Maybe You Could Write Something About A Fat Pet Being Fed So Much They're Gagging And Spitting Up On

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?"

Pay me to write random kink or fluff stuff!

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$1.50 for every 100 words and if you want smut, it's plus 20% of the price!

DM me to give me the details of what you want written and we can discuss further.

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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?

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

Requesting a piece about fattening up your totally obedient and loyal pet, please~ Especially if you can do it from the pet’s pov~

You feel them ruffle your hair as they praise you for another swallow of the food they pushed past your lips. A groan in your stomach signals the stuffing session might be reaching it's end, but you still enthusiastically open up for another bite.

"Look at you. Y'look like a puppy with worms. Don't even know how you'll fit in your bed like that."

Your stomach rests heavy on your thighs and you watch them reach forward and begin to rub your belly while repeating the words "You're just a good dog, huh?"

The mostly skimpy outfit they asked you to change into is on its last threads, the tights riddled with holes from your swollen thighs, a that has ridden up to hug around your collarbone, and your waistband seems fit to snap. Though every bite you take makes your owner happy so you don't think you'd have it any other way. They look over the remainder of the food on the table before pulling a large gainer shake towards you. You go to reach for the glass but are stopped when your owner tips it back to your mouth instead, startling you for a moment before you start obediently chugging as the fattening shake drips into your mouth.

Another groan from your stomach and their free hand is back on it, massaging around the naval as they tell you how good of a pet you are. As the last drops fall into your mouth, and they wipe any of the dribble that had begun to make it's way down your double chins, they focus their attention on your stomach. Kissing it, rubbing it, massaging the taut skin as they showed you with praise. "Such a good pet." Is the most common one. And while your excitement is unmatched, it's hard to do anything but pitifully squirm as your stomach weighs you down in your chair. You're such a house pet.

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."