Imagine Your Slobby Jockish Gamer Bf Sitting On His Stained And Incredibly Smelly Gamer Chair, In His

Imagine your slobby jockish gamer bf sitting on his stained and incredibly smelly gamer chair, in his yellowed ripped underwear with massive skid marks on. Sitting wide legged as he lets out massive wet farts, snorting in every single one and saying stuff like “fuck bruh! Smells like shit..nice” “god damn that felt good” “Unnf.. you smell that babe?~” he then pauses his game and smirks at you and then you hear his largest wettest fart that has ever come out of that hot smelly man as he follows it up with a loud and also wet burp he then hikes up a leg and starts bloating his underwear with a massive thick snake of shit, pounds apon pounds of his nasty gamer waste🤎🤎🤎 - ⚡️

goddddd yes 🤤😩 everything about this...... the stains on his chair showing exactly where his ass has been, the tattered and stained jocks, cocking a leg to drop his load hhhhhhdjdkkffll 😰💀

damn what if u sat on my lap and let me feed u a lot of gross greasy gassy food and then u burped and farted on me all night and i kept feeding u until u shart on my lap would that be crazy hahahahaha could you imagine hahahahahah

Written this mind

Warnings- mentions of stuffing, eprocto, scat, voyeurism (?)

Following a night of fooling around with their partner, after a surprisingly large, very rich, somewhat spicy dinner, A rouses just past seven in the morning, shifting drowsily beneath the sheets. It takes a minute, but soon enough, the memories of the previous night wash over them, leaving them with a renewed feeling of euphoria. B had come home with two large bags full of take-out in their arms, and, as they'd eaten, B had let it slip that seeing A the way they had a couple week ago, upon their arrival, had confused them at first, but eventually, confusion had morphed into excitement, and more importantly, admittance. B wanted what they did; to watch them grow steadily, and turn into what B had affectionately called a 'gassy, eating and shitting machine.'

Even with a night spent with B feeding them a variety of foods from a restaurant in the city, with intervals spent with palms wedged into the fluff of their belly, coaxing out rancid gas, A can hardly believe that that the desires they'd harbored in secret aligns with B's. Which is why they've barely questioned it; at least if it by some twisted fate, it is a dream, they'd have made the most of it.

The musings don't last long, for A is soon reminded of what has awoken them this early on a Saturday morning. B is still asleep, cuddling them from behind, with a leg hooked over A's hip and an arm draped lazily over their side, their hand just above the ever-existent swell of A's tummy. And speaking of A's tummy, the gassy gurgles from the night before have returned with vengeance, except, by now, it's journeyed lower and powerful cramps makes their toes curl. Biting their lower lip, A brings a hand to their belly, pressing into the spot right below their navel. The pressure aids in allowing them to push out a deep, rumbling fart that vibrates their fatty cheeks, right against B's crotch.

Sighing uncomfortably, A squirms slightly at the pressure against the sphincter. It isn't abnormal for them to need a trip to the toilet in the morning, it's routine actually, but their tummy is rebelling with an urgency that is usually reserved for only when they absolutely must have relief, without time for delay. A couple of sputtering farts, that sound sort of like raspberries being blown into someone's stomach, accompanied by a watery spray has A whining desperately. Any more and they fear they'll be making a mess all over B.

A strained exhale parts their lips, already, beads on sweat is gathering on their skin. Each pungent toot brings them closer to losing control, causing them to groan inwardly. An especially loud blast rockets out of them, and worried that their control is dwindling, A sits up hastily, consequently waking B.

"Where are you going?" B mumbles, trying to get them back into laying position.

"To the bathroom," A protests, knowing that time is of the essence. Silent gas is seeping from their sweating rear as they speak and the heat in the air makes their stomach churn.

"Mmmm," B sits up, shifting to snake their arms around A's bubbling mid, teasingly pressing into the bloat that serves as their tubby belly, "Why?" They feign ignorance, "Can't you pee a little later?"

"I don't have to pee," A counters, pressing their bum into the mattress, desperate to keep their eager load at bay, "I have to take a fucking shit," they explain trying to shake of B's frim embrace.

Chuckling, B coos tauntingly, "My gassy little pet has to poop," they tease with a chortle, nibbling on the back of A's neck, biting down a little harder when a fart whistles from below A. Truly, they'd always hoped to share their desires with B, and the new teasing is painfully arousing, but that doesn't change the fact that they don't want to ruin their favorite sheets with a messy load.

"I really have to go," they beg, their toes curling in anticipation and their palms griping their knobby knees tightly, knuckles going white, "Please let me go."

B hums contemplatively, "Okay," they permit, but their hold has yet to relent, "But," it feels like they're taking their sweet time to get to words out, and A thinks their doing it on purpose. The fabric beneath them is uncomfortably warm and even if the moisture between their cheeks isn't poop, but A knows that it won't be long before that changes. "I want to watch."

"Done," they agree hastily, standing from the minute B releases them, keeping their hole pinched shut, cradling their belly and padding over to the adjoining bathroom, with B close on their heels.

Neither of them are much too concerned with the door, and from the moment A spots the pristine, porcelain throne, an immense sense of relief washes over them. Though, it's severely short lived when B stops them, rummaging through a neatly packed cabinet below that double sink. Before A can even manage the words, B is explaining, "Not in there silly. Clearly you don't like the toilet," they wink, referring to all the soiled laundry they'd found in the tub upon their return, "So why don't you just go on the floor?"

Still nursing their distended stomach, an electric spark of arousal travels to their crotch as warning toots escape them. But they're also a little self conscious, "Are you sure?" They inquire unsteadily as B lays out the fluffy white towel in front of the tub.

"Very," they reach to lead A over, "Come on baby, I know you're desperate."

"Uh huh," A agrees, lowering their naked frame into a squat. The position is a good one, but they're a little too heavy to support their own weight on just their legs like that, so A leans forward a bit, sticking out their ass and gripping the cool lip of the tub.

Gas hisses out of them, and immediately, their puckered hole yawns open, widening around the first, eager length. Its a bit on the bigger side, but its soft enough to not hurt, easily snaking out of them. Ample cheeks, riddled with the light sheen of old stretch marks, make way for the emerging dark brown, glistening loaf, which coils as it reaches the towel positioned below A. Their stomach contracts gently as A pushes, birthing the beginnings of what they assume to be a sizeable movement.

"Look at that," B muses huskily, from their seat on the floor not too far behind, "How does that feel sweetheart?"

A grunts, wincing at the twist in the pit of their belly, "It burns a little," they pant, "And my tummy hurts." Exertion gathers on their brow, and as the length breaks off with a thud. A's shit-stained lips wink as they bear down a little, feeling another mass descend through their colon, "Oh, here it comes," they announce as a lump rears its head.

A's always been a loud pooper, prone to grunting, moaning and even a little cursing, but having B around encourages them to be even more vocal. "Fuck," they lean further forward, so their heels lift off the floor just about an inch, "B, can you see that?" With the first half of the log cleared, the rest descends with ease, "It feels big," it's just as long as the first too, piling on top of A's initial rope of shit, before breaking of with a gagged edge.

"It is," B agrees, impressed, having to shift slightly to quell their arousal, "Are you done?"

"Nope," A blasts a series of short, nasty toots. It's a lot, sure, but they can still feel some more settled inside them, "I think I've got a bit more."

It takes a couple minutes spent ridding their gut of the gas, but eventually, they're crowning again, that mass wider than the first two, but much softer, rocketing out of A and slopping in a semi-solid mass next to the first lengths. A moans as their tummy groans and gurgles, pushing out greasy blasts, smaller flecks of wet poop accompanying the gas and peppering the white of the towel.

"Does it hurt baby?" B probes, shifting onto their knees to get a clearer view of A's fluttering hole, sucking in a sharp breath when a watery fart vibrate A's butt.

"Yeah," A admits, "But it feels so fucking good too," they rock their hips, "Ngh, it's coming." The poop is slowly snaking through their gaping hole, gathering with the other loaves, snapping off before the last lengths, shorter and far softer than the rest, lands on top of the pile. "Done," they declare after a couple tentative pushes.

"Whew," B whistles, "You shit like a cow baby," They stand, colleting the roll of tissue and then joining A, "So much and so stinky."

A blushes, feeling another spark reach their crotch, "Do you wanna do it?" They offer, "I think I got really dirty," just the mere thought of having B's fingers touching them like that was so erotic to them, cleaning up after them, like they always do. Taking care of them, as they always do.

Without a verbal response, B unrolls a wad of tissue, guiding it to the split of A's ass, starting low and dragging it upwards, fingers lingering upon brushing A's hole. A gasp breaks the air and A jumps slightly, gnawing on their lip.

B is surprisingly gentle. using at least four separate wads, pressing their pointer to A's hole each time they wipe, only stopping when the paper comes back clean. They're still crouched in front of the tub, with A hovering over their little mountain of poop, when B begins; "Now," the pepper kisses on to A's sweat-dampened cheek, "Why don't we go get you some breakfast? It's time to start fattening you up."

concept: your feedee whimpering and rubbing their stomach desperately, only barely managing to groan out “my belly…” before the loudest fart you’ve ever heard thunders out of their fat ass

I imagine very few things are better than having someone who’s gassy and constipated lying over your thighs. Whenever they need help going, they approach you naked while you’re sitting on the couch reading or whatever and sheepishly ask if they can use you to get relief. You scoot to the edge of the seat and allow them to drape themselves over your thighs. It puts them in the perfect position for a bit of spanking or fingering.

With all that pressure, the farts are loud and forceful. You vary the sounds of their gas by playing with their cheeks. Hold them open for airy, gushing bursts while they grind their gut into your legs. Clamp their cheeks together and make them squeak out.

And when the first log starts to stretch their hole, you rub their back and coo lovingly to them as they whimper. Maybe run your fingers gently through their hair or along their scalp. The thick turd thumps onto the floor and you can feel their belly tensing and pushing against you as they squeeze out the next one. It crackles as it slides out with little pops of gas. They sigh as it drops.

Rocking against your legs, they try to coax the rest out and are rewarded with a warbling fart that comes to a sudden end when it launches another log part way out of their hole, plugging any room for gas to escape. They groan as they strain and gravity draws out a long shit that only breaks off once the tip touches the floor. Just when you think there couldn’t possibly be anything left inside, gas loudly shifts around their belly and thunders out.

There’s a sheen of sweat on their trembling body and they lay there, catching their breath and basking in relief. It’s an exhausting ordeal, and you’re not going to let them clean up alone. You tear off some tissue and lovingly wipe between their cheeks for them.

They gingerly raise themselves off you, looking a lot less pregnant, and when you’re done disposing of the mess, you cuddle on the couch and praise them for how well they did.

Or maybe it’s less lovey-dovey, and the person who needs relief is a slob that basically burps in your face then says, “Alright, bud, time to help me shit. Hold still now.” They grind their gut into your legs, grunt out a mound of shit, tell you to start wiping and then leave you in a stench filled room with a mess to clean up.

wanna sit backwards in someone’s lap while they rub and jiggle my overfed tummy

squirming as much as my fat body and stuffed belly will allow until the pressure gets to be too much and i release several loud, rumbling, sloppy farts in rapid succession right onto their crotch and feeling them grow more and more turned on with each one, their grip on my belly tightening as they try to work more pressure out 💕🐽