Gotta get a close up of Drake’s squishy tummy.
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@yesbutisitbread
Gotta get a close up of Drake’s squishy tummy.
what happened to stuffing/bloating before and afters. i feel like I never see those anymore. I wanna see how much food you've shoved into yourself by comparing it to how you look normally 😵💫
food comas are just so adorable, like, someone’s stuffed their belly so much that the only thing they wanna do is lay down while their heavy belly digests all those calories, which immediately turn into more squishy fat from the inactivity
bonus points if their partner rubs their swollen gut while they peacefully sleep and it makes little noises
starving -> stuffed sketch comic commission for anon!
looove the idea of feeding someone food so good they cant HELP but stuff themselves until their buttons are bursting... lost so completely in how delicious it all is, feeling their belly straining but hardly able to pay it any mind because the food is just so good that they have to keep going, until their skin is stretched, until their stuffed gut is pressing on their lungs, until theyre groaning and whimpering because despite it all, theyre just waiting for the fullness to subside so they can go back for more 💖
an incomplete examination of the things I love about my stuffed belly
One of today's winners! Derek and Cove, respectively, from Our life!
Thanks to those who came to keep me company!
there’s only one thing worth watching on movie night
It's so easy to keep going. It's almost like the universe wants you to do it.
The cashier at the pizza place says your drink is free if you get another slice. The waitress tells you the restaurant is running a promotion– sides are half-off. That cute bakery is already on the path of your commute, and the most delicious smells are coming through the door. The chances are all around you.
All you have to do is say yes.
Yes, you'll stop and get a croissant. Yes, you'll have an extra slice, yes, why not get another side?
As easy as saying yes, over and over again, 'til by the time you're home all you're capable of doing is unbuttoning your too-tight pants and falling back onto the sofa, with your swollen, bloated stomach tumbling into your lap.
I know it's so hard, when you're as full as you are. But try it one last time, for me. Haul that aching stomach into the kitchen, and find just one more thing to say yes to.
“I am looking respectfully” “im so normal about this” can you bark actually? Can you hit yourself over the head w a frying pan like a cartoon wolf? Can you look at it derangedly please?
Bottomless Pit
Summary: Mina is invited to a party by a softball team with a strange post-game ritual.
Word count: 1.3k
Contains: Softball inaccuracies, stuffing, group feeding, burps, belly rubs, cockblocking, author's hyper-specific and deeply contrived fantasy scenario, possible grammatical errors (written in a single sitting in a complete frenzy)
I love the term food-drunk. Not just because I love to see it--a boy whose brain has gone foggy with excesses--but because I love how it acknowledges the compulsive way some very good boys chase the pleasures of the table.
They order extra helpings and additional desserts, they go back for thirds or fourths, they get as many scoops of ice cream that'll balance on the cone just to try every single flavour; and they do it because everything tastes so good and feels so good that they conveniently forget the limits of their own physiology. They can't resist a food-bender, gorging themselves until they literally can't because they love how it makes them feel so very, very much.
I love the self-deception. Of course I have room for one more. Of course I am still up for milkshakes after. Of course I will finish that for you. Even while they are already so full that they can no longer sit forward with their elbows on the table, belly too tight and hard to squish in their lap like usual. They're too food-drunk to notice they've been reclined, knees splayed wide, flesh showing where their shirt won't meet their waistband, for a while now.
I love the lack of inhibition. Burping, rubbing the protruding shelf of their stomach, slapping their bulging gut and giving it a confident shake, aware of how bloated and swollen they are, but proud of their excesses. Who can be embarassed when they've been so impressive? They've moved past quietly overindulging into arrogantly grandstanding, showing off. Food-drunk and reckless, they unbutton at the table and lay a hand on either side of a swollen gut to show off their appetites. Slow down? Why? This tank can hold so much more.
I love the moment of regret. They didn't see it coming, but after they polish off the latest burger and snatch up the last scraps of fries, it hits them like a truck: oh god, they are stuffed. It was all so damn good, the courses just kept coming, and the drinks were flowing, and they'd lost count of how many burgers that really was, but suddenly they can feel it. They slump back in their chair and palm their belly, surprised in their food-drunk state at how fucking huge it is, and growing rapidly. It just hit them now, but they'd been eating so quickly and enthusiastically, it hasn't even caught up with them yet. They scramble to loosen their belt and slide down in their seat to relieve the growing pressure everywhere--all that food is packed in and making room. Their gut bulges straight out, round as a basketball and feeling distinctly like it is gonna pop if anyone were to jostle them too hard. Why did they do that? That third appetizer? The rest of the pie? The last two burgers crammed on one bun so it wouldn't go to waste? What were they thinking?
I love when they've finally really succumbed. Head lolling back, struggling to stay awake, desperately massaging their aching belly and too food-drunk to know or care what they are saying. Oooh, god, look at me. I have never been this huge. How could you--*hic*--let me eat all that? No, I can't stand up, I'm too fat. Nnngh, look at this. One more--*burp*--pint and I'll have housed a whole cask. UuUugh, let me just die here. Nnhm, actually, that feels good. Mmmhm, yes please. Keep rubbing. Yah, yah, I'll finish your cake. Uuuogh, kiss me, you monster. I didn't eat myself this fat for nothing.
Hello, I return ✨️
and I return having made quite the piggy of myself thanks to some spectacular encouragement from @cantstopthinkinaboutit, who helped get a whole Belgian chocolate cake in my belly.
In 8 minutes and 30 seconds. 👀
looove the idea of feeding someone food so good they cant HELP but stuff themselves until their buttons are bursting... lost so completely in how delicious it all is, feeling their belly straining but hardly able to pay it any mind because the food is just so good that they have to keep going, until their skin is stretched, until their stuffed gut is pressing on their lungs, until theyre groaning and whimpering because despite it all, theyre just waiting for the fullness to subside so they can go back for more 💖
I would be so much fatter if I just had someone to sit across from me at the table and watch me eat with this deadpan look on their face as they keep pushing plate after plate in front of me
I’d just be so desperate to get a reaction out of them that I wouldn’t stop eating till I can’t even lean forward to reach the table
the face looked wonky but its fine cause thats not what anyone will be staring at 👀
Thinking a lot about the different stages of being full.
When you first start to feel it. At a normal meal, you would have stopped eating by now. It isn't hard to keep going, but you're aware of the food travelling to your stomach, in a new way; stretching gently. Maybe your sides feel a little bit tight, or your waistband does. When you put a hand on your stomach, it feels denser, heavier. A pleasant overindulgence. You could stop, now, and drift into a thick, comfortable doze. Or– you could keep going.
You hit a point where the next bite's not so easy, anymore. You're thinking about swallowing, each time, instead of it happening automatically. Maybe you put your food down, for a moment, to catch your breath, and find it a little hard to pick it back up. Your belly doesn't just feel dense- it feels rounder, pushing out of its usual frame to spill into your hand, bulging out to accommodate your indulgence. The taste of food lingers in your mouth, at the back of your throat, even after you swallow. When you stand, your belly is a weight. It pulls at you, heavy, starting to get in the way when you move. Your body doesn't want you to keep going- you would have to do it by sheer force of will.
And then even will isn't enough. You're half-lidded, sprawled back to make room for your bulging stomach, breathing shallowly. You can't force the fork to your mouth. Chewing is a horrible chore. Swallowing is almost impossible. Your skin is tight, stretched thin over the massive ball of food beneath. It's not just your breath that's shallow- not just your lungs being pressed on by your massive belly. It feels like everything in you has been shoved aside by the sheer amount of food– even your thoughts. They're distant and fuzzy, consumed with the weight and roundness and tightness of you, the fullness, how your belly aches at the top, where new food is piled up, strains at the sides and bottom, where everything that came before is sitting, leadenly... it feels so good, and right, to be this way, even as you groan and pant and burp, stomach struggling audibly. Maybe you can force down just one more bite....