Written for my dear friend @jackedapple who’s going through some major problems right now. It’s not a very good or long story, but I tried. 😄
If there’s one thing Mabel Pines was absolutely sure if it was that she hated herself. She’s standing at his doorway watching him very carefully. He’s doing homework, from the look of the textbook he’s got his face buried in it’s AP English. Which according to him is the most boring of his AP classes. She wouldn’t know because she’s stuck in regular English. And that’s perfectly fine since she doesn’t have hours of homework to do.
His eyebrow is scrunched up and his eyes shift every now and then from the book to his paper. He darts his tongue out to run over his bottom lip and, yep, she definitely can’t breathe anymore.
‘I wonder if his mouth is soft.’
‘It definitely looks soft.’
‘That’s gross. Don’t sa-’
“Hey,” he’s not looking at the book anymore. No, instead he’s staring at her. Intently, “You need something? I’ve got a ton of work to do.”
“Yeah, I see that,” she lets out a dry chuckle, “Need any help?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though,” he smiles. God, why?
“All right then. Um…”
‘Um?’
“Yeah?” He’s no longer looking at her. His eyes are back to roaming over the book. She hates that. She wants his attention.
She wants a lot of things.
Like kissing him.
Him and his soft lips that for the past three weeks have been burned into her mind.
So, that’s probably why she grabs the bottom of his chin to bring his attention back to her. It’s obviously the reason why she pushed her mouth up to his. And of course he’s so caught off guard that his mouth was open and strangled wrong and she’s not sure, but she thinks she hit her lip to his teeth.
She peaks just to see if his eyes are open. They are. But she just shuts her own again and pushes farther because, God, is she enjoying this right now. He doesn’t stop her, but he doesn’t kiss back. She isn’t sure what to make of that.
It’s over soon. She pulls back with a smack and out of complete embarrassment, she doesn’t make eye contact.
“I’ll let you get back to it,” and she’s making her way back to her room before he can think of responding.
You know he’s been listening to those jokes for HOURS
Ah yes. The old “drop a heavy ice block on his skull” prank. Timeless.
Ah yes. The old ‘stab him to death while he naps’ prank. Priceless.
Ah yes. The old ‘slip a condiment he hates into his dinner’ prank. The wittiest.
sans if you grin like that somebody might think you’re UP👏TO👏SOMETHING👏
Dat gravity magic dho
Well that escalated quickly
Revege is a dish best served cold – in a snowbank if possible.
Sans does not appreciate the delivery of a good anti joke.
It’s that time again! A random art posting from this fic “Chasing Colors” … the afterglow of wild, or maybe just completely heavy smexy times. Also.. skittles are a bitch to get off the ol’ bare ass.
passed the fuckout.. which is what I feel like doin.
slap her tummy really gently right where it’s the most stretched and tight
jiggle that bottom part of her belly that is always soft no matter how full she is
run ur fingers slowly down her stretchmarks, watching how she wriggles at how sensitive the skin is
slide your whole hand right over the curve of her tummy
poke (gently!) to make sure she’s been properly fed to bursting
reach down for her mound and give it a jiggle
same with her soft swollen tits, til her nipple’s hard against your hand
hey, fuck it, why not reach up and gently pinch the soft fat starting to hang under her arms? she should know she’s growing wings!
slap her tummy again for good measure. gently. just so she can hear how fucking full she is.
last but not least, wipe grease off her lips and stroke her plump double chin. let her suck on your fingers if she still wants something in her mouth.
call her a greedy lil piglet who’ll grow up to be a big fat sow
when she’s ready, help her sit up and start eating again.
things to do when she wakes up the next morning:
squish, squish, squish. dig your fingers into her softest bits and let her feel how much she’s starting to soften and hang
more belly slaps, not as gentle now that she’s only a little full from the night before. put some strength into it. make her groan. make some handprints on all her tender skin.
slide your hand under where her belly’s drooping onto the bed so you can feel how heavy it is
stick your thumb in her belly button and pinch her gut with your forefinger and give her a nice jiggle
kiss up and down the soft sensitive insides of her thickening arms
kiss her nice plump tits. suck them if you want. she’s a cow after all…
whisper in her ear how much she ate the night before. how greedy she is. how hungry she is. how she’ll always be hungry, always growing, always wanting more.
slip ur hand down over the curve of her empty belly, over her mound, until you can feel how wet she is from all the attention
play with her for a bit and then take ur hand away. no more touching til she finishes breakfast.
help her to the table, let her take a seat, and start feeding her.
when she’s newly stuffed, breathless and squirming in her chair, shivering and dazed from being too fucking full, let her waddle back to bed.
… see above and REPEAT. repeat until all she wants is food and your touch. until the only hard part is walking from bed to the table. until she’s hypnotized by the steady cycle of chewing, swallowing, and sleeping it off. until she’s addicted to the pleasure. until she’s the heavy, sleepy sow you always promised she’d be.
so im sitting in the break room at work, casually pigging out on these Delicious brownies that a co-worker had baked for “the staff” (laughs). No one was around, and I was taking /full/ advantage of free food, especially fattening food. Any time someone was generous enough to leave “staff” snacks, I would say at least 80% of that would end up in my belly. But I was sneaky about it, slipping off to the staff room mid-shift to grab a handful of something, knowing no one would be around. The perfect crime.
so there I was, brownie in each hand, stuffing my face with glee; and the co-worker herself walks in. The one that made the brownies. the ones apparently meant to be “shared”. I hastily sit back in my chair, my face beginning to redden as I try to shove the remainder of brownie number 12 in my mouth.
“mph-these mph brownies are-mph excellent” I mumble, crumbs falling to my lap. I am fucked. She saw the pig. She knows.
She looks at me for a second, a smile curling on the edges of her lips. “well i’m super glad someone enjoys my home cooking” she laughs, pointing at the crumbs around my thighs and belly. “ahah yeah, i’m just fattening up for winter!” i laugh, slapping my now stuffed gut through my work shirt. I use this line whenever someone decides to say something ridiculous like “dont you think you’ve had enough? isnt One pizza enough?” it’s my personal get-out-of-explaining-why-im-stuffing-myself-constantly card, it gets a laugh, and no one questions further. They don’t need to know that I wanna be so fat I can’t move. They don’t need to know that I want to weight a literal ton. Do they?
But then she said it.
“oooh that sounds suuper fun! can I help? :3″
My dick is hard. Insanely hard at this point.
“you can sample all my baking, and i get to watch you get biiig and squishy!”
Skip forward 2 weeks. Every day we’ve worked together, I shit you not, this girl has baked/bought/brought the most Decadent shit to work for me. It started as a joke, and now my co-worker is actively my feeder. I’ll update on this as the pounds continue to add ❤
I would looove to bake brownies for my s.o. and feed them every single one, one at a time, very carefully. The room would smell like freshly baked brownies for as long as I feed them. My pace wouldn’t be too fast, so they would feel how full they were getting, but pushing themselves way farther than expected because it wasn’t going too fast. Because brownies are heavy, I would make them stand up when they were done to feel how heavy their belly is;;;
For your pants to get tighter, to where you won’t even want a belt and your fat will fit into the thighs of your pants and your stomach spills over, giving you a little overhang and muffin top.
Everyone mentioning your weight gain, noticing how chubby your are as they make comments. They might tell you to loose weight, but you’re stuffing your face with whatever you want.
A thin strip of belly showing whenever you lift your arms up. Your shirt fits, but your stomach does not!
Having a noticeable belly when you sit down, because sometimes that’s the cutest and so worthy of a squish.
non-suspicious 