recovered all his shed pounds plus a few extra. The extra was hard to spot, given his still-slender frame and his preference for loose-fitting clothes, but it showed in the subtle softening of his sharp edges and in the cozier feel of his hugs, and, of course, it showed when he would reach up over his head and his sweater would lift up, and an observant eye could catch a peek of his ever-so-slightly-rounded tummy.

Keonda and Toto sat side by side tonight in a corner of the cluttered little studio, both working on the same still life. While their classmates were scattered around focusing on the few floral setups before their subjects wilted, the two friends had both been drawn to a colorful display of fake fruit nestled elegantly among the folds of a shiny silk sheet. It was a quiet evening--it was rainy out, and a handful of the usual attendees had stayed home--so it wasn't difficult for Keonda to hear, as she worked on her underpainting, when Toto's stomach let out a hungry growl. She gave him an amused look, and he glanced up from his watercolors with a sheepish smile.

"I didn't, I didn't eat before I left," he confessed. "It was back to school night, and I had to go see both the kids' teachers, and, and, and, you know." 

"Ran a little late, huh?" He nodded. 

"Do you-do you wanna get dinner after class?"

"I'm sure I'll be up for that," she agreed. She'd been able to eat beforehand, but it had only been a snack, and she knew she'd be plenty hungry by the time the three hour session was over.

The time ticked by more slowly for Toto than for Keonda. He was making good progress on his painting, but he was beginning to regret his choice of still life; the sight of the fruits, shiny and vibrant in their eternal fake ripeness, was a constant reminder of how hungry he was. It had only been an hour now, and the idea of a big bite of polystyrene wasn't sounding half bad. He gazed longingly at the setup as he brightened the red of an apple on his paper, and his belly let out another whining rumble.

"Fruit getting to you, Toto?" The instructor chuckled as he peered over Toto's shoulder, examining his painting. Toto gave him a timid smile, and Keonda laughed. She couldn't blame him; by that point, the fruit was starting to look pretty good to her too.

It was a long few hours, but the time came at last for people to begin packing up their supplies and trickling out, and by then Keonda was almost as eager as Toto to head out and get something to eat. They agreed to meet up at a diner a few miles away from the studio, a sleepy little hole in the wall with some of the best food in the area. Toto looked over the lengthy menu with interest, and Keonda was glad to see it. He'd only recently found his appetite again; during his low period, it hadn't been around at all. She'd worried terribly about him then, seeing how gaunt and lifeless he looked, and while he'd felt awful for worrying his friends so badly, he just hadn't been able to stomach a thing. Now, though, he felt great, save for his empty stomach, and, at Keonda's encouragement, he ordered a nice big dinner: fettuccine alfredo with shrimp and asparagus, with an extra side of fries added on, along with the cup of clam chowder and bread it came with and an appetizer of spinach and artichoke dip for them to share.

The two tore through the appetizer in a matter of minutes, and by the time their soups came, they were content enough to slow down and enjoy it. It was creamy and flavorful, thick with hearty chunks of potato and clam, and filling enough to be a meal on its own. Keonda's meal--blueberry pancakes--didn't come with it, but she'd ordered a cup anyway, and she was glad she did; it was probably one of the better clam chowders she'd had, though she doubted she'd be able to finish her pancakes after it. She doubted Toto would be able to finish his meal either, noticing him already slowing down on his own chowder, but that didn't stop either of them from emptying their bowls and soaking up the last of the broth with the warm bread.

Toto leaned back with a soft sigh as he set down his spoon. The gnawing hunger that had spent the past few hours nipping and wringing at his stomach was long gone, and now, after the dip and the soup, he felt surprisingly full. Maybe not surprisingly; Toto didn't have the biggest stomach capacity, but regardless, he wondered how much of his actual dinner he'd be able to eat. The two friends sat quietly for a moment, digesting their soup and simply relaxing. It was a little after ten, and they were both sleepy. The art class was a pleasant way to follow up a long and busy day, but it still took energy and brainpower, and right now felt like the first moment either of them had really had to just sit and rest. The worn seats of the diner booth were comfortable, and the soft doo-wop music playing over the radio, quiet yet still audible over the gentle chatter of the nearly-empty restaurant, was soothing, as was the feeling of a bellyful of hot soup.

Neither of them were hungry anymore, but when the waitress brought the pasta and the pancakes to the table, they were happy to dig in, albeit slowly and with small bites. The fettuccine was wonderfully hot, and the shrimp and asparagus added a refreshing crispness to the rich alfredo sauce; Keonda's pancakes were sweet and buttery and filled with juicy bursts of blueberry. They exchanged a few tastes across the table, and Toto pushed his dish of fries to the middle, insisting that they split them--his appetite was hardly what it had been when he'd ordered.

They chatted as they ate, and against all odds, Toto made a small dent in his pasta. He felt pretty stuffed now, his belly pushing out snug and warm against the soft fabric of his sweater, and he sat back contentedly, determining that the rest would be dinner for tomorrow. Keonda was still working at her pancakes, but she was quickly losing steam. They were big and fluffy, and ordering a full stack had clearly been a mistake.

"Help me finish these," she said, nudging the plate toward the middle of the table. "They're not gonna heat up good."

"Oh, gosh..." Toto sat upright, reluctantly picking up his fork again. The pancakes were delicious, but he wasn't sure he could squeeze much more into his stomach. Still, knowing she was right, he sawed off a bite and got to work.

Toto had been comfortably stuffed when he'd decided to quit on his dinner, but now he was pushing it. Judging by the look of Keonda's belly--her shirt was far more form-fitting than his--she was too. Her tummy stuck out firmly over the waist of her pants, and underneath his oversized sweater, Toto's was doing the same. Still, not wanting to waste half a stack of syrup-soaked pancakes, they pushed on. Each bite seemed more difficult than the last; their bellies were stretched taut with warm, bulky carbs, and with each swallow they stretched a little further. Finally, neither of them could hold another bite. 

"I'm too full," said Toto, holding his hands to his belly as he leaned back in the seat. The curve of it was visible even under his sweater.

"Me too," groaned Keonda, trying to inch the waist of her pants a little lower.

"We did-we did pretty good," said Toto. Only a small portion of the pancakes remained, the rest packed impossibly into their now-distended stomachs.

"We did a little too good," said Keonda, resting her hand atop her round tummy. It bulged out perfectly round, the fabric of her shirt pulled smooth over the curve. The two sat there for a few minutes in silence, holding their bellies and digesting, and when the waitress returned to the table, she was unable to hide her amusement at the sight of them. They both looked up at her with sheepish smiles, not bothering to try and hide how unbelievably stuffed they were.

"I'll get you two a couple boxes," she chuckled, not even bothering to ask.

[drpeppertummy]

Envious?

[hunger]

The meeting hadn't been mandatory, but food had been ordered to persuade people to come, and it had worked. The room was packed, tables crowded with people enjoying paper plates of hot Italian catering from a beloved local restaurant. Just about everybody was enjoying the food that was surely better than whatever they would have made at home on next to no energy--everybody, of course, but Max. He tried not to pay it any attention, but it was hard not to feel jealous as the enticing smells wafted around him.

Struggling to ignore the longing ache in his stomach, Max glanced back at the catering table. It was neatly lined with shiny metal trays of steaming hot gluten. He sighed. There was a tray of what looked like grilled chicken, but he wasn't sure what was on it, and he knew better than to test his luck. He almost stood up for a little plate of salad, but, catching a glimpse of one of the teachers dipping a single serving spoon into no less than three dishes, he glumly stayed put.

Max rested his chin in his hand, feeling miserable. He hadn't expected to find anything to eat at the meeting, but he'd skipped lunch to deal with a long string of problems, and the thought of a hot plate of pasta sounded unbelievably comforting. For a split second he almost considered throwing his health to the wind and indulging just for one afternoon--how bad could it be? He knocked that thought straight out of his head. Plenty bad, he reminded himself sternly, and it's the last thing I need when I'm stuck at work. He rubbed his face wearily, and his belly rumbled.

"Was that your stomach?" Keonda, sitting next to him, gave him an amused glance.

"Yeah," he sighed, still gazing blankly forward at nothing.

"Sheesh, Kestler, why don't you get something to eat? There's plenty of…" She trailed off, realization dawning on her. "Oh." He gave her a tired smile. "Shoot, Kestler, I'm sorry."

"I'll eat when I get home," he assured her. Home seemed months away right now. The meeting hadn't even started yet, and the thought of sitting through the whole thing, starving and taunted by a room full of food he couldn't eat, made him want to cry. It wasn't a mandatory meeting for most staff, but as an administrator, he had no choice but to stay, so, as he was very used to doing, he tried his best to ignore his body and fulfill his duties.

The meeting droned on for what felt like hours, although it really only lasted one. Ordinarily, his growling stomach would have been met with amusement from Keonda, but right now she just felt sorry for him, and she was almost as anxious for it to end as he was. He held a hand against his belly as he listened, the other holding up his head, too tired to care if he looked outwardly bored. The clock seemed frozen in place, and he was beginning to wonder whether his stomach might digest itself before he was finally set free.

At long last, he heard the familiar phrases of a meeting about to close, followed by the bustle and chatter of a room about to clear, and finally he was on his way. He felt like he'd been sitting in that uncomfortable chair for thirty years, and his back cracked as he stood up and stretched. He felt dizzy for a moment upon rising, but it passed. The headache, however, did not, and he was fishing around in the glove compartment for a Tylenol the moment he got into the car. Still, despite the various aches and pains that currently gripped him, the discomfort was almost overshadowed by the relief he felt at finally heading home.

When Max walked through the door, he was met with the warm smell of food cooking and the sound of Marsha and Alfie bickering playfully in the kitchen. He fell back against the door as it shut with a sigh, leaning his head back against it, and remained there for a moment, utterly exhausted and utterly relieved. His belly rumbled loudly.

"Hey, there's my old Stringbean," Marsha called out, waving from the kitchen doorway. "We thought you were never comin' home! Get in here, dinner's just about ready!" Max wasn't sure he'd ever heard anything more wonderful in his life.

[drpeppertummy]

keonda bored to unconsciousness at the zoom meeting

[ID: a drawing of a woman sitting with her head propped up in her hand, asleep. a large empty water bottle sits beside her, and her bloated tummy lets out a sloshing sound.]