Hell, Why Not. Here's That Reader Feeder Dom Mommy X Feedee Sub Puppyboy Piece That I Had On My Hands

Hell, why not. Here's that Reader Feeder Dom Mommy x Feedee Sub Puppyboy piece that I had on my hands for a bit now. It's exactly what it sounds like, plus lactation, milking and some cow nicknames. Basically, puppy gets turned into a whole cow with big boobs and such.

POV: 1st person

Reader: no specified pronouns or appearance (they're just called "Mommy", so do with that what you will).

Puppyboy: he/him, I imagined him as more masc but again, up to you!

WC: 2,454

Enjoy <3

It wouldn’t be that difficult to make my puppy gamer boy grow some tits… Oh, how he’d love to do anything to please me…

I’d let him be a stay-at-home fatty, able to eat and play video games as much as he wants - and nothing more, of course. I’d come back to the same apartment layout that I left in the morning - minus a few wrappers that missed the bin, and maybe some soaked, polished dishes in the sink.

I’d clean up after my dear, poor boy, before getting to his room to smile and gaze upon our progress. He’s plump and lovely, all absorbed in his game. I’d make sure his tall glass is full of his favorite soda as I’d lean to kiss his chubby neck, him greeting me with hearts in his eyes.

I know well that he adores me, just as much as I adore him. If it wasn’t for me, his good, responsible, well-paid feeder, he’d have to try and exist in the world on his own… while he’s simply not meant for any of that.

He’s meant to be my docile, fatty puppy, homebound, dependent and only ever concerned about dinner or his favorite snacks running out. He’s meant to be a little dumb and coy and gluttonous, drooling when I tell him of my plans for him for each day. He’s never supposed to find out about how much he costs me, or how much money I make. I’m in charge here, and so he should know better than to ask about numbers so big that his beautiful head wouldn’t even grasp them.

He’s mine, that’s all he should think about. My hands will trail and sink into his fatty belly as I coo and smile, watching him squirm in his squeaky chair, desk covered in treat wrappers. He’s so good and obedient for me, I think, rubbing his plump chest. He wouldn’t mind me demanding this of him at all.

“I’d love you to grow boobs for me, my dear.” I state, massaging the chest he has for now - by no means small, but they aren’t the tits I want. “Big and milky. All mine. I know exactly how to go about it, too…” I eye him as he looks down to his chest with a hint of surprise, and then shy arousal. “What do you say, baby?”

I gleefully watch him stutter, barely able to meet my stare. He’s grown flustered, ashamed of his own drive and desire - a perfect for me to toy with blimp. He’s so round and soft, not meant for this harsh world; Yet I bet he still compares himself to the for-show jocks he sees on social media. Tsk tsk, maybe I should limit his browsing dosage, just a bit…

Just enough so he doesn’t forget who he’s meant to be for me.

“I-I’d love to… just for you, mommy…” He gulps as I toy with his puffy nipples. “You know you can do as you please to me… I’m happy to oblige you… For all that you do for me…” He tilts his head to look at me, “Will I be able to have milk, really?”

I look at his chubby face intently, smiling. Oh, poor little boy. He has no idea how full he’ll be just yet - and he doesn’t have to know.

“I believe so, with the hormones I’ve acquired. We’ll see about the exact effect, though.” I kiss his cheek, eyes glistening. “I’m happy you’re onboard, my puppy.”

He squirms, flushed.

“A-Anything for the best owner in the world…”

I smile as I exit his room, his mind already back to the game. I enter the kitchen to prepare - the usual - shake jugs, weight gain powders, all the delightful supplements. And something special… and something more.

Ice cream, whole cream and a special, stimulating oil sample that I picked up today. This one tiny vial will last us for now, I think, before I order the whole gallon online.

***

My boy is aching and full recently. I make sure he gets enough fat and the supplement, so all the new weight, or at least most of it, goes to his boobs. The tits I want him to have won’t come from nowhere, after all.

“O-Oooh,” He cries, face sweaty. His rolls jiggle as he turns to me, all needy. “Mommy, they hurt…”

“I know, my dear.” I pout, leaning in to massage his tits. He winces and groans as I weigh the fatty sacks in my palms. They’re tender and taut, already bigger than the chest he had before. But this is only the beginning. The best part of it all is that we know that the supplement works - he’s slowly filling out. “You’re doing so well. Soon you’ll be perfectly fine.”

As he sweats and whines for relief, I patiently go back to feeding him some more sugar, just a few more gulps from his funnel. He swallows eagerly, in spite of the pangs of pain in his chest. What a good, growing boy, I think, watching him fondle his own chest between the muffled moans. He likes himself. He wants them larger, I can tell.

He wants them bigger for mommy.

***

My puppy hiccups hopelessly, just before burping. He’s all tight and packed, swollen tummy round and helpless. It’s stuffing day and he knows well that he won’t get up when I’m done with him.

He looks delicious and pregnant, fucked and filled up with my seed, I think, licking my lips. His growing tits ooze to the sides, sweaty. They overflow my hands by now, and yet they’re still not big enough.

He suddenly winces and moans, although I barely touched his swollen upper tummy.

“M-Mommy, my boobs… they’re… Ooh…~”

I glance at them to see a trickle of milk spill from each round nipple. I smile, so proud of my boy. He’s keeping up so well.

“You’re lactating, sweetie.” I coo, squeezing his tits. He whines, but I don’t stop. “You’re making your own milk… mommy is so proud of my boy…”

I envelop one of the engorged nipples with my lips and give it a suck. They’re the size of small grapes, yet permanently distended, thick. I swallow down some of his tasty milk, humming with satisfaction when I part my mouth from my boy.

“It’s so good, baby. You’ll see, you’re gonna love producing even more.”

He burps and moans, flustered and helpless under his own weight. I pet his pregnant-like belly, proud of him like never. Such a good pet he is.

***

It’s the day I introduce the machine to him, and I’m not taking no for an answer. It will be convenient for him, too - his boobs are always swollen and aching when I come back home, and I don’t have the energy, nor stomach capacity, to empty his busy chest. Moreover, they re-fill almost instantly, causing him to be horny and needy. If he has his tools, he’ll be able to relieve himself even when mommy isn’t around (as much as I’d love to be).

His titties are round, full and spill all over his tummy by now, nipples the size of plum halves, distended and darkened. They always trickle droplets of milk, staining all his shirts; Bras don’t help, as he outgrows them in record speed. He’s beautiful - a sloppy, helpless puppy I’ve always wanted.

I slowly hook the suction cups to his tired nipples, explaining the way the milking works. I show him how to operate the remote to control the speed of his process.

“Of course, when I’m around, I’ll be holding the remote, my love.” I kiss his head. “Don’t you worry…”

He nods and pants needily, craving relief. He gives back the remote at once, staring at me with those beautiful, hungry eyes.

“C-Can you milk me now, mommy?...” He begs, wincing when he tries to clasp his hands; His chubby forearms put pressure on his aching tits. “M-Mommy, please… I’m so full…”

I don’t have it in me to deny him. I want him to fall apart beautifully in front of me, a good, well-bred cow.

“Of course, my boy.”

I flip the switch on and the cups begin sucking. My puppy moans, all tender and swollen, eyes closed as he arches his back on his gaming chair; The thing creaks and squeaks underneath him, tight around his ass and hips.

“F-Faster, mommy… Faster!...” He whimpers and I comply. I watch his sore nipples distend in real time, in between gushes of thick, perfect milk. His round body shakes as it craves more stimulation at the same time, hungry.

He tries to wiggle to the rhythm, but he’s too heavy, too out of shape to keep up.

“Ooh, mommy… my good mommy…” He cries, breathing heavily, helplessly throwing his hips. “Oh, mommy… I’ll be so good for you!... Please never stop!...”

He whimpers and pleads some more, and finally I take mercy on him and sink my hand under his tight 5XL shorts, into the cute fat pad of his. Blissed and tender, he cries into my shoulder when he comes from but a few strokes, shaking and hot, and ready to go again on the spot.

“I want to be milked so often, mommy.” He looks at me with pure devotion. “I’ll leave the machine on all the time when you’re gone, mommy. I’ll be all worked up and needy when you come back home…”

I smile pitifully, looking at his already tender breasts. “Don’t overwork yourself, my dear… I wouldn’t want you to overdose on goodness…”

I know that with every more extreme session, his tolerance and needs rise. A part of me is thrilled for the day when even I won’t be able to satisfy him. Forever frustrated, greedy and fat, too fat to take care of his own business, my boy will be chasing the relief in desperation, aching for more… spiraling.

***

When I come back home that day, I already know he overdid it by the smell of warm milk in the air.

His cries reach me in the hallway, and so I throw my stuff on the floor, barely taking off my shoes to reach his room - just to find him sprawled out on the floor on his back, helpless like a beetle. His broken gaming chair lays aside, the milking machine remote and phone out of his reach. The suction cups on the highest setting can’t keep up with his production, and he can’t keep up with his own libido, shaking pathetically, unable to reach himself around his knee-length belly. Puddles of milk have formed around him.

“Mommy!” He cries pathetically, hope in his eyes as he sees me. “Oh, mommy!~ Help me…”

I immediately know what the issue is. The suction cups really are way too small. They barely fit his nipples; They’re squeezed inside like in clasps. One nipple is the size of a ripe tangerine, fit to burst inside the glass casing.

He cries when I rip the suction cups away, and his milk trickles all over me. He then pants when I get on top, mercilessly straddling his greedy, stupid belly.

“What did I tell you about overdoing it, puppy?” I ask with a smirk, towering over him. His whole body shivers in pleasure and fear as I lean closer. “This won’t be enough of a lesson for you, now will it? You’re only enjoying yourself.”

“N-No mommy, not at all!” He tries to lie, but his blush betrays him. “I was laying there for so long, it’s been hours! I-It was torture to- ooh-!”

He stammers and moans as I squeeze his sensitive nipple as hard as I can, watching stars pop up in his properly mindless eyes.

“Torture? I’ll show you torture, alright.” I whisper, pulling on the teat. “You’ll miss being sprawled out and milked to oblivion, puppy. Or should I call you… cow?”

He shivers at the new nickname; He had it coming, of course! Honestly, I was quite patient holding it off until now. He’s been a cow ever since he started giving milk, even before that.

It’s in his nature, it’s in his greed and gluttony. It’s in him being a total slut for obedience and food.

“I’ll punish you, alright.” I smile sweetly and whisper, “I’ll fuck you up, little cow~”

***

It’s his third day of punishment, the last one I believe.

I’ve been edging him for the past twelve hours or so, just like the day before. He’s sweaty, needy and his tits are swollen like never, milk dripping in a steady flow. He won’t ever produce less anymore, I think, flicking a finger at his udders. I should start selling this stuff.

And recording, too… I should be showing my cow off way before now. If he earned money on his own, I could take a longer work leave, and maybe consider staying at home full-time to take care of my gamer/gainer boyfriend.

He can barely do anything on his own anymore, anyway… even holding his gaming pad has become a chore, as it squeezes his tits in pain and he can’t see the controller buttons, anyway. He had to swap to joycons, each separate piece held on the side of his globe of a belly.

For his punishment, he was fed extensively and not milked. His wrists and ankles are bound together, belly and painful tits on display. Watching them swell and fill up close to bursting was quite the experience, not gonna lie. Used to being regularly milked already, his tits grew very diligent in their sped up production.

My puppy, my cow, is behaving splendidly now, his stuffed gut heavily touching the floor over his knees. My greedy little cat. My spoiled, delightful pet. All mine.

“That’ll be it, cow. You’ve learned your lesson.” I decide, undoing his binds. He’s so overstimulated and overwhelmed that he barely reacts, flopping forcelessly on the floor in the living room, drooling.

My beautiful babe. My fatty baby. Mommy took care of him so well… Oh, he’s so swollen and full.

He winces when I get on top of him, belly sloshing heavily beneath me. He flushes when I hold his tits and kiss him deeply, the motion alone enough to make his boobs leak with milk all over the place. He’s embarrassed. He’s sad that he’s misbehaved. My poor, poor, perfect boy.

“You’ve been good at taking your punishment, baby.” I whisper, kissing his round face, his chins, his neck. “How about I give you a treat, and then we milk you?...”

His full, taut stomach growls hungrily at once and his eyes glisten with utter, untamable need.

“A-Always, mommy!...”

Hell, Why Not. Here's That Reader Feeder Dom Mommy X Feedee Sub Puppyboy Piece That I Had On My Hands

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