Need A Condescending Older Woman To Tell Me To Let It Out Let It All Out Baby While I Scream And Scratch

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

holy hell, your stories are HOT~

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like them, anon! <3

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

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?"

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?

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?