The Berry Brothel

[bimbosanddolls]

“Oh my God, babe, you NEED to come help me. I grabbed one of those protein shakes you had in the fridge and all of a sudden my ass got HUGE. Like, none of my pants fit! And I had to wear a thong, and you know I hate those. Even though it does make my butt look super sexy. Like, realllly sexy. I’ll send you a pic asap. Anyways, please hurry. I, like, don’t know what to do. It’s just so big. So,  so big… and… sexy? And it feels sooo good to touch…. Hurry babe, I need you to come bend me over and pound my sexy bubble butt. I need it. like, real bad. Anywho, like, I’ll see ya soon, ‘kay? Muah! xoxoxo”

[hypnotransform]

[ditzykandygirl]

MrGrey is one of the best bimbo authors imo.

[retroeverything-deactivated2023]

An erotic fiction site I had not encountered… Puts the kettle on and settles down for a read…

[maxamillionsaberhagen]

Whoa whoa hold up is someone porting all of his old stories? He was one of the first authors I found doing bimbo transformation and I’d love a revisit for nostalgia purposes

[transfunmation]

iCandy

A new store popped up at the mall and it caught Walter’s eye.  It was a candy store not much different than any other candy store, except for one big difference, the help.  The store was staffed with HOT chicks in skimpy uniforms.  And here’s the best part, they were super friendly and talked to him real nice, even if it was obvious they were not very smart.

After graduation, Walter still kept his job at Pretzel Hut, but seemingly spent all his money in Mystic Sweets.  He couldn’t justify the long conversations with Tawny or Danni without buying something while he tried to drink up their sexy cleavage.  

Eventually his stockpile of candy out paced his earnings from Pretzel Hut.  Dejected, Walter went into Mystic Sweets after his shift to talk to Tawny.

“Hey Sugar.  Oooh, why you looking like you’re sad?” Tawny greeted Walter cheerfully.

Walter looked down embarrassed.  Ruing the impending rejection.  “I’m sorry Tawny, but I don’t have any money today.  I keep buying candy in here to just talk to you, but I must talk a lot because I don’t have any money left AND they just cut my hours.”

Tawny gives Walter a genuine sympathetic pout and leans forward to pat his arm for comfort.  Walter looks at her and can see right through her cleavage down to her skirt.  OH GAWD!  He LOVED this place!  “Is there anything I could like do for you Sugar?”

“Oh I wish,” said Walter not taking his eyes off Tawny’s almost bare breasts.  “I would do anything to work here.  You guys are so nice and I love candy.”

Tawny giggled.  “You sure Sugar?!  Like that would be great!”  Tawny stands and places Walter’s hand on her heart and hugs it while he gets a large handful of soft breast.  “Danni and I are busy at the store, but we keep getting hounded for requests for deliveries. People seem excited about sampling our sweets at home.  You can satisfy their sweet tooth!  What do you say?”  Tawny grabs Walter’s hands in both of her hands in a tight hug but waggles her half exposed breasts back and forth feeling herself up.

Walter almost creamed himself when Tawny ground his fingers into her hard nipple but did resist.  “Yes.  Please yes.  Whatever you want.  I promise.”

Tawny giggle again.  “Oh that like totally makes my day, Sugar.  Here.”  Tawny retrieves a box of candy from the back room and hands it to Walter.  “Sugar, you like need to take this home and familiarize yourself with each flavor.  Your shift starts tomorrow.”

Walter was too shocked to say anything and left the store and went home.  He set the orange and purple box on his bed then opened the lid.  There were only a limited amount of candies in the box, buy the variety varied widely.

The first thing Walter picked up was a sour cherry ball.  He popped it into his mouth and immediately his lips puckered.  Eyes watered a bit but he kept the candy in his mouth like a trooper.  The taste was very good, but the sourness puckered his lips terribly.  They felt larger, almost swollen.  Walter could even see the cherry color got all over his lips turning them a deep luscious red.  Tired of the sourness and sucking, Walter tried to bite the candy.  Severe pain coursed through his jaw, so he went back to sucking.  The candy lasted for nearly 45 minutes with Walter sucking on it.  Each suck became more and more pleasurable.  Walter would never bite again if sucking was an option.  When the candy was finally gone, Walter was sad to find out that was the only sour cherry ball in the box.

Next Walter chose a small wad of pink cotton candy.  The sugar almost instantly dissolved on his tongue.  The cotton candy tickled his brain, filled it with fun pink clouds.  Thinking became difficult, but also unnecessary.  Questions like ‘Who am I?  Why am I doing this?’ became too difficult and frustrating to form, but other thoughts like ‘I like candy.  Candy makes me happy.’ pushed its way to the forefront.  

Next Walter grabbed the Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light.  He pushed the white treat past his cherry red lips only for him to clamp down on his own finger sucking both it and the chocolate sensually.  The white milk chocolate melted slowly in his mouth.   The sweet taste tingling his palate only to have that tingling sensation spread.  The pleasure drove a b-line to his nipples as they grew hot and needy.  Walter quickly shed his top and started rubbing circles around his hardening nipples.  The pink cloud prevented Walter from questioning what’s happening, but encouraged him to enjoy it.  Walter bit and sucked on his lip as he moaned and felt the weight of new soft fat filled flesh filling out on his hands.  He cupped, pinched and tweaked his own titties turning himself on more and more. 

The Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light finally dissolved in his mouth leaving him hungry, but with two handfuls of perky Double D breasts.  Walter quickly grabbed two pieces of candy, Cherry Pie and Black Cherry Pie Taffy.  Two candies at once was too much for Walter and he came almost instantly while playing with his new soft titties.  He took his gooey pants off just in time to see his flacid cock shrink down into a tiny little clitty, then in a quick burst, his hips flared out sexily and a hairless cleft cut though his crotch exposing his cherry pie.  The thought was very exciting to her and she clenched her ass and that sent sexual thrills through the new candy girl.

Only one candy left, she grabs the Pink Passionfruit Gummi Bear.  A sexual heat coursed through her body.  She felt her hair grow and flow down her back.  Her face softened and turned into that of a sexy model.  Her ass filled out in all the right places and her legs smoothed out and gained sexy curves.  

Unable to remember who she was, she struggled for her identity.  The pink clouds fogging the new girl’s mind, she looked at her bed and saw what brought her such pleasure.  Candy.  “I am Candy!”  With that epiphany, Candy dropped onto the bed.  One hand on her tits and the other buried in her sweet, sweet pie.

At 11 am Candy woke up and showered.  As she’s toweling off, Candy rubs herself to another sweet high.  The doorbell rings and on the mat is a package from Tawny.  Candy excitedly puts on her new uniform.  It’s all in pink.  Pink makes Candy happy.  Pink makes Candy horny.  

She feels ready for work when her phone pings. It is her iCandy App.  She doesn’t know how it got on her phone, but such contemplation hurts her head.  It is a cute fun app.  All the letters seemed to be formed from candy and the boxes are all in pink.  Pink makes Candy happy and horny.  There is an address for a delivery.  

Candy pouts her lips in confusion and texts Tawny.

Candy - “I like totes have a delivery, but I like don’t have anything to drop off.”

Tawny - “~Giggles~ Silly.  He requested Candy.  That’s totally you.  Give him ALL your sweets!”

Candy is flush with excitement. - “Yes boss!”

[maxamillionsaberhagen]

Another amazing short story from @transfunmation. Especially good if you have a sweet tooth :p

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: Brainwashing, Corruption, Anal play, Breeding, Body Writing, fffM

I - Girl’s Night Out

“...And drinks are here!”, beamed Eliza. She put a glass in front of June, the other in front of Lisa. She tried her best not to watch them for too long, to keep herself from giving the game away. Still… she couldn’t help herself. She chuckled internally. A girl’s night out, just for them, no boys allowed… and yet her dear friends had dressed in a way that most assuredly was meant to attract the gaze of men. Hypocrites. Strong boss babe June, sporting a cleavage that she claimed was “empowering”; Lisa wearing pants that were close to exploding just to show off her gym-toned ass. But sure, girl’s night out.

Eliza smiled as she watched her friends raise their glasses to their lips. She had to play it cool, but fuck it was hard. Her pussy was throbbing and soaked. She knew the chemical would work. Daddy had told her so. Daddy was always right.

She watched as her friend’s eyes got glassier, their smiles softer, more relaxed, their body language softly speaking of an openness, a comfortable relaxation.

“It’s so good we can have time to ourselves”, said June.

“I know, right? Oh, I needed this so bad. Just us, relaxing, having a few drinks, talking…”

Talking? They were saying nothing, thought Eliza. Just filling space, deciding that this was a good time and saying over and over again how good this time was, killing it with an avalanche of self-congratulatory bullshit. As if this night out was somehow valuable because it had been deemed a “girl’s night”. Well, Eliza couldn’t really complain, she figured. The night out had been, after all, her idea. Well, not hers, but her friends didn’t need to know that. Eliza shifted in her seat. They should be ready now. Maybe a small test was in order.

She looked at June. “Oh, you know what would be fun? If you shared a smoke with me outside”, she said with a casualness she very much did not feel, her eyes fixed on her friend’s reaction. Eliza expected to see some measure of resistance, some hesitancy, maybe even to receive a befuddled denial. June didn’t smoke. Neither did Eliza, as far as her friends knew. That habit had been chosen for her by Daddy. What she got, instead, was June’s green eyes opening wide and a genuine smile on her lips.

“That’s such a good idea!”, chirped June, already getting up, looking as if Eliza had discovered electricity right in front of her.

“Actually… maybe we should stay here”, tested Eliza.

“Oh, right! Yeah, totally, we should stay here”, said June.

Eliza looked at Lisa. Nothing in her demeanor seemed to show the blonde felt anything was amiss.

It worked. Eliza had to fight the urge to let her hands slide under her panties and rub her pussy right then and there. Fuck, it worked. Just like Daddy said it would. Maybe one more test, just to be sure.

“Lisa, your ass looks so great! Can I touch it?”

A look of delight came over Lisa’s face as she leaped out of her chair.

“Oh my God, of course! That would be amazing!”

Eliza grabbed her friend’s ass with no shame, no attempt to be discreet. Lisa just squealed with joy: this was indeed a great idea!

“It’s so firm, so round!” said Eliza before giving it a playful spank.

“I know, right? I work so hard to keep it nice and hard!”, said Lisa.

Well, testing time was over, thought Eliza. The real game had to begin.

“Oh, girls, I just had the best idea! It would be so cool if you came with me to meet someone very special!”

The girl’s eyes lit up. Oh yes, that would be so, so cool.

II - Girl’s Night In

The girls entered the luxurious apartment in a whirlwind of excitement. Eliza had said it would be cool, so obviously, it was the greatest apartment they had seen, and they felt ecstatic just being there. Their instinct for self-preservation didn’t wake up, even when they saw the man in a suit standing there, welcoming them. Eliza said they would meet someone special, so it was just common sense that the man was special, and very, very cool.

“Hi!” piped up June. “Who are you?”

Eliza stepped in, a slow, predatory grace in her movements.

“This, girls, is Daddy!”

The nickname didn’t trigger any alarms, when half an hour before it would have prompted a barrage of questions.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Daddy!”, smiled Lisa.

“He’s very special”, said Eliza, her tone betraying her anticipation. “Daddy… is always right. Always.”

The girls paused for a moment. Their brains accepted this information with the calm comprehension of someone discovering an absolute, obvious fact. It was just so simple: fish swam in the oceans, swallows migrated, Daddy was always right. If anything, it was so reassuring! Relaxing in such a deep, almost existential way; in a big, confusing, stressful world, someone knew what was right, someone had a firm hand on the reins of reality. And that someone was there, standing in front of them, his eyes studying every curve of their bodies.

“So… Daddy is always right. That’s so… oh, it’s amazing! Thank you, Daddy!”, said June earnestly.

Lisa tilted her head a bit as she tried to comprehend how the new information transformed everything she had known about the world.

“Daddy… Is always right. Right about… what?”, she said.

“Everything!”, beamed Eliza. “He has taught me so, so much about the world, about myself, about my purpose! Show them, Daddy! Show them how you’re always right!”

The man paused for a second. He took a deep breath, and spoke in a deep, plain, almost professorial voice.

“Lisa… you are Lisa, assuming from Eliza’s description. Lisa, nothing turns you on more than knowing you are making a man hard. Nothing is more important than making a man hard. You’ve done it for as long as you can remember. Showing off. Making out with other girls. Saying the dirtiest things. Wearing whatever you felt a man would like. Your life has revolved around cock.”

Lisa froze. Holy shit. He was right. Daddy was right. Her brain was flooded with memories, as real as anything she had ever experienced. Teasing professors with her short skirts and her open legs. Making out with random girls at bars, knowing men were watching. Wearing a crucifix for a man with a religious kink to cum on. Anything it took. Making men hard gave her purpose. Making them cum was her greatest joy.

“He’s right…”, mumbled June. “You always were such a slut, Lisa!”

“I know! It’s amazing! I feel like he knows me so well already!”

“This is the best! Oh, oh, what can you tell about me?”, asked June eagerly.

The man took a good look at the busty alt girl. He decided to start simple. “You are obsessed with your own tits. You play with them constantly. They feel so good, you can’t stop yourself. And playing with them makes you feel horny and dumb and so happy to obey.”

As soon as the man stopped talking, reality set in for June. Her hands went to her chest before she knew what she was doing.

“Fuck… he’s so right… my big tits feel so fucking amazing… make me dumb… make me obey… My big tits control me… I’m so addicted to my big bimbo tits…”, mumbled June, her eyes losing focus, lost in the haze of compulsion and pleasure.

Lisa didn’t need to see anything more. June was being a total slut, a man was there -a very special man, in fact- the course of action was obvious. She approached her friend and shamelessly let her tongue slide up her neck, her eyes fixed on the man, a half smile on her lips. She gave June’s ear a playful nibble.

Eliza watched her so-called friends obey for Daddy. She let her hand slide between her legs and feel the wetness in her pussy, the totality of her triumph. She had done this for Daddy. Her friends were being mindless fucking toys because of her.

Lisa whispered in June’s ear, taking full advantage of her friend’s particular weakness, as she had done countless times before, at least in her new memories. She decided to cast subtlety to the wind and just tease her friend’s soaked pussy with her skilled fingers.

“Oh, you are such a whore… those big tits make you so horny and needy and happy and docile… look, there’s a man watching… you want to be porn for him, don’t you? Your dumb tits make you want to be porn for him… be porn with me, June… your cunt is so wet for it…”

The man watched as Lisa gently led June to the ground and got on top of her, grinding on her thigh, making out with the blissed out, dumb bimbo, making sure their tongues danced for the man, slightly adjusting June’s head so the man could see every movement, every bit of the show. She pulled June’s top down, drawing a moan from her lips, the warm air on her sensitive nipples sending a shiver through her body.

The man had seen enough. These two would do. Eliza had not failed him in her assessment. Oh, how she had rubbed her cunt, scrolling through her friend’s pictures, picking her future sister slaves! He did wonder, however, what was lurking inside their minds.

“Girls, do you want to know something really cool?”

Their eyes lit up with almost childish excitement.

“Oh, tell us, tell us!” said Lisa.

“You are completely perverted whores. You have no filter. All your needs, all your desires, all your deepest drives… you just let them out. No shame. No need to hold back. All you want to do is fuck and be fucked, to indulge in your darkest fantasies.”

It was true. Daddy was, as always, right. It took a moment to sink in, as lifetimes of memories materialized in the girls’ brains. Something awoke in their eyes, something primal, something feral. Suddenly, Lisa grabbed June’s hair, pulled and spat the words:

“You fucking cunt. You are just a pair of big tits with holes for cock and a tongue to fucking lick pussy until it goes numb. You don’t have fucking rights, you don’t have a soul, you are an object, a living fucking sex toy for others to use and abuse as they fucking please”

Eliza was taken aback. She would never have imagined such desires lurked inside the toned gym rat. Fuck, it was hot to finally see her real friends. June’s response, however, was even more surprising. Her eyes went glassy as she compulsively groped her breasts, sending herself into a spiral of arousal, submissiveness and imbecility.

“Cock… pussy… fuck… need cock… need to be used… need to obey… need to… need to…”

“Oh, look at you, pathetic little slut. Want cock so badly? Crawl to it like the animal you are!”, laughed Lisa.

June crawled, her mindless eyes fixed on the man, on his crotch. There was an overwhelming desire inside her, one she was too dumb at the moment to put into words. She fumbled with the man’s belt, her hands shaking with a deep, biological need.

Eliza felt her patience vanish. She leapt up and rushed to Daddy, undoing his belt with an ease that could only come from endless repetition. As soon as the big, veiny cock was free, June devoured it, taking it deep in her throat, licking it with a frantic need that bordered on insanity. Her hips, however, seemed to indicate a different need as she humped the air with desperation. Eliza took a good look at her friend, now just a bitch in heat. She had a suspicion, but she would let June come to the realization herself.

Meanwhile, Lisa watched the scene on all fours, her pants discarded by her side. She spanked herself and moaned before pushing a finger inside her tight asshole. She fingered her little hole and babbled, half to herself, half to the living porn she was witnessing.

“Fuck… I have a great ass… I work out to make my ass look so good… use my ass… fuck my ass… my ass is a cum dump… fuck… We are such fucking whores, all of us! Yes you too, Eliza! You are a fucking whore too, all wet watching us act like the sluts we are! Choke on that cock, June! Breathing matters less than cock! My ass… I’m an anal whore, I’m an anal slave, my ass needs to be plugged all the time, used all the time! Lick his balls, you useless cunt! Need… a strong man to fucking tame me… train me… make me the best anal whore in the world, all for him!”

Eliza relaxed on the sofa, her legs open, and lit a cigarette. No need to hide her new vice from her friends. Oh, Lisa, so strong, so secure… and wishing deep down a man would be forceful enough to break her… it was delicious. And she had done that.

“Daddy…” begged June as she tore off her panties and lifted her skirt, opening her legs, offering herself to him fully. “Cock… inside my pussy… cum… cum… fill me up… Ova- ovo…”

“Ovulating?”, helped Eliza.

June smiled, half-mad.

“Ovulating! So fertile! Fuck me! Fill me with cum!”

“Fuck, that little slut… she wants to be bred by Daddy… for her womb to be conquered by his superior cum… fuck… June, you’d look so fucking hot with a baby bump, your big dumb tits leaking milk…”, added Lisa.

“Yes! Bred! Breed me, Daddy! Put babies in me!”, managed to say June.

The man didn’t need to hear more. He entered June with a savage passion, his cock stretching her almost to the point of pain, blasting away what remained of her brain. June convulsed in an instant orgasm, drooling and screaming and panting, a vessel for pleasure itself.

“Fuck her!” shouted Lisa, two fingers now frantically playing with her ass. “Fuck her pussy, cum inside her! Then… then use my ass! And then Eliza’s mouth! Make me lick her cunt! Make June please your cock with her huge tits! Fuck, June, you look so beautiful like this! Being owned so fully… get knocked up, you needy whore! Get fucking bred!”

“Yes Daddy…” said Eliza, her hand moving faster and faster. “Breed my dear friend… use us whenever you want… however you want… tell us what to wear, what to think, what to do… breed her with your seed, mark her as your property… You’re fucking her so good, Daddy… And I can tell you’re close… Knock her up! Pump her womb full of your potent cum!”

The man came, and June came with him, without a sound. Any scream died in her throat, overwhelmed by the sensation of his warm cum deep inside her. Soon after, her eyes recovered some of their intelligence and she smiled, satiated, almost like a starving woman who had just discovered food. Eliza couldn’t help herself. Seeing Daddy cum had been the hottest thing in her life, and in her own orgasm, she spanked herself without realizing she was doing it, her face on the floor, a puddle of drool forming under her.

Only Eliza managed to keep her composure, and it was for the simple reason that she knew she had to. There was one final thing to do.

“Hey, girls!” said Eliza with genuine joy, “Wanna know something? Daddy owns us!”

It simply sounded like a good idea. Natural. The girls looked at Daddy for confirmation. After all, he was always right.

“That’s exactly right, dear Eliza. I own you all”, he said with a calm smile.

III - Girl’s Eternal Night

They were ready just when his alarm clock went off. Well, it wasn’t really his alarm clock: it was located inside the kitchen, to let the girls know Daddy needed to be woken up. In the proper way.

Lisa’s hips swayed, the light hitting her jeweled plug and reflecting on the walls, giving everything a magical, surreal sensation, with pinks and reds dancing over the girls’ bodies. Each one was dressed exactly how Daddy had directed them to dress in his nightly note. Over the weeks, that note had become the center of their lives. Daddy was always right, so Daddy’s note told them exactly who they were the following day, how they had to dress, what they had to believe. The girls didn’t even notice how contradictory the notes were: Eliza could be told she was addicted to being spanked, submissive, and that she needed only to be degraded by Daddy and her sister slaves one day, and told she was a mean domme who kept the other sluts in line and delighted in delivering the punishments Daddy dreamt up the next. Daddy was always right, so whatever the note said was correct and absolute truth, overwriting anything that felt real before. Their memories were as flexible and malleable as putty, filling in entire lifetimes to accommodate Daddy’s words. They lived many lives in a single day, without even knowing it.

On that particular morning, Eliza wore her maid outfit. It simply made sense, since she was the one carrying the breakfast tray. Lisa, instead, had a different task, and she was dressed for it. Or rather, not dressed. June was the only one dressed in something resembling a “normal” attire, for she was the one in charge. Obviously, June’s “normal” included having her big tits out, because Daddy had said dumb sluts like her should always have their udders on display, and Daddy was always right.

They entered the bedroom and immediately put their all into fulfilling their purposes. Eliza woke Daddy up with a kiss and held the tray with coffee and pancakes, so he may enjoy his breakfast. Lisa slid between Daddy’s legs, taking his cock into her mouth, feeling it harden with every loving caress of her tongue. June pulled the camera out. She needed to make sure everything looked good. She was the director this morning.

“Lisa, take him deeper”, said June, barely managing to keep the urge to grope her tits in check. “Good. Now look at the camera while you lick his cock”. June moved around to catch the action. Daddy’s face could never be in frame. Daddy deserved privacy. Cunts didn’t. “Eliza, start”, directed June.

Eliza’s eyes glinted with a devilish glow.

“You fucking whore…” she said, almost purring. “You fucking anal slut. How long has it been since anyone has used your pussy? Only your mouth and ass matter! You live to be facefucked, to have your ass taken and stretched! You are a slave to your own ass, you pathetic little cunt!”

The words hit Lisa like whips, spurring her on. Her movements became frantic, animalistic. Everything Eliza was saying was true. She was two holes for cum, and her pussy was just decoration. God, she needed it. She needed Daddy’s cum hitting the back of her throat, filling her belly. She needed it more than air.

June made sure every moment, every strand of saliva was caught on camera, while she kept an eye on Daddy’s pleased face. She knew there was one more thing to do, just before he came. June watched Daddy getting closer and closer.

“Eliza, put the tray down”, she commanded.

Eliza knew exactly what that meant. With the utmost care, she put the tray down and walked to Lisa, a marker in hand. Lisa stood up and spread her arms, ready to become Daddy’s whiteboard.

Soon, her skin was ready to receive Daddy’s cum. He got to his feet just as Lisa fell to her knees. It didn’t take much more of her oral skills to drive her over the edge. He exploded all over her neck, her chest. June went in deep, making sure to capture every word as Daddy’s seed slid down Lisa’s body. Slut. Whore. Anal Slave. Cumdump. Daddy’s Property.

Daddy stretched, ready to start his day.

“Clean her up, girls”, he commanded.

Eliza and June fell on Lisa like feral, starving animals. They licked, their tongues meeting and even fighting for Daddy’s cum. Daddy started choosing his clothes. The girls would dress them when they were done, and then June would edit the video.

They were pornstars. They were pornstars because Daddy had told them they were.

And Daddy was always right.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work and access the full library at Patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[beatrix--stonehill]

"This stuff is so amazing, isn't it daddy?" Claire enthusiastically said.

"Uhhh, sure darling. Very amazing." Her dad got nervous.

"What is it? Oh come on. Don't be coy. We're both adults now, you can stop playing dumb. Don't you think my breasts are gorgeous?"

"They're really nice.... Claire."

Claire rolled her eyes, reaching out, grabbing her dad's hand and making him grope her left breast. "Aren't they soooo soft? Don't you just want to play with them all day?"

"Claire. When you said you wanted to go on a vacation with me, I didn't think--"

"What? I'd come on to you? Oh please. I used to look at all your magazines. The gigabytes of porn on your hard drive. All girls with massive boobs, titfucking men. Lactating. Getting their boobs smacked and whipped. Weird, the men were always older and the girls were college age. Dressed like schoolgirls. Or pretty dresses.... Pigtails. Braces. Where else is my mind gonna go? I know you want me, daddy....."

"Claire, please... all of that was just...."

"Man up, daddy!" She rushed in, pressing her body to his. "I can feel how hard your cock is...... pressed against my belly. Mmmmm, is that a sign of how bad you wanna knock your little girl up?"

"Fuckkkk.... how'd you turn out so messed up? A few years in college and you come out like some porn-brained nympho brat?"

"I'm exactly the way you always wanted me to be. Aren't I?" She giggled. "Or am I even better?" She went in to kiss him, which he accepted, the both of them deeply kissing for nearly a minute before pulling away.

"What do I tell everyone?" he dad asked.

"Don't hide it. Don't call me your mistress or girlfriend. Tell them I'm your 22-year-old daughter, but also your girlfriend. And you wanna fuck your kids into me."

"You.... holy fuck. You really grew these massive tits just for me?"

"This Damsel stuff can make your boobs so big you can't even walk.... Tell me, daddy, just how big do you want to see your daughter's breasts get?"

Her grabbed one forcefully, squeezing until milk sprayed through her top. "So big you need my help to do anything. OK?"

"That's what I wanted to hear. ❤️"

[beatrix--stonehill]

I met my girlfriend, Samantha, at work just two years ago. We were both fresh out of college, starting out careers. She and I started flirting almost right away. We were inseparable. She asked me out one day and I agreed..... the very next thing she asked is if I like to overeat. I giggled and said, "I guess?" She seemed happy about this. Samantha took me to a buffet and got a pretty reasonable plate for herself and when I got a similar amount she pouted and said, "Awwww that's it? Babe, I want to see how much you can eat!" I was a little stunned. I didn't even know feedees existed, of that this was a kink. I giggled and piled a bunch of food on, way too much for one plate and her eyes lit up. I knew that look. Samantha got horny.

She nibbled at her plate but swooned, watching me. I ate as much as I could. I mean, I did enjoy eating..... She seemed engrossed, gawking at my appetite. "Wow, you can eat SO much.... you should eat like that all the time."

"I would. But I'd get fat... unfortunately."

She bit her lip; I did NOT expect this reaction. "So?" She shrugged, clearly very aroused. "Wouldn't be so bad."

"You .... want to see me get fat?"

She blushed redder than I'd ever seen. She nodded three times, without a word.

I looked at my empty plate. "Want me to get seconds? I could .... try and get fat for you. If you really want." I didn't like the idea but I adored Samantha and wanted her to always look at me this way.

"Maybe you could even do three....."

Now, two years later, we're madly in love. Engaged, actually. But Samantha wants me much fatter for our wedding.... like, so fat our honeymoon cruise will require extra special accommodations. Which she seems to find very hot, me needing to be wheeled around, helped up by various staff on the cruise. Helpless to move on my own. She says stuff now like "When you're 400lbs, we'll do this." Or "When you hit 600lbs I'll make sure we have this installed for you." There's zero question or hesitation. I'll be getting fatter. Not just 'fatter', but specifically as fat as Samantha wants me. And it's clear as day she wants me immobile. 800+lbs, completely reliant on her for everything. She wants me so massively fat I'm completely helpless. And eating machine for her to worship and eat out, assuming she can even reach my pussy. She insists it tastes better the fatter I get.

And I'm overjoyed to oblige her..... I never imagined I'd even get this big. I weigh 340lbs, up from 125lbs. I've put on over 200lbs in two years. That's soooo crazy. It really puts into perspective just how much Samantha feeds me. The more indulgent and fattening the better. She even feeds me pure lard.... Is it bad that in my gut I feel like I could be gaining faster for her? Like somehow 220lbs in two years are rookie numbers and I need to step up and get fatter for her WAY faster. Suddenly, this has become the most important thing in the world for me. Not my career or future.... Just getting as big as humanly possible for my fiance so she we can get married when I'm a proper size to earn the title of wife.... I can't wait. ❤️"

[beatrix--stonehill]

"Hey everyone, Samantha here, hope you all are doing well. As you can see I'm still on injections! They're insanely strong. Willowbrooke offered this sponsorship only six months ago. In that time I've gone from a C-Cup to a monstrous SS-Cup. They're not slowing down one bit and I'm a teensy bit worried because, like..... how much bigger can these things actually get? I'm gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry them pretty soon. I told this to Willowbrooke jokingly last week and they assured me they sold a wide variety of trendy wheelbarrows for busty girls, free if I'm under a sponsorship! Soooo it looks like I'll be picking one out in another few cup sizes!

I couldn't believe they even picked me! I was a nobody gaming and beauty streamer with 30k followers. The results are undeniable. I have 12M followers now! So clearly this stuff will boost your online career like crazy! I'm signed on for a full year, too, so we'll see how heavy and unwieldy these things get by them. Doesn't that mean I can expect them to double in size.... from this!?

It's kinda exhilarating if I'm being honest. I just accept that heaving these massive things around is what my life is now. Endless guys wanting to titfuck them or grab them. I can't really stop them or get away, I kinda just have to smile and encourage them so they finish up really fast. I'm definitely becoming an expert at that. Working on my sultry porn voice. Something I never thought I'd need to do. So I can talk to them like all the OF girls they goon to 24/7, shower them with praise, almost baby them, as they do whatever they want with my breasts. Sometimes just jerking off on them when I'm sitting on the bus or on a bench reading. It's kinda fun needing to serve so many hopelessly horny guys.

My livestreams have definitely gotten spicier because of it. Used to just vlog or do makeup or play games, no I record as I sit in public, eating, on my train rides, bus rides, and secretly stream for you all as they approach and start grabbing my breasts, pulling them out of my top, smacking them, jerking off on them. No matter how aggressive they are I have to maintain a playful smile and talk to them like they've made my day. And honestly? They kind of do. I barely need to pretend. Having enormous breasts is SO MUCH fun! I wonder how wild these milk tanks will drive guys when they're twice this size and I need a wheelbarrow just to carry them? I bet guys will be so helpful.... since I'll be totally disabled from my 100lb, unmanageably giant breasts. Even more reliant on men, just to help me get about, open doors, get groceries. I'm gonna get them as big as possible. Even if they snap my poor spine like a twig and leave me paralyzed! ..... Which would be soooo hot! Then guys can really go to town on my body, since I won't even be able to feel it! Come on, Willowbrooke! Keep these things nice and injected until I'm completely helpless!"

[beatrix--stonehill]

"I used to be a super curvy, sexy influencer based in Chicago. I thought I was really fat back then, I had no idea what it was like to be really big.... As a trans girl, I was pretty tall and the hormones meant my body just loved packing on weight to build me some irresistible curves! I felt like the luckiest girl in the city. Wealthy, tons of followers, modeling deals, a very popular OF, because everyone just loved to watch me jerk off and eat my own cum. My fans all wanted to me to overeat and get bigger.... I mean, I was a curvy girl so I ate my fill and then some already and didn't really try to hold back from eating what I wanted..... But they wanted me to Mukbang and eat mountains of food. I'd politely decline..... Until I met Austin.

We went on a date. I disclosed I'm trans and he said he loved that about me, I was still the prettiest girl in the city, he said. But when I ordered dinner, he asked me, 'Is that it?' I said 'Yeah.' and he said, 'No, if we're gonna date, you need to order whatever you want. I know you didn't get those curves eating one entree at dinner. A girl like you deserves four.' I blushed SO hard. And ordered.... four whole entrees. The waitress couldn't believe it when he came to our table, serving my Austin one platter and me four. I told her with a shy smile that I was trying to get bigger. The waitress smiled and asked me how big I wanted to get. Austin answered, 'That's for me to decide. She's gonna get as fat as I want her.' I was in heaven, fanning myself gently, so turned on my cock almost tore my panties it was so hard. The waitress told me I was a lucky girl.... That was four years ago. I had no clue just how lucky...."

"I can't even walk anymore. I thought last year when I started to really struggle with mobility in the mid 600s that he'd be satisfied. Not at all. Here I am, a totally hopeless pile of lard. All my sexy curves are gone, buried under this mountain of fat he's made me put on. And he clearly isn't close to stopping. Despite the fact that last month I had my first heart attack.

The first question out of Austin's mouth once my massive body was lifted onto a bed designed to carry livestock, was 'How soon can she get back to stuffing her face and getting fatter?' The doctor smiled and cleared me to go after less than a day, putting me on some new drug to help regulate my blood pressure a big better. I tried reach under my belly and jerk off as they discussed my size but my doctor warned me that getting a really big erection might cause me to get another attack until my blood pressure improves.

I just lay there moaning softly, rubbing my belly, unwashed, naked, completely unable to move. Austin hadn't washed me in over a week, I stunk so bad.... Sweating, unable to control my belching and farting anymore, or my bowels, really. I ate so much my body was always ready to let out more shit. I used to have whole nightclubs ogling me, men tripping over themselves to try and ask me to dance, buy me drinks, wanting more than anything in the world to fuck my perfect round ass. Now I was naked on a hospital bed with a 3000lbs capacity. panting just lying there, my stomach gurgling and churning super loudly as my boyfriend and the doctor discussed how much fatter they wanted to see me get. As my once perfect round ass, was now wide as a truck's bumper, piles of shit just pouring out like a mindless cow on the farm, just going nonstop.

Austin had new furniture installed, tuning his house to accommodate me and his future girlfriends once I kick the bucket. I was hoping to at least clear 1000lbs, I wanted him to be really proud of me. I just have to keep stuffing my face and try not to get too aroused.... which is really difficult because eating is basically a form of edging for me now. I wanna get so big his future girlfriends have a serious challenge they'll need to live up to!"

[feederprincess-deactivated20240]

I want to manipulate you…

I want to enable you every day until you are begging me to stick a funnel in your mouth because you have gotten addicted

I want to leave everything you could ever dream of eating at an arms reach, buying and cooking new stuff every day

I want to feed you breakfast and jerk you off until you fall asleep, just to wake you up later to more food. I want you to get horny every time you smell the kitchen

I want to use your humiliation and degradation kink against you, making you go out in clothes that haven’t hid your underbelly in weeks, to then rub you between your legs in the first public bathroom I find and grab everything that is spilling over the pants you could barely close

I want to replace the clothes you can’t wear anymore with some that are way too big. If you want to humiliate yourself in public again with clothing that is too tight you better start eating

When you do manage to eat yourself out of your clothes, I will reward you with even more food. I want you to be stuck in a cycle of gluttony, I want to get you to the point where saying no is almost impossible. I want to chip away at your willpower every day

I want to get home to my pathetic little pig that is covered in crumbs, has visibly wet underwear from getting horny while eating and even so didn’t touch themselves because they were too busy gorging on food and fell into a food comma before being able to relief themselves

I want to jerk you off from behind, biting into your soft neck and stuffing pastries into your mouth whenever you open it to moan

I want to grab your fat and ask you how you managed to let go that much, all while knowing it was all me

I want to restrain you and taunt you with food until you are begging me, but the condition is that you have to eat until you are too full to sit up

I want to ‘encourage’ your attempts at exercising because I love seeing you fail all of them, I will reward your hard work with your favorite meals

I want to see you get to the point where you ask me to make you feel good while you eat because you need both hands to shove food in quicker, knowing full well you will be edged until you finish all of it

I really really want to have full control over you and mold you into my perfect little pet

[growth-opportunities]

thoughts about leaking milk through clothes? unable to take them off and forced to soak through it, maybe because they’re too tight from them growing, or social conventions? :3

Oh, I love it! Seeing milk soak through a tight top is one of the hottest things in the world. I love it especially when it comes almost as a punishment for hubris.

This particular cow thinks that she understands herself fully. She sees herself as apart from those other dumb, ditzy, horny cows who let their bodies control them. She's smarter. She's different. She's the one in control. When she goes out in public, wearing tight clothing doesn't concern her in the slightest. Her whole day has been mapped out, down to the exact timing of her various pumpings, guaranteeing that she balances her personal life with the needs of her body. Her plan is as thorough as it is flawless!

And then something happens.

Maybe the bus hits traffic and she's late to her first milking, throwing the rest of the day off balance. Maybe it's her own fault, getting distracted and losing track of time. Maybe it's both! Regardless of what exactly the cause is, her schedule doesn't go to plan and, suddenly, she realizes just how tenuous the whole thing really was.

Suddenly, she's trying to muddle through her day while her udders swell larger and engorge with milk. She knows her schedule so well that she knows just how long it'll be before she can next sneak away to milk herself. Denial sets in. It'll be fine, she tells herself. Just stick to the plan. Trust the process. It'll all work out.

Her body has other plans. Almost insulted at the idea that she could just wait it out, her udders seem to go into overdrive, making more and more milk by the second. She forces a smile even as her shirt gets tighter over her bust, riding up, turning translucent as it stretches. The pressure of her milk grows and grows until it reaches the point where she almost can't make it anymore.

She doesn't notice the release, at first. The milk doesn't let down all at once. As her supply pushes past her max capacity, only the overflow leaks out. And leak out it does. She still has to deal with the tightness and the aching and the swelling, all while her shirt is growing more and more damp. The darkened spot spreads rapidly, clinging to her tits, making it painfully obvious what's happening to her. By the time she realizes what that strange coolness on her chest is, it's far too late to stop it. Even if she were to scramble and run to the closest spot she can milk, assuming there was one at all, her top is already drenched and her day is ruined.

She thought she could control it. She thought she was better.

She was wrong.

She's a cow, big and soft and milky.

And that's all she'll ever be.

[tsundebu]

The full version of my kinky, sapphic short story about an otherworldly woman and a self-fulFILLing faustian bargain.

Kinks: mostly tight clothes, weight gain.

——————

I think it was raining that night too. When she found me. I was in one of my moods where I hoped to be able to eat until my stomach would reach the floor. I’d just finished a big dinner out at one of my favorite restaurants. A classic American diner. You know the kind. Where you don’t have to ask for boysenberry syrup and the waitress never lets your soda glass run dry. I had filled myself with an evening’s decadence until my thighs were nearly quivering. I had just gotten out of my car to head into a nearby convenience store for a few more snacks to finish with when a woman stepped out from behind my car and blocked the way.

She was a little taller than me, dressed in all black. Long, wavy black hair with two snake bite piercings along her bottom lip. But none of this was what first captured my gaze. No, it was that she was fat. Fat in ways I wanted to be. Bulging from her hips and chest as I had only dreamed. I was by no means a thin woman. Years of gluttonous nights like this had made me plump, but compared to the creature before me I was famine given flesh. Her dark beauty, so radiant the sun was but a matchstick in her presence. To look upon her was ecstasy and I felt, in that moment, if I could not be her, then I was ready to give up everything to be but a satellite in her orbit. And then I noticed a tail…

“I think I know what you want,” she said coyly. “I do.” Time almost stood still for a moment before she added, almost mockingly, “And I can give it to you. But before that, I have to hear you speak your heart’s desire.”

From her ample hips, to her tail, to those magnificent breasts that bobbed atop her bulging belly like a gentle tide, to what first looked like cowlicks now decidedly horns, back to her breasts, and those thick, soft arms. I wanted her to hold me in them so madly I felt sick. She had some kind of power over me and I didn’t know if it was her magic or my hunger that held me there but I couldn’t move. I was drunk on her, drunk off my feast. She kept talking but I could understand nothing. Hypnotized by the ebb and flow of her dimples as she smirked at my stupefaction. I was clearly not her first victim, but in that moment I only hoped to be her favorite.

“Well, can you do that?” She asked.

“D-do what?” I stammered, as if this was the first time I had ever spoken.

“Can you say it out loud, that which you so deeply desire, without a shred of shame in your heart?” I nodded. “Good. Per the standard practice of such rituals, I must now reiterate the rules of the contract before you can sign. They are as follows. Every morning you will wake up 10 pounds heavier than the day before. In return, each night you will give to me a taste of your hedonistic pleasure. Now,” she started, pulling her blouse up and lowering the waist of her pants to fully release her belly from her attire. As if to make the invitation that much more appealing, she lifted her belly out and forward a little, her shoulders straining slightly from the effort, so that when she released her waist it clapped warmly against her thighs. Around her belly button was a tattoo of the ouroboros. A snake eating its own tail. But unlike the thin line of a snake as it may usually appear, the snake seemed to be as fat as her with dimples and little fat rolls, if that even is such a thing as a snake could have. But there it was, on her massive stomach. And she was beckoning me towards it. “Down, thrall.” She snapped in a commanding tone as I had begun to approach. It was not a cruel tone, but one of control. And as I obeyed she gently stroked my cheek, sweeping my bangs out of my eyes as she cooed, “On your knees. As is custom, please.” She guided my hands to either side of her waist as I held her for the first time.

She was warm to the touch. Velvety and smooth as fresh fleece. And soft. I stared into the eyes of the ouroboros but for the blinding joy of being allowed to touch her saw nothing. Then she said, “now, say what you desire most, kiss her, and our pact will be complete.”

At that moment what I desired most was to bury my face in her belly, but somehow I had known what she meant. The words came out of me more effortlessly than a sigh. Leaning forward, I felt her delicately run her fingers through my hair as I kissed her belly. As if reading my mind, she then pulled my head into her tum and I nuzzled and kissed at it greedily.

As I reached back once more to wrap my fingers around the side of her belly I grabbed pillow. I looked up to find myself headfirst in a pile of blankets atop my own bed. It was morning. Stunned, I whipped around and collected my bearings. Time, 7:00. Day, Friday. Place, still my bedroom. I laid back in bed, reeling from what I then assumed to be one of the most intense wet dreams I’d ever had. My evening meal had been real, however, and like any morning after an intense stuffing, my stomach was simultaneously heavy as lead, yet ravenous.

Placing my hand on my stomach to attempt to soothe the beast within, it bounced unexpectedly. As if there had been more of me than there should have been. I scrambled up to examine myself. Everything seemed normal. I was a chubby girl, but no more so today than before. Yet there was a softening around the seams of my silhouette that felt new. Like a rounding of an edge.

“My fantasies are going right to my waist,” I mused. It was a cute softness and didn’t offend. When you’re already chubby, a little more or a little less is hardly noticeable. I had been thinner and heavier before, and minor fluctuations were too common to give notice to.

As the day gave way to night, a persistent tightness in the waistband of my once favorite sweatpants gnawed at my middle more than usual. I felt swollen. Like I was being forced to take up more space than I meant to. I looked down and even my breasts seemed full, popping a bit out of my cami. I had eaten dinner, though hardly a banquet to match the previous night’s, but perhaps I was bloated. I pulled my waistband down and, without thinking, pulled my top up to reveal my belly.

It seemed… round. Not fat per se. As I said, I was chubby. Maybe a little overweight, but not big. But, to the credit of the previous night’s debauchery it almost seemed bigger somehow. What started as an observation then quickly spiraled, as it so often does, into the hedonistic throes of insatiable fascination.

And like this, so too was the weekend spent. I seemed thicker in places, but at the time it was easy to dismiss as the usual rising and falling of my weight with the passions of my love for a larger form. To that I attributed all the signs that should have acted as a warning. The sirens called, but I was gleefully unaware of the peril they intoned. And then came Monday.

I awoke with a start to the blaring of my alarm. Stunned from the outburst as I was bleary-eyed, I lurched forward to sit up and didn’t quite make it. I had started, but my body rolled back against my will. “God, I’m tired,” I thought as I rolled back forward with more momentum and, sitting up, planted my feet on the floor. It was then I noticed an unfamiliar weight on top of my thighs. Still half-asleep I stared down, first in confusion, then in shock. Where there had once been a modest paunch of a belly now sat a large, round belly spread across my thighs. For a moment I thought I was someone else. How else can you explain so much where there should have been less?

I picked up the edges of my waist as if half-expecting to find a seam or zipper to reveal the trick, but it was all me. As my gaze turned to the rest of me, what had the previous few nights been dismissible as a slight softening of my edges or a few pounds of happy weight was now almost more than I had ever been. My thighs were spread out and risen like loaves and as I reached around to feel all of me I began to notice my arms wobbling ever so slightly as I moved. I was fatter. Quite a bit so, though I didn’t know by how much.

A second alarm returned me to my senses. It was 7:30 now and I needed to get to work. But I had no idea how I was going to squeeze into my work clothes. And now that I was running late, there was no time to try to buy new ones before work. I rushed to get ready and then grabbed my largest skirt and blouse.

They… fit? I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten away with it, but they fit just fine. Almost better than they had the last time I’d worn them. I looked myself over in the mirror with what little time I could spare before the last bus arrived. I looked good. Rounder, but cute. This always happened when I put on a little weight. My review was unnaturally soft, like vaseline on a lens. Time would always return my inner critic to the throne, but when my waist seemed a little bigger or my face a little rounder, for a brief moment, being kind to myself seemed easier. Unfortunately, gawking at my now slightly fatter ass had gone on too long and, despite a good sprint, I had missed the bus. I would now be driving to work today. But with that came the excuse to, since I wouldn’t be beholden to the bus schedule, maybe treat myself after work. And I did.

As on Monday morning and the Tuesday after that, Wednesday I awoke to find myself even bigger. I was no longer chubby. No arguments about midsize, half-size, whatever. I was fat. F. A. T. When your ass is spilling over the sides of your cheap office chair, micro-genres of thickness feel needlessly pedantic. Unlike my clothes which seemed to always be able to make their way onto me in the mornings, my office chair had stayed the same and the wear from my increased size was showing with every groan and creak from the protesting stool. Desperate to reinforce the structural integrity of the chair before it died underneath me, I got down on my knees with a wrench to tighten the bolts when I remembered her. The woman, no, demon from my dreams. As I thought of her, her visage flashed before my mind’s eye. That mocking smile glinting in the dim light. “Her,” I thought to myself. “She’s doing this. She was real?” I asked it but I somehow knew it to be true.

When I got off work I began to hurry home to try to call out to her. Somehow knowing, in my heart, that she was not a creature that respected time or space. I tried to hurry, but as I did I couldn’t help noticing and feeling my bottom bounce with each step. How as I picked my pace up the bottom of my belly would wobble, or how the deeper steps made my breast bounce. All confirmations of how much heavier I had become than the week before. And it was all gained so quickly that there had been no time to get used to such things. The bouncing, jiggling, and wobbling, it was everything I had dreamed it would be and more. It was lighter and yet bulkier than I had imagined and every jostle left me desperate to return home and explore myself anew. It was then that the thought occurred to me. I didn’t actually know how much I had gained. And I didn’t own a scale. I was the heaviest I had ever been. I didn’t need a scale to see that. But an impish desire to know the answer to that dirty little secret ate at me.

Arriving home I placed my things away and immediately began to call for her. I don’t remember what I said or how I said it, but as if slipping from the corner of my eye, she appeared before me.

“Do you have need of me?” She asked cooly.

“I need you to stop this.” I demanded. “It’s out of control. I can’t keep gaining like this.”

“And why not?” She replied, disinterested, but scanning me. It was like she was staring at every roll and bulge individually. It felt… attentive. In a caring way, though equally invasive. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve somehow gained 30 pounds in a week!”

“50.” She smirked. “You’ve gained 50 pounds. 10 pounds a day, remember?”

Shocked into a stunned silence, I fought to regain my voice, “a-a-and what will people think if their neighbor or coworker suddenly gains 100 pounds? And what am I supposed to do about that??”

The creature sighed and smiled, almost disappointedly, “they will think nothing of you. Just as they did yesterday, and as they will tomorrow and the day after that.” And then she slipped behind me as gracefully as a snowflake. “You have gotten pretty big.” She teased, grabbing two handfuls of my waist and gently letting it fall as my knees began to feel weak. “These aren’t too bad either,” and she wrapped her fingers as widely around my breasts as she could while pressing her body deeply into mine. It was all I could do to remain standing. She strolled back around to face me but not without grabbing a handful of my ass and giving it a firm squeeze and a pat, the force of which sent a ripple through my rolls that shook my soul. “Feel that? That’s why it won’t stop.”

Coming back to my senses for a moment I stupidly blurted out, “why’s that?”

“Because,” she rolled her eyes and swooped in to jiggle my belly. “So long as this excites you, it won’t stop.” Stepping back again, she continued, “you may be feeling some form of shame now, but that will only stop you from forming a pact. It won’t break the pact once it’s been formed.” Moving back in, but this time more delicately placing one hand on my side while sweeping my bangs out of my face with the other, she held me and cooed, “you’re mine now,” and kissed me on the cheek, and left.

“I’m a prisoner of my own libido,” I laughed. I had the keys to my own freedom. All I had to do was stop being turned on by my own weight. In a sense, all I had to do to stop laughing was to stop finding the joke funny. And to my eternal shame I could not. As the evening rolled around I rolled onto my back in the bed and felt that waistband digging into me once more. But this time, I also felt a tightness in the thighs of these sweatpants that hadn’t been there the first night. And a tightness in the armbands of my tee shirt as I began to bulge out of today and become a bigger person for the morrow. I pulled my waistband down for some relief and, without thinking, pulled my top up to reveal my belly.

Friday came again and, as I snapped awake to the blaring of my alarm, I rolled over and slowly sat up. My belly pushing my thighs apart to make room for its entrance. It was still all so new and my whole body tingled with the desire to become intimately aquatinted with every new roll, but it was this same desire that kept me gaining. I was long past my highest weight and fear had started to mix with excitement. The quivering of my lip was nourishment to her, and I still yet dreamed of finding a way to escape the pact. I need only resist my own carnal desires. But everything was new. The way my sides now bulged out into the path of my elbows or how firmly chairs held my bottom. Even my hands had grown thicker. My skin was so incredibly soft and my hair had become thick and lively. For as entrapped as I was, I could not deny that the creature took great care of her subjects.

Speaking of that cheap, old office chair, it finally gave up the ghost. Not with a loud snap, but with a dull clunk. My original request for a more accommodating chair was initially denied until my boss, a larger individual himself and sympathetic to my plight, made a call on my behalf. Perhaps in a gesture to make up for the situation, he took me out to lunch and, for the first time, I felt comfortable eating what I cared to without feeling self-conscious of what others might think. Perhaps it was the kindness of his manner. Maybe it was the guard of being among larger people whom would be eating their share alongside me. Or perhaps I had simply become more comfortable asking for seconds. Whatever it was, Friday left me in a positive mindset and, upon returning home, felt ready to revel in my gluttony with abandon.

Still full from my dinner, I pulled my waistband down and, without thinking, pulled my top up to reveal my belly. I reached down with both hands and picked it up, plopping it onto the countertop in the kitchen. It came down with a warm clap on the cool surface of the counter, chilling the bottom of my belly as I leaned over my swollen tum to relieve the pull on my back.

Stuffed, but desirous of a trophy, I reached into the cabinet and grabbed a half-eaten bag of chips. Then, began to stroke my paunch as I ate; intoxicated by the excess. Even without the pact, I wondered if I could ever truly resist the allure of getting bigger. I was very, very fat now. And that was satisfying my soul.

As if giving myself over to gluttony, Saturday was mostly spent eating and enjoying my new form. There wasn’t an inch of me I couldn’t find pleasure in. I remained worried about the future, but the allure of the present was deafening.

When I awoke Sunday, I opened my eyes to find her! In bed with me! She had been holding me and stroking my belly. “What are you doing here?!” I asked, startled.

“Why, I’m here to reward you.” She whispered, accompanied by her proudest grin.

“For what?” I replied, with thoughts of my previous night’s excess weighing heavily on my conscience.

“Today makes 100 pounds.” She answered flatly, almost surprised by the question. I reeled from her response but the evidence was all around me. I sat up and made my way to the side of the bed. My thighs spread before me like sheet cakes in the bakery window and my belly hung down between my thighs. Atop my belly I could feel the weight of both of my boobs pressing down like two cherries buried atop a mountain of whipped cream. I felt massive. The bed sunk deeper than ever under me and it sunk even further as she leaned forward and reached down to grab the bottom of my belly.

Reaching out once more, she was able to wrap her chubby fingers around some of my waist and gave it a gentle wobble. “Someone’s looking plump.” She teased.

I swallowed, “may I ask… what my reward is to be?” Afraid of the answer being more of the gift she had already bestowed so unwillingly upon me.

“Why, me, of course.” Her eternal grin now taking a wicked shape. “I am a kind master and have not forgotten the hunger in your eyes from when you first laid eyes on me.” She stood up. “But first, let us get you fed. I know you will not be truly happy until you are full.” She brushed my pathetic attempts at refusal aside and sat me against my own headboard before a company of women began marching into the room with trays of food. Each one fatter and more beautiful than the last. Lo mein, pizza, waffles, fries, curry, spaghetti, tamales, beef patties. Every comfort food the world over poured into my room and we all dined like lovers.

I lay, immobile, stuffed beyond my limit against my headboard. The trays had been cleared and the room was once more ours, alone. She gently poked and squeezed me wherever she thought might be softest. I was useless, but managed to squeak out a desire to squeeze some of her too. She obliged and, as if to give me the best of what I hoped for, laid beside me and let her belly rest on my hand. The weight of her stomach on my arm, the soft touch of her belly on my fingers, and all of her pressing into my side was ecstasy. She began to lift and drop my belly, shaking it in slow, wide motions, unable to stop her own body, still pressed against mine, from jiggling with me. The heat rose into my face as the waves of my fat rippled across my body and sent static shocks through every nerve ending.

As if sensing I was nearly there, she sat up and leaned forward a little, wrapping her lips around my nipple. It was a soft pull. Gently, but with the unmistakable rhythm that my whole body now pulsed to. Yet as she did this I suddenly became aware of the uneven distribution of affection. “Can I–“ I started before almost losing my nerve. “Can I, um, for you.” As if reading this more literally than I meant it, she looked down at her own breast and giggled.

“Are you sure? They’re quite rich. You’ll be even fatter before you finish.” Fear now met with excitement but both were quelled by an inhuman desire to please. And with a nod she came to sit up against me, pulling her strap down to reveal her teat. I cupped her breast, as big as my head and overflowing both of my hands, and began to suckle as she let out the most indulgent moan.

To my surprise, I was drinking. Warm and light, yet creamy. My mouth felt hydrated in a way it never had before. As if before this moment I had only ever known thirst. A tingle ran from my tongue to my cheeks and out across my entire body so strong my eyes clenched shut as if to brace my face for the aftershock. Suddenly I began to feel something else too. I could feel my stomach growing. Had I been able to take either hand off of her breast as I drank, I could have pointed to exactly where I was gaining though I would have needed multiple hands as I could tell I was gaining almost everywhere but at different times. It was like becoming a waterbed filled with pop rocks. My skin crackled and my hair stood on end as the sensation washed over me with each gulp. As my arms began to grow heavier, I opened my eyes to see her in full bloom. Now shaking and squishing her own bits, and proving she, herself, was no stranger to the sins she encouraged.

Her milk was still coating my throat as she pulled her breast back, my arms falling heavy to my sides. I could feel my chubby biceps chafe against my breasts, chest now heaving as if just remembering to breathe from the lack of air as I drank. I looked down at myself and could tell my thirst had come with consequences. Following my gaze, she began to jiggle me and bring my stomach heaving up and down. I was still so full. The weight of my stomach pressing down inside as my fat rolls wobbled and shook on the outside.

“Look at you~” she cooed. “Open your eyes and look.” I suddenly realize I had closed my eyes again. “Look at how fat you are. You shouldn’t have drank from me but it was just so kind of you to offer I couldn’t say no.” She began kissing along my arm and down to my breast. “Now you’re almost as big as me.” I looked at her, her eyes still glowing from the exercise, and realized we were quite close in size now. She was still the larger woman, in fact, she might have even gotten a little larger than when we first met, but even in her presence, I felt big. “You’re about to be the biggest girl in every room you enter.” She teased. And then she came up to my chin and gently bit my double chin. Not hard, or even long. Just enough to tell me it was so big she could fill her mouth with it which was much more chin than I thought I had. I shook at the realization that, lying on my back across this bed, I might not be able to tell how fat I really am now. I tried to sit up, but she put a hand on my chest and stopped me. Then, with the softest of touches, raised a finger to my lip, and I fell silent. Not moving an inch.

She then reached both hands under my belly and began to jiggle me in impossible ways. My ass wobbled, my thighs quivered, my chin and even my cheeks jiggled. If there was an ounce of me with fat on it I was not allowed to escape the knowledge of it. Rivers of colors poured across my eyes as every sensation fought to make way for the roaring crescendos crashing against the walls of a kind of self love you’ll never learn about from any book.

As I lay there, panting, she softly bent over, and kissed my belly. Then curled up beside me, and we slept. When I woke up, she was gone. And then came Monday.

I awoke just a few minutes before my alarm feeling uncharacteristically well-rested. I rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. I waddled down to the bathroom, as bleary-eyed as ever, and began to get ready for work.

As I brushed my teeth, I noticed in the mirror that one side of my belly hung a little lower than the other. It wasn’t very noticeable. The kind of imperfection one only sees in themselves. But then I remembered that was the side she had pressed against so warmly the night before and, in a way, I almost loved that side of me more.

Dressed now in a skirt and blouse. A crop top as is the season for summer and who doesn’t want to show a little skin. Paired with skirt. And behind these outer dressings I could see a person I didn’t quite recognize. That I was excited by as much as I was afraid of. A person that would gain another 10 pounds tomorrow and the day after that if they couldn’t bring themselves to reason. A person, I must add, that had just spent too long ogling their own fat ass and was now late for the bus. But this time, I wasn’t running to catch it. I was gonna take the car. After all, easier to pick up snacks after work.

Fin~

[feedismimagines]

Dinner and Dessert

(This contains Weight gain, Blueberry inflation, and mild sexual themes if you don’t like it scroll past or push the back button)

You swore you were never going to get on another boat as long as you lived. The feeling of nausea washed over you as you stepped off the death trap that was Wonka’s chocolate river candy boat. You had now officially came to the conclusion that this man was absolutely insane and you were sure after what happened to the lardass in the other room then with that ride everyone would agree with you.

“What the fuck was that! You almost killed us you freaking psycho!” One tourist finally broke the silence and exclaimed. Wonka seemed to ignore them and fiddled with a key while humming some tune. He walked, with a spring in his step, up to a large circular steel door that said ‘Inventing Room” in bright red letters then turned to the tour.

Keep reading

[bimbo-puppetsandplaythings]

Picture submission from b1mb0fuckd0lls

The Only Way Is To Obey

“Sit!”

Master’s finger hovered in front of her face and she had no will left to resist. Slowly and with slight reluctance she wound down. The closer and closer she got to the carpet the more and more submissive she felt. By the time her knees, encased in the leather boots, made impact she really did feel like the docile puppy he was training her to be.

With a triumphant smirk he left her alone in the hallway and before long the faint sound of the game on the TV filled the apartment. With a heavy sigh she craned her neck behind her to the front door. Any sensible, respectable girl would have left by now and yet she remained. He’d muddled and messed with her mind but at the same time she knew she didn’t want to go. It was humiliating to admit but a part of her was enjoying his new found dominance. The whole thing was confusing which led to indecisiveness which led to obeying him.

One thing was clear though she loved her outfit. With the boots and the chains and the wild blonde locks she might have been mistaken as some sort of dominatrix but the way she acted quickly made it clear that wasn’t the case. She turned her head sideways to observe herself in the wardrobe mirror. She looked so pathetic, so embarrassing and yet so sexy. A soft purr reverberated on her lips and the chains tinkled slightly as she clasped her tits and rubbed.

His sharp whistle snapped her out of her horny stupor. She was needed. Her manicured hands were slamming onto the carpet in an instant and she crawled off to find him. He was lounged out on the couch, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other.

“Get it wet only”, he commanded unzipping his jeans. “If I cum in your mouth you’ll be sleeping on the roof tonight”.

Her bottom wiggled with glee as she shuffled over to take him. She had a talent for blowjobs but no matter how much she wanted to glide her tongue along his shaft and tickle his balls she held back. Instead she savoured the pre cum and gave some tentative sucks to keep him erect, looking him in the eye at all times.

“What?” He asked looking down at her. Grabbing her hair he pulled her out. “Permission to speak”.

“I…” Was all she managed.

“Penalty!” He roared addressing the TV and slamming her back around his cock again. Still she tried to gargle some response. “Permission to speak declined”, he snapped at her and she quickly went silent again.

After a while his hand was in her blonde hair once more and pushing her away

“Over the table slut”.

She turned around and pushed the magazines off the coffee table. With a lunge she spread her tits and stomach across it. The table was only small so her hands dangled in the air, her butt pushed up a little to greet him.

His lubricated cock pushed into the entrance of her arsehole. She gave a soft sigh of anticipation and when he dug into her mane and pulled her head upwards she had a clear view of the game. Her mind was all a horny whirl and she didn’t care much for it anyway but it was nice to see the athletic guys on the pitch.

“Come on, come on”, he growled through gritted teeth once he was shoved inside and began thrusting. She wasn’t sure if he was referring to her or the game.

He fucked her ass for some time. He was able to control his lust well and his cock only twitched when he was ready. She squeaked as his cum gushed into her hole and her head sank onto the table as he released his grip. He gave her butt some hard swats to signify she had done a good job. She would have preferred loving pats but was happy that he was pleased all the same.

“Alright, clean up” he muttered, pushing her away so he could put his boots on the table instead.

She gave some wobbly waddles and then looked back into his eyes. It was clear to him she had something to say.

“Permission to speak”.

“Do you want me to clean myself up or the apartment?”

“Clean the apartment and then you can clean your sweat and my cum dripping out of your arse as you go.”

“Yes Master” she whispered obediently.

Like this story? Have something to say? Please feel free to leave me a comment in the Ask Me Anything section of my Tumblr page or e-mail me at [email protected]. I’m also open to picture submissions in the Submit section.

For further reading check out my Deviant Art page at http://bpap.deviantart.com/ or my story area at www.mcstories.com. My author name is BPAP.

Thanks for reading

B-PAP

[aoififi]

(Another fantastic piece by @bimbo-puppetsandplaythings - if you’re not already following them, fix that posthaste!)

[fatty-lit]

Beer Belly vol. 1

The break-up wasn't that bad, just shocking. For one, she didn't expect him to make the first move. She had never been the one dumped before. She had always been the one doing the dumping. The other thing was the breakup made it undeniable.

She had plenty of excuses. Her 20s were expiring. It was hard for anyone to maintain their college figure at 29, but the fact that she had been a gym girlie at 22 and had left that behind was not a factor she wanted to acknowledge. She worked out everyday bak then. She counted calories. She never liked either of those things, but she knew that she needed to do them. Had she forgotten? Gotten complacent? Just didn't care anymore? Those are my questions, not ones she had ever thought to ask herself.

There was plenty of blame on him, too. He wasn't making her feel beautiful, so she wasn't going to put in the effort to be beautiful for him. Why break herself at the gym when he wasn't going to appreciate the results?

Her favorite thing to unload the blame on was the job at the brewery, and this one was probably the most accurate of all the culprits she would willingly point a finger at. On top of the fact that it was part of her job to know the product, finishing a shift in the taproom was next to impossible without putting a couple away; the regulars were insistent. When she first started, she tried to turn them down a couple of times, but their disappointment was apparant, and she quickly learned that a drinking buddy got better a better tip. Yeah, they were obviously flirting with her, but they were married men in their 50s and 60s just trying to flex their flirting muscles so they didn't completely attrophey through the years of marriage. All of them were harmless, and the majority of them were actually decent conversationalists with a couple beers, so she became a drinking buddy, and 2 or 3 and then 4 or 5 beers in a shift became the norm. The other perc was that she was encouraged to take a four pack of tall boys home with her every night, and almost immediately she learned that she could trade two of those with the guys packing up their food truck across the street for a nice greasy meal to sop up the pints of beer the regulars had forced on her.

So that became the routine 4 or 5 days a week, depending on her schedule. Get to work, down some beers, eat something greasy on the way home, plop down on the couch, and polish off the two remaining tall boys, sleep, wake up at noon, repeat. She got used to getting home and going to bed pretty bloated every night; finally getting to take off her jeans was always a highlight of the day. Soon she was letting the button out before she walked in her apartment, then it became on the ride home, and soon she was undoing it before getting her greasy exchange from the food truck boys. That's when she got the nick-name "gordita", which she knew to be term of endearment. It was a little embarrassing, but she couldn't help that she worked at a brewery. It was inevitable that she would get bloated in her line of work, and it was so obviously just a bloat. It didn't matter that she didn't use to have to unbutton her pants after a shift. It didn't matter that those jeans were getting harder to put on before her shift. Yeah sure, she wasn't stupid. She had probably put on a pound or two. Like she said, she wasn't in her early 20s anymore, and maybe her eating a drinking habits weren't the best recently, but when push came to shove: She was just bloated.

It wasn't long after she switched to working in yoga pants (it was crazy how small they made larges these days) that they had the conversation. It was a standard break-up convo: "we're not in the same phase", "we want different things", "I still really care about you", etc. However, somewhere in the middle, sandwiched between platitudes, he did slip in the subtlest "and you're just not really taking care of yourself like you used to" or maybe it was "you stopped putting in the effort", she didn't remember exactly - it was after her shift - but she knew what he meant, and the next morning, that was all she remembered. That day she turned down the beers - she was candid about her reasoning and they were her drinking buddies so they understood, and they were loyal clientel so they actually tipped better than usual - and she knew that the food truck boys would be expecting a beer, so she obliged while turning down the heaping greasy plate - they were equally as concerned for their sad gordita. It was an uncommonly sombre and introspective train ride home. The first completely sober one in quite a while.

When she entered her apartment, she went right up to her full-lenght mirror to finally, soberly take account of the damage done. The first thing she noticed was she was still bloated, which didn't really make sense. She'd hardly eaten anything the entire day, but her belly was still sticking out and pressing against her high-waisted yoga pants. She also noticed a little roll sticking out between the bottom of her crop-top and the top of her pants. That's when she worked up the courage to roll down the high waist of her pants to really get a look.

She had to suck in to comfortably peel the stretched fabric off her belly and when she let out there was a visible bounce and jiggle of soft fat. She poked and prodded and pinched to make absolutely sure, because she was still in denial and disbelief. She was on the verge of admitting to herself that she had developed a textbook beer belly. It was round and soft and disproportionate to the rest of her body which really had not changed that much. Looking at it for the first time in an earnst attempt at sober acceptance, she was surprisingly nonplussed. It occurred to her that she was not so much ignoring the growing problem all this time, as much as she was just uninterested.

She plopped down on the couch with her belly still out in the open and watched as it rested on her lap. She groped and grabbed it for another minute or two before having the real epiphany of the night: she really wished it was full. She suddenly regretted abstaining all day. She regretted not getting her end of the exchange with the food truck boys. She realized that she really enjoyed her routine of coming home feeling ready to burst and lazily plopping down on the couch with a full, heavy belly. It was cozy, it was comfortable, it felt right, and she really really really wished she had something to fill her newly accepted beer belly with. She grabbed some snacks out of her sparse cubbards and a beer that had some how remained hidden in her fridge and finished everything before going to bed, and while she didn't go to bed hungry by any means, but she also didn't go to bed feeling full and heavy. She never really realized how much she liked that feeling until this rare night where it wasn't the case.

That night was a turning point. Before, she had been passively bloating and filling herself, but now that the feeling was identified, she was actively pursuing it. She was revelling in it. She started pouring herself heavier beers when the regulars insisted on her having one. She began shamelessly asking for an extra side from the food truck boys. She was even regularly getting herself dessert on her way home from work. On off days she was staying home and filling herself with door dash. She loved the warm, passive safety of a full belly.

Yes, she had a beer belly before, but it was just enough for her to notice it. Just a small mound of new fat over her old, fit body, but now that the desires had been consciously formed, she started to really put on the pounds. An inconcealable beer gut was on its way.

[bbwmorgan]

Eat. Vape. Scroll. Repeat. 😘❤️

Most days I barely even get out of bed anymore. I wake up, grab my vape, and start snacking before I’m even fully awake. One thing turns into another and suddenly I’ve spent the whole day just laying there eating nonstop.

Chips, takeout, leftovers, whatever I can reach without getting up. I just keep grazing all day, puffing my vape and scrolling on my phone while my stomach gets fuller and heavier.

Honestly the best part is feeling how much bigger I’m getting. My belly spreads out over my lap when I sit up and my shirts keep getting tighter. I can literally feel myself getting softer and fatter while I just lay there eating.

It’s lazy, gluttonous, and kind of perfect.

[listentoace]

Look at what you've done to yourself, covering that body of yours with a nice layer of fat. And that after you've been resisting gluttony for such a long time. It only shows again that you can't escape feederism. It's such a slippery slope, isn't it? Being tempted by something indulgent and giving in for the first time to experience how it feels.

After your first stuffing, you're hornier than ever before. It's much more intense than what you've experienced before. Does indulging feel even better than sex? You have to get off, so you start masturbating to the thought of getting as fat as the feedees you look at.

The next morning, you notice how your body is slightly softer than the day before. You get wet immediately and masturbate. You're tempted to indulge again, it felt so good. Just one more time and you'll stop. You can't actually get fat, right?

You eat even more than the day before, pushing the limit of how many calories you can devour in one sitting. Why does this feel so good? You feel ashamed, yet you can't help but masturbate again. After you've cum, you realize that you should slow down. You've never stuffed yourself before and now you've done it 2 days in a row. Better stop while you still can.

The next morning, you notice how your body has gotten slightly softer again. Would a normal person pay this much attention to how their body felt and developed? Would a normal person become this horny when they felt new, fresh, soft fat on their body? You masturbate, imagining what it might feel like to have a hanging belly. You manage to eat normal again, yet you can't keep your hands off your belly.

A few days go by, it's time to go grocery shopping. You need to refill the snack cabinet, after you've emptied it within 2 days. You'll be able to ration it, you think. You're already getting horny on the way home, tempted to stuff yourself. Are you craving it already? The second you get home, you start indulging. Instead of dinner, you finish off the snacks before they even make it into the cabinet. Something salty, something savory, something sweet. Every bite sends a rush through your body.

When you wake up, your hands naturally gravitate towards your belly, feeling the new pudge. You move around, laying in different positions and end up choosing one where your belly feels softest. You masturbate again, while groping your own fat. You know you've gained, but how much? Stepping onto the scale reveals that you're up 7 pounds. Your knees get weak, your heart begins to pound, shame and lust course through your veins. You masturbate again.

You're getting addicted to the feeling of feeling new fat in the morning. Just like your body, the craving to stuff yourself at night keeps growing. You tell yourself that it's okay. You're just experimenting with this kink you've had for so long. You'll be able to lose it all when you're done, right? While scrolling through Tumblr, you see a before/after of a feedee and how they went from 120 to 387 pounds, almost 400. You used to be 120 pounds, too.

With every orgasm and every stuffing, you become more addicted to gluttony, without realizing it. Weeks go by, you're up 13 pounds now. Some pants are getting tight, you're ashamed to have let yourself go this much. You're afraid someone is going to ask you if you've gained weight. When they do, you play it off with a joke or even try denying it, only to stuff yourself and masturbate again as soon as you're alone.

You're up 21 pounds. More than 20 pounds? It's time to slow down, maybe lose some weight again. It shouldn't be too difficult to exercise since you're still in shape, right? But a 30min workout can't balance out a 3,000 calorie stuffing. Your stuffings get more depraved. Something about heavy cream turns you on. 1,500 calories per bottle. You could drink one in seconds. You grab 2 of then at your next trip to the grocery store. It's become a routine to buy snacks and some frozen junk food.

One night, your horniness drives you to drink heavy cream. It's thick, fatty, and not as easy to drink as you secretly hoped. You add some sugar, which does the trick for you. The extra calories only turn you on more. After drinking heavy cream, your orgasms feel even more intense after a regular stuffing. Is it because it's so fattening? Is it because you just drank the caloric equivalent of 2 pizzas. That reminds you, you have some in the freezer.

34 pounds. You've outgrown most of your pants, your belly starts to stick out, your hips and thighs are softer and your bras are getting tight. You're getting chubby. Skinny you feels like a distant memory, yet part of you is still convinced that you are. You scroll through Tumblr again, seeing another before/after of that feedee. 120 pounds vs 408 pounds. You get horny, knowing they crossed 400 pounds. Yet you ask yourself: is this a glimpse into your own future?

[theberrybrothel]

Your strange blue day

The alarm on your alarm clock clicked on with a loud crash. The opening guitar riff of Johnny B. Goode yanks you away from dreamland and back into the waking world. It didn’t need you to have been up for hours already. Today was the day. After racing to your bathroom, the taste of blueberries fills your mouth" “Weird. This is mint toothpaste” you think.

Getting dressed you pull on the smart blue suit and coordinated red belt you picked out just for today. Reaching into your pocket you pull out the crumbled golden ticket “Congratulations! You are cordially invited to spend the day as my guest for a tour of my chocolate factory signed Mr. Willy Wonka. Please arrive at 9 am on the first of October” you read that ticket so many times you could recite it from memory. Placing the ticket back in your pocket a flash of blue catches your eye. Looking closer, your entire arm is a deep shade of blue. You blink in confusion. Your arm is normal the same as it ever was. 

Grabbing your coat you head out to the factory for what may be the most important day of your life. On the way out of the house you grab a fresh piece of gum. The taste is strong but oddly unctuous and rich with a tomato flavor that is weird but not unpleasant. You take another chomp but now the flavor has changed to a normal mint. A third chomp proves similar, more mint.

The first room of the factory is bizarre, sterile and white with bizarre coat hooks that move like hands. As you sign the various NDAs and legal waivers your stomach grumbles strangely feeling full and bloated instead of empty.

The next room is more of what you are expecting. A room made of candy! You and the other guest spread out to sample whatever treat you find. Your body is giving you trouble somehow, your limbs don't want to move, they feel tight and turgid at once, too heavy and too full. But the feeling passes and you soon find yourself able to move freely if a little stiff as your muscles relax.

 The guest falling into the river proves strange, adding to the pile of strange feelings you have felt today. The workers dancing makes your body shiver. As if hands are pressing against you. Shoving you. When the song ends, the feeling vanishes. You almost miss it.

The boat ride, in all its hazy strangeness, squeezes you full of  both dread and anticipation as if you know what is about to happen that it has all happened before.

The boat docks at the inventing room.

The everlasting gobstopper.

The gum is a three course dinner.

The tomato soup.

The roast beef with baked potato, crispy skin and butter!

The pie.

A cool feeling rushing through your body, the unending taste of blueberries filling your mouth punctuated only by a buttery crust. Your face, then body turning a deep shade of violet. Your stomach gurgling feeling bloated and full then pressing into your tight red belt. Your rear and chest expand rapidly giving you an exaggerated hourglass as your limbs turn taut and turgid. Your belt bursting off of you as you round into your final shape. The workers rolled down the hall and into the juicing room. The pressure and release. Then the refilling. The juicer saved you from exploding but it didn't fix you. It will never fix you. Wonka tried many times to fix you but no solution has been found. You're hooked up to a milking machine and press then left to sit in the dim light. Sometimes to alleviate the boredom you close your eyes and the sound of your alarm clock playing Johnny B, Goode fills your ears.