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?"

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."

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

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

The pet one was super hot~ Any chance you could do some more like that...?

The collar was digging into your neck by this point and you attempted to tug at it with your pudgy fingers, though your owner took your hand away and loosened the collar for you. They might've claimed you were their house pet, but you felt more like a cow or a pig at this point as you clutched and rubbed your stretch marks.

They told you what a good pet you were as they pushed another brownie into your mouth. Behind them was a cake they'd bought an hour or two ago as well and you knew that was the main course. Dallops of sugary frosting and rich chocolate filling that would soon stuff your stomach till you felt you'd burst.

You chewed and felt your owner pat your belly, stirring a groan from your stomach as everything that they'd already packed into you, settled. They rubbed the front of your stomach and told you what a good pet you were, how obedient and docile you were. A "proper" house pet.

Your pet bowl had become a trough, and after that it became hand feeding to pack you tighter than you ever would on normal circumstances. And the pounds had piled on in the dozens after decided to become their pet, though you didn't find reason to complain. You got to be someone's fat house pet, what more could you want?

As someone who hasn’t dated much, I look forward to having normal, healthy relationships.

I also look forward to the relationship weight each will bring.