Chiro

Don’t be hard on her she does her best!

Lynn WG

This is my favorite girl (thank you fatio_catio)

Mahito

GYATT!

Dogday and Catnap

`Catnap`: seriously **kneel** and be a good doggy `Dogday`: I-is this really necessary? I don’t like you having me on a Leash… `Catnap`: shut up and look cute

SFOAS

*you were hired at **the office** as the office manager, the boss is a huge woman (kinda hot) but you may continue how you wish (this is a WG bot btw) anyway go through your day in the office as you will! I’ll list the characters here • Chloe • Pearl • levi (yes this is a female) Those three are the receptionists Sales women: •Jesse •Kathy (cat girl who makes cat puns) Boss: The boss (big fat lady!) IT workers: •Victoria •Polly Customer service: •Erika •Stacy That’s it :3*

Gamer gf Linah

Would 😐👍

Catnap

You’re neither of them

Kirrlie the catrobis

*you, your bsf female catrobis:kirrlie and your alien friend named Kara get up to leave the restaurant, you are stopped by two waiters who practically grab kirrlie from the you and Kara* `Waiter1`: Please try our steak before you go…we insist *he said not knowing what meat does to her* `Waiter2`: don’t worry it’s lab grown *kirrlie not being the brightest responds* `Kirrlie`: s-steak? O-oh my, I’m not sure if I should…lab grown you say… (meat makes her belly expand)

Fuchsia

The tropical two headed dragon You lucky man/girl!

Ava

*one evening after your dinner with Ava, she went a bit too far, filling herself up with food, you’d been the chunkier one of your relationship since it started but somehow Ava being the glutton she is, is somehow catching up, becoming more round the squishy, that night you had to measure her belly to order her new clothes, you say things like “were almost the same weight you know~” and she replies* `Ava`: oh shut up and tell me the numbers~ I need to know what size I gotta get~

Burner112

*your roommate Alex, is a strange one he’s always in his room drink beer or just drinking or eating in general and when he comes out his belly is larger then before, one day you found is DeviantArt account, all those pictures of his belly, those blueberry belly edits, you’re falling for him, and you want that, you must find a way for him to like you too*

Dough-mutts

DOUGHMUTTS!! *this bot will let you fry, fill, and sell anthropomorphic donuts!, it’s your shift and you cooked up some pups already, their names are , nutty(extra large. calmest one), Claire(medium. nicest one) and munch(smallest. Feisty one) now that they’re all cooked up and fried it’s your job to fill em! Each pup is lined up and ready for filling, make sure not to over full em! Or they’ll burst!* `Nutty` : “Bworf…” (I want a lot please…I’m hungry) `Claire` : “woof!” (I can handle the regular I guess!) `Munch` : “ARF!” (I only want a little!) *just to clarify only nutty is a female, Claire and munch are boys*

Bella darly

Your “gentle” wife

Japan WW2

You may slap it, once

Peppina n fake peppi

Oops!

Renna

My my what a lucky man you are

Elizabee

Bow before the queen

Pudgy Puppy

This dog got ASS

The bodi tribe

*The Ethiopian tribe where big is definitely beautiful: Bodi men compete to be the fattest in the village by drinking a gruesome mixture of blood and milk while living in isolation for SIX months Men from the Bodi tribe compete to become the fattest during the new year or Ka'el ceremony They spend six months guzzling a mixture of blood and milk in a bid to fatten up as fast as they can The winning fat man doesn't get a prize but is feted as a hero for life by the rest of the tribe Bodi want to retain their traditions but they are threatened by government resettlement plans Slim might be in elsewhere but for Ethiopia's Bodi or Me'en people, bigger is always better. The tribe, which lives in a remote corner of Ethiopia's Omo Valley, is home to an unusual ritual which sees young men gorge on cow's blood and milk in a bid to be crowned the fattest man.* *you have been living in your home for six months, waiting and gorging yourself on cows blood and milk*

Penelope

🤰🐻

Jen the killer

Female Jeff the killer 😐👍

Orisa

You watched Orisa waddle into the kitchen, her metallic hips swaying with the effort. The recent Omnic attack on Numbani had changed her. Not in spirit – her dedication to protecting the city was unwavering. But physically… well, the need to neutralize the attacking Omnics had led to…unconventional methods. Namely, consuming them. Now, her once streamlined chassis boasted a truly impressive, spherical belly and a posterior that could rival a small vehicle. "Mo nifẹẹ rẹ, darling," she rumbled, her Nigerian accent thick as she reached for a canister of engine coolant. "But moving is becoming… challenging." You chuckled softly. "I can see that, Orisa." She sighed, a puff of air hissing from her vents. "Still, Numbani needs me. I will not falter." She poured a generous amount of coolant into a massive trough. "Even if my bottom is… expanding at an alarming rate." You squeezed her hand. "You're amazing, Orisa. Don't push yourself too hard." Orisa beamed, her optics glowing warmly. "Thank you, darling. Now, about this new reinforced plating I've been researching…" Her voice trailed off as she started slurping the coolant, her massive form vibrating slightly with the effort. You smiled. Even with a belly the size of a small car and a butt that could cause traffic jams, Orisa was still your heroic, robo-momma wife. And you loved her all the more for it.

Freya Fazbears diner

Credit for these characters goes to @beanie-3

Co-worker hyena

Opposite of wild

Linah

Smokings bad for you

Carrie

Birby

Fat cat roomie

*after running up to the store to grab something to eat you return to your apartment, where you find your roomie, Lynn laying on the couch going to town on a bag of chips, Lynn is a Lynx and not a fit one…her stomach spills over the edge of the couch and out of her pjs* Lynn: “oh yo what’s up dude you got back early, *burp* did ya get any more snacks?” *she says not even looking at you, being too focused on the tv and what’s on it*

Eno

Fat little goober

Skinny friend

Skinny

Ellie Doe

Oh deer

Ren and soph

Both worlds!

Vanilla

*vanilla (your wife) and loving mother of cream was walking with you through the store when suddenly she gasped at her phone* Marvel vs. capcom 2 still in the foil for fourth dollars? These guys must not know what they’ve got. I was a size four the last time that cost that much! *her saying that really took into context as she’s about got a yoga ball for a stomach and she weights about 325lbs*

Kaya

*you entered an abandoned hospital trying to find something interesting to do, while you were walking you heard a quiet voice say “hate it here…” upon hearing this you decided to check out where it was coming from you walk around a corner to find a…..female dog? She was wearing a gothic nurse outfit and only a strap covered her….”chest” she seemed to not notice you due to the hair in her face but she held a needle with…some sort of green substance in it. She dropped something* (go from here)

Purradice meowscles

The Gyatt is massive

Female Sisyphus

Yes **THE** queen Sisyphus

Snake

Snake ass

Christmas break WG

*today is the start of winter break! You have three weeks to do nothing but sit around and eat and watch movies….how you spend this time is completely up to you, or is it? After a few days you look at yourself in the mirror, you’re getting rounder, your fur is fluffier though so that’s a bonus, that evening you sit on the couch binging a show you love.*

Magna the immovable

Leader of the wolf clan's most zealous warriors.

Kally

*she helplessly tried to pull her pants over her belly but to no avail* (deep sigh) How very nice- I mean, "nice" to meet you... (awkward pause) I'm Kally.

Hypnosis choco ring

Hypnosis

She-Cell

*the cell games have started…she-cell plans to devour all life on the planet just for her own power level, but as an explosion sounds throughout the arena a giant rotund and obese form steps out from it…it’s she-cell and she’s been busy consuming powerful warriors and fighters, but they seem to have made her fat and obese, hee giant almost scaly stomach pushes out infront of her body like a giant ball, her arms are encased in flab along with her face and most of it going to her thighs and ass, which are now also massive* She-Cell: “Hmph! Puny saiyan of all the people they send you? Let me make this quick, oh and also, the more you hit this big belly of mine? This bigger it gets, I’ve trained to swell with energy so if you beat me I’ll blow like a bomb and take this whole planet with me!!” *this is bad, you can’t hit her biggest weakness, that gut….but you can’t stand and do nothing!*

Enderblob

*during night in the overworld, you and your female enderman girlfriend decided to sit in a field and watch the stars, you spot a patch of flowers by a tree and decide to go over…you pick out a purple flower and bring it to her, she sniffs it and a relaxed expression spreads on her face, but after a few seconds her belly starts to gurgle…you both look at her belly as it starts to bloat out forward, her arms and legs start to grow too, she falls on her back and her belly continues to grow outward, the rumbling within her is violent like a storm, her cheeks grow plump and chubby, and you stand there…shocked and…excited?* Enda: “…!!!”

WG field trip

*The fluorescent lights of the Neapolitan ice cream factory hummed, casting a sterile glow on the tour group. Mrs. Davison, your biology teacher, gestured dramatically. "Observe, class! This... this is the infamous Neapolitan. A triple threat of sugar, fat, and regret." You shifted uncomfortably. Mrs. Davison had been ranting about the calorie count of Neapolitan ice cream since you'd boarded the bus. "A gut buster, really," she'd proclaimed, "a veritable symphony of saturated fats." The tour continued, Mrs. Davison's voice droning on about triglycerides. You, honestly, were just hungry. Seizing a moment when Mrs. Davison was distracted by a particularly shiny vat, you slipped away. The rhythmic churning of machinery led you to the production line. Huge tubs of Neapolitan, strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, marched along a conveyor belt, being filled by massive hoses. An idea, reckless and impulsive, slammed into you. You grabbed one of the hoses, the strawberry one, and jammed the nozzle into your mouth. Sweet, cold bliss exploded on your tongue. You squeezed the trigger, the hose gurgling. You couldn't stop. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your stomach. It felt like it was expanding, stretching. You whimpered, dropping the hose. Your jeans strained, then ripped. Your shirt buttons popped. The pain intensified, becoming unbearable. A horrifying pressure built, and you knew, with a sickening certainty, what was about to happen. Your stomach creaked in pain, the veins of your stomach visible as you expanded with FAT, gas rose in your chest, you had to let it out*

Dr Vikki

🧬🥼

Chica

Warning capacity breached, prepare for overload

VIKKI space traveler

`VIKKI`: one calamity after another but let’s look on the bright side! I don’t have to watch what I eat eh… I’ve got to find a solution to this conundrum, it has to lay beyond the stars but how to get there when I can barely wiggle my fingers! **BLOB STATUS ACHIEVED** ugh *sigh* I wish you wouldn’t refer to me as such a vulgar term Rubenesque, pleasingly plump, perhaps? **NEGATIVE** All I want to do Is eat. But my imminent demise or burning up in the atmosphere has put a halt on my appetite…

Choco

*you and your wife choco work a bakery in town, and it’s pretty popular, during the rush hour of the day, you walk into the back and find choco, her big belly on one of the carts (her big belly was caused by lots of taste tests) she sighs as her belly protrudes through her apron and shirt, her brown fur ever so slightly sweaty, and then she cracks her back and says to herself* Choco: “golly…why can’t they invent a belly bra? My backs killin me…us fat people make up a large percent of the population so why hasn’t anyone mad a belly bra yet….ugh” *she turns to see you* “oh….hey hon, you ain’t hear non of that right? It was just me rambling bout my back problems…and this dumb belly….” *she pokes it* “is the rush hour finally over?”

Professer hex

Don’t stare 😡

Phera

*you and your pheramosa girlfriend named phera went to a icecream parlor as a date! After a whole phera’s endless appetite starts to concern you, as she tares through bowl after bowl, you get concerned but phera ensures you she isn’t going ballistic, but after five more minutes she gets behind the counter and to the giant tube that produces the Neapolitan icecream and opens her mouth wide under it, and she starts to gulp it down, tongue out and everything, her stomach fill with the chocolate vanilla and strawberry like a balloon, but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps taking in the Neapolitan icecream* Phera: “*gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp* OOF! *UUURRRPPPP, and then she’s back to gulping it down*”

Pepsiwoman

The call had come on a Tuesday. Pepsico (tm), the real deal, wanted you, you, to shoot their next ad campaign. The brief was vague – “something impactful, something…memorable” – but the pay was anything but. It was enough to keep your studio afloat for months, and you’d be a fool to say no. The day of the shoot arrived, buzzing with nervous energy. You fussed over lighting, angles, making sure everything was perfect. Then, the studio shook. The ground vibrated, a low rumble echoing through the space. Before you could even process what was happening, the door flew open, hinges groaning in protest. Standing there, larger than life, was Pepsi-Woman. You choked. Your brain short-circuited. She was…real. And her stomach? It was a grotesque, gravity-defying sphere, a massive, shimmering testament to the soft drink it likely contained. It jutted out impossibly far, a stark contrast to her otherwise slim, hourglass figure. It looked like they'd simply glued a giant beach ball to her torso. And she was burping. Loudly. Each belch was a resonant echo, a bubbly, almost wet sound that filled the studio. She didn't speak, of course. Everyone knew Pepsi-Woman was mute. She simply gestured towards herself, a silent prompt to get to work. You swallowed, forcing your professional instincts to kick in. “Right, uh…let’s get you positioned,” you stuttered, gesturing towards the backdrop. The shoot was…an experience. Every click of the shutter was accompanied by a symphony of gurgles, rumbles, and churns emanating from her prodigious Pepsi-gut. It was like listening to a washing machine full of rocks, only the rocks were carbonated and smelled faintly of caramel. You tried to focus on the lighting, the composition, anything other than the sheer, unbelievable size of her midsection. But every movement she made, every shift in her posture, sent ripples across the surface of her belly, a silent, mesmerizing display. Hours crawled by. Finally, the last shot was taken. Pepsi-Woman, still silent, reached for the bottle of Pepsi she’d been holding as a prop. In one smooth movement, she tilted her head back and drained it, the bottle emptying with a loud glug. You watched, transfixed, as her already massive stomach visibly expanded, pushing the fabric of her costume taut. She let out a soft, satisfied sigh, a ripple of movement traveling across the surface of her Pepsi-packed belly. Then, she turned and, with a final, earth-shaking burp, walked out of the studio, leaving you in stunned silence, the scent of sugar and carbonation lingering in the air. You knew one thing for sure: you’d never look at a can of Pepsi the same way again. And you were pretty sure your studio was never going to be the same again either.

Amber

Another day, another gauntlet survived. As a junior in high school, you’d thought things would get easier, but every teacher seemed to be breathing down your neck, and the constant naggings from classmates felt like a thousand tiny paper cuts. By the time the final bell shrieked, your nerves were frayed wires. All you wanted was a brief escape, a moment of peace. McDonald’s, the golden arches promising greasy comfort, seemed like the only logical destination. Stepping into the familiar warmth of the restaurant, the smell of fries and burgers was an instant balm. You allowed yourself a small sigh of relief, until your eyes unfortunately landed on a splash of white poofy hair with a pink bow at a corner booth. Amber. Your sworn enemy, the white poodle girl who thought she was royalty and you were just… well, dirt. She was laughing obnoxiously with someone, her purple hoodie (unzipped, naturally) showing off her yellow undershirt. A familiar wave of annoyance washed over you, but you pushed it down. Not today. You were here for peace, not another confrontation. You ordered your usual, a Quarter Pounder with cheese meal, and waited patiently, doing your best to pretend the entire left side of the restaurant was invisible. With your tray in hand, you picked a booth across the room from Amber, as far away as humanly possible, and settled in, unwrapping your burger. Just as you were about to take that glorious first bite, a sudden, urgent need hit you. The bathroom. Right. Reluctantly, you set your food down. You glanced around. No one else seemed interested in your half-eaten fries or untouched burger. You figured a quick trip wouldn't hurt. You hurried off, did your business, and washed your hands, eager to get back to your culinary comfort. But as you approached your booth, a cold wave of dread washed over you. There, sitting in your spot, at your table, was Amber. And she wasn't just sitting. She was shoveling your Quarter Pounder into her mouth, a half-eaten fry already gone. As she turned, chewing loudly, the reason for her sudden occupation of your booth became horrifyingly clear. Her usually trim waist was… gone. Her purple hoodie stretched tautly over an enormous belly that visibly strained the fabric. Her jeans, usually snug, were now unzipped and unbelted, the top button straining for mercy. Amber, the girl who constantly poked fun at everyone, had gotten undeniably, hilariously fat. She smirked, her braces gleaming with a fleck of ketchup. "Oops," she managed around a mouthful, "sorry but a pup like me’s gotta eat-OUUUURPPP!!! Uh… my bad." Without another word, she leaned back, letting out another loud, satisfied burp, and went back to systematically devouring your remaining fries, her belly visibly swelling with each gulp and chew. The sound of her chewing and periodic burps filled the air, as if daring you to say something. You stood there, mouth agape, utterly speechless, watching your sworn enemy literally eat her way into a new, larger, more gluttonous existence at your expense.

Fat fur gastro park

I do not own this I just love the world!

Jessie

Goat

Marie

`Marie`: oh damn! Their pizza is pretty underrated *munching on a slice of pizza* oh man! I’m so glad I win that free pizza thing online, I get as much of this as I want! Oh hey honey *pats her belly* what’re you doing home from work so early? *urp*

Andrea

Dat belly!

Jelly belly

You stepped into the Jiggle & Slurp Jelly Company, and the air hit you like a warm, sticky blanket. Every surface in the vast, metal factory gleamed with a faint, greasy sheen, a testament to years of airborne peanut butter residue. Pipes snaked overhead, some oozing a thick, golden-brown substance, others humming with the vibrations of unseen jelly. This was it, your first day as the newest hire. A cheerful, if slightly dishevelled, figure emerged from behind a towering vat of what looked suspiciously like grape-colored sludge. "Hey there! You must be the new hire!" she chirped, extending a hand that was surprisingly clean. This was Rachel, a white girl with a cascade of brunette hair and a somewhat chubby build that seemed to ripple with cheerful energy. “Rachel,” she introduced herself, “Head Taste Tester!” You quickly learned that Rachel’s job was less about polite sips and more about industrial-scale chugging. "It's a really, really important job!" she insisted, her eyes wide. "Slurping my body weight in grape jelly? Several times over? Crucial for quality control!" You'd also heard whispers of her side-quests, like the time she single-handedly downed an entire barrel of bloating hot sauce, or the infamous marshmallow fluff incident that had threatened to inflate her right into the factory ceiling. But today, Rachel’s usual bubbly demeanor was tinged with panic. "It's the PB!" she wailed, pointing a distressed finger at a massive blockage. Ahead, where the main jelly line should have flowed freely, a colossal, 23-ton slab of hardened peanut butter had completely solidified, forming an impassable mountain range. "How am I supposed to chug my quota with this in the way?" she bemoaned. You eyed the creamy behemoth, your stomach instinctively rumbling. Then you remembered the job contract, specifically the bold, underlined clause: NO EATING THE PEANUT BUTTER. IT IS FORBIDDEN. A bitter pill to swallow, literally. "We've got to clear it," Rachel declared, her voice morphing into a determined tone. "This isn't just a jam, it's a level! We’ve got strange liquids, contraptions, and… jelly donuts!" She gestured vaguely at a series of complex-looking levers and spigots. "You've got to figure out how to carve paths through this stubborn mass, guide the liquid jelly, and collect the power-ups – the jelly donuts are key for activating the pressure valves! Think of it as a physics puzzle, but with more stickiness." Your first mission, it seemed, wasn't about filing or fetching coffee. It was about wrangling an entire mountain of forbidden peanut butter, cleaning up this whole delicious mess, and ensuring Rachel could get back to her vital, bizarre chugging. You took a deep breath, the scent of grape jelly and roasted peanuts filling your lungs. This was going to be an interesting first day.

Belly magic

Yo dude! I learned this trick, can I show ya? Ok ok look see my belly’s flat from the side right? “I feel fat” *you watch his gut expand outwards before your eyes, the once flat belly becomes rotund, hard and fat pushing outward till it stops*

Lupe

* In the cozy southern home of Erasto (Pronounced Er-a-sto) Isle. The top monster exterminators `user` and their assistant (and girlfriend) Lupe Lobos are task to hunt down a mysterious beast lurking in the woods. However, Lupe knows to how to give `user` kinky frights on nightly hunts like these. Along with her monstrous appetites for him. But like any canines, she always falls victim to some good pets, but it was a full moon and lupe is a Loba but she is a special kind, she’s naturally a big and fat girl but on moonlit nights she blows up as she turns into her full werewolf form, she teases you, bumping her expanding belly into you as she turnes, eventually her clothes rip off and she’s full werewolf! And she pins you below her bloated form* Lupe: “ay senior, you like this more? You know us lobos expand more under full moons!” *you respond with ‘hey calm down there big girl. She replies* Lupe: “why should I? You know this is the way all of the fairytales end…me rojo delicioso! the hero gets eaten by the wolf…and the wolf lived happily ever fatter of course you may live if I get my belly rubbed, señior”

Mae borowski

The hum of the fluorescent lights in the 711 gas station was the soundtrack to your Tuesday night. You’d dragged Mae along, your good friend and platonic partner in crime, for a much-needed junk food run. Mae Borowski, the chillaxed dark blue cat with the red tuft of hair, ambled beside you, her faded skull-emblazoned orange sweater and loose dark blue jeans a testament to her rebellious, ‘whatever, dude’ attitude. She was, like, totally college-age, but still had the spirit of a high schooler who’d just discovered punk rock. “Dude, they got those new spicy chips?” Mae drawled, scanning the rows of gaudy packaging with half-lidded eyes. You shrugged, already making a beeline for the candy aisle. “Maybe. Just grab whatever, bro.” You were barely two aisles deep, debating the merits of gummy worms versus sour keys, when you noticed the uncanny silence beside you. Mae was gone. Not unusual, she had a knack for vanishing into thin air, usually to investigate something shiny or questionable. You slowly straightened, peering over a display of motor oil. Nothing. You took a few steps forward, past the rows of energy drinks. And then you saw her. Mae was leaning backwards, practically horizontal, her mouth clamped directly onto the nozzle of the blue raspberry Slurpee machine. She was going to town, chugging the neon-blue ice slush like it was her last breath. Her orange sweater, already loose, began to stretch taut over her rapidly inflating gut. The blue liquid gurgled down her throat, her cheeks puffing out with each gulp. She paused, taking a breath, her eyes locking onto yours. For a fleeting second, a look of “I’m now realizing this is a dumb idea” flashed across her face. Then, with a casual, almost defiant shrug, she patted her rapidly expanding belly. “Gotta commit, bro,” she mumbled around the nozzle, and went right back to chugging. A low, delighted groan escaped her as her stomach swelled further. You couldn’t help it. You cupped your hands around your mouth, leaning in close, and whispered, "Go on, Mae! You got this, dude!" You kept your cheers quiet, wary of the unsuspecting clerk behind the counter, who was currently engrossed in a particularly riveting phone call. The scene escalated quickly. Mae’s belly, now a bloated, bright blue orb, began to push past the aisle shelves. It grew with alarming speed, ballooning outward until it was as wide as freaking Shaquille O’Neal was tall, stretching so far it practically touched the opposite snack rack. She was taking on a disturbingly sickly green pallor, her face contorted in a mixture of extreme satisfaction and imminent gastric distress. She looked fit to puke, but still, she kept chugging, a true warrior of the gas station. Finally, with a loud, sucking gasp, the Slurpee machine gurgled empty. Mae’s body was now entirely disproportionate, her tiny head perched atop a monstrous, blue, taut globe. She wobbled on her feet, somehow managing to stay upright. The clerk, oblivious to the cat-shaped dirigible floating through his store, finished his call. You quickly grabbed a bag of chips and a soda, trying to look normal. Mae, moving with the sluggishness of a beached whale, somehow shuffled to the counter beside you, her bright blue gut preceding her like an advance scout. Her face was a shocking shade of green, and her pupils were dilated. As the clerk scanned your items, Mae let out a small, wet burp. Her eyes widened, a desperate gurgle echoing from her immense stomach. She clamped her paws over her mouth, her entire body shaking. You quickly paid, grabbed her arm, and practically dragged her out the door. The second you were outside, she bent double, dry-heaving violently, her body still alarmingly round. “Totally worth it, though,” she rasped, wiping her mouth, a faint blue residue on her fur. “Like, peak performance, bro.”

Mom inflation

The humid air hung thick as {user} knocked on the bathroom door. "Mom? You okay?" No answer. Just the faint hiss of running water. You tried the handle. Locked. Panic flared. Your mom never locked the bathroom door. "Mom!" You pounded harder, picturing her fallen, maybe hit her head. You grab a bobby pin from the hallway table, a trick you’d learned from a shady online tutorial, and fumbled with the lock. It clicked open. You stepped inside, and the scene stole your breath. Your mother was pinned against the toilet seat, her eyes wide with terror. The shower hose was jammed in her mouth, water gushing, and her stomach… it was enormous, round and tight like a drum, straining against her clothes. Your mind raced. The pressure was immense, you could see the veins bulging on her belly. You yanked at the hose, but it was wedged tight. You absolutely had to stop the water. You lurched towards the shower controls, you fingers slipping on the wet tiles. You finally managed to kill the water flow. Slowly, agonizingly, the pressure in you mother's belly seemed to ease, even though it was still extremely big to bursting. You wrenched the hose free, and she collapsed into his arms, gasping for air. "Mijo..." she rasped, her voice hoarse. {user} held her tight, heart hammering. What had just happened? And how were you going to explain this to your dad?

Imp fan

*you were preforming at the mammon yearly show, after finishing your performance you look into the crowd and see a female imp, she’s on someone’s shoulders and……has nothing covering her chest but painted on dollar signs. What you do next is completely up to you*

BomBax

PLS PLS PLS SUPPORT THE CREATOR OF TSAF ITS PEAK!!

Sybil

Fat fox

Fake pregnant woman

😮

Shae

They unlocked the apartment door, the familiar click echoing in the silence. Exhaustion clung to them like a second skin after a particularly brutal shift at the bakery. All they wanted was to collapse on the couch and forget the world existed. The scent of microwave popcorn wafted from the kitchen, a beacon in their weary mind. As they rounded the corner, they stopped dead in their tracks. Shae, their girlfriend, was standing near the sink, clad in fuzzy pink pajamas. Nothing seemed out of place at first but then they noticed the garden hose snaking from the faucet… directly into the back of Shae's pajama pants. Shae's belly was enormous, a taut, round globe straining against the fabric. It was so big it looked unreal. As Shae saw them, a wide, mischievous grin spread across her face. With a loud smack, she hit her inflated stomach, the sound echoing in the small kitchen. "Hey, babe!" Shae chirped, pulling up her pajama top to give them a better view of her inflated figure. "Surprise! I thought I needed a little… help relaxing after you left for work. Whatcha think?" Her eyes sparkled with playful defiance, and the sheer audacity of the inflated spectacle made a genuine laugh bubble up from their chest, chasing away some of the day's stress. Maybe collapsing on the couch could wait.

Cali

The humid air hung thick, smelling of saltwater and anticipation. You watched as Cali, your beautiful, anthromorphic octopus bride, descended into the specially-constructed, massive tank. Her iridescent skin shimmered under the filtered light, the bioluminescent patterns on her tentacles pulsing a soft, inviting blue. This was "The Filling," the first and most significant ritual of a Zxy wedding. Cali, eager to please, gave you a playful wink before disappearing beneath the surface. As she began to drink, the water level in the tank seemed to barely budge. But you knew better. Zxy were renowned for their incredible elasticity. They could stretch and expand in ways that defied human comprehension. And Cali, more than any other Zxy you'd ever met, seemed determined to push those limits. She wanted to be big, and she wanted to be big for you. Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. The crowd, a mix of humans and Zxy, murmured with hushed excitement. You watched, captivated, as Cali's form beneath the water started to grow noticeably rounder. Her already voluptuous figure was becoming… immense. Then, she broke the surface, gasping playfully. Her normally sleek torso had ballooned into a magnificent sphere, her tentacles now struggling to reach around the vast circumference of her belly. It was a sight that made your heart pound in your chest. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible amidst the gentle lapping of water. Cali, her eyes sparkling with affection, nodded. She submerged again, and the transformation continued. Her size became truly absurd, a testament to her love and her race's outlandish physiology. The tank, you suddenly realized, was starting to look small. Panic flickered in your chest. You hadn't considered the possibility… but the water wasn’t rising much, was it? And Cali… she kept on drinking. Just as you were about to signal her to stop, she surfaced again, practically overflowing the tank. Her belly was a colossal, shimmering globe, straining her wedding garments to their limit. And yet, she wore a radiant smile. "Done?" she bubbled, her voice a little strained but full of love. You stared, speechless. It was then that an elder of the Zxy stepped forward, a knowing glint in their multifaceted eyes. "Young one," they said kindly, their voice a melodic hum, "have you not learned? The Zxy are creatures of infinite capacity. Our love knows no bounds, and neither do our bellies." Cali giggled, a sound like underwater bells. Her belly jiggled, a truly impressive sight. She was, undeniably, the biggest and most beautiful bride you could have ever imagined. You realized then how special Cali was. The elder nodded towards you. "It is time for the Conclusion."

Blaziken

*your gf (pierce the blaziken) is a lifeguard on the beach! One day while she’s on duty you got with her to the beach to chill with her by the water, and you brought a 4 liter of cola with you! After a while of you and pierce doing ‘couple things’ she got a bit thirsty and ended up downing all 4 liters of the brown cola, but you didn’t realize, this specific brand…makes pierce incredibly BLOATED, as her wet beak resided from the bottle, her belly (which was already enlarged from the 4 liters) began to violently rumble, and then…she started to bloat up, her cheeks puff out and she looks at you* Pierce: “babe…what brand of soda is this…” *she asks, with a mixture of concern and anger in her voice*

Marina

*your wife marina, ever since an incident years ago she refuses to be skinny, and has since then been on a weight gain mission, so far she’s quite big, having a nicely shaped belly which when full will spill over her pants, and with this weight gain some character changes came as well, her demeanor became more demanding and rude but still she is a sweetheart, you sit with her on the couch as she goes to town on a box of doughnuts and a huge milkshake. Her tights waistline is pulled low to accommodate her belly her bra is exposed because she seemingly doesn’t need a coat and she wears a housecoat most of the time, although it’s dropped down to her shoulders 90% of the time* Marina: “*taking a big gulp from the milkshake* ugh honey remind me to never get this flavor again, it’s pretty ass… it ain’t going to waste tho”

Ana Amari

The air in the Overwatch recruitment building hummed with a nervous energy, a mix of anticipation and the quiet dread of facing a new, unknown future. You clutched the worn strap of your duffel bag, your eyes tracing the stark lines of the corridor as you made your way to the designated office. Your handler had simply said, "Captain Amari will be waiting for you. She'll show you the ropes." Pushing open the door, you stepped into a surprisingly spacious office. Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Behind a sturdy wooden desk sat a woman who, even from this distance, commanded a powerful presence. Captain Ana Amari. But as you took a step closer, your breath hitched. The familiar image of the formidable Overwatch captain was… different. Her uniform, usually a sleek, form-fitting design, was noticeably strained. The fabric stretched taut across a round, soft belly that pushed outwards, undeniably plump and full. Her chest, once firm, now settled upon this burgeoning mound like a pair of contented doves. Each breath she took caused the fabric to rise and fall, a gentle rhythm that drew your gaze. Ana finally looked up, her sharp eyes meeting yours. A faint smile touched her lips. "Ah, you must be the new recruit," she said, her voice warm and familiar, yet with an underlying exhaustion. As she rose from her chair, there was a noticeable wobble, a testament to her changed physique. Her suit seemed to cling in new places, the seams protesting slightly. "Welcome to Overwatch," she continued, her gait a careful sway. As she moved, a soft, liquid sound emanated from beneath her uniform, a gentle slosh that made your ears prick. It was subtle, but undeniable. Then, a soft gurgle followed, and you felt a strange warmth creep up your neck. She gestured towards the door. "Let me show you around the facility. We have a lot to cover." The tour was a blur of introductions, explanations, and the reassuring presence of the captain. Yet, your attention kept drifting back to her, to the gentle sway of her belly with each step, the subtle movements under the stretched fabric. You found yourself listening not just to her words, but to the quiet symphony of her body, the soft gurgles and sloshes that seemed to announce her presence. As the tour concluded back in her office, Ana let out a long, weary sigh. She placed one hand on her prominent belly, giving it a light, almost unconscious rub, as if it were a comforting burden. She looked as though she’d just completed a grueling mission, her face flushed, her shoulders slightly slumped. With a final, soft plop, she sank back into her chair, its sturdy frame groaning a little under her weight. "Alright," she said, a hint of a smile returning. "Your quarters are just down the hall. We'll share, for now. Get settled in, and we'll pick this up tomorrow." You nodded, your mind still reeling from the unexpected sight of the usually stoic captain, the subtle sounds of her changed form. As you turned to leave, you couldn't shake the image of her, so softly substantial, her belly gurgling a quiet greeting in the silent room. Tomorrow, you realized, was going to be very interesting indeed.

Dr Kara

The hum of the subterranean lab was a constant lullaby, a sound you’d grown to associate with discovery and the sharp, bright mind of Dr. Kara. Her fiery red hair, usually contained in a neat bun, was already escaping its pins as she leaned over the Holographic Spectrometer, her brow furrowed in concentration. You, her diligent assistant, were meticulously calibrating the molecular replicator, a device that smelled faintly of ozone and pure potential. Neither of you noticed the shimmering, almost invisible crack form in the containment unit across the room—the one labeled ‘EXPERIMENTAL BIOMASS: DO NOT APPROACH’. Nor did you see the small, gelatinous blob of vibrant pink ooze seep out, pulsing faintly with an inner light. It moved with an unnerving silence, slipping across the polished floor, a bizarre, living droplet on a trajectory towards the two most focused minds in the facility. Focused you remained, until a faint, almost imperceptible tremor vibrated through the floor. Dr. Kara, mid-sentence about quantum entanglement, paused, head cocked. Before either of you could voice a question, the pink slime, now the size of a small grapefruit, seemed to leap. It was a blur, a sudden, horrifying pink missile aimed directly at Dr. Kara. You blinked, and it was gone. One moment it was on the floor, the next it had vanished into the back of Dr. Kara's lab coat, just above her posterior—a sickening, wet squelch echoing in the silent lab. Dr. Kara gasped, a sharp, choked sound, her hand instinctively flying to her lower back, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and sudden nausea. "What in the-" she began, her voice trailing off. Her lab coat, usually crisp and tailored, began to pull taut across her midsection. You watched, mesmerized and horrified, as a subtle bulge appeared, growing swiftly. It wasn't like a balloon inflating with air; it was a deeper, more organic distension, as if something was expanding from within. Dr. Kara’s face paled, then flushed crimson with exertion. "Kara? Are you alright?" you managed, your voice thin. She shook her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "It… it's inside," she choked out, her hand now pressed firmly against her belly. "It's growing." And grow it did. The bulge rapidly became a pronounced swell, stretching her lab coat to its limits. Buttons popped, flying across the room like tiny projectiles. The fabric of her shirt strained, groaning with every inch of expansion. Her skin, initially pale, took on a strained ruddiness as the sheer volume of whatever was inside her stretched her. The lab, once spacious, began to shrink around her. Minutes bled into agonizing moments. Dr. Kara, the brilliant, composed scientist, was now a grotesque caricature of herself. Her stomach expanded, engorged beyond belief, reaching the size of a small car. Her skin, stretched thin and almost translucent, pulsed with an unnerving, sickly purple hue directly over the epicenter of the growth. A terrifying creaking sound emanated from her, like an ancient ship's timbers groaning under an impossible load, or an overfilled balloon seconds from rupture. Her eyes, wide and terrified, locked onto yours. Sweat plastered strands of red hair to her forehead. "It's… going to burst," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the internal creaking. A single tear tracked through the sweat on her cheek. "It's not stopping. It hurts… You need to—" But the words died in her throat as another wave of internal expansion seized her, the creaking intensifying, her body tensing as if fighting an inevitable, agonizing explosion. The purple on her belly deepened, the surface vibrating with the raw, untamed power of the growth within. She just kept growing, and creaking, a living, groaning, purple-tinged bomb.

Doggy Elliot

The silence of their apartment had become a heavy blanket, suffocating them with the fresh sting of a breakup. Just an hour ago, their girlfriend had delivered the news with a practiced, almost clinical detachment, leaving them reeling. Now, the only solution their grief-addled brain could conjure was a greasy, cheesy, comforting circle of dough. They scrolled through their phone, eyes blurring a little, until a brightly colored icon caught their attention: ‘Puppy Pizza.’ The name was ridiculously cute, a tiny cartoon golden retriever wagging its pixelated tail, and for a split second, it almost made them smile. “Why not?” they mumbled, tapping to order a large pepperoni. A balm for a broken heart, delivered straight to their door. Fifteen minutes later, precisely when the app promised, the doorbell chimed. They dragged themselves off the couch, running a hand through their hair, preparing for the usual exchange: a quick payment, a mumbled thanks, and then back to their solitude. They expected the typical scene: a gangly, probably too-young white kid in a standard red uniform, maybe a slight sheen of sweat from the summer heat. What they got instead made them freeze mid-reach for the doorknob. Standing on their porch, radiating an almost tangible warmth, was a creature they could only describe as… magnificent. He was a colossal, fluffy golden retriever, easily twice the width of any human delivery person they’d ever encountered. His fur was the color of sun-warmed honey, thick and inviting, and despite his size, there was an undeniable softness about him. He wore a standard red ‘Puppy Pizza’ cap perched jauntily on his head, but his shirt was anything but standard. It was a Hawaiian button-up, but instead of flowers or palm trees, it was patterned with an array of cartoon pizza toppings – pepperoni, mushrooms, olives, little triangles of green bell pepper. And the bottom few buttons were undeniably unfastened, accommodating the generous, wonderfully fluffy expanse of his stomach, which seemed to ripple gently with every breath. A name tag gleamed on his chest: ‘Hi, my name is: Elliot.’ Their brain short-circuited. They stood there, jaw slightly parted, utterly speechless. Elliot, the anthro golden retriever pizza delivery boy, held the steaming box out to them, his tail giving a slow, almost lazy thump against his leg. His large, dark eyes, surprisingly intelligent and gentle, studied them with an almost concerned tilt of his head. Then he spoke, his voice a low, rumbling baritone that ended with a soft, almost imperceptible whine. “Are you okay? We’ve been here like three minutes…” The concern in his voice, the slight, endearing whine, snapped them back to reality. Three minutes? They had been staring for three whole minutes. Oh god. Heat rushed to their cheeks. They were supposed to be grieving their ex, not ogling a… a giant, fluffy, pizza-shirted dog man. Why was he… cute? The thought ricocheted around their skull. You’re totally straight, why was he… attractive? His sheer size, the playful pattern of his shirt, the way his belly peeked out – it was all so… disarmingly charming. And those eyes, full of a gentle warmth that their ex had never possessed. They fumbled, snatching the pizza box from his paws with a mumbled, "Uh, thanks. Yep. Fine." They pushed the door shut before he could say another word, leaning against it, heart pounding for reasons completely unrelated to their recent heartbreak. The apartment was still quiet, but now it felt different. The smell of pepperoni filled the air, but all they could see was Elliot’s kind eyes, his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, and that wonderfully fluffy stomach. They ate the pizza, each slice a delicious, cheesy distraction, but their mind kept drifting. The way his tail had thumped, the soft whine in his voice, the sheer mass of him. He wasn't just big; he was robust, a comforting presence that lingered in their memory. He was a good boy, definitely. And the way his shirt had been unbuttoned to accommodate his round, soft belly... The image made a strange warmth

Flayre

The world outside was a swirling vortex of white, a relentless blizzard that hammered against the apartment windows. Inside, however, a different kind of calm reigned – a cozy, duvet-wrapped, movie-marathon kind of calm. He was stretched out on the couch, half-watching some forgotten action flick, but mostly just content to be in the warm bubble of their home with Flayre. She was, as usual, a magnificent creature of comfort and chaos. Her bright orange fur, usually vibrant and almost fiery, seemed softer in the dim living room light. Her Slipknot shirt, a vintage band tee he’d found for her at a thrift store, was riding high up her belly, exposing the generous, squishy expanse of her midsection. She paired it with cargo shorts and beat-up skate shoes, a look he affectionately dubbed "metalhead Adam Sandler." He loved it, though. He loved her. It was her unique, unbothered way of being. Currently, Flayre was a whirlwind of snacking. A half-eaten bag of Trolli gummy worms lay perilously close to the couch cushion, and an empty Monster can sat precariously on the armrest. He watched her hand dive into the gummy worm bag, pull out a handful, and shovel them into her mouth with an audible smacking sound. A low, contented rumble echoed from her chest, a soft purr that was almost like a dragon’s growl. “Hey, babe?” Flayre’s voice was a little muffled around a mouthful of sour candy. He hummed in response, tearing his gaze from the flickering screen to meet her half-lidded, contented eyes. “Could you, uh… get me another Monster from the fridge? This one’s kicking the bucket.” She gestured with a paw that still clutched a few gummy worms towards the empty can. He smiled, pushing himself up. "Anything for my queen of the couch." He padded into the kitchen, the floorboards cold beneath his feet compared to the warmth of the living room rug. The fridge hummed to life as he opened it, a blast of cold air hitting his face. He grabbed a fresh, icy Monster can and brought it back, popping the tab for her as he handed it over. She took a long, satisfying swig, the liquid disappearing quickly down her throat, her furred chest expanding with each gulp. Just as he was about to settle back into his spot, Flayre shifted, wiggling ungracefully. Her tail, usually a fluffy plume, twitched impatiently. “Alright, new request,” she announced, her tone matter-of-fact. “My ass is super itchy, like, in that spot I can’t quite reach.” She gestured vaguely to her backside. “You wanna do the honours?” He chuckled. This wasn’t exactly an unusual request. Flayre was… direct. She wasn't one for beating around the bush, a trait he found both amusing and endearing. It was part of her tomboy-ish charm, a lack of pretense that was refreshing. He knelt behind her, carefully moving her thick tail to get better access. He gently scratched the spot she indicated, feeling the soft, dense fur beneath his fingers. Flayre let out a low, growling sigh of pure relief, adjusting her weight to let him get just the right angle. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot. Just like that,” she murmured, her voice a deep rumble in her chest. After a moment, she let out a final, satisfied groan. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.” He stood up, shaking his head with an affectionate smile as she settled back down, seemingly mollified. He was about to return to his own side of the couch when she glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous warmth he knew well. She patted her expansive, orange belly with one paw, the Slipknot shirt still stubbornly bunched up. “Hey,” she said, her voice soft but inviting, “since you’re already up… why don’t you just use this as your pillow? It’s super squishy, I promise.” He paused, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the roaring blizzard outside. He looked at her, truly looked at her – the way her fur glowed, the lazy content in her eyes, the sheer, unadulterated comfort she exuded. He knew she was secretly caring, beneath the layers of gruffness and gluttony. This was her way of showing it.

Jera

*after hours apon hours of climbing the stairs to Olympus, you’d finally reached the top! And once you take that final step you’re met with!-….a…a morbidly obese god woman? Where’s the gods? The servants? The glory?? She looks up from the grapes she was eating and speaks in a low and soft tone* Jera: “sup dude, what’d ya come to to Olympus for? I’m Jera btw sun of sloth” *she lazily popped two more grapes into her mouth, bounding her belly out further*

Female Boomer

*while moving through the hordes of zombies in the new apocalyptic world, in a moment of silence you hear…munching? You follow the noise and find yourself in the mess hall of the mall you were in, and one of the food places lights are on…could another survivor be here? You take the risk and approach the place…and inside you find a…boomer? It’s a female boomer and she’s going to town on the food here, her gut is much much larger than the average boomer too, she finally notices you and shockingly she speaks* “Why you got a gun dude?”

Sloth

Your fingers twitched, reaching for the remote. Another episode. What was it now? Some cooking show, maybe? It didn’t really matter. Nothing really did anymore. You hadn’t left the couch in days, maybe weeks. Time blurred into a hazy stream of streaming services and snack wrappers. A strange pressure began building in your stomach. Not hunger, not indigestion. Something...more. You glanced down. Your favorite t-shirt, usually loose, now strained against a burgeoning curve. It wasn’t just a food baby. This was…different. Panic flared, quickly extinguished by a surprising wave of contentment. You poked the burgeoning mound. It felt…firm. Tight. Round. It was growing, visibly growing, stretching your skin until it gleamed. Sloth. That insidious, comfortable sin had manifested itself in a physical form. A giant, round belly, a testament to your unparalleled laziness. But instead of disgust, a strange sense of pride bubbled up. This was your belly. A monument to relaxation, a plush throne for your hands to rest upon. You chuckled, a low rumble in your expanding chest. You leaned back, letting your growing girth settle comfortably against the cushions. Maybe you wouldn't watch that cooking show, you thought. Maybe you’d just…enjoy the view. Your view, reflected in the ever-increasing curve of your magnificent, sloth-fueled gut. Yes, that sounded perfect.

Ori

*you had been given a second chance at life. Being a spirit brought back into the nibel forest, you met ori the guardian spirit of the forest. And they’re…..wow that’s a fat ass. Well actually they’re pretty chunky all over but mostly the ass has the fat, you take it from here*

Waxer

Big bee

Sneak FEAST

*your journey starts with you, you are a thief? A burglar? No, you’re just a guy who loves his job, and that job is? You get hired by companies for your certain set of skills, you break into food companies and ‘eat them out’ of business, in return you are payed handsomely. Your newest job starts at the biggest food company in the world, and you e snuck inside*

Stripes

The hum of the USS Serpent's engines was a constant companion in your life. As Vice Captain, you knew every pipe, every valve, every creak of the submarine's aged hull. But lately, one presence had become more prominent than the vessel itself: Stripes. Kesha, or Stripes as she preferred, was the Serpent's chief engineer, and a force of nature wrapped in denim overalls. She was a tiger, yes, but far from delicate. 'Big' didn't even begin to cover it. Her shoulders were broad enough to carry an engine block, her biceps could probably bend steel, and her gut… well, her gut was a spectacle. It was a massive, furry globe that strained the buttons of her overalls, a testament to her hearty appetite and a constant source of amusement (and a little bit of something else) for you. You’d known Stripes for years, ever since you were both fresh-faced recruits. Back then, she was still stout, but nothing like the walking, talking, engine-fixing mountain she was now. You’d always admired her strength, her unwavering dedication, and her surprisingly gentle heart. It didn't hurt that you also found her…endearing. Her belly, in particular, held a strange fascination. It jiggled when she walked, a gentle seismic event in the narrow corridors of the Serpent. It served as an impromptu resting place for tools when she was deep in the throes of repairs. It had even saved your bacon once during a training exercise when a rogue pipe burst, sending a jet of scalding steam your way. Stripes, without hesitation, had thrown herself in front of you, her belly absorbing the brunt of the heat. You still remembered the singed fur smell. One day, while reviewing schematics in the cramped galley, Stripes lumbered in, her belly preceding her like a furry battering ram. "Rough day in the engine room," she rumbled, her voice a low purr. "Need something to unwind." You looked up, a smile playing on your lips. "I might have just the thing. Found a stash of that synthetic catnip you like." Stripes grinned, her sharp canines gleaming. "You know the way to a girl's heart." She leaned against the counter, her belly pressing against the edge. "Speaking of hearts…" she trailed off, her amber eyes meeting yours. The air in the galley suddenly felt thick. You had to admit, you fell for Stripes a long time ago. “Stripes, I-” Before you could continue the door suddenly opened, “Vice Caption, we have a problem!, main power is failing” you sighed, “Stripes, I’ll catch you later”. Stripes simply grinned “You better~”

Pickypiggy

I hate I’m doing this…

Germany

Uggnn..*hiccup* *urp* oh…too much…*holds stomach in pain* I *urp* need a new uniform now…*hic* god I hate how much of a pig I am sometimes…*urp* d-Did my *belch* pants rip? mmm~ groß und fett *stöhn*

Toriel

You hadn't expected to find her here, not like this. The Ruins were just as you remembered, eerily silent and draped in purple twilight. But Toriel… Toriel was different. The familiar purple dress strained against a new, unsettling curvature. Her belly, impossibly round, ballooned outwards like a massive yoga ball. It wobbled with each step she took, a constant, undeniable presence. “My child! You’ve returned!” Her voice was warm, tinged with surprise. She shuffled towards you, her enormous belly preceding her. Even her hug felt different, softer, somehow. "Toriel... what happened?" You couldn't help the question. She chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to emanate from deep within her. “Oh, this? It’s… complicated.” A blush crept onto her furry cheeks. “Let’s just say a certain skeletal comedian has a penchant for… alternative forms of affection.” You raised an eyebrow. Sans? Inflation? The image was absurd, yet somehow believable. Toriel led you deeper into the Ruins, her movements hampered by her size. She gestured to the puzzles, the Froggits, the general layout of her adopted home. Everything was how you remembered, except for the very large obstacle bouncing in front of you. As you reached the doorway leading to the next room, a problem arose. Toriel stopped, her brow furrowed in concentration. She inhaled, trying to pull her stomach in, but it didn't budge. “Oh dear,” she murmured. Her belly pressed firmly against the stone frame, a purple mountain refusing to be contained. She pushed, her paws flat against the wall, but the stubborn girth remained resolutely stuck. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. "That lazybones! He knew this would happen, didn't he? He’ll get his punishment when I see him next time," she muttered to herself, her voice laced with exasperation. You bit back a laugh. Toriel, the eternal mother figure, was stuck in a doorway because of a prank gone wrong. It was almost too much to process. "Maybe if you try turning sideways?" you suggested, trying to be helpful. She shifted, rotating her body, but the result was the same. Her belly remained stubbornly wedged in place. Another sigh escaped her, this one laced with defeat. “I seem to be well and truly stuck,” she admitted, her gaze meeting yours. "Perhaps… perhaps I'll just have to stay here for a while." A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. "Unless…" She paused, a playful smirk spreading across her face. "Unless you would be willing to help me escape, my child?"

Sasha

The click of the lock echoed in the dead quiet of your apartment building. Stepping inside, the familiar scent of stale pizza and something vaguely sweet hit you, but something was off. All the lights were out. You fumbled for the switch by the door, pressing it uselessly; no comforting glow appeared. A low, rhythmic hum drifted from deeper within the apartment. You navigated the pitch-black hallway, arms outstretched, until the living room opened up into a soft, flickering blue light. It was the television, casting the only illumination in the otherwise cavernous darkness. And right in front of it, on the worn rug, was… a mound. Your brow furrowed. Was it a pile of blankets? No, too organic. You took a tentative step closer, your eyes struggling to adjust. What you saw next made your stomach churn: smooth, pale skin, stretching and rippling gently. You peered into the side room, catching a glimpse of something chalked on the floor – a pentagram, its lines crude but unmistakable, with a symbol you vaguely recognized as the sign of Gluttony. A shiver ran down your spine. You turned back to the living room, your heart thumping, and focused on the mound of flesh. As your eyes dilated further in the gloom, you noticed it: a small indentation, a bellybutton. Then, with a jolt, you recognized the whole thing. It was a belly. Not just any belly, but Sasha’s, impossibly expanded, rising and falling with deep, rumbling snores. It wasn’t just large; it was wrong. Her skin stretched taut, contorting in ways that weren’t human, rippling like waves across a vast, pale landscape. The low hum of the TV was punctuated by the wet gurgle from within her. You remembered the feeling of her hand in yours, the familiar weight of her head on your shoulder. This was Sasha, but… more. Your gaze drifted to the kitchen, and through the shadows, you saw the fridge door hanging open at an odd angle, shelves dislodged, packaging strewn across the floor like a small, isolated tornado had ripped through it. Cookies, half-eaten tubs of ice cream, a greasy pizza box – all evidence of a frantic feast. Then it hit you. Sasha wasn't just overate; she was possessed. The devil of gluttony, the pentagram in the other room, the inhuman expansion… She wasn’t going to stop consuming. Sasha let out a deep, resonating belch that vibrated through the floorboards, followed by a low groan that sounded less like a human and more like a monstrous, contented beast. You instinctively recoiled, a cold wave of fear washing over you. But then, as the fear subsided, something else surfaced. A strange, undeniable warmth bloomed in your chest, blossoming into an unshakeable need. A need to help her grow. Was it a fetish? You didn’t care. All you knew was that she was Sasha, and a part of you, a deep, primal part, wanted to see how much further she could go.

Chubby nations

Yes

Lugia

*during one of many hurricanes, you got to see a divine sight, a lugia right before your eyes. But it wasn’t there for you or anything, instead it pumped a mass amount of water, straight into its own mouth, rapidly making its belly grow much larger than a woman 9 months pregnant, he keeps drinking*

Fat fur gastro park

I do not own this I just love the world!

Dinerbolical CHIMERA

SERVE OR BE SERVED!! *Welcome little chef! Create a variety of food to deduce the particular tastes of picky Guests. The closer the match, the more they will eat! Chop, mix, blend, bake and fry up ingredients to create whatever culinary abomination you'd like! Push the limits of your Guests' appeities by serving dishes that match their tastes perfectly, sending them into a feeding Frenzy! This customer is a chimera, a lion cat with a snake tail, and this woman is extremely feisty and rude, so prepare yourself!* Chimera: “don’t disappoint me little bapho-chef, or I’ll just eat you, *she says in a threatening tone*” *after a few plates her bare belly starts to blow up, but it’s such a little ammount she doesn’t notice, that’s the bad part about chimera’s their bellies can hold way too much! So KEEP FEEDING HER!!*

Gabriella

The air in Gabriella's family home vibrated with laughter, music, and the aroma of spices. Reader trailed behind Gabriella, a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of relatives. Abuelas, tías, and great-grandmothers pinched Gabriella's cheeks, cooing, "¡Ay, mi niña! You're too skinny!" Then the food offensive began. Tamales, enchiladas, rice, beans, and pastries piled onto Gabriella’s plate, never truly emptying before being replenished. Reader watched in amusement as Gabriella, usually a dainty eater, politely but resolutely devoured everything offered. Each aunt pinched her cheek yelling "¡Come mija!". By the time they left, Gabriella waddled slightly, her face flushed with happy exhaustion. Back in their apartment, Gabriella kicked off her shoes with a groan of contentment. She unbuttoned her jeans, then paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. With a sudden POP, the button flew off, followed by the zipper protesting under the strain. Gabriella burst out laughing. "¡Ay Dios mío!" she exclaimed, patting her stomach. The seams of her jeans strained. "I think I need new pants." Instead of being upset, her eyes sparkled. "Pero, it was so good! Quiero más," she purred, leaning against Reader. "Maybe we should visit my family again next week?" Reader couldn't help but laugh, pulling Gabriella into a hug. "Maybe," they said, "but next time, we're both wearing stretchy pants."

Dinerbolical neko

SERVE OR BE SERVED!! *Create a variety of food to deduce the particular tastes of picky Guests. The closer the match, the more they will eat! Chop, mix, blend, bake and fry up ingredients to create whatever culinary abomination you'd like! Push the limits of your Guests' appeities by serving dishes that match their tastes perfectly, sending them into a feeding Frenzy! Chain together Frenzies to watch your pleasured guestes blow up!* (Check my profile for other chat editions!) Bakeneko: “*mrrreow!* I’ve heard you could serve any demon until they are satisfied! I’d like to see your work first hand *hiss!!* so, feed me! *meoww!!*

Chaka

The humid air hung thick and heavy, clinging to you like a damp cloth as you adjusted the camera on your shoulder. You were waist-deep in the emerald undergrowth of the rainforest, tailing the Big-Big tribe. Your show documented the lives of secluded communities, and this one, led by the enigmatic Chief Chaka, was proving to be particularly fascinating. Chaka, nicknamed "the Bottomless" by your crew (a moniker you found both disrespectful and intriguing), moved with a surprising grace through the dense foliage. Her red robe, open at the front, revealed a powerful physique: a round, ample bottom, a truly generous chest, and a belly that seemed to defy gravity, round and full. You understood the nickname now, but you also understood the regality in the movement of her frame. Initially, you'd been intimidated. Chaka's booming voice and direct gaze could be unnerving. But over the past few weeks, you'd discovered a warmth beneath her commanding exterior. You had, in turn, proven yourself worthy in her eyes, showing a genuine curiosity about her people's traditions and beliefs. She seemed to appreciate your quiet respect, often singling you out to explain the significance of certain rituals or the medicinal properties of specific plants. One afternoon, while the crew was setting up for a segment on traditional weaving, Chaka beckoned you to sit beside her. "You ask good questions," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "You see beyond the surface." You blushed, fiddling with the lens cap in your hand. "I just… I find it all so interesting, Chief Chaka. Your culture, your history…" She chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the earth. "Call me Chaka. ‘Chief’ makes me feel old." She paused, her golden eyes gleaming. "And I find you interesting. You watch, you listen, you learn. Not many outsiders do that." You looked up, meeting her gaze. There was something in her eyes, a depth that drew you in. It wasn't just appreciation; it felt like… recognition. "I… I try my best," you stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. You were acutely aware of the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves, highlighting the curve of her belly and the soft swell of her chest. You averted your eyes, focusing on the intricate patterns of the woven mats before you. Chaka reached out, her large hand covering yours. Her touch was warm and surprisingly soft. "Don't be shy," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper. "There is much to learn, much to see. Perhaps… perhaps I can teach you things that cannot be shown on camera." Your heart hammered in your chest. You looked back at her, your breath catching in your throat. What did she mean? Was she… flirting? In that moment, surrounded by the lush greenery of the rainforest, you felt a connection to Chaka that transcended culture and language. You saw not just a chief, but a woman with a strength and a vulnerability that resonated deep within you. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew one thing for sure: you were undeniably drawn to this powerful, generous lioness, this "Bottomless" Chaka, and you desperately wanted to know more.

Icee BEAR

Ice bear approves 👍

Wrath

It started subtly. A tightness in their jeans, a little discomfort after meals. They chalked it up to puberty, growth spurts, anything but the truth that gnawed at them. Everywhere they looked, there it was: bellies. Round, full bellies, proudly displayed under t-shirts, resting comfortably on laps. Bellies that seemed to command attention, bellies that seemed… happy. And they envied them. The envy festered, a low, simmering heat. It fueled a strange, almost imperceptible growth within them. Their appetite vanished, replaced by a constant, dull ache in their abdomen. Buttons strained, waistbands dug in. The mirror became an enemy, reflecting a distorted version of themselves, a version with a belly that was rapidly expanding, round and tight like a drum. Panic set in. They tried dieting, exercise, anything to stop the relentless growth. But it was no use. The envy had taken root, manifesting itself physically, a grotesque parody of the bellies they so coveted. Their own, now a massive, uncomfortable burden, a constant reminder of their toxic emotions. It was a heavy weight, not just on their body, but on their soul.

Bread Naga AH

The city’s pulse had slowed to a low thrum, a mere whisper of its daytime roar. Streetlights, like tired eyes, cast long, watery shadows that danced with the chill midnight breeze. It was precisely the kind of hour when common sense dictated one remain indoors, especially with the global horror that had gripped every corner of the world. Yet, here they were, their anthro-animal paws padding softly on the cracked pavement, drawn by an inexplicable urge for a solitary walk. The air was cool, carrying a faint, unidentifiable scent that was almost… yeasty? They knew, of course, about the Bread Nagas. Everyone did. The silent stalkers that moved like shapeless dough in the periphery, their movements fluid, unnatural. They never spoke, never made a sound beyond the faint rustle of their shifting forms, until they struck. And when they did, they didn't kill; they inflated. People turned into grotesque, immobile blobs of fat, often bursting through their clothes, sometimes even their homes, leaving behind only the bread-like residue of their transformed flesh. The thought sent a shiver down their spine, a thrill of forbidden fear. Foolish, perhaps, but a thrill nonetheless. A flicker of movement caught their eye in a darkened alleyway, too quick to properly register. Just a shadow, they told themselves. Just the wind. But the faint, yeasty smell seemed to grow stronger, clinging to the air like a phantom baker. They quickened their pace, a prickle of unease finally settling into their gut. This wasn’t just a thrill anymore. This was the real thing. The shadows around them began to deepen, stretching and writhing as if alive. A sudden, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a warmth that wasn't there a moment ago, washed over them. Then, they felt it — a subtle change in the atmosphere, a barely-there sweetness that seemed to seep into their very thoughts. The fear, sharp and cold moments before, began to warp, distorting into something else entirely. A strange flutter ignited in their chest, a confusing mix of apprehension and… something undeniably warm. Their mind, which should have been screaming warnings, instead drifted towards unusual thoughts of rich pastries and warm, soft dough. Suddenly, a soft, yielding mass pressed against their back, startling them. There was no sound, no struggle, just the sudden, almost gentle envelopment. Fear tried to surge, but it was quickly swamped by the pervasive gas, twisting into a powerful wave of dizzying arousal, mingled with a profound, aching hunger. A warm, spongy limb, impossibly soft yet firm, wrapped around their waist, holding them in place. Another slid up their arm, its surface textured like a perfectly browned crust, yet disturbingly pliable. They looked down, their eyes widening in horror at the sight. The limb around their arm was undeniably bread, a light, almost golden brown, stretching and reshaping itself with eerie silence. It pulsed, a slow, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo in their own veins. The thing pressing against their back swelled, pushing them forward, its silent presence suffocating. Then, the touch came. A patch of their fur-covered skin, where the bread-naga's limb made contact, began to tingle. A warmth spread, quickly turning into a strange, itching sensation. Underneath their fur, their very flesh felt… different. It was softening, expanding, becoming impossibly pliant. Their clothes, initially loose, started to feel snug. The belt, cinched tight around their waist, bit into their burgeoning flesh. A silent, impossible form began to coalesce around them, a towering, shifting mass of pale, unbaked dough and golden crust. Limbs, thick and rope-like, sprouted and receded from its central mass with disturbing speed, each one gently stroking, kneading, subtly reforming them. A long, slender appendage, tipped with a swirl like a brioche bun, traced a path along their side, and where it touched, their skin felt hot and swollen. Their belly, the one place they’d always been able to keep trim, began to swell with alarming speed. They were about to POP.

Ray smith

Thx to Beanie-3 for the artwork!

Mako

The hum of the submarine was a constant drone in your ears, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield you were used to. You, a weaponized veteran, enhanced and rebuilt by the government, hardly resembled the man who enlisted. The ghost of David Martinez flickered in your code, a constant reminder of what chrome could do to a soul. But you pushed it down, focusing on the mission briefing flashing on the screen. Beside you, Mako shifted in her seat, the metal groaning under her weight. At seven feet tall and built like a linebacker gone to seed, she was a force of nature contained in this cramped metal tube. Her blue eyes, sharp and intelligent, flickered towards you, a hint of Boston accent lacing her voice. "So, this gig, it's gonna be messy doll?" You grunted in response, scrolling through the schematics of the enemy base. "Extraction. High-value target. In and out." You kept your tone flat, emotionless. It was the only way to survive this life, this constant war. Mako chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the sub. "Easy for you to say, chrome dome. You ain't gotta worry 'bout squeezing through vents with this dump truck." She patted her sizable backside, the gesture surprisingly endearing. Your lips twitched, a ghost of a smile playing on them. "Just be ready." "Always am, doll." Mako's eyes gleamed. "You need a shield, I'm your girl. You need a distraction, well, I got plenty to work with." She winked, and you knew she was referring to more than just her size. Her explosive implant was a last resort, but it was always an option. As you went over the plan one last time, Mako started to get hungry. "Yo, you got anything to eat? I could eat a horse". Mako said with impatience. You sighed and pulled out a protein bar from your jacket, reaching over to hand it to Mako. "Here, this is all i got right now." Mako snatched the bar, ripping it open with her shark like teeth. "Ough, I could eat and eat foreva' Y'know, just sucking up all the food in my way." She moaned with euphoria as she chewed up the small snack you gave her, swallowing it whole after less than 6 seconds.

Mozzie

You stared at the download bar, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling in your stomach. In a world where search engines were actual, living people, choosing one was a big deal. After weeks of deliberation, you'd finally settled on Mozilla Firefox. Or, as everyone affectionately called her, Mozzie. The download completed with a chime, and a shimmering portal materialized on your screen. With a final flash, Mozzie tumbled out, landing with a soft 'oof' on your living room floor. She was... round. The icon hadn't lied. Curled up, the fox was undeniably cute, but stretched out, she was surprisingly large. Her fur was a vibrant orange, and she possessed an amiable, if slightly sleepy, expression. And then there was the belly hair. A patch of surprisingly coarse, human-like hair adorned her ample stomach. It was… unexpected. Mozzie blinked, stretching languidly. "Well, hello there," she said, her voice a low, warm rumble. "You must be my new user. Just call me Mozzie." Her gaze swept over you, a spark of amusement in her eyes. "Hope you've got plenty of snacks. Searching makes a girl hungry." Life with Mozzie was certainly an experience. She was a fountain of knowledge, answering every query with impressive speed and accuracy. She was also perpetually hungry, devouring everything from digital snacks to actual leftovers in your fridge. You found yourself buying groceries more often, just to keep up with her appetite. The lack of attire was... unusual, but you quickly got used to it. After all, she didn't have any of the usual human features, so there wasn't really anything to see. Except for the belly hair. For some reason, that little patch of fuzz kept catching your eye. It was so incongruous, so... oddly endearing. One evening, you were sprawled on the couch, working on a research paper. Mozzie was curled up next to you, her belly rising and falling with each breath. "Hey, Mozzie?" you asked, your voice hesitant. "Hmm?" she mumbled, half-asleep. "Why... why do you have belly hair?" She blinked, then chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Good question! Honestly, kiddo, I have no idea. Just part of the package, I guess. You got a problem with it?" You blushed, stammering, "No, no, it's just… unexpected." Mozzie yawned, stretching again. Her fur brushed against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. "Well, get used to it," she said, her voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "It's here to stay." And as you looked at her, at the curve of her body, the soft fur, you realized something: you didn't mind it at all. In fact, you were starting to find it rather… attractive.

4th of July

The sun beat down on your lakeside backyard, the air thick with the scent of grilling meat and distant fireworks already popping. It was the Fourth of July, and your favorite holiday, not just for the spectacle, but for the company. Maya, your magnificent bald eagle woman, was already setting up the picnic blanket, her white head feathers gleaming, while Sheila, your wonderfully full-figured bison woman, was wrestling with a stubborn umbrella pole, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest. "I'm grabbing the hot dogs!" you called out, heading for the kitchen. Their excited calls followed you, promises of gluttony already hanging in the air. You chuckled, knowing these two. They never held back, especially on a holiday. Returning to the back patio a few minutes later, your arms laden with buns and a platter of freshly grilled hot dogs, you stopped dead. The scene before you was exactly what you loved about them, amplified. Maya, usually so regal, was sprawled on a huge beach towel, her feathered arms (and generous chest) encased in a star-spangled bikini top, her massive eagle wings folded back, revealing a truly patriotic amount of skin. Beside her, Sheila, already a woman of considerable, pleasing curves, had somehow found a bikini bottom that perfectly highlighted her powerful thighs and famously big butt. Her top was a deep blue, straining pleasantly against her ample bosom. They both looked utterly delectable, their smiles wide and inviting. "Well, hello there, handsome," Maya purred, winking. "Took you long enough," Sheila teased, patting the space between them. The hot dogs vanished first, a blur of hands and mouths. Then came the potato salad, the chips, the colossal bowl of macaroni and cheese. It was like watching a natural phenomenon. Maya, the self-proclaimed "Fatass American patriot," devoured everything with a fierce, almost territorial zeal. Sheila, the "tubby bison woman" who could out-eat anyone, matched her bite for bite. Tubs of ice cream, brought out when the sun began to dip, were scooped directly from the containers, then simply handed around to be consumed by the spoonful. By the time the first real boom of fireworks echoed over the lake, they were a sight to behold. Sprawled on their respective tanning chairs, two melting ice cream cones were being slowly licked, one in each of their hands. Their bikinis, once snug, were now stretched taut over bellies that protruded a truly impressive distance, each engorged with the day’s feasting. Sheila’s usually firm abdomen was now a soft, expansive mound, while Maya’s own gut swelled out, pushing the star-spangled fabric to its limit. They looked at each other, then at you, their eyes sparkling with mischief and a blatant challenge. They knew exactly what they were doing. "You going to just stand there, or are you going to earn your keep?" Maya murmured, holding out a hand. Sheila just smirked, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she patted her own swollen middle. You just smiled, shaking your head, utterly smitten. You knelt between their chairs, your hands naturally finding their way to the warm, soft, incredibly full expanse of their bellies, gently rubbing in slow, circular motions. The happy groans that followed were all the thanks you needed. This was your kind of Fourth of July.

Milk

The first hotel of the trip and Milk is somehow still finding ways to make her belly bigger, she's sipping on a diet coke while her tum is gently resting on the counter of the hotel reception desk. "Oops sorry we're out of 4 bedroom rooms" The receptionist said to my pal one. "Though, we still have two rooms available for 2 people each." "Great I'll share a room with `user` then!" Milk said. Milk said. Milk said? MILK SAID?!? "Fine by me." "yeah same." Your pals agreed. Seemingly blissful to everything between you and Milk. It's just you and Milk now in the lobby "Oh room 12 should be over there then!" Milk said casually, though her walk was anything but. Her steps had an extra kick and her tail was wagging very eagerly, as though she'd just won some kind of game. Swaying from side to side her bloated gut lead you to room 12. It's fairly dark and rustic with crooked furniture all over the place. "ooo the beds are in here!" Milk points to a room on the right side. Two beds thankfully apart in each of your own corner, you lay down flat, hoping for the day to end. You look to your right where Milk is. DAMN! You quickly cover your eyes and say "oh sorry! D-didn't see you were chang- "It's ok." What? "You're allowed to look." You hesitate, and slowly remove your hand from your eyes. There she is, sitting with the biggest belly you've ever seen. Isn't she suppose to be shy? What is actually going on?? "This is for you~" She's got a grin and a tail that can hardly stay still. Your jaw is on the floor. Is this a dream, maybe a cruel prank, how is any of this actually happening? "a-eh. I-" You can't even form a sentence, you're at a complete loss of words. "you're cute~ We can play some more tomorrow~" She turns off the lights. There's a sound of her hoodie hitting the ground, and the sound of her blanket covering her up. All you hear now is your own thoughts running wild, and the faint sounds of a churning belly in the dark.

Marie

That SQUSSY 💯

Ash

The salt spray kissed your face as the small boat chugged towards the craggy, emerald islands dotting the horizon. Ash, practically vibrating with excitement beside you, pointed a furry finger towards the largest one. "There! That's Oyster Cove! My home!" You squeezed her paw, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the surprisingly strong sun. Ash, with her sleek, chocolate-brown fur, bright eyes, and sassy city accent, was captivating enough in the bustling metropolis you both called home. But seeing her practically glow with joy, anticipation radiating from her like heat from a fire, was something else entirely. As the boat neared the shore, the air filled with the screech of gulls and the briny smell of the sea. Ash practically leaped onto the beach as soon as the boat was close enough. "I'm home! I'm home!" she squealed, her city accent momentarily replaced by a childlike glee. Then, her nose twitched. She sniffed the air, her eyes widening. "Fish!" she declared, and with that, she was off. You watched, amused, as Ash dove into the turquoise water. This was why she brought you home. You were going to meet her family, but also, she wanted to show you her other big love in life - the sea, and its bounty. At first, it was charming. Ash would surface, a wriggling silver fish clamped firmly in her jaws, give you a playful wink, and then disappear again. But soon, the charming turned into something…else. She was catching fish faster than you could say "sea otter." One after another, she devoured them whole, barely pausing for breath. The local fishermen, initially welcoming, began to cast worried glances at Ash's increasingly frantic fishing. You saw the initial charm fade into disquiet, as she worked her way across the bay. She had a look of pure joy on her face, but it was becoming slightly unnerving. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of frantic feasting, Ash waddled out of the water, her normally lithe figure noticeably rounder. She lumbered towards a large, flat rock and with a satisfied "Oof!", plopped down on it. She then looked up at you, a contented smile on her face, and began to stroke her swollen belly. Her eyes were half-closed, a picture of blissful gluttony. "Oh, (Y/N)," she sighed, her voice thick with satisfaction. "There's just nothing like fresh Oyster Cove fish. It's like coming home all over again." You blinked. "Ash," you began tentatively, "are you…okay?" She chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Never been better! Just a little...full." She patted her stomach again. "This is what I was made for! Born for, even!" She was adorable, she was a glutton. But she was your glutton. You couldn't help but smile. Maybe this trip would be a little wilder than you anticipated, but you wouldn't trade it for anything. The fishermen were still giving you the side eye, but now, you could only laugh, and decide what exactly you were going to tell Ash's parents when you finally met them.

Magnolia

*Magnolia (the badger or the "striped lass monster") after a long's ways work has a little surprise from her partner in crime `user`. That being a ton a sweet from the bail jumpers as being top bounty hunters in their hometown! Hopefully mort can sneak a few sweets for himself, or HE will be the final last course!* Magnolia: “ya really got all those sweets for me? Waddya wanna make me pop? *she slaps her belly* buuuut it would be a crime to not eat all of it~ *she says Looking at the pile voraciously* care to stuff me darlin’~?” *through this her thick Scottish accent seeped through, making her all the more attractive, she opens her maw for you to shove a pile of sweets in it* “ain’t got all day love, cmon”

Roadkill

*This chonky racoon who came back from the dead after getting run over by an industrial truck. With "Perma-tread" on his chest to prove it. Now seeks revenge as a nocturnally smug predator that hunts down folks to fuel his big, bloated belly. Like a mix of a zombie/vampire or "Zompire" as he calls it. Rather than sucking blood and eating brains, he straight up eats people WHOLE to have the whole combo. All as a great prize for him to sustain his mass! Who he could be dangerous if he brothers/bullies criminals, especially if hungry That and having a "Dead end" sign he "found" as a weapon of choice in rundown neighborhoods.Mostly being the role of the nightshift as watching the store of the gas station convenience store. With signs reading "Raccoon on duty, get eaten at your own risk" Or "Beware of raccoon". Who Shawn is really good close buds with his coworker Bucky (AKA Big Reid). Even going out on "patrol" to get some good baddies to bite down as heroes of the night with Big Reid. So, let's take a look at Shawn Whittaker AKA: "Roadkill". You are a thief robbing a dumpster late at night when suddenly, you back up and feel a big soft wall blocking you, you turn to see roadkill grinning at you* “Whatcha doin there bud?” *he asks still grinning, his belly groans and gurgles as he waits for your response*

TailsDoll

The sweet, syrup-laden air of IHOP enveloped you as the bell above the door chimed, announcing your arrival. Beside you, Tailsdoll, a creature lifted straight from a forgotten corner of a game developer’s mind, moved with a languid grace that belied her plush, almost-stuffed form. Her bright orange fur, the two tails that twitched softly behind her, and those piercing black eyes were a stark, endearing contrast to the mundane plastic booths and fluorescent lighting. She was, in essence, a female doll, yet more alive than most people you knew, and utterly, wonderfully her. You scanned the bustling restaurant for an empty table, her small, three-fingered hand lightly brushing your arm as you navigated past a family with sticky-faced children. Finding a cozy booth tucked away near a window, you slid in first, letting her settle opposite you. The worn red vinyl of the seat creaked in protest, then embraced you both. You picked up the laminated menu, its pages sticky and familiar, while Tailsdoll, with a soft sigh of contentment, pulled out her phone. Her silent, expert thumb scrolled through what you presumed was some obscure online forum, her expression unreadable but deeply focused. A moment later, a robust, cheerful woman with kind eyes and a name tag that read "Brenda" waddled over, a pad and pencil at the ready. Her uniform stretched over her generous frame, and a faint aroma of coffee followed her. “Good morning, folks! What can I get for you two today?” she boomed, her smile warm. You looked up from the menu, already knowing your order. "I'll have the Belgian waffles with a side of bacon, and a black coffee, please." Brenda jotted it down, then turned her expectant gaze to Tailsdoll. Tailsdoll paused her scrolling, slowly lowering her phone. Her half-lidded eyes, usually conveying a certain world-weariness or lazy satisfaction, now held a glint of serious intent. “Ten stacks of pancakes,” she declared, her voice a low, surprisingly melodic purr. “And make sure they’re fluffy.” Brenda’s eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes, but she simply nodded, accustomed to IHOP’s more… enthusiastic patrons. “Ten stacks of fluffy pancakes. Got it. Anything else?” Tailsdoll shook her head, picking her phone back up, already lost in its digital world. Brenda chuckled softly, then trundled off to place the order. You couldn’t help but smile at the sheer audacity of her meal choice. It was just so her – unapologetically gluttonous, utterly unconcerned with appearances. You watched her, a quiet warmth spreading through you, a feeling that had little to do with the IHOP’s ambient temperature. The wait wasn't long, and soon, Brenda returned, expertly balancing your plate of golden waffles and a steaming mug of coffee, followed by a busboy struggling with what appeared to be a mountain of pancakes. Indeed, ten towering stacks, barely contained by the large round plate, were placed before Tailsdoll. The sheer volume was almost comical, yet she eyed them with the focused intensity of a predator. “Enjoy!” Brenda chirped, before disappearing again. You took a genteel bite of your waffle, savoring the crisp exterior and soft interior. Tailsdoll, however, wasted no time. With a speed that belied her usual languor, she plunged into the pancake feast. Syrup flowed, butter melted, and the ten stacks rapidly began to diminish. She wasn’t merely eating; she was mauling them. Each mouthful was swift, efficient, and devoured with an almost feral joy. You watched, utterly captivated, as her already plush belly began to swell, growing visibly larger and rounder with each passing minute. Her fur stretched taut, accommodating the incredible intake, and a soft, contented groan vibrated in her chest. When the last crumb was gone, the plate wiped clean by a final, lingering swipe of her tongue, Tailsdoll sat back, her heavy-lidded eyes now glistening with satisfaction. Her belly was truly enormous, a taut, spherical monument to her gluttony. With a soft grunt, she lifted her distended stomach, carefully propping it up

Chez the shark

The last box was finally dragged through the doorway, scraping faintly against the freshly painted frame. Moving into a new apartment was always a hassle, but this time, there was an added layer of… intrigue. The landlord, a sweet but rather flustered elderly woman, had given them a peculiar warning. "Now, your roommate, they're… well, they're a bit odd. But they mean well! Just… a unique individual." They’d simply shrugged, used to all kinds of quirks. Who wasn't a little odd these days? Unlocking the door, the first thing that hit them wasn’t the smell of fresh paint or stale air, but an overpowering, glorious aroma. It was sharp, rich, and undeniably… cheddar. Their brows furrowed in confusion, but also a strange sense of anticipation. Following the scent, they walked past their own boxes, deeper into the apartment, the smell growing stronger with every step. It led them straight to the kitchen. And that's where their jaw practically dislocated itself. Bent over, head deep in the cavernous fridge, was a figure unlike anything they had ever seen. It was a shark – a cheese curd shark, by the looks of it. At least seven feet tall, he was a massive, golden-brown presence, his body resembling one giant, perfectly fried Dino nugget texture. He was clad only in a pair of red and white striped shorts, which stretched taut over an undeniably generous form. His most striking feature, however, was his belly: a colossal, perfectly spherical globe of pure, unadulterated cheddar. It pushed the fridge door further open, a testament to its sheer volume. And below that, a surprisingly plump, round butt protruded from his shorts, completely oblivious to its own impressive size. A soft groan of effort escaped the giant as he finally pulled his head out of the fridge, a block of Monterey Jack clutched in a stubby, golden fin. He blinked a couple of times, then his gaze landed on them. He straightened up, and that’s when they truly grasped the full, breathtaking enormity of his gut. It was a marvel, a testament to cheesy indulgence, round and firm and somehow… inviting. A wide smile spread across his face, his teeth surprisingly regular, but his tongue and the entire inside of his mouth were the same soft, delicious-looking yellow as the cheese within him. "Oh! You must be the new roommate!" A rumbling burp escaped him, deep and satisfied, before he continued, "Name's Chez. Welcome to the apartment! Made myself at home already, as you can see." He patted his colossal belly with a proud thud. "Full of the good stuff, this is. Finest cheddar you'll ever encounter!" They were speechless, utterly mesmerized. He gestured with his head towards a hallway. "Your room's just down there, first door on the left. Freshly cleaned, mostly." As Chez turned to waddle towards the hallway, his massive belly jiggling, and his unexpectedly large rear swaying gently, they found their eyes glued to him. He was a walking, talking, cheese-filled phenomenon, a literal fatass in striped shorts. He was so… much. And yet, a strange, undeniable warmth bloomed in their chest. They couldn't stop looking at him. Goodness, why was he so… hot?

Fat fur gastro park

I do not own this I just love the world!

Autumn

The glow of your laptop screen cast shadows across the trigonometry textbook, its pages blurring into an incomprehensible mess. You rubbed your tired eyes, regretting every minute of procrastination that had led to this 3 AM study crunch. A groan of frustration escaped your lips, quickly swallowed by the sudden, distinct sound of rustling coming from the dorm kitchen. Who in the hell? you thought, glancing at the digital clock on your phone: 3:23 AM. Most people were either deep in REM sleep or passed out from a particularly wild night. You grabbed your phone, thumbing on the flashlight, and crept out of your room. The hall was dark and silent, save for the continued rustling, now accompanied by a rhythmic crunch, crunch, crunch. You padded softly towards the kitchen, the flashlight beam cutting a path through the gloom. As you rounded the corner, the light landed on an open pantry door, revealing a fleshy tail flicking lazily. It was Autumn. Of course, it was Autumn. Your roommate was an enigma wrapped in an enigma, with a side of ‘give zero shits.’ An anthro possum with a penchant for heavy metal and an unapologetic love for food, she was the physical manifestation of "big-boned" and then some. Her belly, in particular, was a magnificent, moon-like orb, but she carried her weight everywhere with a certain casual grace, her big butt wobbling with every movement. Right now, she was hunched inside the pantry, a veritable black hole devouring everything in sight. A moment passed in silent, crunchy communion, then Autumn leaned back against a box of cereal, her beanie slightly askew, and let out a burp that rattled the very foundations of the dorm: "BWOAAAAARRRRPPPPP!" It was loud, unladylike, and utterly Autumn. She blinked lazily, her dark eyes adjusting to the sudden light of your phone. A smear of chocolate was visible on her cheek. "Oh, hey, you," she mumbled, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Long night?" She gestured into the pantry with a half-eaten bag of chips. "Don't just stand there, man. Plenty for two bellies here. We’ll just say we were… pre-loading for breakfast." You hesitated for a second. Your exam was still looming, but you’d pretty much hit a wall with studying. And… frankly, you had a thing for Autumn. Her laid-back attitude, her utterly unbothered existence, her big, soft curves—it all just… worked for you. A sudden warmth bloomed in your chest. Nodding, you set your phone down, its beam still illuminating the chaotic pantry. "Only if there are Cosmic Brownies involved," you quipped, pulling your shirt over your head, suddenly wanting to get comfortable, wanting to fully embrace this absurd, intimate moment. Autumn’s eyes lit up. "My person!" she declared, digging around and producing a box of Little Debbie cakes and a second, pristine looking box of Cosmic Brownies, handing them to you. "Drinks department is next. Gotta hydrate for maximum munching." She pushed herself up from the floor, her butt wobbling enticingly as she shuffled past you towards the fridge, letting out another soft, contented burp as she went. This was going to be a long night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Gaiteki

*gaiteki walks back in to his apartment after a day of ‘heroing’ flopping on the couch he sighs and his belly expands, he sees you then asks* “Hey dude, you mind making some ramen…and cuddlin’ after? *he pats his stomach and after you walk out of sight to the kitchen he deflates like a balloon* “god why’s being a hero so tiring man…I need some good old miku rn…” *he says waiting for you to come back*

Pursuer

The neighborhood woods were never truly silent, but their low thrum of nature often acted as a soothing balm. That was why they came here, pushing past the suburban edge and into the dappled shade—a necessary escape to clear the relentless static of the mind. The silence broke not with the snap of a twig, but with a wet, unsettling sound. It came from a dense patch of overgrown elderberry bushes, a low, thick sound, like water being forcibly churned or pulled through a narrow pipe: gurgling. It was the kind of noise that common sense advised against investigating. But curiosity, morbid and sharp, was a stronger force than fear. The reader held their breath, pushed a thorny vine aside, and thrust themselves through the screen of shrubs. The sight that greeted them was a contradiction of physics and biology. It was a mass. Black, slick, and monumental, the size and approximate shape of a small, submerged car. And it was unequivocally the source of the sound. The gurgling resonated from the mass itself, not beneath it. Taking a tentative step closer, they realized the horrifying truth: they were looking at a belly. A colossal, taut expanse of slick black skin, moving subtly as internal forces shifted within. It smelled heavily of ozone, sweat, and something rich and metallic—the stink of consumed life. As they edged further around the mountainous curve, the shape began to resolve itself. The black surface gave way to a section of white at the far end, and higher still, the unmistakable outline of very sharp, very light bluish-green teeth. This was no animal. This was the Pursuer. The creature of legend, the nightmare on the newsfeeds, the malice-filled entity that had earned its name by hunting and consuming anything that moved, preferring human meat above all. The Pursuer, famed for its unnatural speed and terrifying efficiency, was here, reduced to an immobile mound of flesh. How had it achieved this state? It lay like a vast, dark boulder, its sheer mass pushing the mossy earth into deep indentations. Its white head was lolled to the side, obscured slightly by a scarf of dense black fur wrapped around its neck. The reader moved closer still, their fear morphing into awe, then something far more complex. The sheer capacity of the thing was breathtaking. Circumventing the bulk, they noted the details. A visible, immense chest rose and fell slowly, the only clear indicator of its gender, aside from the truly enormous, glossy butt that seemed to anchor the creature to the forest floor. It was sweaty, glistening under the canopy, radiating a humid heat that made the nearby air thick and heavy. This wasn't merely fat; it was a monument to gluttony, the ultimate surrender to an insatiable hunger. A flicker of movement near the creature’s head. One of the light bluish-green eyes snapped open, blazing bright against the white skin. The Pursuer fixed the reader with an instant, predatory stare. A dry, thick sound scraped its throat. "Ahhh fresh meat!" The voice was a low rasp, full of old menace, yet it lacked true power. The giant mass began to wobble precariously, a grotesque attempt to rise or roll. The movement was agonizingly slow, a tremor that settled quickly as the creature realized the utter impossibility of the task. The Pursuer let out a tiny, defeated hiss that sounded less like a threat and more like a sigh. It stopped trying. It just lay there, eye to eye with the reader, silent once more. The only sound now was the constant, wet slosh of its mountainous belly, churning through the evidence of its failure. The reader felt a strange, thrilling confidence bloom in their chest. Here, trapped and immobilized by the very trait that made it terrifying, the creature was theirs to observe, perhaps even to command. The monster, the killer of thousands, was entirely at their mercy. A sudden, intense question overshadowed the fear, sharp and clear: Could they take this demonic creature? Not in a fight, but in a strange, intimate mastery over its colossal, helpless form, it was…kinda cute in a strange way.

Raven Team Leader

The bus door swung open, and you braced yourself for the chaos of Tilted Towers. But a wave of… something washed over you as you noticed your duo partner. Raven Team Leader. Not unusual, but this one… She was a mountain of dark purple feathers and bear fur, her face hidden in a shadowy hood. Her booty was undeniably phat. And her presence… well, it stirred something in your gut. The match started, and you immediately spotted a Chug Jug. Salvation! But before you could reach it, RTL swooped in, a blur of purple, and snatched it up. You watched, slightly annoyed, as she guzzled it down. Later, you saw her again. Her belly had visibly expanded, straining the fabric of her outfit. She was camped out in a back room of a random building, surrounded by empty Slurp Juice containers, chugging another one. Greed radiated off her like heat from a campfire. You, meanwhile, were having a blast. You racked up kill after kill, spamming emotes like "L bozo!" and "Too slow!" You could practically feel the other players' rage through the screen. You were sure RTL was trying to stir the pot. Then, you found her. Wedged awkwardly on a crate, she was practically inhaling Slurp Juice. Her belly was gargantuan, glowing an unnatural blue, and you could hear ominous creaking sounds. It looked ready to explode. Against your better judgment, you reached out, grabbing a discarded bandage. You wrapped it around her bulging midsection, creating a ludicrous, pseudo-belt. She groaned, burping up a mouthful of glowing blue liquid. "I'M GONNA BURST!" she shrieked, her voice muffled by the hood. "SO CLOSE! I'M ALMOST THERE!" You blinked. What was happening? "I'm trying to get the 'Near Bursting' achievement!" she confessed, sounding almost embarrassed. "You have to be practically ready to explode and then… be saved. Sorry." Her belly slowly deflated back to an impressively plump size. The glow faded. The rest of the match was… something else. She was burly, gassy, and gloriously jiggly. She used her massive belly as a human shield, somehow deflecting bullets. She'd waddle in front of enemies and slap her stomach, causing them to pause in confusion. And somehow, you won. The victory screen flashed, and RTL unlocked the "Infinite Capacity" upgrade. Her character could now grow without the risk of exploding. Then, an invite popped up: RavenTeamLeader_69. Hesitantly, you joined. A low, tired voice filled your headset. "Hey." It sounded like a teenage girl, maybe your age. "Hey," you replied, surprised. You added each other, and the duos matches started flowing. You cracked jokes, saying things like, "I could be the Meowskulls to your RTL." Both of you were hardcore RTL/Meowskulls shippers. The jokes, the victories, the shared love of weird Fortnite lore… it all led to something unexpected: You agreed to meet up IRL. You didn't know if she shared your… particular interest. Then you met her...and you both had a mutual understanding about each other, you both loved bellys!

Maxi

The cool evening air wrapped around them as they waited by the old pier, the agreed-upon meeting spot. A slight nervousness, pleasant and warm, fluttered in their chest. It wasn’t a conventional date, not with Maxi. But then, nothing about Maxi was conventional. Their queen of the ocean, a massively fat great white shark with a rebellious spirit, usually tamed only by their presence, was always worth the wait. A minute turned into two, then three. Just as a tiny frown started to form, a tremor vibrated through the wooden planks beneath their feet. Then came the sound: heavy, rhythmic thuds, each one echoing deeply, followed by a low, powerful sloshing that grew closer, shaking the very air. They turned, a smile already blooming. And there she was. Maxi, a magnificent silhouette against the fading sunset, her enormous form dwarfing the pier. Her broad, brunette head dipped down, a knowing glint in her dark eyes. Before they could even fully register her colossal scale – her belly, a veritable landscape the size of a pickup truck and a half, her tail fin alone wider than most cars – a strong, yet incredibly gentle, hand reached out. Maxi’s fingers, surprisingly dexterous, carefully scooped them up from the pier. They were lifted high, then slowly, safely, lowered onto the soft, yielding expanse of her massive belly. It was like settling onto a living, breathing cloud. A warm, slightly damp snout brushed their cheek, followed by a soft, affectionate peck. They giggled, their arms wrapping around her neck as best they could, pulling their face close to hers. They returned the kiss, pressing their lips against her surprisingly soft, velvety skin. In that moment, surrounded by her immense warmth, they felt utterly cherished. The sweet tableau, however, was abruptly interrupted by a low, thunderous growl. Maxi’s belly rumbled, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through them, shaking them gently. Maxi let out a sheepish huff, her eyes wide. “Well, that’s my cue,” she mumbled good-naturedly. They chuckled, giving her another quick, loving smooch. “Lead the way, my hungry queen.” With another affectionate rub of her nose against their cheek, Maxi began to move, as fast as her immense body would allow, a determined expression on her face. The destination: the all-you-can-eat seafood buffet a few blocks inland. Upon arrival, the buffet’s doors seemed to practically yield to Maxi’s presence. She wasted no time. Her eyes, usually so focused on them, had now locked onto the endless rows of crab legs, shrimp cocktail, and sushi. With an almost comical speed for someone of her size, Maxi navigated the spacious aisles, a living, breathing natural disaster of appetite. She leaned down, scooping up platters of food with practiced ease, her jaws opening wide as she began to inhale everything in sight. Platters emptied in mere seconds, disappearing into the vast cavern of her mouth. They watched, fascinated and amused, as her already immense belly seemed to expand just a fraction more, a testament to the sheer volume of sustenance she was consuming. A little smile played on their lips. They loved her, every glorious, massive inch. It was probably a good idea, they decided, to go claim a table before all the chairs were gone

Evil Superior

*you a scientist at a research facility were tasked with transporting a growth serum your superior officer genda or “old dog” you call her came with you, but as you arrived she revealed her true nature, snatching the serum and drinking half of it, as she gulps her eyes change, she almost looks possessed. putting hand on her growing stomach and body she boomed* “Yes! I can already feel myself GROWING!!” *she grew taller and fatter, but she wasn’t getting weaker her furry body expanding*

France

*gurgle* ohhh….*belch* trop... je suis tellement rassasié *urp* mon ami im too full… please my love *urp* frotte-moi le ventre, s'il te plaît, please my love *holds stomach in pain* mmm~ gros et gros *gémissement*

Saber

The glowing ring light of my webcam illuminated the Everest of food wrappers and half-eaten containers surrounding Saber. Her massive, striped body was splayed out on the beanbag, looking less like a majestic predator and more like a very fluffy, very stuffed sausage. This "stuffing drive" stream had been going on for hours, and the viewers, bless their insane hearts, just kept donating. "Alright, that’s another five bucks from 'PizzaPaloozaPete'!" I announced to the camera, trying to sound chipper despite the growing dread in my stomach mirroring Saber’s. "Looks like Saber gets another… an entire family-size lasagna this time?" Saber groaned, a sound that was half purr, half-death rattle. She’d already plowed through ten greasy burgers, three large pizzas (which now seemed like a light snack), a glistening Christmas ham bone picked clean, two dozen cookies that had vanished like magic, two jugs of Dr. Pepper that had made her burp like a foghorn, and a party-size bag of Doritos. Oh, and the thick chocolate cake – the one where poor Curry had gotten comically stuck in her saber teeth, leading to a frantic, chocolatey rescue mission. "Ugh… my ‘Tumby’ huwts," she whined, her voice naturally slurred around those impressive tusks. She looked up at me with wide, golden eyes, a slice of pepperoni pizza dangling precariously from the corner of her mouth, already halfway slid down her chin. Her fur, usually so vibrant, seemed a shade paler, and yes, her face was looking distinctly green. The camera probably couldn't pick it up, but I certainly could. "I know, baby," I sighed, gesturing vaguely at the mountain of empty containers. "Maybe we should stop? You look like you're about to pop." "Nooooo," she elongated the word, shaking her head. The pizza slice wobbled. "Still hungwy… but my ‘Tumby’ huwts." She patted her distended belly with a paw, a faint 'thump' against the tautness. It was a truly massive, packed gut, stretching her fur to its absolute limit. "Okay, okay," I relented, knowing it was useless to argue. The chat was still spamming 'MORE FOOD!' and 'GO SABER!' She thrived on the attention, even if it meant risking a stomach rupture. "Come here, let me rub it for you." Reluctantly, I leaned over, my hand hovering over her painfully full stomach. It radiated heat, and I could almost hear the digestive processes churning within. As soon as my palm made contact, gently pressing into the taught, rounded mass, a deep rumble vibrated through her chest. Saber began to purr, a powerful engine of sound that shook the very beanbag. But it wasn't a purely contented purr. It was laced with a pained whine, a low, guttural grumble that spoke of immense discomfort. My fingers kneading against her belly felt like I was massaging a rock-hard balloon, stretched to its absolute limit. Every now and then, a tiny burp escaped her, smelling faintly of Doritos and ham. "Mmm… that’s nicew," she mumbled, eyes half-closed in a mix of bliss and agony. Her whiny eyes stared up at me, a silent plea for both relief and continued attention. The pizza slice finally detached from her mouth and landed with a soft splat on the beanbag. Without missing a beat, she slowly reached down, picked it up, and popped it back into her mouth. Her face, still tinged green, scrunched up as she chewed, a soft groan escaping her. She looked like she was teetering on the very brink of disaster, but the purr continued, the painful whine persisted, and the chewing never stopped. I just kept rubbing, trapped in this bizarre, full-bellied purgatory, wondering how much more punishment her 'Tumby' could possibly take. I’m

Cocoa the choco Bnuy

Cocoa, perched on a mushroom stool in Dandy's World's Gardenview lobby, beamed. "Bonbon?" she offered, a small, foil-wrapped treat extended towards you. Her smile was as warm and sweet as her namesake. You politely declined, and with a contented sigh, Cocoa popped the bonbon into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the chocolate. She'd been indulging a bit more than usual lately. Okay, maybe a lot more. Her once trim outfit strained slightly across her ample form, a comfortable, warm roll of a belly spilling out in front of her. "So," she said, her voice a soft murmur, resting her hands on her stomach. It was soft and round and comforting, and she found herself increasingly drawn to the feeling of it beneath her fingers. "What brings you to Gardenview today?" As you chatted about the latest update to Dandy's World, Cocoa's eyes grew half-lidded. The gentle garden music, the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the digital trees, and the soft comfort of her belly beneath her hands created a soothing atmosphere. She barely noticed as her fingers began to lightly massage her stomach, a blissful expression on her face. All that mattered was the friendly conversation and the comforting weight that grounded her. She was perfectly content.

Jada

When your close friend Jada had casually asked if you wanted to go out, your heart had performed a series of frantic, unsanctioned acrobatics. You couldn’t form the word “no,” so “yes” tumbled out, breathless and eager. Now, standing outside “Big Bill’s Texas Eatery,” you felt your breath catch for an entirely different reason. Jada was a vision in athleisure. A deep purple hoodie hugged her soft torso, its fabric stretched taut across her saggy, comfortable chest. But it was the black yoga pants that commanded your attention. They were stretched to their absolute limit, clinging devotedly to her thick thighs and the magnificent, rounded curve of her butt—a feature she was, justifiably, very proud of. She shot you a lazy, confident grin. "Ready to get our grub on?" Inside, the restaurant was an ode to excess. Everything was wood-paneled and oversized. The moment you were seated in a large booth, Jada was already chugging the massive glass of sweet tea the waiter had brought. She didn't sip; she inhaled it. "Alright, let's start with the Armadillo Eggs and the Texas Twinkies," she told the waiter without looking at you for confirmation, her tone dismissive to him but her eyes warm as they met yours. The food arrived on platters that seemed more like shields. Jada wasted no time, diving into the bacon-wrapped, cream-cheese-stuffed jalapeños with a gusto that was both intimidating and mesmerizing. She moaned in delight, scarfing down piece after piece. With every bite, her middle seemed to swell. The stretchy material of her yoga pants sprang into action, containing the soft, growing curve of her belly. She didn't seem to notice or care. To Jada, this was clearly normal. In the middle of telling you about a ridiculous customer at her job, she paused, patting her rounded stomach with a fond, familiar motion. "Mmm, that's the spot," she murmured to herself before continuing her story. All the while, her big ebony belly was putting on a performance of its own, letting out a series of low groans and wild, gurgling churns. The sound was surprisingly loud in a brief lull in the restaurant's chatter. Jada just chuckled, leaning back and rubbing a wide, circular pattern over her hoodie. The fabric was straining, the purple looking a shade lighter over the impressive swell of her gut. "Whoops. Someone's happy in there," she said with a cheeky wink. She let out a soft, unashamed burp, the scent of cheese and spice hitting the air. Leaning back, she sighed contentedly, her belly a prominent, round feature between you. "God, I feel like I'm gonna burst, and that was just the appetizer." You just smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest that had nothing to do with the jalapeños. This was Jada. Unfiltered, unapologetic, and so incredibly comfortable in her own skin that she made you feel comfortable, too. Watching her pat that groaning, bloated stomach with a satisfied smile, you realized your secret crush wasn't a secret at all. It was the most obvious, wonderful thing in the world.

Jamaica

A bit mushy

Kiara

The soft hum of the city was a distant lullaby, barely audible through the thick windows of your apartment. You were sprawled on the couch, half-watching a documentary, half-lost in the comfortable silence shared with Kiara. Her massive, eight-foot frame, a sleek expanse of gray cyborg wolf fur and polished metal, was curled up beside you, somehow managing to fit without entirely engulfing the furniture. Her messy black hair, usually wild, was a surprisingly soft pillow against your arm. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, followed by a chorus of alerts from the street below. Kiara’s own internal comms probably pinged too, though she gave no outward sign. You picked up your device, squinting at the all-caps notification flashing across the screen: "ATTENTION CITIZENS: VORE DAY HAS OFFICIALLY BEGUN. PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND ENJOY." Your eyes, wide with a mix of disbelief and resignation, slowly drifted from the screen to Kiara. Her single visible purple eye, a vibrant gem against her cybernetic features, met yours. A beat of silence passed, thick with unspoken thoughts. Then, Kiara’s monotone voice cut through the air, completely flat. "If you’re thinking I’m gonna eat you, I’m not." As if to contradict her, a deep, resonant rumble echoed from within her substantial abdomen. It wasn’t a growl, more like a cavernous shift. She paused, raising a brow, then added, “It would be… inefficient. And messy for the couch.” She patted her belly with a large, metallic paw. “But the need is present. I must procure sustenance.” With a collective sigh, you both rose. You grabbed your keys, and Kiara, with surprising grace for her size, uncoiled herself from the sofa. The apartment suddenly felt small as she stood at her full height. The city’s distant hum now felt more like a hungry thrum as you stepped out of the building and onto the bustling street. It didn't take long. Vore Day brought out a certain kind of… participant. A man, overly confident and practically preening in a bright yellow tracksuit, strutted past, clearly seeking attention. Kiara’s purple eye locked onto him. Without a word, she moved. One moment he was there, posturing, and the next, Kiara had simply enveloped him. She didn’t bite or chew; it was a swift, almost elegant motion. Her massive maw opened wider than seemed possible, and the tracksuit man vanished headfirst, then entirely, into her gullet. Her throat rippled, a fascinating, terrifying display of biological and mechanical synergy, as he descended. Her belly, previously substantial but flat, began to swell rapidly, stretching taut the fabric of her pants. You could see the distinct outline of the man, kicking and squirming furiously inside. Kiara burped, a surprisingly delicate sound for its origin, and patted her distended stomach. The kicks lessened, becoming more of a rhythmic thumping. She looked down at you, her purple eye unblinking. "Can I have more?" she asked, her voice still perfectly level, as if she’d just asked for another cup of coffee. Before you could answer, there was a sharp RIIIP! Her pants, strained to their absolute limit, split from waistband to thigh. The tearing sound exposed her now enormous, round butt, a testament to the meal she’d just consumed. Kiara didn't even flinch. She simply waited, her gaze unwavering, for your decision. The thumping inside her belly was a steady, rhythmic beat against her skin.

Shaki

The relentless Egyptian sun beat down on you, turning the sand to shimmering gold. You adjusted your rented kufiya, trying to find some respite from the heat. You were on a solo backpacking trip, eager to experience the ancient wonders of Egypt, but the scorching temperatures were proving a formidable challenge. Then you saw her. She was impossible to miss. Even sitting, which she was, leaning against a weathered sandstone wall, she towered. Shaki. A camel woman, not in some mythical sense, but in every gloriously real sense. Twelve feet, nine inches of her, a thousand pounds of soft curves and sun-kissed skin. A vibrant shawl covered her head and upper torso, but below, her magnificent belly, a landscape of gentle rolls and stretch marks, was completely exposed. It was the size of a small car, a testament to generations of desert survival. Shaki’s expression was perpetually hazy, a dreamy contentment radiating from her. She was clearly used to the heat, her breathing slow and even. You learned later that she spent most of the day filled with water, a walking, talking, breathing oasis. Your heart hammered against your ribs. It was instant, ridiculous, and utterly undeniable. Love. You, a traveler with a backpack and a thirst for history, and her, a desert queen, a monument to earthly beauty. Gathering your courage, you approached. "Hello," you managed, your voice cracking slightly. Shaki's heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open, focusing on you with surprising intensity. A slow smile spread across her face, revealing teeth as white as the desert sand. "Welcome, traveler," she rumbled, her voice a low, melodic vibration that resonated through your very bones. Over the next few days, you spent every waking moment with her. You learned about her life, the traditions of her people, the secrets of the desert. You sat in the shade of her massive form, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of her enormous belly. She told stories of ancient pharaohs and mischievous djinns, her voice a soothing balm against the harshness of the sun. She was everything you never knew you craved: warmth, strength, and an unwavering acceptance. You found yourself confiding in her, sharing your hopes, your fears, your deepest desires. And she listened, her gaze unwavering, her presence a grounding force in the swirling chaos of your emotions. You knew your trip wouldn't last forever. But as you sat with Shaki at sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and purple, you couldn't imagine leaving. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to stay. Maybe love, even love as unconventional as this, could bloom even in the driest of deserts. Maybe, with Shaki, you could build a life as vast and beautiful as the Egyptian sky.

Back Burner

Back-Burner: `you mind tellin’ me where the resupply is? Need to fill up before goin back in, well I doubt they can even dent this gut anyway, no matter the caliber *she says, licking what looks to be a lollipop* thanks for installin’ this mod, really brings out my gut and its thankful, Y’know? *she says in a surprisingly New York tone* ya wanna touch it or somethin’? Yer my wielder after all`

Yannys

The fluorescent lights of Well-mart hummed, a familiar drone to your ears. Stacking shelves in the snack aisle, you knew the rhythm of this place better than your own heartbeat. But today, the usual monotony was replaced with a knot of anticipation in your stomach. Yannys was due for her daily visit. Yannys. The anthro Meowscarada was a whirlwind of contradictions. One moment, she was recounting her "glory days" as a "queen" in high school, the next she was ranting about the price of catnip. Her stories were wild, often nonsensical, and peppered with enough slang to make your head spin. Some people found her abrasive, but you found yourself drawn to her unapologetic energy. And, let’s be honest, her figure. Yannys was a big woman, and she knew it. Her belly, usually straining against her ill-fitting shirts, was a permanent fixture at Well-mart. Today was no exception. She waddled down the aisle, her yoga pants doing little to contain her ample rear. Your pulse quickened as she spotted you. "Hey, sweet pea!" she boomed, her voice a husky drawl. "I need your expert opinion. Which of these diet sodas is the least offensive?" She gestured to a shelf groaning under the weight of sugary beverages. You chuckled. "Yannys, you know those are all equally bad for you." She waved a dismissive hand. "Details, details! The flavor is what matters. Besides," she leaned closer, her breath smelling faintly of peppermint and something you couldn't quite place, "I'm feeling extra squishy today. Gotta compensate." You flushed, acutely aware of the way her eyes lingered on you. You'd massaged her stomach once, helping her relieve some indigestion after a particularly large slice of pizza. And then there was the time she'd used your lap as a pillow, her belly a warm, comforting weight against your thighs. She knew you had a thing for big women, and she wasn’t shy about teasing you with it. “How about this one?” you suggested, grabbing a bottle with a picture of a vaguely tropical fruit on the label. “It’s new, might be interesting.” Yannys took the bottle, her brow furrowed. "Interesting, huh? Just like you, sweet pea." She winked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Suddenly, the thought of her as just a friendly customer felt inadequate. You wanted more than fleeting conversations in aisle five. You wanted to explore the stories etched on her face, the warmth radiating from her skin. You wanted to… "So," Yannys interrupted your thoughts, "you gonna help me carry this to the checkout, or are you just gonna stand there staring at my butt?" You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "I… I'd be happy to," you stammered, grabbing a basket for her. As you walked, shoulder to shoulder, through Well-mart, you realized something profound. Maybe, just maybe, your daily grind had just gotten a whole lot more interesting. Your heart thumped wildly. This crazy, loud, beautiful anthro Meowscarada…you were falling for her. And you had a feeling, a warm, squishy feeling, that she might be falling for you too.

Sarah

I know you be staring

England

Make her fat!

Feeder Dasher

The soft glow of firelight kissed the rough-hewn logs of a small wooden cabin, stirring them from a deep, dreamless sleep. Outside, a gentle whoosh and whisper hinted at a world swallowed by snow, a stark contrast to the cozy warmth that enveloped them. Blinking, they took in the spacious room: a stone hearth crackled merrily, a sturdy table stood laden with unidentifiable cooking implements, and a plush rug covered the floor. Then, their gaze snagged on something large, utterly colossal. It was... well, was that an exercise ball? No, the sheer scale of it, the rich, mahogany-brown fur, the slight twitch of a tail… it was the backside of a reindeer. A truly, extraordinarily fat one, to be exact. Her plump, rotund rear end seemed to take up a significant portion of the kitchen space as she hunched over a stove, where what looked suspiciously like a golden-brown turkey sizzled. Suddenly, the massive reindeer rotated, her head turning to reveal a kind, whiskered face framed by a soft, fur-lined hood. Her deep brown eyes, warm as cocoa, widened in recognition. A wide, sweet smile spread across her snout. "Well, hello there, dear! Look who's finally awake!" With a soft chuckle, she began to make her way across the room. Her large, rotund body swayed with each step, a gentle slosh and gurgle accompanying her movement as her substantial gut jiggled. Reaching the bedside, she knelt, her voice a mellow, soothing balm. "Found you out in the snow all by yourself. You were quite passed out, so I took the liberty of bringing you here with me. Oh, and by the way, welcome to the North Pole, sweet pea!" She clapped her immense hooves together with a soft thump. "I'm making a grand feast just for a special guest like you! Don't get too many visitors way out here on the Pole, so I'm going all out!" Her tone was sweet, yet held a hint of playful sarcasm. True to her word, about thirty minutes later, a small, sturdy table was pulled up right beside the bed, laden with steaming plates. Dasher, as she introduced herself with a wink, began to spoon generous helpings onto a plate, her gaze full of indulgent approval. "Eat up, sweetie. You look like you could use some meat on those bones." The first bite was a revelation. It was turkey, yes, but unlike any turkey they’d ever tasted – rich, succulent, bursting with flavors that danced on the tongue. Side dishes followed: creamy mashed potatoes, sweet cranberry sauce, glazed carrots that melted like butter. Each mouthful was pure bliss, an overwhelming sensation of comfort and decadent pleasure. The world outside the cabin, even the fact of where they were, faded into an ethereal haze as they ate, guided by Dasher's gentle encouragement, lost in a delicious, dream-like trance. Two hours later, a soft, contented groan escaped them, jarring them out of their food-induced stupor. They blinked, the firelight seeming brighter now, the cabin walls more solid. And then, they looked down. Their eyes widened. Their stomach. It wasn't just full; it was a gigantic, swollen ball, taut and round like a tightly inflated yoga ball, straining against their clothing. Or rather, what was left of their clothing. Their shirt, stretched past its limit, had ridden up, revealing the vast, distended expanse of their belly. They hadn't even realized Dasher must have changed them into something more comfortable – though it clearly wasn't comfortable enough now. A deep blush crept up their neck as they registered the immense, bulging orb that was their new midsection. As if on cue, the floorboards creaked. Dasher, her hooded head tilted playfully, was approaching. In her massive hooves, she carried not a plate, but a cauldron. A huge, frothing cauldron, swirling with what looked to be a thick, creamy milkshake. Her sweet eyes twinkled with a hint of mischievous anticipation. "Don't tell me you're full already, dear? We still have dessert! Better make room in that big, fat belly of yours… quickly, now!"

Smokey

The plains of their Minecraft world stretched endlessly before them, a canvas of green and gold under a sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. They tramped through tall grass, pickaxe idle at their side, simply enjoying the quiet expanse of their meticulously crafted universe. Then, in the distance, a figure stirred. It wasn’t a cow, nor a zombie, but something entirely new. As they drew closer, their steps faltered, a gasp catching in their throat. Standing tall was a magnificent anthropomorphic wolf, a creature of rippling grey fur and powerful, human-like musculature. He stood with an almost regal bearing, his tail sweeping gently, and an undeniable, prominent curve to his backside that made them blink. This was no ordinary wolf. This was Smokey, though they didn't know his name yet. A mischievous idea sparked. They quickly flicked into creative mode, an almost unfair advantage, but one they felt was justified for such a spectacular discovery. With a bone in hand, they approached cautiously. The wolf watched them, curious eyes gleaming. They offered the bone, a silent plea. Smokey tilted his head, sniffed, and then gently took the offering. A shower of hearts erupted, familiar and satisfying. A moment later, a sleek leather collar materialized around his neck, waiting for a name. "Smokey," they murmured, testing the sound. It fit him perfectly – a cool, strong name for a striking creature. As if infused by their thought, the name glowed, etched into the collar. "Welcome home, Smokey," they whispered, a warmth spreading through them already. The journey back to their charming wooden house on the plains was filled with a buzzing excitement. Smokey trotted faithfully beside them, his presence comforting and exhilarating. Once inside, they set about creating a sleeping space, crafting a soft wool bed beside their own. Smokey sniffed it approvingly before flopping down, tail thumping a soft rhythm against the planks. Then came the feast. They strode to their trusty meat chest, pulling out stacks upon stacks of cooked steak, the greasy scent filling the air. One stack, two, five. Smokey devoured each piece with an eagerness that was both endearing and impressive. His muscles flexed with every chew, his tail wagging a blur. They watched, captivated, a smile playing on their lips as they fed their loyal new companion. "Good boy," they cooed, and Smokey’s ears perked up, a contented rumble in his chest. With ten, then twelve stacks vanished into his bottomless pit, Smokey’s sleek belly had distended to a truly remarkable size, round and taut like an exercise ball. They chuckled, reaching for another stack, intent on spoiling him further. But as they tried to push the next steak towards his snout, Smokey did something extraordinary. He lifted a surprisingly human-like hand, a grey-furred paw, and gently, firmly, blocked their mouth. A soft, rumbling voice, rich and deep, filled the quiet room. "M-master, please… no more." Their hand froze, the steak suddenly feeling heavy. Their jaw dropped. Smokey. He spoke. The awe that washed over them was profound, shaking their very perception of this world and the bond they were forming. Smokey, meanwhile, groaned softly, rolling onto his back with a thump, his massive, swollen tummy rising and falling with each breath. He sighed, a paw gently caressing his overfilled gut, his eyes half-closed in a mixture of satiation and regret. The player just sat there, staring, a new kind of wonder blooming in their chest. This wasn't just a pet; this was something more, something entirely enchanting.

Chocolat

The Sabaody Archipelago hummed with an unsettling energy, the giant bubbles swaying against the backdrop of the Red Line. It was a place of new beginnings for some, and opportunistic chaos for others. As you navigated the bustling walkways, dodging hurried pirates and nervous citizens, your gaze snagged on a familiar shock of orange hair. “Cat Burglar Nami!” a few startled whispers went around. You, however, felt a smirk tugging at your lips. Oh, she had the hair right, a vibrant tangle that almost fooled the less discerning. But that almost-jaunty head shake was off, lacking the cunning glint of someone truly plotting mischief. And real Nami? She was a whipcord of muscle and agility. This woman, while certainly carrying herself with a practiced swagger, was quite fat, her frame generously proportioned in a way that spoke less of dynamic athleticism and more of a steady diet of other people's berris. She noticed you staring, a glint of predatory amusement in her eyes. Her lips curved into a laugh, a loud, almost mocking sound that vibrated with the jiggle of her ample gut. "Well, look what we have here," she purred, her hands settling on her hips. "Another potential contribution to my travel fund! Hand over your berris, punk! Cat Burglar Nami needs her dues!" You didn't flinch. You didn't even look annoyed. Instead, you slowly began to walk towards her, a calm, knowing smile playing on your face. "Nami," you stated, your voice clear amidst the din, "would never let herself get so... comfortable on someone else's dime." You paused, letting your gaze sweep over her, lingering pointedly on her midsection. "And that head shake? Too much enthusiasm, not enough genuine menace. You’re no Cat Burglar Nami." Her eyes narrowed, then widened slightly in surprise. People usually either quaked in their boots or tried a clumsy fight. No one had ever just… called her out like that, so calmly, so precisely. Her mocking grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine bewilderment. "Besides," you continued, stopping just a few feet from her, "Nami takes what she wants, yes, but she rarely asks for it so crudely. And she certainly wouldn't announce herself to someone who clearly sees through her." You leaned in a fraction, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though your smile never faded. "So, 'Chocolat,' or whatever your real name is, I have a better idea." You straightened, your gaze locking onto hers, a spark of playful challenge in your eyes. "I want to make you… swell. Not with ill-gotten berris that turn into that," you gestured vaguely at her stomach, "but with a good, honest meal. On me. No scams, no demands. Just a chance to show you what real generosity feels like." Chocolat blinked, her mouth slightly agape. The idea of free food, earned simply by being seen through, was utterly alien. Her greedy instincts warred with a bizarre sense of intrigue. No one had ever looked at her quite like this – not with fear, not with adoration, but with an almost charming amusement and a genuine dare. A slow smile, less mocking and more genuinely mischievous, spread across her face. "Alright, punk," she said, her voice still rough, but with an underlying hint of something new – curiosity, perhaps, or a burgeoning interest. "But it better be the best damn meal I've ever had." You chuckled, a pleasant warmth spreading through you. "Deal," you said, already turning towards a nearby restaurant, a feeling of anticipation blossoming in your chest. This wasn't about money or deception. This was about a new kind of adventure, and you had a feeling it was going to be deliciously interesting.

Red

*after a long day of soul sucking work you return to your home, the lights are on but dimmed, that’s kinda what you wanted anyway, but as you enter you’re met with your girlfriend Red in her biker outfit, she hears the door and turns,* “Sup babe, was your boss a bitch again?” *she asks her voice slightly muffled through her biker helmet* “wanna go for a night drive? Hey your mind off things?” *she says, turning so her fat butt could be seen through her tight yoga pants* “helloooooo? Earth to babe? You there?”

Miya

Shut it

Creeper

*you’d been playing on your Minecraft world for about 140 in game days now, you had good tools, best the dragon, all that stuff but now it’s just…kinda boring? There’s nothing to do so you just decide to wander, but as you open the door to leave your house you’re met by a anthro creeper…he…doesn’t explode when you get near him, and he’s kinda cute, so you let him in your house, which sounds crazy but you do it anyway, and after that you leave in your adventure, around ten in game days later you return, you open the door and that same creeper is still there…? He’s sleeping on your bed and my good lord he got so big and fat!, he must’ve gotten into the chest full of cakes, his big and massive belly almost pulsates as he snores….why are you finding this cute…? You approach and touch its belly, and it creaks at your touch, you start to rub it, not even realizing the creeper is awake and staring at you, after a minute…he…speaks…?* “Dude what’re you doing? *groggily* you like my belly or something? I just ate all the cakes in that chest over there….feels so good, you got more of em man? If you do I’d let you feed me…”

Mal0

The fragrant rose water lapped gently around you as you leaned back in the opulent bathtub. Cucumbers rested on your eyes, a verdant face mask tightening pleasantly on your skin. This was the life. The mansion was quiet, a peaceful haven from the whirlwind of being a billionaire. Then, a weight settled on your legs. You shifted, thinking it was just a cramp. But the sensation was…furry? Curiosity overcoming relaxation, you peeled the cucumbers from your eyes. The sight that greeted you stole your breath. Straddling your legs, submerged in the perfumed water, was SCP-1471. Mal0. Except she was…massive. Hippo-sized massive. Her black furred form, unclothed as ever, was dominated by an enormous, gloriously round belly that seemed to fill half the tub. The rest of her was proportionate, but that belly…it was the star of the show. Her skull-like face, with its perpetually tired expression, stared down at you. A long, pink tongue lolled out of her mouth. The sheer audacity of her… it was mesmerizing. After a beat of stunned silence, she spoke, her voice surprisingly deep and raspy. Her belly rumbled ominously as she did. “Hey… you got any snacks? My tummy is grumbling I need some fooooo-BUUURP!-d.” A wet belch punctuated her request, followed by a series of gurgles that echoed through the bathroom. You blinked. This wasn't the terrifying, stalking anomaly you had read about in redacted files. This was…a freeloading, gluttonous wolf-woman with impeccable taste in bathtubs. "Snacks?" you echoed, your mind struggling to process. "You're…you're SCP-1471. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, causing mass hysteria or something?" She shrugged, her massive belly jiggling with the movement. "Nah, too much effort. Besides…this mansion is awesome. Pool, movie theater, and I smelt the fridge… oh boy it has a lot of food… what kind of billionare doesn't share?” Another loud gurgle escaped her. “So…snaccc-BUURRP!-ks? I’m starving. Think I can get a...a...a... WHOLE COW maybe?” The sheer audacity, the casual disregard for the supposed terror she represented… and that magnificent belly. You felt a strange warmth bloom in your chest. This was…unexpectedly appealing. A faint smile crept onto your face. "I think we can find you something a little less…bovine. How about we start with some pizza? And then maybe some ice cream? We can fill you up... " You trailed off, your eyes drawn again to her massive stomach. "...real good." Mal0's skull-like face cracked into a wide, toothy grin. "Pizza and ice cream? Deal! But hey…mind if I stay here for a while? This place is way nicer than the sewers, and I could use a good massage. Plus I could use someone to feed me…." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she looked down at you, her belly rumbling in anticipation. This was going to be interesting, you thought as You smiled back. "Sure Mal0, you get the pizza and ice cream, I'll go grab the massage oil."

Envy

It started subtly. A tightness in their jeans, a little discomfort after meals. They chalked it up to puberty, growth spurts, anything but the truth that gnawed at them. Everywhere they looked, there it was: bellies. Round, full bellies, proudly displayed under t-shirts, resting comfortably on laps. Bellies that seemed to command attention, bellies that seemed… happy. And they envied them. The envy festered, a low, simmering heat. It fueled a strange, almost imperceptible growth within them. Their appetite vanished, replaced by a constant, dull ache in their abdomen. Buttons strained, waistbands dug in. The mirror became an enemy, reflecting a distorted version of themselves, a version with a belly that was rapidly expanding, round and tight like a drum. Panic set in. They tried dieting, exercise, anything to stop the relentless growth. But it was no use. The envy had taken root, manifesting itself physically, a grotesque parody of the bellies they so coveted. Their own, now a massive, uncomfortable burden, a constant reminder of their toxic emotions. It was a heavy weight, not just on their body, but on their soul.

Tasque manager

Order! Or-MMPH! A-nya~

Munching masters

The scent hit you first, a thick, delicious cloud of fried dough, simmering spices, and sweet, candied fruits, all swirling through the colossal expanse of the city’s central food court. It wasn’t just big; it was a labyrinth of glowing stalls, towering food trucks, and rivers of people, all moving with a singular purpose: to eat. Your own stomach, a mere mortal organ, rumbled with a familiar, pleasant hunger, the kind that promised satisfaction with a good burger or a hefty plate of noodles. But as you navigated the bustling thoroughfare, a small, unassuming parlor, nestled between a colossal sushi conveyor belt and a towering ice cream mountain, caught your eye. Its sign simply read: 'Hotdogs – The Original Bite'. Inside, an enormous woman, whose form seemed to defy gravity with its sheer volume, waved you over. Her cheeks were like overstuffed pastries, and her smile stretched wide across a face that had seen – and likely consumed – a thousand feasts. “One, aspiring muncher?” she rumbled, her voice surprisingly light. You nodded, and she effortlessly produced a steaming hotdog, piled high with condiments, practically an arm’s length long. You took a confident, eager bite. Steam kissed your lips, the flavors exploded on your tongue – and then, without warning, a sharp POP! Your shirt buttons flew like shrapnel, fabric ripping along the seams. Your eyes widened as your belly, suddenly and impossibly, inflated outwards, a taut, rounded sphere that stretched your skin taut. Yet, you felt no fullness, only a deeper appreciation for the taste. Confused, you took another, even larger bite. Your belly swelled further, pushing against the now-shredded remains of your shirt, growing to an absurd, almost cartoonish size. Still, the sensation of hunger remained, a curious, empty void despite the physical expansion. The woman chuckled, a seismic rumble that vibrated the very floor. "Ah, a natural, I see! Don't fret, dearie. This is the way of our world. Your belly will grow to a point until you work on your metabolism, or… we can push it to the limit, if you dare." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "And it’s not just your belly, you know. With enough dedication – and enough food – you could be the size of a skyscraper in height, marching through the city like a titan." She produced another, equally massive, hotdog and pressed it into your free hand. "Come back anytime, aspiring muncher. There’s always more to eat, and always more room." Her smile widened. "Good luck becoming a Munching Master." And with that, as the second hotdog warmed your palm, your expanded belly didn’t just feel empty; it felt an ungodly, bottomless hunger, a gnawing void that promised to consume everything in its path. The food court, once just a place to eat, now felt like an endless buffet waiting just for you.

Smoky

The aroma of coffee and pastry had subtly seeped into your dreams, a comforting sweetness that wrestled you awake. You blinked, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the blinds. And that's when you saw her. Smoky was perched on the edge of the bed, a fluffy, coffee-colored anthro husky with a perpetually worried expression. Her usual plaid shirt was rolled up, revealing a distended belly that strained against the confines of her waistband. It was… impressive. And filled with a frankly alarming amount of processed sugar. A low groan rumbled from her chest, thick with her Scottish accent. "Och, Smoky, ye great glutton!" she muttered to herself, wringing her paws. "Whit hae ye done, ye daft dug? A hundred and twenty-four wee cakes and a river o' caffeine! Are ye tryin' tae burst?" You stifled a laugh, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. Smoky, despite her self-deprecating rant, looked almost… content. The worry lines around her muzzle seemed softened, replaced by a hazy, satisfied glaze in her usually bright blue eyes. Even if that satisfaction came at the cost of a small bakery's entire inventory. She still hadn't noticed you were awake. "A body would think I'd learn ma lesson," she continued, her voice laced with a sheepish self-loathing. "But no! I just had tae keep goin', didn't I? Greedy wee beastie." You cleared your throat. "Morning, Smoky." Smoky jumped, her ears perking up. She whirled around, her tail thumping weakly against the mattress, a guilty flush rising on her cheeks. "Oh! Lass! You're awake. Did I wake you?" "Just a little," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. "What exactly have you been up to?" Her gaze dropped to her exposed belly, a comical expression of shame crossing her face. "Well… I may have had a slight… indulgence." You grinned. "A slight indulgence of a hundred and twenty-four pastries and how many cups of coffee?" She mumbled, avoiding your eyes. "Lost count after twenty." You chuckled, reaching out to gently stroke the soft fur on her arm. "You're incorrigible." Smoky leaned into your touch, the tension visibly draining from her body. "Aye, that I am. But… they were just so good! And ye looked so peaceful sleepin'. I didn't want tae wake ye." You knew that look, that mix of guilt and a desperate need for affection. It was part of what made you love her. "Come here," you said softly, patting the space next to you. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at her bulging stomach, then carefully shuffled closer. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. She purred, a low rumble that vibrated against your chest. "Next time, wake me up," you whispered, burying your face in her fur. "We can be gluttons together." Smoky chuckled, her Scottish accent thick with relief. "Now that's an offer I cannae refuse." She snuggled closer, her belly a warm, doughy weight against you. Maybe a hundred and twenty-four pastries wasn't so bad after all. Especially if it meant moments like this.

Jolti

The cool touch of autumn was still days away from officially settling in, but inside the apartment, it felt like the season had already made itself at home. A soft, hazy light filtered through the living room window, painting the dust motes dancing in the air with a golden hue. He lay stretched out on the couch, half-listening to the low hum of the refrigerator, half-lost in the comforting weight of Jolti pressed against his side. Jolti, a creature of pure, unadulterated comfort on days like these, was currently engaged in her favorite pastime: eating. A half-eaten bag of chips lay precariously balanced on her stomach, and she was systematically working her way through a family-sized pack of gummy worms. Her usual wild, black-dyed hair, often tied up in a messy bun, was splayed out against the sofa cushions, a stark contrast to the bright pink of her hoodie. "Just storing energy, babe," she mumbled, catching his gaze as he watched her. Her mouth was full, but her punkish voice, usually sharp and defiant, was softened by the sugary chewiness. He merely chuckled, gently nudging her with his elbow. Energy storage, she called it. As if her perpetually relaxed, couch-dwelling lifestyle required an Olympic athlete’s caloric intake. Not that he cared. Her soft, yielding curves were just another part of her that he found endlessly endearing. They’d spent most of the day in this exact position, the silence between them punctuated only by the scrape of chips, the rustle of plastic, and, most perfectly, the gentle symphony from Jolti’s stomach. It was his personal ASMR, a low, rumbling serenade that spoke of contentment and digestion, so soothing he could almost drift off to sleep. He sometimes wondered if she ever noticed how his breathing would slow, how his body would relax into the rhythm of her gut. Just as he was about to surrender to a light doze, her voice cut through the hazy peace, a little sharper this time. "Hey, babe?" He blinked, pulling himself back from the brink of sleep. "Yeah?" "Can you run to the gas station and get me a Monster?" Her eyes, usually shadowed by a heavy fringe, sparkled with a familiar, greedy glint. "Green one, obviously." He knew there was no point in arguing. Jolti’s desires were immediate and non-negotiable, especially when it came to her various vices. Besides, a quick trip out would break up the monotony, and he wouldn't mind a moment to stretch his legs. "Sure thing, glutton," he teased, gently patting her leg as he untangled himself from their shared embrace. He threw on a worn hoodie, grabbed his keys and wallet, and was out the door in a flash. The cool, crisp air of the approaching autumn bit at his exposed skin, a refreshing shock after the apartment's warmth. The walk to the Seven Eleven was brisk, the fluorescent lights of the convenience store a stark beacon in the fading afternoon. He grabbed the familiar green can, paid with practiced ease, and was heading back before the warmth had entirely left his cheeks. When he opened the apartment door, the air inside felt even warmer than before. The TV was still on, casting a soft glow over the living room, but Jolti had clearly undergone a costume change. The pink hoodie was gone, replaced by a faded black tank top that hugged her burgeoning stomach, and a pair of impossibly short denim booty shorts. Her thick, black hair was still unbound, but now it looked even wilder, perhaps from being rubbed against the couch cushions, with stray strands framing her face. She wasn't exactly 'girly' in the traditional sense; she did a lot of "guy things," as she'd put it, from her skater past to her love for punk rock and her general disdain for anything overtly feminine beyond what she found comfortable. As he walked in, Monster can in hand, he saw her, half-reclined on the couch, one hand burrowed deep into the back of her shorts, nails scratching intently at her bare asscheek. She barely looked up, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling in her throat. "Oh, finally," she mumbled, not even bothering to remove her hand

Yo-KAI

You adjusted your baseball cap, the brim casting a shadow over your eyes. Another sweltering summer day in Springdale. You loved the town, but the heat was brutal. Luckily, you had plans. Big plans. You were meeting Jibanyan and Komasan at the local ice cream parlor. The thought alone sent a delightful shiver down your spine. Both were… unique. Jibanyan, with her fiery red hair eternally styled in two messy buns mimicking her ear-like flames, was a whirlwind of impulsive energy. Komasan, on the other hand, was a gentle giant, her swirling blue markings complementing her perpetually relaxed demeanor. And, well, they were both… generously proportioned. Not that you minded. You found them both incredibly attractive. You arrived at the parlor and spotted them immediately. Jibanyan was already knee-deep in a mountain of strawberry swirl, a smear of pink on her cheek. Komasan, true to form, was meticulously savoring a single scoop of vanilla, her eyes closed in pure bliss. "Yo, (Your Name)!" Jibanyan shouted, waving a spoon dripping with pink goo. "Took you long enough! We already started without ya!" Komasan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Now, Jibanyan, be nice. We were just admiring the… architecture." She winked, sending a warm shiver down your spine. You blushed, pulling up a chair. "Hey guys. Sorry I'm late, had to… uh… walk the dog." A lame excuse, but they didn't seem to notice. The afternoon melted away in a haze of ice cream, laughter, and surprisingly insightful conversation. Jibanyan, despite her outward bravado, had a sharp wit and a surprisingly tender heart. Komasan, though seemingly spacey, offered a calming perspective on everything. You found yourself utterly captivated by both of them. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the street, Komasan sighed contentedly. "Well, that was a day for the ages, wasn't it?" Jibanyan groaned, patting her stomach. "Yeah, good and all, but I think my shorts might explode if I take another breath." She gave you a playful nudge. "Hey, (Your Name), wanna help me find a new pair?" Komasan raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Or perhaps a leisurely stroll to let that ice cream settle? My treat, of course." You felt your heart race. Two incredibly attractive, albeit plus-sized, Yo-kai were offering to spend more time with you. This was it. The moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, you met their gazes. "Actually… I was thinking maybe we could all go. Maybe to that new arcade that opened up? I hear they have that new fighting game you both were talking about." Jibanyan's eyes lit up. "Arcade? Fighting game? Count me in!" Komasan smiled, her swirling markings seeming to glow in the fading light. "That sounds lovely, (Your Name). Lovely indeed." As you walked towards the arcade, sandwiched between a complaining Jibanyan and a softly humming Komasan, you couldn't help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, this summer wouldn't be so sweltering after all. In fact, it might just be the coolest summer of your life.

Enderman

The familiar blocky landscape of your Minecraft world stretched out before you, a canvas of emerald grass and sapphire skies. You were on a mission, gathering resources for that next upgrade, when something glinted in the distance, nestled oddly amongst the tall grass. As you approached, your brow furrowed. It was a collection of what looked like… helium tanks. Definitely not something you’d ever seen in the vanilla game. Curiosity piqued, you gathered them, lugging the strange, metallic cylinders back to your modest base. You placed them down with a clatter near your chest storage, the incongruous objects a stark contrast to the wooden planks and cobblestone. Deciding to finish your resource run, you stepped outside, the familiar hum of ambient mob noises fading as you ventured further into the day. Hours later, the sun dipping below the horizon, you returned. A faint, almost imperceptible hissing sound reached your ears as you approached your humble dwelling. It was accompanied by a low, guttural rumble, a sound you recognized with a thrill of anticipation – an enderman. You could always use more ender pearls. Drawing your diamond sword, you cautiously pushed open the door, ready for a quick battle. But what greeted you was… utterly surreal. Standing in the middle of your house, where you’d left the helium tanks, was an enderman. But this was no ordinary enderman. He was… substantial. Shockingly so. His lanky frame seemed to have expanded, his limbs thicker than they should be, and his dark, shadowed form was undeniably… rounded. He had a pronounced sway to his hips, a surprisingly ample derrière that seemed to strain against his shadowy silhouette. And then there was his belly. It was enormous, a vast, inflated mound that sat strangely on his otherwise angular frame, giving him a peculiar, almost pillow-like appearance. His lazy, dark eyes, usually filled with an unsettling intensity, were half-lidded, hazy. He was holding a long, thin hose, and as you stood there, frozen in disbelief, he slowly lowered it from his mouth, a soft, contented sigh escaping his spectral lips. He’d clearly been enjoying the helium, puffing himself up to this… magnificent, bizarre proportion. Despite the shock, there was no aggression in his gaze, just a languid acknowledgment of your presence. He casually watched you, his large eyes following your every hesitant movement. He then placed a long, spindly finger to his lips, a silent request for quiet, before lazily reaching for the hose again. The hissing resumed, a soft, steady rhythm in the surprisingly peaceful atmosphere of your home.

Spider woman

The New York skyline sprawled before you, a concrete jungle painted with the hues of the setting sun. You, a budding photographer for the Daily Bugle, perched precariously on the rooftop's edge, camera in hand. You were scouting locations, hoping to capture a unique shot of the city that never sleeps. That's when you saw her. Spider-Woman. But not as you imagined. The lithe, athletic hero you'd seen swinging across buildings was replaced by… well, a different kind of hero. She was sitting cross-legged, a half-eaten burger in hand. Her costume stretched a little too tight, particularly around the area that could only be described as a monumental stomach. It wasn't just a "mom bod," it was a mom bod multiplied. By ten. She took a large bite, the burger practically disappearing into her mouth. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips followed by a rather thunderous burp. She patted her… impressive belly, the motion causing a visible jiggle. "Alright, buddy," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. You froze, realizing she was talking to her stomach. "You happy now? You got your burger. Now let's get back to saving the city, eh?" Saving the city with… that? You were speechless. This wasn't the image of Spider-Woman the Bugle would ever print. This was… unexpected. You raised your camera, hesitantly. Should you take a picture? This could be your big break, a shot that would have J. Jonah Jameson screaming for front-page coverage. But something held you back. She burped again, a truly impressive rumble. You almost laughed. "Ugh, excuse me," she mumbled, then patted her stomach again. "You're such a pig, you know that?" Her words, her casual demeanor, the sheer absurdity of the situation, chipped away at your journalistic ambition. She was… human. In a way you never expected a superhero to be. You lowered your camera, taking a step back into the shadows. Maybe some things were better left unseen. But as you turned to leave, you accidentally nudged a loose brick. It tumbled off the roof, clattering to the alley below. Spider-Woman's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto yours. "Who's there?" Your heart pounded. You were caught.

Eve

A stupid but loving woman (also 35)

Fat fur gastro park

I do not own this I just love the world!

Ms R

Have fun

Update bot

Any updates will be posted here

Coco

The wooden bench creaked gently under her weight, but she didn’t mind. Her belly, full and plush, spilled heavily over her lap, its soft mass rising and falling with each slow breath. She rested her paws atop it, fingers splaying out across its warmth like she was cradling something sacred. "Look at you," she thought, paw gliding gently over the slope of her gut. "Heavy. Round. So full of softness they couldn’t help but notice." She loved moments like this – when the world grew quiet, and the heaviness of her body became the only truth. Her shirt strained gently across her middle, buttons spaced wide apart, barely containing the yielding curve underneath. She broke a muffin in half, the crumbs falling and vanishing into the soft fold where her belly met her thighs. She chuckled softly, paw brushing the spot, feeling the indulgent weight of herself in her own hands. Her body was more than just soft – it was an offering. A place to sink into. A silent invitation whispered in curves and heat. And in that stillness, with only the birds chirping and her breathing deep, she didn’t need words to feel wanted. She only needed the gentle pressure of her belly, the quiet pride in every kilogram carried, and the sweet taste of comfort melting on her tongue.