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

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.

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?

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?

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.