You're Such A Good Writer, Sweetie~

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.

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.

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

need a condescending older woman to tell me to “let it out let it all out baby” while i scream and scratch and bite and panic trying to push her off of me

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

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."