A slender fairy, his body as tall as a standing rat, smelled sugar and blueberries on the air and followed the sweet scents to a cottage. He flew through an open window and saw a blueberry pie cooling on the counter.
He wasn’t particularly hungry but he loved pie—especially stolen pie. He pulled back some of the crust and dipped an arm in. It tasted as delicious as it had smelled. He ate blueberries by the armfuls until his stomach began to feel heavy. The pie was too good to stop eating now. Who knew when he would get this chance again?
He continued to stuff his face, trying the lattice-work crust and deciding it was the best crust he had ever tasted. After a little while, a ripple of pain shivered through his now tightly-swollen tummy. He burped and rubbed his grumbling stomach, smearing a circle of blue goo around his bellybutton. His big, overfilled belly throbbed painfully. Rubbing didn’t help at all. In fact, it rather hurt.
“Oohh,” said the fairy. “I have a bad tummy ache.”
He decided he needed to go to his toadstool home and lie down until he felt better. He flapped his wings and barely lifted off the ground. Then he fell right back down, falling in a heap and jarring his belly on the countertop, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed his aching stomach and hugged it hoping the pain would subside. It didn’t. It only throbbed worse from hitting the counter. A loud moan escaped him.
He didn’t understand why his wings didn’t work. He took a look at his achy belly, and the mystery was solved. It was huge! It jutted out from his lithe frame—a large, swollen mass. He looked like he had swallowed a whole walnut.
He groaned and rubbed his poor tummy. At least no one could see him like this.
The creak of hinges announced someone entering the cottage. The fairy tried to hide behind a large jar of jam, but his stomach was too big. He ran for a potted ivy, but he tripped and landed flat on his heavy, swollen belly. He rolled over, his face squenched up with suffering, hugging his stomach with both arms. A glass, like a round prison, fell over him.
“Ah-ha!” said a man with a long gray beard. “I’ve caught a thief!”
“Please,” said the fairy, “put me out in your garden. I’ll trouble you no more. I promise.” He winced at a particularly bad cramp. “Please, sir, I have a terrible tummy ache.”
The man put his head close to the glass. “That’s certainly a big, fat tummy.” He lifted the glass.
“Thank you. I have quite the tummy ache. If I just go—“
The man plucked the fairy up by his plump belly. The fairy screamed. The man’s big fingers rubbed the fairy’s distended stomach between them, back and forth.
Waves of pain crashed through the fairy’s stomach. Lights dazzled his eyes. “Oohh! My tummy! Stop! Please, stop!”
The man grinned. He pushed the fairy’s back against the wall. He uttered words the fairy recognized as magic but didn’t understand. His arms and legs splayed to the sides. Vines grew from within the wall and lashed around his wrists and ankles. Another wrapped around his throat. It wasn’t as tight as the other bonds, but it kept him posed upright. In the middle of it all, hung his engorged stomach.
Terror overtook the fairy. He squirmed against his bonds, but they held him fast. “Let me go!”
The man, apparently a wizard, chuckled. “I don’t like thieves. Or fairies, for that matter.”
He poked his big pointer finger in the fairy’s bellybutton. It felt like a punch in the gut. “Oof!” Pain rocked through the fairy’s belly. It shook in rippling waves of torture long after the finger disappeared. All he wanted to do was hold his achy stomach, but he couldn’t move.
The man thumped him right in his bellybutton. “Ungh!” The fairy moaned. He felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “My tummy,” he managed breathlessly. If only he could curl into a ball and cradle his poor tummy.
“Awww. Do you have a stomach ache?”
The fairy whimpered. “Y-yes.”
“Oh. Well, you know what’s good for that? Blueberry pie!”
The fairy looked at the wizard in horror. “No. I can’t eat anymore.”
“If you eat until I tell you to stop, I’ll let you go. If you don’t, I’ll slap you between my hands and feed you to my hog.”
Tears welled in the fairy’s eyes. “I’ll eat,” he promised.
The wizard spooned a bite of pie into his mouth. The spoon was too big for him, so some of it stuck to his face. He ate as best he could. Forcing it down. Trying not to think about how full he already was.
The wizard whispered a spell—words the fairy didn’t recognize. A hunger took hold of him. He gobbled the pie from the spoon, licking his lips whenever the wizard pulled the spoon away to gather more.
Despite his ferocious hunger, his stomach ached and ached. He could barely stand it. His taut stomach’s skin pulled tighter and tighter as his belly swelled. Tremors of pain roiled through his overburdened guts.
“No,” he managed weakly. “My tummy can’t take anymore.” The pain finally outmatched his hunger.
The wizard pursed his lips. He mashed his pointer finger into the fairy’s hard stomach, denting it slightly. The fairy cried out in pain. The wizard gave a small harumph. “Looks like there’s more room to me.”
The fairy, despite his ravenous hunger, began to cry. His stomach hurt so much. He had never had such a terrible tummy ache in his life.
As he ate more and more, his stomach expanded further. It groaned and strained to digest all of the food. Each bite became more of a struggle. His stomach felt so heavy. His skin stretched tight around his distended belly. It wobbled painfully as he struggled to swallow.
The wizard pulled the spoon away and flicked his belly. A massive explosion of pain pulled a groan from deep inside the fairy. “Ungh.”His full stomach swung back and forth, sloshing. The fairy moaned in agony.
The wizard grinned. “Who knew something so small could get so big.”
When the fairy looked down at his stomach, it was unrecognizable. It looked like he had swallowed a chicken egg. It was bigger than the whole rest of his thin little body. A blueberry circle, like a target, marked the center, but there were also bright bruises where the wizard had picked him up. The dark marks around the blueberry stain were also bruises. A red blush revealed where the wizard had just flicked him. No wonder he hurt so much. His poor stomach was so traumatized.
The wizard cast another spell, and the hunger left the fairy. Now there was nothing left but pain. The wizard grabbed the fairy’s abused belly as if he were plucking a plum and said a spell that made the vines disappear. The fairy’s head swam, dizzy with pain.
The wizard carried the fairy to the counter and plopped him down on it. Immediately, the fairy curled up, as best as he could, around his distended, aching stomach. He held it, his hands unable to meet, unable to rub the throbbing middle of his huge belly. He moaned and rolled from side to side. “My tummy. Oohh. My tummy.”
The wizard laughed. “I think I’ll keep you here a while, maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks. I’m going to give you a bad tummy ache every day. Maybe then you’ll never steal again.” As the fairy whimpered, the wizard jabbed his exposed bellybutton with two fingers. His fingertips not only struck the fairy in his bellybutton, but above and below it, hitting the generous curve of the fairy’s belly.
The blow increased the suffering of that achy tummy, causing the fairy’s eyes to bulge with the intensity of his pain. Air puffed through his rounded lips. Lights flashed before his eyes. Darkness embraced him as he lost consciousness, the grumbling of his abused stomach following him into the dark.
i started writing this story with carmelo but it wound up being so full of torture that i never wanted to put him through that i felt bad & switched him out with some random name😭 i have no intention of continuing to use this character but Who Knows. & i didnt feel like altering anything else so this generic man Also has nystagmus .
[painful forced stuffing, heavy on the burst teasing]
Ben looked slowly over the menu, tipping his head in a vain attempt to focus his shaky eyes. He had yet to decide whether he felt comfortable in the strange little cafe. It was in the middle of nowhere, completely out of place in the long stretch of forest it was nestled against, and there wasn't a single other customer in the place, not that he could see. The two odd waitresses kept looking him over from across the tiny restaurant, eyeing him from behind the counter and exchanging unreadable glances and hushed words. Almost subconsciously, he hunched closer into the menu as though he were trying to hide in it, and under the soft doo-wop music drifting up from the radio, he thought he could hear them giggling. I have to pick something, he thought, nervously scanning the menu, feeling confident that he'd lose his mind if the two kept staring at him. Just as he settled on an entree, almost as if they watched it land in his brain, the waitresses began striding toward his table before his eyes even left the page.
"What'll it be?" One of the waitresses leaned in with her notepad, while the other stood upright beside her, looming coolly over him.
"Uh, c-can I, um, can I have the gyro platter?"
"That comes with bottomless fries," she said.
"And a Greek salad," said the other.
"And an appetizer."
"And a soup."
Ben felt disoriented just listening to the waitresses, who seemed more like characters from a stress dream than anybody one might find staffing a public eatery, but he managed to overcome the surreal feeling enough to order a cup of split pea soup and a basket of fried clam strips, as well as a cherry soda, which was apparently also bottomless, and off they went. He hadn't really wanted the clam strips--he hadn't realized the meal came with an appetizer at all, actually--but he supposed they wouldn't go amiss. They sounded delicious, and after all, he was hungry. His belly rumbled, and somewhere off across the cafe, he thought he could hear that ominous giggling again.
He sat back against the lumpy cushion of the booth with a soft sigh, listening to the quiet music of the radio. The place should have been cozy and inviting, the sort of cute little spot one could easily see being run by a sweet old lady, but he couldn't wait to be on his way. Something about the complete absence of any other customers put him on edge, and the staff didn't exactly help. Neither did the fact that there wasn't so much as another building for miles. He'd happened upon the place during a long drive home, and while it had seemed like a godsend to his growling stomach when he'd pulled in, he found himself wishing he'd just waited to eat in the next town. He could smell something good cooking, though, and anxious as he was, he was looking forward to finally having something to eat.
When the waitresses returned with the appetizer, it was just as strange and synchronized a routine as ordering had been. One set the soup before him, the other a basket of bread, and then the clam strips, and then the soda, and then the silverware, back and forth in what should have been a messy shuffle but was instead eerily smooth. Then, just as quickly as they'd approached, they were gone before Ben could even say thank you, though he still had the feeling they were watching. He tried to ignore that feeling and picked up his spoon.
Ben rarely thought to order split pea soup; truthfully, it had only come out of his mouth because he'd noticed it on the specials sign as he entered. As he took his first steaming bite, though, he was glad he did. It was very good, thick and savory and comforting, with a mild but delicious smoky flavor and just enough pea remnants to give it a pleasantly chunky consistency. He pulled a piece of warm bread from the basket--he nearly leaned right into the bowl as he reached for it, the table was so close--and dipped it into the soup, and for the first time since he'd come through the door, he finally began to relax.
It was a chilly day out, rain beginning to patter against the cafe's dusty windows, and the hot soup was just what Ben had needed to warm up. The gnawing hunger in his belly began to fade as he ate, as did the damp chill that had followed him in, and despite the lumpy seat and the cramped booth, he almost felt comfortable. He finished the piece of bread he'd been working on and ate a couple clam strips, dipping them into the little cup of cocktail sauce. They were hot, fresh, and perfectly crispy, and he felt thankful his meal had come with an appetizer, though he wasn't sure he'd be hungry when the gyro came out. The soup and bread were already filling him up, and the clam strips, which were surely not meant for just one person, were going to do a number on his stomach by the time he was through with them.
It was just as Ben was finishing up the starters, belly already feeling comfortably full, that the waitresses returned bearing more dishes. One set a plate before him boasting a hefty gyro tucked against a large bed of salad, the other a big basket of fries, and this time he had a chance to thank them as they swept away the empty soup bowl and clam strip basket. They left the bread basket; it still held a few pieces, though they were hardly on Ben's radar. Right now he had enough food before him to leave him satisfied for the rest of the week.
Alone once again--seemingly alone, at least--Ben picked up the wrap and dug in. He was glad for the paper wrapped around the lower half of it; it was so overstuffed that it would have fallen apart in his hands without it. It was well-constructed, though, layered so that there was plenty of savory meat, fresh vegetables, and tangy sauce in each bite. It was also thick, heavy, and incredibly filling, and he knew after just a few bites that there was no way he'd be able to finish. He carefully set it down and stuck his fork into the salad, decorated with a colorful abundance of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and olives. They were as fresh and flavorful as the vegetables on the gyro, and while salad wasn't exactly his passion, he eagerly went back for a second bite. Maybe stopping in hadn't been such a bad idea after all--the vibes were off, but the food was fantastic.
Ben squirted a blob of ketchup into the corner of the fry basket and dipped one in. He bit it carefully--it was piping hot, and he had to set the other half of it back down while he chewed--and gazed out the window. The rain was coming down strong now, and apart from the oddly soothing sound of it on the windows and roof, the world outside was still. No cars passed by the quiet little road, no pedestrians out for a walk. Not even the occasional soggy squirrel scampering by. An odd sense of isolation came over him, as though he were completely alone in the world--alone, that is, besides the waitresses, whose eyes he could feel looming over him even while they were out of sight. He tried to shake off the feeling as he picked up the half-eaten fry to finish it off.
The portions were impressive at the little cafe, and Ben had already decided he'd be having half the meal for dinner. He was full by the time he'd eaten his way through a third of it. He decided to focus on the salad, which he was least enthusiastic about saving, though it was impossible not to keep picking at the crisp thick-cut fries. He knew he should leave them alone; his belly would be aching before long if he kept going, and he wanted to save room for a piece of the attractive-looking chocolate cake he'd seen in the dessert display. They were too good to quit, though, and it wasn't long before the basket was running low. As if on cue, the waitresses suddenly appeared with a fresh basket, and one shook the last few fries of the old one into it while the other set it down.
"Oh-uh-thank you," Ben stammered. He'd forgotten all about the bottomless part. Well, at least he'd have some fries to go with dinner. Speaking of--
"Oh, um, can I--" he started as the waitresses began walking away. They both turned abruptly.
"We don't give out boxes," one said sternly, cutting him off.
"Our food is best enjoyed fresh," said the other.
"To eat it any other way would be an insult to the chef."
"You are expected to clean your plate here."
"And ordering dessert is only permitted for those who do."
They turned and hurried off before Ben could manage to squeak out an apology. I have got to get out of here, he thought. He looked down at the full basket of fries, pile of salad, and more than half of the huge gyro still left before him. That would be easier said than done. Of course, he didn't have to finish. They couldn't force him to... could they? Either way, he thought he'd die if they gave him that icy look of disapproval again. The last thing he wanted was to upset anybody, even if it was those weird intimidating waitresses. Especially if it was them, in fact. They scared the crap out of him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that poor behavior would warrant consequences.
With a silent sigh, he picked up the gyro once again. The fries and the salad wouldn't be that hard to finish; this behemoth would be the real challenge. Just the weight of it in his hands made his already full belly feel heavy. He couldn't let that stop him, though, and reluctantly, he bit into it. Even a small bite was hefty, the thick pita packed with meat and toppings, and while it was absolutely delicious, it didn't exactly go down easy. After a few bites, he paused for a sip of soda and a few bites of salad to refresh his mouth. His belly felt tight, and while it wouldn't yet be obvious to a spectator, he could feel it starting to push out under his sweater.
Realizing that trying to wolf it down quickly was an unsustainable strategy, Ben paused for a moment, resting his hands on his bulging stomach as he assessed the situation. He had a little more than half the gyro left. About half the salad. A freshly topped off basket of hot fries. Did the soda count? He suspected it did. He'd have to hold off on the fries until everything else was finished; if they refilled them again, he'd never get away. If he finished them last--he hoped--then maybe he could break the bottomless curse. And so the strategy seemed simple. Keep going with the gyro, break for salad in between, and then, only once those were out of the way, finish the fries and soda. Easy...in theory, at least.
He reluctantly began chipping away at the gyro once more, each bite feeling heavier in his stomach than the last. He was trying to pace himself, reminding himself that slow and steady wins the race, but he wanted badly to get out of the cafe and back on the road. He felt like a prey animal caught in a trap. He chewed through a few bites of gyro, then set it down to nibble at the salad, chasing it with a couple sips of soda without thinking. He was starkly aware of how tight his belly felt, stretching tighter and achingly tighter with each swallow, but he had to keep going. Trying not to think about it, he set down the fork, took another sip of soda, and picked up the gyro. Just as he was about to take a bite, the waitresses appeared to switch out the nearly-empty glass with a fresh one.
"Ah... Thank you," he said, his voice little more than a defeated whisper. The two left without a word, and he thought he could see them smirking as they turned away.
Ben sat there for a moment, staring glumly at the fizzy pink drink, then took a deep breath, belly aching as it expanded, let out a sigh, and got back to work. Too much food--what an absurd problem to have! He supposed he should have been grateful for a hearty lunch, but he felt like a hostage. Determined and anxious to leave, he started taking bigger bites of the gyro, trying hard to ignore the feeling of his stomach stretching outward. The delicious wrap had become his enemy, and his survival hinged on vanquishing it. Knowing he'd falter if he hesitated or even slowed down, he forced himself to keep eating, finally reaching the paper and having to peel it back as he dragged himself forward, belly rumbling ominously as at struggled to make space for the wrap and the air bubbles that traveled with it, stomach aching badly as the pressure built inside it, until finally, somehow, the sauce-covered paper was empty in his hands. He stared at it for a moment in disbelief, then dropped it and hastily wiped his hands off on a napkin before clutching his belly with a groan.
For a minute he was sure he wasn't going to make it. His belly felt sharply distended, an urgent pressure pushing outward against the walls of his stomach with such force that he was certain he'd burst. It had been stretched too far too quickly, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of everything inside it, and now it was pulled so drum-tight he could hardly breathe. He held it in his hands, trying to keep himself from making a sound, pleading for his stomach to hold itself together. Suddenly, it let out a loud rumble, and his hand flew up to his mouth as a rush of trapped air surged out, too much pressure behind it to stop it if he tried. It wasn't loud, but he felt mortified despite the relief it brought, and he hoped the waitresses hadn't noticed, though he was sure they had; nothing seemed to get past them. The difference was measurable, though. He still felt impossibly stuffed, but he no longer felt quite so close to the verge of bursting, and he took a minute to catch his breath, hands resting atop the taut curve of his middle.
Ben's belly felt big. That was just about the best word for it. It felt big in the way his distended insides weighed heavy against his stretched skin. It felt big in the way the pressure seemed to puff it up round and taut like a beach ball. It felt big in the way it bulged out against the unforgiving waist of his jeans and the soft fabric of his sweater. And it felt big in the way he was running out of space in the tiny booth, his protruding tummy beginning to press against the edge of the table like a caught balloon. With his luck, he'd manage to finish and then be stuck in his seat. He was over the worst hurdle now, though. The amount of food before him still seemed enormous, but he thought he just might be able to do it.
He sat for a moment longer, then, finally, he picked up the fork once more. The salad was next; the stupid bottomless fries and soda would have to wait. The salad, thankfully, was easier to eat; it was light and refreshing, though he did have to pause for an occasional sip of soda--a very tiny and cautious sip of soda--to break up the feeling of the oily dressing on his tongue. Stuffed to aching but seeing hope on the horizon, he worked steadily through the salad, and it wasn't long before that was gone too.
Now, all that sat before him was a full basket of fries and a full glass of soda, and suddenly the task at hand seemed very daunting again. The basket was as big as his head, and the mere thought of all that fizz bubbling him up made his stomach feel even more swollen. He couldn't back out now, though. The end was in sight. He sat and breathed for a moment, trying to work up another burp in the vain hope of easing the pressure a little, and then he picked up a fry.
Ben was very aware of the feeling of his bulging belly pressing into the table each time he reached into the basket, and it wasn't exactly helping. He was also aware that each bite of bulky thick-cut potato and sip of bubbly soda brought his stomach closer to that feeling of near-bursting that had seized him after rushing through the gyro. This time, though, it wasn't the speed at which he was eating that brought him there, it was the plain and simple volume of food packed into his overstretched stomach, with more being forced in even though there wasn't so much as a tiny crack of space to fit it. He didn't even think his stomach was expanding anymore; it had reached its limit and was now only growing tighter and tighter, with enough pressure building inside it to knock the cafe flat when it finally blew. He couldn't suck it in at all, the boulder under his taut-stretched skin pushing rock hard against the unforgiving table, and he was surprised his jeans hadn't popped open yet, given how painfully tight they squeezed his distended middle.
"Look how well he's doing," waitress one said as she approached the table.
"He doesn't want to disappoint the chef," the other agreed, standing by her side with a sly smile.
Ben froze, staring up at them like a deer in the headlights, suddenly feeling deeply embarrassed.
"Go on, keep eating."
"You have to finish. You don't want to insult the chef."
"Yes, you have to finish. Even if you explode trying."
"I think he might."
"Yes, he certainly looks like he might."
"Go on!" she urged, their stares piercing Ben's soul like an icy arrow, and he nervously picked up another fry.
Ben hated to be watched while he ate, and their eyes on his swollen belly made him twice as nervous, but it was clear that he had no choice. He was going to eat until he burst, and they were going to watch it happen. Feeling like a mouse in a trap, he reluctantly forced himself to eat one thick-cut fry after another, cautiously sipping the soda in between. His stomach groaned under the pressure, pushing hard against the taut skin of his belly like the world's heaviest balloon, rumbling in warning with each strained gulp. Continuing felt impossible, but under the wicked, almost hypnotic stare of those awful waitresses, he couldn't bring himself to stop. They watched with sinister satisfaction as he struggled through the fries, begging his stomach to hold itself together long enough to get out of here.
Finally, after what felt like a painful eternity, the last fry was gone, and, with the end almost within reach, he began finishing the last of the soda. Each gulp felt like forcing another pump of air into a shiny, pressure-deformed balloon on the brink of a violent BANG. His belly was too densely packed for the bubbly liquid to even make a sound as it was forced in, but he certainly felt it. His stomach felt like it was going to split open. He shut his eyes and held his belly as he drank, panting shallowly into the glass, desperately wishing for the ordeal to be over, and finally, nothing but ice touched his lip. He set the glass down with a gasp, nearly dropping it, and clutched his stomach with both hands.
"Please, let me go," he moaned between quick gasps, struggling to catch his breath. The waitresses didn't speak. He looked up at them with pleading eyes, but they weren't looking back at him. They were looking at the table. He followed their gaze, and his heart dropped. The last few pieces of bread.
"No," he groaned, head falling back against the booth cushion.
"You have to finish," one waitress repeated.
"You can't let good bread go to waste."
"He can't do it," she teased.
"He's going to explode," the other sneered.
"But he has to try."
"Yes, you have to try."
For as long as he'd been alive, Ben had been very much into the idea of being forcibly stuffed until he couldn't hold another bite, and under different circumstances, with different people--perhaps a gentle, loving girlfriend--he supposed he would have loved it. This was not an enjoyable circumstance. This was a nightmare. The waitresses seemed to have been designed in a lab with the sole purpose of frightening him, and he had long since passed the threshold of genuine concern that his stomach might actually explode. He turned his head upright, hoping he would somehow find himself just having woken up from a bad dream. The waitresses stared expectantly at him.
Ben reached across the table for the basket, unable to hold back a soft whine as his belly pressed into the table. Three fluffy pieces of bread sat in it, no longer warm but still soft and fresh. They weren't big--they were pretty small, actually--but they may as well have been full loaves. He pulled it close, then sat for a moment, holding his belly, internally begging for it to digest just a little bit so he could find some tiny fragment of space. With the waitresses' eyes burning holes in him, though, he couldn't wait any longer. Miserably, he picked up a piece and bit into it.
The bread was mercifully airy, reducing in volume considerably as he chewed, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. His body seemed to reject the motion completely, and he had to forcibly override every signal trying to keep it from going down his throat. It was torturous. He had never been more aware of the feeling of his digestive system in his life. His stomach straining and struggling under skin that he imagined must surely be paper-thin by now, his throat fighting to protect the imperiled organ, his intestines beginning to distend and writhe as the sheer pressure inside his stomach forced half-digested food into them. He could feel his belly pulsing against the table, almost too swollen to breathe, trembling with each shallow inhale.
He tried not to think as he chewed through the bread, willing his mind to dissociate from his body so he could simply be done with it. That was, of course, hardly feasible; the throbbing pain in his stomach was impossible to ignore. Still, he went on, much in the same way that a person whose only hope of escaping a burning building is crawling through the flames might go on. His skin threatened to split each time he tried to breathe in, but he went on. The button of his jeans creaked ominously with each tiny movement, but he went on. His shallow belly button began to bulge against his sweater, but he went on. He went on until finally, he was forcing the last bite down his throat, his body just barely allowing it to pass through.
The bite didn’t land in his stomach so much as squeeze in, the entrance almost unable to close behind it, and suddenly, he felt something give. His eyes widened, certain that something had finally burst inside him, until he felt a chill on his lower belly. Unable to see the underside of it, he reached down and realized the button of his pants had popped open and taken the zipper with it, leaving the lower half of his middle completely exposed, protruding belly button and all.
“He did it,” said one of the waitresses to the other.
“He survived it,” she agreed.
“And he didn’t explode.”
“Not yet.”
They turned and walked away, and Ben let his head fall back against the seat once more, just holding his belly. He could feel his insides rumbling under his palms, bulging against his skin like a balloon filled with boulders. He didn’t know how he was going to drive home, but even if all he did was make it out of the building and into the car, he’d be happy. The shadow of the waitresses fell over him, and he looked up, barely able to lift his weary head from the cushion. One held the bill, and the other a plate of chocolate cake.
“You wanted dessert,” she stated. It wasn’t untrue; he had originally hoped to get a piece of cake.
"I--can-can't I--"
"We don't give out boxes," the other waitress cut him off.
"Our desserts are made fresh."
“And they are best enjoyed fresh.”
"To eat it any other way would be an insult to the chef."
She scooped up a forkful of the rich, dark cake, grinning slyly as she brought it to his lips.
A dragon-boy tries to attack a village but loses to their knight, as the knight tricks the dragon into eating his enchanted, indestructible armour. The armour is far too dense and heavy to pass through him, and even the smallest parts clog and pinch his intestines while the main, heavy pieces sit in his stomach like stone. The spiked helmet lodges immovably in his sphincter. Groaning in pain, the dragon desperately tries to belch out fire to alleviate the growing pressure, but the knight muzzles him to shut him up and the dragon feels himself become more tightly swollen by the minute. Soon he's nearly immobile with agony, frantically rubbing a belly that feels on the cusp of bursting. He's a dragon, though, and too immortal to split open, even if he wishes he could. The villagers truss him up and drag him to the town square, so his bloated belly is on full display as a warning to any other dragons that dare approach. If he's fortunate, in a few years the villagers will get bored of a mascot that only moans and sobs and let him go. Until then though... slap the belly for luck!
Poor thing, his tummy is so stretched and swollen he feels like a hot air balloon. With nowhere for his fire to go, his belly burns scorching hot, even hotter than his body is meant to handle, leaving him a moaning, writhing mess. Not only does he serve as a warning for other monsters, but he also makes for a great heat source for the villagers, almost like having a permanent bonfire in the middle of town square. His belly is slick with sweat from the heat and strain and no amount of desperate rubbing will ease the painful pressure that builds and builds. If he's lucky, sometimes the villagers unmuzzle him to use his fire breath, just enough flame to light a fire, but never enough to relieve the terrible stretch of his poor tummy.
Then, the villagers realize they could profit off of him while they have him trapped and under their control. They bring in a another dragon to breed with theirs so they can sell the valuable eggs, despite the poor thing already being so overly swollen. They let him get stuffed full with a large clutch of eggs and now the top half of his tummy is full of trapped fire, and the bottom half is stuffed to the brim with a massive clutch. The extra heat incubates the eggs even faster than normal, and the clutch rapidly grows in half the time they normally need. By the time they're ready to be laid, he feels like he's really about to burst, more belly than dragon at this point.
His labor is long and painful, even with the added pressure of his full stomach on top of his contractions, the eggs have grown so large he still struggles for hours to push each one out. The villagers realize he's practically a dragon egg factory, able to pump out massive clutches in record time. Now that they've got their own money making machine, they don't plan on letting him go any time soon.
guy who works at a restaurant or something as a garbage disposal and grease trap - maybe normal garbage too idk his co workers don’t really follow procedure - and they wonder why the position has such a high turnover rate
Ooo what if it was like a punishment for the staff if they mess up, like if a waiter drops to many dishes or takes too many wrong orders, they get “garbage duty”. One poor waiter makes too many mistakes during the dinner rush and the boss punishes him by locking him up and stuffing the funnel down his throat. He beg and pleads to be let go, but his only other option is to quit, and he really needs the job.
For the rest of the night, all the leftovers, food scraps, and trash is poured down the funnel, filling the poor waiters stomach until it’s round and swollen, slick and shiny from the layer of sweat covering his pink stretched skin. He moans and cries around the tube, writhing in pain on the floor as he feels his tummy slosh and churn while the kitchen staff ignores him. It creaks and gurgles as he’s stuffed tighter and tighter, the cramps in his guts getting worse and worse as the night goes on.
By the time the restaurant closes, his belly has burst out of his button up shirt, huge and bulging from his thin frame. After all the staff has left for the night, the owner finally releases him, giving his heaving belly a painful squeeze and eliciting a sharp cry from the waiter before he’s kicked out of the restaurant as well. Finally with his hands free, he desperately tries to sooth the pain in his tortured tummy, but his frantic rubbing does nothing to ease the intense pressure.
It’s so late that he’s missed the last bus, and now has to stumble home, moaning and crying as he clutches his engorged stomach. There’s no way his guts will be able to work through the mess he’s been stuffed with, but he can’t call out of work without endangering his job. Working his next shift with a horrible stomach ache and a painfully bloated belly won’t be easy, just one more mistake and he’ll be getting another night of garbage duty…
Making a boy eat a bunch of these like communion wafers
those packets look so small, I bet you could stuff someones stomach with hundreds of those... The dry packs make him so thirsty he downs nearly a gallon of water all on his own despite how full he already feels. As soon as the water hits his stomach, the packs expand, each one unraveling and swelling his poor stomach even further. It's so sudden you can see his tummy swell right before your eyes, doubling in size as he cries and begs you to make it stop <3
new technique when i draw tummy-themed oc art that i like & want to show my normal friends is i hastily draw a sleeping cat over the belly (its not deception. they know what kind of freak i am)
🪨 What's the most likely scenario that would leave your character's belly the most impossibly, unbearably, verge-of-bursting swollen it can be? Is this a common occurrence?
😈 If you could put your character through a scenario specifically to wreak havoc on their belly--not necessarily a situation they'd get into themself, but a situation that you, as some sort of self-indulgent torturous entity, are inflicting upon them--what would you do to them?
This feels like it's an answer to both a little bit???
Context: So for a while I had this idea that Tilly and Mara were a combination of the traditional fairies and modern ones. Traditional fairies were more like elves, fully human sized and just very magical. So I had this idea for a while that potentially the 'giant' in some of my original drawings was actually Mara because the two of them can go back and forth between their normal human size and being tiny how we imagine fairies nowadays.
THAT BEING SAID:
Giving Tilly a light snack and then putting her in a situation where she has to immediately go back to her fairy size so the food doesn't have time to digest or sop up any of that shape changing magic. Just a massive belly full of, what is now so much food, suddenly. And now it'll take much longer to digest than it would in her larger form. But she likes the feeling so much she doesn't go back until her belly settles, just rubbing at it achingly and enjoying the affection Mara gives her churning tummy.
It's technically not the most likely scenario because Tilly likely doesn't change size fast enough for this to happen (probably has to be very fast)
And another self indulgent tid-bit being that when she's in her larger form she's always insatiably hungry or a little woozy until she eats... because you need a lot of carbs for a much bigger body and she's gotta take care of herself!
Heyyy have you done any written posts on tube/funnel feeding? I’d love to see stoic vs cheeky character gettin tube fed cream or something until their belt buckle goes BOOM! Or their favourite pants go POP!
I've written a few here and there! I loooove funnel/tube feeding, its so good cause there's nothing they can do to stop the flow of food into their stomach. They can't close their mouth or throat and are completely helpless and under the control of their captor, no choice but to suffer and take whatever they're getting stuffed with. They can't even beg them to stop with the tube down their throat, only able to moan and cry as their belly gets tighter and tighter. The food just keeps coming and they feel their stomach reaching its limit, but their muffled screams go ignored as their tummy creaks dangerously. They thrash in their binds, trying to dislodge the tube, but it's stuffed deep down their throat and all they can do is watch in horror as their tight belly keeps swelling, swelling, swelling....
Been having this idea of someone who can’t stop eating and/or drinking but is extremely oblivious about it.
Like they don’t even notice that their belly is so ungodly bloated as they chug down another glass of water, confused as to why their stomach hurts.
Their gut absolutely crying out for them to stop gorging themselves as they eat another slice of cake into their already overstuffed gut, but they are still somehow oblivious to it all, even as their stomach shows the first signs of rupture.
Oooo ok interesting :0 what if it was like a curse/illusion that made it so they couldn’t see how swollen their tummy was getting as they ate? To them their belly looks flat, so that must mean they’re not that full and they can just keep eating, right? They down plate after plate, happy to stuff themselves with all those delicious food, not questioning why their belly doesn’t look like it’s getting any fuller. Even when their stomach starts to hurt from how much they’ve eaten, it still somehow looks flat as a board, so the pain must be coming from something unrelated.
Only at the end of their meal does the illusion disappear, suddenly revealing their massively swollen stomach. They gasp in shock and confusion, hands flying to their tummy which is now digging into the table in front of them. It’s so big they look heavily pregnant, belly taut and swollen, skin flushed bright pink with angry red stretch marks littering their flanks.
The pain suddenly increases tenfold now that they realize what they’ve done to themselves. Their stomach creaks dangerously, so packed full with food that it’s on the verge of rupturing. They sob as they quickly begin frantically rubbing the tight skin, crying out in pain and fear with each ominous gurgle that rips from their swollen tummy, unable to move from the sheer pressure inside them. Now they’re helplessly trapped with their tummy stuck tightly wedged against the table, afraid that any amount of pressure or movement could burst their belly…
The fairy stretched his gossamer wings beneath the overturned drinking glass. His prison. He knew the wizard would come indoors soon, having finished slopping his pigs and working in his garden.
His stomach snarled as he wondered what today would bring. He clamped a hand over his growling stomach. For four days, the wizard had tied him against the wall and stuffed him with blueberry pie until he thought his poor tummy couldn’t possibly hold any more. Until his stomach ached more than he could take.
Afterward, the wizard spelled the food away, leaving him bruised and hollow. For the past two days, the wizard hadn’t fed him at all. Fairies were so small they needed to eat multiple small meals a day to have enough energy to fly. Although about the height of a standing rat, they were slender things who burned up food quickly.
The fairy’s stomach growled ferociously. His stomach twisted with hunger. He could no longer stand up waiting for the wizard to come into the kitchen to decide his fate. Faint, he drifted down to the kitchen counter and sat cross-legged.
No sooner had he sat down, than the kitchen door opened and the wizard entered. Perhaps the wizard would think he had been punished enough for stealing his blueberry pie? Perhaps he was tired of him and would let him go?
The wizard placed a small cloth bag on the counter next to the glass the fairy sat in. “Are you ready to eat now?”
“Please. I’m very hungry. But—”
“But?”
Did he dare say it? “Not so much this time, please. If—if—you don’t mind.”
The wizard shrugged. “I brought you some seeds.”
The fairy’s eyes widened. “I love seeds.” He eyed the little bag. It was much smaller than a pie.
The wizard poured some small black seeds out on the counter. “If I let you eat these yourself, will you stay put?”
He didn’t trust the wizard’s cruel magic to be gentle if he tried to get away. “Yes.”
The wizard lifted the glass from the counter and freed the fairy. The fairy ran to the seeds. Honestly, even if he weren’t scared of the wizard, he would have not tried to leave without feasting on the seeds. He picked one up and examined it. He had never seen its like before. It tasted sweet and delicious. He nibbled the first, but after that he crammed them in his mouth two or three at a time.
They tasted so good and he was sooo hungry. Once he had eaten every single seed from the countertop, he rubbed his full stomach with satisfaction.
“What did you think about those?”
“They were splendid! Thank you.”
“Would you like some more?”
The fairy rubbed his hand up and down his stomach, thinking. He was comfortably full now, but he had missed so many meals and the seeds were so good…. “Definitely!”
“Eat them all.” The wizard poured out more seeds.
This pile was bigger than the last. That didn’t matter. He would eat them all. Happily. Once he had devoured half of it, however, his stomach began to feel tight and heavy. He rubbed a circle around his tummy to make more room and found it was a big, hard bulge. He massaged his stomach until a burp popped out, then returned to eating the delicious seeds.
Eventually, he finished the last one. His tummy had fully rounded out. Not a bulge anymore, but a large marble. A dull ache had entered it. He had eaten too many seeds.
“Your mouth must be parched,” said the wizard. “Have some water.” He gave the fairy a thimble-sized cup.
The fairy was, indeed, parched. Despite his fullness, he drained the cup.
The wizard poured out the remainder of the bag. “Eat the rest of this and I’ll let you go.”
This pile was even bigger than the last. His stomach winced as he looked at the seeds. He wouldn’t have had so much water if he had known about this. Still, he missed his home. “Deal.”
He tried to eat as fast as he could, but his stomach started cramping. He had to slow down not quite halfway through. Doggedly, he pressed onward. His belly swelled twice the size it had been before he started. He clutched it as another cramp rippled through him, his face squinching up into a mask of pain.
He had thought this would be so much easier than the blueberry pie. Somehow, it seemed worse. He thought he could feel his tummy growing as he ate, even when he stopped between bites. His poor tummy ached terribly. He tried to quiet a cramp by pressing his hand against it. He felt his stomach stretch! He could actually feel it beneath his hand.
It was a large round globe sticking out from his slender body. It hurt all over. This is the worst tummy ache, he thought. He hadn’t expected the innocuous seeds to give him such a bad belly ache.
With a determined grimace, he attacked the seeds, trying to forget the terrible pain in his stomach. His intestines writhed within in him, fighting desperately to digest the seeds. His stomach swelled even more as he ate. When an especially powerful wave of pain hit him, he doubled over with a moan.
He looked down, and his poor tummy was huge now. He hadn’t noticed with all of his determined eating. It was easily just as large as when the wizard fed him blueberry pie—a round, full, bloated belly the size of a chicken egg. He didn’t know how he was going to fly like that.
He looked at the seeds miserably. He wanted freedom, but his still swelling stomach was in agony. How much bigger would it get?
He steadied himself. He would walk home if he had to. He lifted three seeds to his mouth and tossed them down. By the time he had almost finished the pile, his stomach looked like a goose egg. The skin was pulled so tight, it blushed. His arms couldn’t get around it to cradle it. Waves of pain spread through his entire, absurdly distended stomach. It was so tight, so hard. He rubbed his sides, wishing he could hold the middle of his aching belly. “Ohhh, my tummy hurts.” His distended belly groaned in response. His belly button popped out.
“Let me help you with the rest.”
Reluctantly, the fairy opened his mouth as the wizard spooned in the rest of the seeds. When, at last, all of the seeds were gone, the fairy held as much of his oversized stomach as he could. It gurgled loudly and quaked under his hands. “I feel like I’m going to burst,” he said, his voice fraught with pain.
“Well, let’s see.” He poked the fairy just above his pushed out bellybutton.
The fairy gave a strangled cry as pain exploded through his already aching belly.
“Hmmm.” The wizard took the fairy’s overindulged stomach between his thumb and forefinger and pressed as if testing a grape for ripeness.
The fairy screamed. The pressure on his distended stomach created unimaginable agony. “Please. Please don’t. I have such a bad tummy ache. My poor tummy can’t take anymore.”
“Humph. I don’t know about that.” He thumped the fairy in the lower belly.
“Oof!” The fairy fell backward, his aching, throbbing stomach like a great dome rising from his body. His abused belly shuddered and groaned. “I’m too full,” he panted. “I’m going to pop.”
The wizard bounced a finger on his prone tummy, causing ripples of pain to radiate through it. “I don’t think so. I think you’re going to be fine, for now.” He placed the drinking glass over the fairy.
“You said you’d let me go. Remember?” He didn’t know how he would leave, but he would drag himself out if need be.
“You broke the deal. I’m keeping you here.”
“What?! No! I ate all of the seeds—every last one!”
“You negated the deal when you asked for my help.” He laughed.
Somehow, the fairy’s stomach swelled more. He could do nothing but moan. The tight skin had reddened around his navel and created a blush over the top of his belly.
The wizard leaned over to peer at him. “You’re getting so big.”
“I don’t know what’s happening. My tummy just keeps swelling up more and more. It’s already so tight. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“You’d better hope it can take much more. Those are magical seeds. When eaten or soaked, they swell up to ten times their size.”
“No! No! Please, you have to help me! You—you won’t be able to have fun feeding me if I burst!” As he spoke, his intestines chugged and writhed, too full of seeds to digest anything. He was absolutely stuffed with seeds. Swelling seeds, making his stomach puff out to grotesque dimensions.
The wizard smiled at him. “I have an errand to run. If you’re still alive when I return, I’ll take the seeds away and we can have some more fun.” He walked out the door to the outside.
“No! Wait!” he called to the wizard’s back. “You can’t leave me like this!” Tears slid down the fairy’s face as he lay trapped under his huge, aching belly. It stretched more, rising like bread dough in an oven. His skin felt impossibly tight. A new groan erupted from his gurgling tummy. As the swelling continued, his tummy began to creak.
