Prompt: Feeder Takes Their New Feedee Back Home To Meet The Parents For Thanksgiving. The Feedee Is About

Prompt: Feeder takes their new feedee back home to meet the parents for Thanksgiving. The feedee is about to find out who the feeder learned it from.

The table was starting to dig into the newly stuffed stomach of your figure. Every few seconds, another offer.

"Some cranberry sauce, dearie?"

"Want some more turkey?"

"Got any room for mashed potatoes?"

And every time, you were too polite to deny them and instead just nervously smiled and accepted the heaping portion on your plate.

Your partner had been eager to bring you back home for Thanksgiving, and you'd been excited to meet their family in turn. You'd worn something baggy to accommodate any pudge you put on, maybe a handful of pounds over the course of your stay. "They'll stuff you bigger than the turkey." Your partner had mentioned with a chuckle and an elbow jab. And true to their word, here you were, stomach already groaning and straining your outfit on the first night.

Your partner had their hand in your lap, gently rubbing the underside of your swollen belly as their family eagerly watched you push bite after bite into your mouth. You felt fit to burst, and you kept having to move your chair back to allow your stomach a few more inches of grace, but you kept filling the new space every hour or so.

When they brought dessert out, you nearly groaned at the heaping portion of pie and ice cream that they plated you. And you watched their eager eyes as your partner helped get the fork past your lips seeing as how you seemed closer to going into a food coma than anything else. Despite this, you kept awake, and opened when he asked, chewed and swallowed and repeated. Everything ached and you tried to rub your bloated belly as you swallowed another bite of chilled ice cream.

What stopped them even if only for a moment, was when your chair creaked and then splintered as it shattered under the immense weight you forced it to carry. You yelped and hit the floor with a meaty thud, sending ripples along your stomach and fat as your partner moved to quickly comfort you. Though you found that after they'd checked that you were okay, their hands quickly went back to offering food and beginning to rub your stomach as you sat bloated and stuffed on the floor, your stomach now touching the cool tile.

Bigger than the turkey, huh?

Nerdy guy who just got juiced by his girlfriend, but is now slowly reinflating into a blueberry again

"This used to fit."

Was the anxious call of your mind as you wiggled out of your pants. You were sure your girlfriend would deny it, after all, why'd you go through all that trouble to squeeze you dry of all the juice if you were just going to swell up again?

First it was your boxers. They usually practically hung off your hips, but as the week had progressed, they'd gotten snugger to the point that when inspecting yourself in the mirror, every line and trace of your skin was practically pushing against the cloth and on display. And you couldn't lie and pretend your ass hadn't felt heavier as well.

Then your thighs. Puffier in the waistband, having to loosen a belt notch further than you normally would. Grunting as you stuffed yourself back into your pants.

Though what caught your attention the most today, was when you'd jumped slightly to try and force yourself back into your pants, and noticed the hearty slosh that came from your stomach which seemed to swell forward a couple inches in symphony with the sound. A low gurgle rumbling out which you quickly attempted to hush, wrapping your arms around your middle to hold your stomach in place as it groaned. A glance up at the mirror in front of you revealed a steady crawl of blue spreading across your face alongside the beginnings of a second chin dropping low on your neck.

Fuck, not again.

You're such a good writer, sweetie~

if it's not too much, would you be so kind as to do another on the immobile pet~?

Thank you, pup~

A rumble leaves your stomach as your owner sits perched on your mountain of fat, practically sinking into it as they lean forward to feed you another slice of cake. They've gotten into funnel feeding you for ease, and it's only served to make you look seconds away from popping nearly perpetually. Which is to say, exactly what you wanted.

The day before, you'd had an entire freezers worth of melted ice cream funneled into your mouth as you kept swallowing like a good pet. Each bob of your neck fat brought a pat to your stomach as your owner praised your hard work.

They'd chased down the ice cream with liters of soda, and then a mix of milkshake and donuts blended into a sludge that slid down easily and rested in your stomach like a stone.

A groan left your throat as your stomach gurgled in distress from your owner's weight on you, but you were less than willing or caring enough to accommodate. Your owner said to finish that cake, and you would like a good pet. They pressed another slice to your blubbery lips as you opened your mouth to accept the dessert.

OMG that pet story was soo.... hot....

id love if you could do that, but with immobility...

the idea of being a fat pet too bloated to move is just... so hot... <3

You'd outgrown your pet bed, now you lay stomach up and all encompassing on the couch. Your body was a maze of stretch marks and cellulite that your owner traced and kissed frequently between stuffing sessions.

A few months before, you'd stopped being able to move. And in all honesty you weren't sure you wanted to. You got to lay back and have entire holiday meals worth of food pushed into your mouth daily as you lay there rumbling and groaning between bites. Your clothes barely fit anymore, and you suspected you'd need to get a new custom made set again as you'd done since fattening past the size that any store carried.

Rolls of your blubber practically spilled over the side of the creaking leather couch and you honestly weren't sure how long the furniture could hold out. Though you'd cross that bridge when you came to it.

Another bite of rich food was pushed to your lips and another chugging of a soda bottle started and ended with your stomach gurgling. Your owner tossed the now empty can to the side and pressed another kiss to your forehead as they adjusted the collar charm that barely remained visible underneath your chins and neck flab.

"Such a good pet."

Maybe you could write something about a fat pet being fed so much they're gagging and spitting up on themselves? 👉👈 (With plenty of belly noises of course) ☺️

A whimper passed your lips as you wiped at the second appearance of the cake in front of you. Only now, it was dribbling down your shirt and not sitting daintily on a platter as your partner described the sheer amount of calories inside it. Your stomach gave a pathetic whine as you rubbed it, attempting to settle its rambunctious protests now that it sat practically empty, though still heavy, on your thighs.

Your partner hushed you as you began mumbling apologies and they instead just joined you in rubbing and putting the rolls of your stomach despite its groans.

"We'll just have to start up again with some ginger ale and crackers." The chipper solution was declared by your partner as they finally began tuning the shirt over your head, letting your stomach lurch forward properly and shake despite it's now non-existent contents. A gurgle resounded through the room as it settled again on your lap and your partner left to toss the shirt in the washer, leaving you with your belly.

You began to gently shake it, waiting for some second wave of nausea as it to confirm "and you won't cause anymore trouble now?" And despite its bubbly gurgles that swelled inside you, the nausea didn't reappear, so instead you began to shake it harder, lifting it and dropping it in your lap to ensure you were actually alright now. And again, you were met with groans and wet gurgles but no actual protest.

Your partner reappeared and took their seat on your lap again, laying their hand on your rumbling rolls before smiling warmly at you.

"Ready to try again?"

it is like 59 outside and i’m shivering and i just want some snuggles bro wtf