Bread And A Circus Anons - Tumblr Posts
A ginormous monster girl depositing her eggs into her human boyfriend to help relieve the pressure and buildup inside of her
You've always thought you were the perfect boyfriend, bending to just about every whim of your monstrous partner. But this?
With an obtrusive ovipositor shoved so deeply into your ass you were sure you could taste it, and the knowledge that you'd be carrying her spawn for nearly a year after this? It didn't exactly inspire confidence in your chivalric actions. Though when you were met with the warm gale of her exhale on your bare back and the small whimper that passed her lips, you swallowed up your pride and some amount of survival instinct before signaling her it was okay to begin. Almost immediately you felt an object fighting at the tight ring of your already stretched asshole. The ovipositor inside you squirmed and tensed before you felt it expand, allowing the egg enough space to pass through and settle in you. This ordeal brought a cry to your lips and you were almost sure you'd be torn in half. The egg felt massive in your ass, and you'd wager it was around the size of a soccer ball. Though you had little time to think before you felt the ovipositor pull and push back into your overstretched hole, nudging the first egg further into you and promising more to come.
~
Wheezing, whimpering and whining. Stuffed, bloated, swollen. She'd finished depositing her clutch in you and now sat across from you, looking over your now misshapen form. You stomach was easily the biggest thing about you. A canvas of varying bulges across the taut skin that had expanded so much you could've easily been mistaken for swallowing two full yoga balls. Your legs were forced to spread in a straddle position in order to accommodate the girth of your stomach and all the eggs that were fighting for room inside. You couldn't reach the front of your stomach, but you did feel the gentle finger of your partner caress it for you. The chilled slime she excreted left a tingling sensation on your skin. But it wasn't as though you could protest, much less move to get her to stop.
Who knew though? Maybe you'd grow to love it like the eggslut you were.
Gf slowly feeding bf yet he doesn't notice until it's too late and he now loves being fed
"Taste this for me."
"Tell me if it needs more salt."
"is this too sweet?"
These were the comments you were used to hearing on an almost daily basis from your overly zealous, self-proclaimed chef of a girlfriend. It had seemed like every day now there was maybe half a dozen things that you needed to taste for her, and that she'd gently feed to you so you could give your verdict. She'd insist that her hands were already dirty with food and yours weren't so that was why she needed to feed it to you.
Though she knew exactly how it tasted, she would always purposefully over or under season it so she could call you over again and hand feed you another bite. It was a habit she was well aware of, but one you didn't seem to pick up on. The affects had appeared nearly a month afterwards, a shirt that was too tight now or your chair squeaking in protest when it hadn't before.
As time went on, a dozen taste tests turned to twenty, then thirty. And pretty soon you were sat on a stool next to her as she worked, eagerly awaiting for when she'd turn to you with an entire tray of brownies, bowls of pasta, entire cakes or any other number of treats to feed you. Shirts that had been too tight now barely seemed like crop tops considering your bulbous gut that seemed fit to pop or rival an expecting mother of twins.
Even if the meal seemed like too much, she'd always whisper sweet nothings to you and encourage you further. Wiping crumbs and sauce from your face before gently massaging the straining skin of your gut.
"Just one more bite for me, big boy."
A shy, nervous woman being inflated into a blueberry by a mischievous partner
The clothes hadn't seemed that small when you'd initially picked them out. They seemed modest, maybe even conservative if anything. But now as you held them up to yourself in the mirror, all you could see was the seemingly obnoxious curves of your form. Your jaws worked anxiously on the stick of gum you'd been given by your partner. It seemed that anytime you went shopping, you got nervous, and to prevent you from wringing your wrists, biting your nails or scratching, your partner had ensured you always had gum. This time, you found yourself slightly comforted by the overwhelming flavors of blueberry pie and ice cream. Must've been a new brand, you didn't think you'd had this one before.
"Can I see?"
The voice of your loving partner called through the changing room door. And as much as you wanted to ask them to see if they could find something else for you, your voice seemed less than eager to oblige. So instead you called back in a sheepish tone:
"Yeah, just one second."
You lined your legs up with the holes of the jeans and stepped into them, feeling how the material now seemed to bite into your skin as you fought the zipper up. The lacey blouse was next, though after you slipped it on, you noticed a blemish on your face. You thought it might've been ink. Maybe you'd touched a leaky pen and then wiped your face without noticing? Though when you rubbed at it, the spot didn't budge. If anything it seemed more eager to spread. You stifled a yelp as you watched your face turn a vibrant shade of violet, observing the colour cover your chest and then beginnings of your arm as well before disappearing under the tightening waistband of the pants.
The pants physically hurt now, the material digging into your stomach which you found yourself quickly seeking to amend by yanking them off. Though you found the zipper less than eager to go down, and the material seeming to hug your body tighter by the second. As you stared, you watched your stomach begin to lurch forward, swelling and bloating as though someone had shoved a hose in your mouth and cranked the water pressure up. Your stomach ballooned behind the pants and you felt the rest of you follow suit. The seams of the pants began to tear and you watched the blouse begin to dig angry red lines into your doughy gut as it rode up. You attempted to waddle to the door as your flesh continued expanding. You'd barely managed a yelp when the zipper of your pants shot off like a bullet, followed by a chorus of seams as your outfit burst to shreds and allowed your girth to continue uninhibited.
You'd stumbled and fallen now, though your ballooned stomach didn't allow you to fall far as it had swollen out to an almost comical amount, your ass and chest swelling in sync. You attempted to stand but found your legs soon engulfed by the rotund curve of your waist, following a similar path as your arms sunk into the doughy flesh. Engulfed by your now bright blue body.
A few moments more and you filed the entire changing room, your body pressed snug against all four walls and you prayed that this was the end. That whatever this was would stop. But you weren't so lucky. A groan resounded from your stomach which was soon met and matched by the groans of the changing room walls and door which quickly broke under the pressure. You attempted to yelp again but your view and mouth were soon engulfed by your body.
You could feel the air conditioner of the shop blowing cool wind over your massive, heaving form. And you couldn't even be sure how many eyes were on you now. Though you felt a gentle pat on your stomach which rippled throughout, as though they'd patted a water bed.
"Looks absolutely lovely on you, babe. Or at least what's left of it anyways. Blue's really your colour, y'know?"
Kink rating for tentacles?
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
I'm a pretty big fan of tentacles in terms of restraint or even just plugging up every available hole that someone has. <3
Kink rating for belly gurgling/sloshing
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
That's genuinely and wholeheartedly one of my favorite things is just listening to a stomach try to settle despite it contents. Whether it be because the person's over stuffed themselves, had something that doesn't agree with them or is just digesting on general, I adore belly gurgling/sloshing
Blueberry inflation kink rating?
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
This kinda ties into the last one but I love this specific type of inflation as well as liquid inflation in general because of the emphasis of sloshing and gurgling typically found in it as well as the sheer size of the inflation usually associated with it. I'm a fan of immobility for others and a person reaching down to tentatively press at their rapidly ballooning middle after noticing a blue spot on their face will never not be one of my favorite things.
Kink rating for force feeding?
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
When I say force feeding though I mean more leaning towards me hand feeding you and coaxing you past your normal limits. Sitting someone down and forcing them to eat even if they say no doesn't really appeal to me unless we've agreed beforehand that I can take them past their limits even if they say no.
Kink rating for fupas/fatpads
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
Never really been something I get too excited about but I can see the appeal
Vore?
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
Recently got way more into it and now I kinda adore it.
Would you rather the older lover be a smug, dominant feeder who wants to see you grow huge? Or would you rather they be a glutton whose metabolism is rapidly slowing and who needs you, young and plump, to be their caretaker and enabler?
Or perhaps both? 😏
I'll have to go with both. I wouldn't mind a smug glutton who needs my help but is also willing to try and get some meat on my bones that I'm thoroughly lacking. Telling them how big they're getting with each passing day of letting me stuff their face, but also finding new curves on myself after a few days of letting them occasionally feed me instead <3
write about someone being blackmailed to gain weight and hating watching it happen to themselves? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
That stupid letter.
"68kg by the end of the month. Or else I air your dirty laundry."
Dread had been clear on your face as you reread it half a dozen times. Truth be told, you were convinced you could work off the pounds the minute the black mail ended, whenever that would be.
You'd bulked up your shopping list to includes chips, cookies, brownies, cakes, milkshakes, processed and sugary foods practically dripping with calories. After nearly 10 minutes of staring, you'd finally begun working your way through the calories.
Now here you were, 3/4s of the way through the month and your pants had begun to ache on your waist. Each chew brought your newly made double chin bobbing on your collarbone and a disgusted grimace on your face. Your shirt has ridden up a good deal now, showing your potbelly that had swollen to rest on your legs. Friends had shot you dirty glances and judgemental stares and you were well aware why.
Before, you'd have been being praised for your slim figure, but here you were, laying on your couch with a stomach that felt like a stone weighing you down in place. The box of donuts rested on the crest of your swollen gut and the cream filling had dribbled down your chins, but you knew you still had a dozen or so pounds to go. With a strained groan, you got up to grab your phone and order a pizza. Nothing fit any more, and a pair of sweatpants had gone from "barely used" to "hanging on by a thread" as your body bloated from all the unused calories.
Your belly swung as you stumbled forward, grabbing a table for support as you moved with sluggish steps to your phone. The minute this was over, you'd be right back at the gym, working off every pound, fighting to get yourself back to that slim figure you knew so well. Then you wouldn't look a bloated swine.
Though the end of the month came. And all you got was another letter. And this one proclaimed no release. Instead, proclaiming:
"70kg. End of next month. Make it happen."
Requesting a piece about fattening up your totally obedient and loyal pet, please~ Especially if you can do it from the pet’s pov~
You feel them ruffle your hair as they praise you for another swallow of the food they pushed past your lips. A groan in your stomach signals the stuffing session might be reaching it's end, but you still enthusiastically open up for another bite.
"Look at you. Y'look like a puppy with worms. Don't even know how you'll fit in your bed like that."
Your stomach rests heavy on your thighs and you watch them reach forward and begin to rub your belly while repeating the words "You're just a good dog, huh?"
The mostly skimpy outfit they asked you to change into is on its last threads, the tights riddled with holes from your swollen thighs, a that has ridden up to hug around your collarbone, and your waistband seems fit to snap. Though every bite you take makes your owner happy so you don't think you'd have it any other way. They look over the remainder of the food on the table before pulling a large gainer shake towards you. You go to reach for the glass but are stopped when your owner tips it back to your mouth instead, startling you for a moment before you start obediently chugging as the fattening shake drips into your mouth.
Another groan from your stomach and their free hand is back on it, massaging around the naval as they tell you how good of a pet you are. As the last drops fall into your mouth, and they wipe any of the dribble that had begun to make it's way down your double chins, they focus their attention on your stomach. Kissing it, rubbing it, massaging the taut skin as they showed you with praise. "Such a good pet." Is the most common one. And while your excitement is unmatched, it's hard to do anything but pitifully squirm as your stomach weighs you down in your chair. You're such a house pet.
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?
holy hell, your stories are HOT~
Thank you so much! I'm glad you like them, anon! <3
You're such a good writer, sweetie~
if it's not too much, would you be so kind as to do another on the immobile pet~?
Thank you, pup~
A rumble leaves your stomach as your owner sits perched on your mountain of fat, practically sinking into it as they lean forward to feed you another slice of cake. They've gotten into funnel feeding you for ease, and it's only served to make you look seconds away from popping nearly perpetually. Which is to say, exactly what you wanted.
The day before, you'd had an entire freezers worth of melted ice cream funneled into your mouth as you kept swallowing like a good pet. Each bob of your neck fat brought a pat to your stomach as your owner praised your hard work.
They'd chased down the ice cream with liters of soda, and then a mix of milkshake and donuts blended into a sludge that slid down easily and rested in your stomach like a stone.
A groan left your throat as your stomach gurgled in distress from your owner's weight on you, but you were less than willing or caring enough to accommodate. Your owner said to finish that cake, and you would like a good pet. They pressed another slice to your blubbery lips as you opened your mouth to accept the dessert.
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?"
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.