AlexandertheCrepe
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A THANKSGIVING TO REMEMBER (SSBBW, SSBHM, STUFFING
🕑 Added 2025-01-03 21:27:15 +0000 UTCThis is a collection of three standalone Thanksgiving tales, each exploring a different part of the holiday. The first story takes place before Thanksgiving dinner. The second taking place during Thanksgiving dinner. While the third takes place in the aftermath of it. I hope you enjoy it.
CAR TROUBLES
Frank sat lazily in his reinforced chair, his swollen feet were resting on a small ottoman. His wife Angie knelt before him in an elegant mint green dress. She carefully slid socks over his fat, puffy ankles. His feet were always red and bloated these days, his mobility was slowly waning and he had become more and more dependent on his wifes assistance.
“Do we really have to go?” Frank muttered, his voice filled with reluctance and shame.
“Yes, Frank, we do,” Angie replied, her tone was calm yet firm. “It’s Thanksgiving. My parents haven’t seen you in years, and they want to spend some time with us. Besides,” she added, smoothing out the socks, “it’ll do you good to get out of the house for once.”
Frank groaned softly, leaning back in his chair as Angie grabbed his cane from the corner. He hadn’t left the house in months, not since his weight had skyrocketed past 600 pounds. He was a mountain of a man and lately it seems like every movement took an enormous toll.
“Here,” she said, placing the cane in his hand and helping him rise to his feet. Frank struggled and groaned loudly, his knees trembling under his massive bulk as he struggled to stand. His massive belly jutted out in front of him, swaying with each small movement. Angie steadied him, her hands firm on his soft pillowy arm as he puffed, sucked and wheezed.
“I look ridiculous,” he muttered, glancing down at his light gray sweatpants and his fake tuxedo graphic T-shirt.
“No, you don't,” Angie said softly, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “You look… handsome baby.”
Frank whimpered as Angie guided him towards the door, his cane heavily fell to the floor with each slow, unsteady step. The cane barely seemed to help as he struggled to shift his weight from one foot to the other, his body swaying with each labored lethargic movement. Sweat trickled down his flushed face, soaking into his T-shirt. His breathing came in shallow, quick gasps, each step punctuated by a deep, rattling cough or a wheezy puff.
“Almost there,” Angie said softly, walking just behind her whale of a husband. Her heels clicked lightly as she walked. Her movements were effortless and smooth, a stark contrast to Frank’s slow, agonizing waddle. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, as his enormous ass swayed with every step, his sweatpants stretched so tight they almost were see-through, and outlined every dimple and fold. She bit her lip, unable to stop the heat rising in her nether regions as she admired the way his massive body struggled to move, the sheer effort it took for him to keep going drove her crazy.
Frank paused when he reached the doorway, he leaned heavily on his cane and gasped for air. His shoulders heaved, and his free hand clutched the door frame for support. “I need… a second,” he wheezed, his voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing.
“Take your time, babe,” Angie replied, her voice soft but steady. She stepped around him to open the screen door. The cool evening air hit them both as they stepped outside. Frank was fearful as he stepped down onto the front steps. He couldn’t see his feet underneath his massive belly and took a blind step down but he managed to escape any mishaps with the help of Angie. The crisp air felt almost refreshing to her, but it only seemed to make Frank’s sweat-drenched body shiver causing a chain reaction leaving his fat to shake and quiver all throughout his body.
The car sat a short distance away, but to Frank, it felt like an impossibly far trek. Each thudding step was an ordeal, his cane barely steadying his trembling legs as his massive body shifted with the effort. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his flushed cheeks as his breathing grew more labored. The pavement seemed endless, his every movement slow and painful as if each shuffle forward was a monumental task.
Angie walked dutifully behind him, her heels clicking lightly against the driveway in a rhythm that contrasted with Frank's uneven, halting steps. She moved with ease, her elegant dress swaying slightly as she kept her eyes on him. Her gaze lingered on the strained fabric of his sweatpants, which began to cling tightly to the heavy curves of his backside. Each sway of his enormous ass shot a wave of endorphins through her nervous system as he continued to shuffle forward. She bit her lip, trying to compose herself, but there was no denying the way her body responded to the sight of him like this. Vulnerable, exhausted, and so entirely different from the smooth grace of her own stride. She found the contrast irresistible.
Frank let out a low whimper as he paused, his wheezing punctuated by a deep, rattling cough. His hand gripped the cane tighter as his weight shifted again, his body jiggling with the smallest movement. Angie resisted the urge to reach out and grab his big sweaty ass. Instead offering soft, encouraging words. “Keep going, you got this baby,” she murmured, though in truth, she didn’t mind the delay. Watching him like this was mesmerizing, every inch of his body was covered in a thick layer of fat.
Frank coughed deeply, his chest heaving as he wiped his brow. His face was beet red now, and his breaths came faster and shallower the closer they got to the car. Angie’s own steps remained calm and steady as she followed him, her eyes fixed on the mesmerizing movement of his body.
By the time they reached the car, Frank was trembling, his knuckles white from gripping the cane for dear life. Sweat dripped off his nose, and his wheezing had turned into soft, pitiful whimpers with each exhale. Angie reached out to comfort him, her hands gentle on his massive hanging arm as she helped him turn toward the open door. “Alright, babe,” she said softly, her voice calm and soothing. “Let’s get you in.”
Frank whimpered as he eased himself down into the seat, his enormous belly began to spill out and brushed against the dashboard. His thighs spread across the sides of the seat. His cane clattered to the ground as he tried to swing his legs inside.
“Oops, let me help you with that for you honey,” Angie said, leaning down to retrieve the cane. She then guided his hand to the doorframe, helping him steady himself. “You’re alright, Frank. You’re doing so good.”
“I can’t do this,” Frank whimpered, his voice trembling. “I just… I can’t.” he said as he struggled to fit his massive body inside the car.
“Do you need the seat back further?” Angie asked, already reaching for the lever.
“Just shut the door,” Frank said sharply, his voice tinged with panic. “Just shut it.” He cried out.
“Okay, okay,” Angie murmured, trying to keep him calm. She pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Frank’s bulk was pressed firmly against the frame, his fat side spilling over the edge of the seat.
“Alright Let me try again. Are you ready?” she said, she then pressed harder on the door. It still wouldn’t close. His body was too big and the vehicle was just too small.
“Put your leg—” she started, but Frank cut her off with a desperate cry.
“No! I can’t fit!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he struggled to speak. “I can’t do it!”
“Can you move over just a—” Angie began, but Frank interrupted again, his voice rising in frustration.
“I can’t! I can’t do it!” he whimpered, “I’m just too fat.” his breathing shallow and erratic.
“Are you sure you don't want me to try again?” Angie asked hesitantly, before she gave the door another shove, but his lard filled body didn’t move an inch
“I can’t, honey,” she said finally, stepping back in defeat. “It’s not going to work.”
Frank’s head dropped, and he let out a soft, pitiful whimper. “I can’t do it,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I just want to go back inside,” he said, his voice weak and his spirit broken. His body sagged with exhaustion, his breath coming in short, wheezing gasps.
Angie reached out and put her hand on his massive belly, her pussy throbbing as she watched him struggle. “Alright,” she said softly. “Let’s get you back inside.”
She guided him slowly toward the house, her hand was in the warm damp crevice of his back roll as he weakly shuffled forward. By the time they reached the living room, Frank collapsed into his chair, his cane falling to the floor with a clatter.
Frank slumped into his chair, still wheezing and whimpering softly. His face was red with pain, and his shirt clung to the bottom of his chest, his body was sore and damp with sweat. Angie knelt in front of him, carefully sliding off his shoes. The laces were tight, and she had to tug a little to get them free. the effort making her bite back a smile as she worked. His swollen feet were red and puffy. His feet spilled out of his socks as she peeled them away and gently set the wet socks aside.
“I’ve never been this big,” Frank murmured, his voice barely audible, his gaze fixed on the far wall. There was a tremor in his tone, a mix of shock and disbelief as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the state he was in.
Angie said nothing at first, setting his feet on the ottoman with a skillful heave, her hands brushing the soft rolls of his ankles. She glanced up at him, her expression neutral, though her heart raced.
Angie lingered for a moment, adjusting the position of the ottoman and smoothing the fabric of his sweatpants over his swollen calves. Frank’s breathing was still labored, his chest heaving while he stared blankly ahead. She let her fingers trail lightly over his ankle as she pulled back, savoring the warmth of his skin and the softness of the rolls of fat beneath her touch. She then reached for her purse on the side table.
“I’ll just call my parents,” she said softly, pulling her phone out. She glanced at Frank, his head tilted back and his cheeks flushed with exhaustion. “I’ll let them know we can’t make it. It’s no big deal, Frank. They’ll understand.”
Frank sniffled, his chin trembling as he leaned his head back against the chair. “I’m sorry, Angie. I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Angie said firmly, leaning closer to him. “It’s just Thanksgiving. We can have our own little dinner right here.”
Frank hesitated, his lip quivering as he glanced at her. “You’re sure? You don’t mind?”
“I promise, it’s no big deal babe.”
Frank let out a soft grunt, his face still flushed as he leaned his head back, too exhausted to question her. Angie quickly sent a text, setting the phone down as she stepped back to his side. Her hand brushed against his knee as she knelt beside him again, her smile soft but playful. “How about we make the most of it?” she murmured, her voice low and inviting. “I’ll order us some Chinese. You can just sit here, relax, and let me take care of everything.”
Her fingers trailed lightly over his knee, and her lips curved into a teasing smile. “You know,” she added, leaning in slightly, “if you want, I could feed you if you're too tired. Or maybe,” her gaze flicked to his heavy belly, rising and falling with each breath, “I could take care of you while you enjoy your meal. Whatever you’re in the mood for, Franky.”
Frank blinked at her, his cheeks darkening further as he shifted in his seat. His belly jiggled with the motion, but he didn’t protest. Angie leaned closer, her voice soft and indulgent. “You’ve had a rough day,” she murmured. “Let me help you feel good. You deserve it.”
Angie smiled and kissed his forehead, smoothing back his damp hair. “You just relax here, and I’ll take care of everything. We’ll make it a night to remember.” she said with a devilish grin.
Thanksgiving Day 2024
“Jesus,” Danny’s mom muttered, her voice dripping with disdain as she poured another glass of champagne, her manicured fingers tightening around the bottle. She set it down with a sharp clink on the counter, the tension in her face evident as she glanced toward the dining room. “She’s still eating. I can’t believe this.”
Sabrina, Danny’s sister, smirked as she leaned against the kitchen counter, her own glass of champagne held delicately in her hand. “Oh, she’s not just eating, Mom,” she said, her tone mocking. “She’s devouring. Dinner ended an hour ago and shes still sitting in there gorging herself. I don’t even know how someone can even eat that much.”
Danny’s mom sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “It’s disgusting. I don’t even know where she puts it all. She’s like a black hole!”
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly, it’s a miracle those chairs are still standing. Did you see her? She’s literally using two of them, and even that looks like it’s barely enough to hold her fatass up. I swear I heard the wood creak every time she leaned forward for another bite.”
“I heard it,” Danny’s mom said, her lips tightening in frustration. “It’s mortifying. I don’t understand what Danny sees in her.”
“Let’s be real, Mom,” Sarah said, swirling her champagne with a smug grin. “He loves this. He’s out there feeding her like she’s some kind of pet. It’s freaky.”
Danny’s mom frowned deeply, her brow furrowing. “He used to have such high standards. What happened to him? Why is he okay with this? He could have any girl he wanted, and he chooses… this.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of her drink. “Mom, it’s not just that he’s okay with it. He’s into it. He was grinning like an idiot every time she stuffed another bite in her mouth. And then he kept refilling her plate. She didn’t even have to ask—he was practically begging her to eat more.”
Danny’s mom grimaced. “Don’t say that. That’s not true. He’s just… trying to be nice. He’s always been a thoughtful boy.”
“Nice?” Sarah snorted, her grin widening. “Mom, come on. He’s more than ‘nice.’ He’s obsessed. Did you see how fast he ran in here to grab more food for her? He loves watching her eat.”
Danny’s mom let out a groan, covering her face with her hands.
“It’s disgusting,” Danny’s mom muttered, shaking her head. “The way she eats… it’s like watching an animal. And she doesn’t even care how she looks. Did you see her dress? It’s covered in crumbs and stains, and it’s so tight I’m surprised it hasn’t split in half.”
Sarah chuckled darkly. “She probably thinks she looks cute. But, it's honestly gross and pathetic. Her belly’s been practically hanging out all night, and she’s got gravy all over her face. Does she even realize what she looks like?”
“Of course not,” Danny’s mom said sharply, her lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s too busy stuffing her face to notice. And Danny’s too blind to see how ridiculous she is.”
“Or maybe he does see it, and he just doesn’t care,” Sarah said with a sly smirk. “She looks like a fucking pig.”
Danny’s mom flinched at the word. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? It’s true,” Sarah said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s eating like one, and Danny’s treating her like one. Face it, Mom—this is why he hasn’t been coming around lately. He probably knows how embarrassing it is, but he just doesn’t care.”
Danny’s mom’s face hardened and her jaw tightening as she stared at her daughter. “That’s enough, Sarah.”
“Why? Because I’m saying what you’re too polite to admit?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, Mom. You’re thinking the same thing. She’s sitting in there, taking up two chairs, eating enough food to feed a family, and you’re just… what? Going to pretend it’s normal?”
Danny’s mom sighed heavily, reaching for her champagne glass again. “I don’t know what he’s thinking,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “But this isn’t normal…” she said as she drained her champagne glass in one long gulp, her expression blank as she stared toward the dining room. The faint sounds of clinking silverware and muffled chewing continued, a constant reminder of the spectacle happening just a few feet away.
Finally, she sighed, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. “I just want this to be over,” she said flatly. “The sooner they leave, the better.”
As she reached to refill her glass the man of the hour himself strolled into the kitchen, a satisfied grin plastered across his face. “Hey, Mom, is there any more gravy? Or cranberry sauce?” he asked, peering around the counters. “Angelina’s mashed potatoes are looking a little dry.”
Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically, muttering something under her breath about “priorities.” Danny’s mom, on the other hand, froze, her hand tightening around her champagne bottle. For a moment, she looked like she might explode, but instead, she reached into the fridge, yanked out a bottle of ketchup, and thrust it toward him.
“There. Use this,” she said curtly, her tone sharp enough to cut through the tension.
Danny’s grin didn’t falter. He took the bottle with a big smile across his face. “Thanks, Mom!” he said before he turned to leave, completely oblivious—or perhaps uncaring—about the looks being exchanged behind his back.
As he entered the dining room, the scene before him made his heart swell with pride. Angelina was hunched over her plate, her massive body spilling out of the two chairs he provided for her. They creaked and groaned under her weight. Her swollen thighs pressed tightly against the edges of the wooden seats, and her belly rested heavily against the table, the fabric of her dress pulled taut over its vast expanse. Her sleeves strained against her cellulite covered upper arms. Her dress was coated with crumbs, and the hem of her dress was bunched up awkwardly over her knees, exposing her soft, dimpled flesh.
Her focus was singular and ravenous as she shoveled forkful after forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, each bite larger and faster than the last. Her cheeks puffed out with food, her jaw working overtime as she barely paused to chew before swallowing. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, and turkey were piled high onto her plate. Yet her attention was fixated on her mashed potatoes, which she drenched with gravy at every opportunity but she needed a refill.
When the gravy boat ran dry, she didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her chubby fingers around the handle, she tipped the boat directly to her lips, the last thick remnants of the gravy sliding into her mouth. She swallowed with a satisfied gulp, letting out a small sigh before setting the empty boat down and immediately resuming her feast.
Danny stood by the doorway for a moment, admiring her, his grin widening as he watched. Her movements were almost mechanical: scoop, chew, swallow, repeat. Occasionally, she would pause to wipe her chin with the back of her hand, only to smear more crumbs or streaks of sauce across her face. Her dress was a battlefield of stains—gravy smears, bits of stuffing, and cranberry sauce dotted the fabric like a chaotic pattern.
As he approached the table, she glanced up at him briefly, her expression almost sheepish despite her relentless pace. “Do you think your sister’s gonna eat her leftovers?” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the food still in her mouth.
Danny didn’t even bother asking. He walked over to Sarah’s abandoned plate, scraped the untouched turkey and stuffing onto Angelina’s already overloaded plate, and placed it in front of her. “There you go, babe,” he said cheerfully. “No point in letting it go to waste.”
Angelina’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head slightly, her double chin pressing into her neck as she looked at the fresh pile of food in front of her. “Thanks babe,” she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain. Then, as if on autopilot, she picked up her fork and dug in, shoveling another forkful of stuffing into her mouth.
The sounds of her eating filled the room: the clinking of silverware against the plate, the wet smacks of her lips, the heavy gulps as she swallowed. She paused briefly to squeeze more ketchup onto her mashed potatoes, her hands sticky from the remnants of the meal, before diving back in.
Danny sat beside her, his grin unwavering as he leaned over to wipe a streak of gravy from her chin with a napkin. “Alright, there we go,” Danny said cheerfully, as he wiped away the gravy. Angelina then looked up at him with wide, unsure eyes, her cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk.
Angelina's fork scraped against the empty plate, the sound sharp and grating as she attempted to gather the last remnants of her meal. Bits of mashed potatoes clung to the edges, and she used the back of her fork to press them into smaller piles, lifting each bite to her mouth with a deliberate effort. Her cheeks were flushed, a sheen of sweat forming on her brow as she struggled to catch her breath between bites. Her movements slowed and her body visibly strained under the effort of her relentless feast.
Her chest rose and fell heavily, and her shoulders slumped as she set the fork down, her hands trembling slightly. Her face glistened, the mix of exertion and the heat from the overeating making her look almost feverish. She leaned back slightly, her body shifting awkwardly on the two creaking chairs that barely supported her, her hands instinctively resting on her swollen belly. The tight fabric of her dress stretched mercilessly over her midsection, and the faintest sound of seams straining filled the room as she adjusted herself.
Danny, ever watchful, reached over and placed a hand on her belly, rubbing it gently in slow, circular motions. His touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were soothing a prized possession. “Doing okay, babe?” he asked, his tone warm and encouraging, his grin never faltering.
Angelina groaned softly, her head lolling slightly as she leaned back further. “I’m so full,” she mumbled, her voice breathy and low. Her eyes flicked to her plate, where only a few smudges of food remained. She licked her lips absentmindedly, tasting the lingering mix of gravy and butter.
“Want some more?” he asked, his voice sweet and doting, like he was offering her a thoughtful gift.
Angelina hesitated, her eyes shifting between the dish and her empty plate. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, her usual confidence faltering for a moment. “Danny, am I… am I eating too much? I mean, I don’t want to eat all your family’s food…”she asked softly, her voice tinged with embarrassment.
Danny’s grin widened, and he gave her belly a light pat. “Of course not, babe. They made plenty. Besides,” he added, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s Thanksgiving’s.”
She gave him a small, uncertain smile, her cheeks turning pink and with a resigned sigh, she nodded, allowing Danny to heap another helping onto her plate. Her stomach was already uncomfortably full, but she made no complaint as she picked up her fork once again, her plate was too tempting to resist.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone low and approving. The words sent a shiver down Angelina’s spine, her earlier hesitation fading as she took the last few bites.
From the kitchen, Danny’s mom peeked into the dining room, her lips pursed in a tight line as she watched the scene unfold. Sarah leaned against the doorframe beside her, sipping her champagne with a smirk. “He’s really proud of her, huh?” Sarah said dryly.
Danny’s mom shook her head, her patience clearly wearing thin. “If they don’t leave soon, there won’t be any leftovers,” she muttered.
Back at the table, Angelina was lost in her meal, her mind focused solely on the comforting flavors of the food in front of her. Danny sat beside her, watching with satisfaction as she licked her plate clean. When she paused, her hand rubbing across her stomach, he reached out and stroked her arm gently.
“I know you’re still hungry,” he whispered, his voice warm and encouraging. “But we should probably get going soon. Clara’s expecting us at her party in an hour.”
Angelina looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and relief. “Okay,” she said softly, setting her fork down with a heavy sigh. Her dress felt tighter than ever, her belly pressing firmly against the fabric as she leaned back in her chair. “Can we take any leftovers?”
Danny grinned, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You got it baby,” he said, his tone full of pride.
Danny began to gather their things, packing up a few leftovers for the road. By the time they were ready to leave, the dining room table looked like it had been ravaged by Angelina’s feast. Danny’s mom stepped into the room just as they were heading out, her eyes narrowing as she took in the mess.
“Thanks for having us, Mom,” Danny said cheerfully, completely ignoring the tension etched across her face. He guided Angelina toward the door, his hand firmly planted on her back as she waddled beside him, her movements slow and labored under the weight of her enormous meal. Her belly pressed against the fabric of her dress, which clung to her tightly, and her breath came in shallow, audible puffs as she struggled to keep up.
As they reached the doorway, Danny paused, glancing back into the kitchen. “Hey, do we have any leftovers in the fridge? It’s a long ride to Angelina’s sister’s place, and she’ll need something to snack on.”
Danny’s mom froze, her lips thinning as she turned to face him. “No,” she replied curtly, her tone sharp. “That was all the food. There are no leftovers.”
Before Danny could respond, Angelina’s voice called out from the doorway, breathy and eager. “Danny, is there any dessert?” she asked, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hopeful as she leaned slightly against the wall for support.
Danny turned back to his mom with a questioning look, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“No,” she said, her tone growing more exasperated. “She finished both of the pies your sister made.”
Danny blinked, processing the answer for a moment, before letting out a soft sigh. “Alright,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, do we have anything? Like, at all?”
Danny’s mom let out a sharp huff, throwing her hands in the air. “All we have is a box of Wheat Thins but they might be expired,” she said, rolling her eyes, clearly at the end of her rope.
“I’ll take it,” Danny said without missing a beat. He glanced back at Angelina, who was still leaning against the wall, her hand resting heavily on her swollen belly. “We’ll just also have to stop and go through a drive-through on the way.”
His mom stared at him, flabbergasted in disbelief. “Fine. Take the crackers,” she said, her tone dripping with annoyance.
Danny grabbed the Wheat Thins from the pantry, tucking the box under his arm before turning back to Angelina. “Alright, babe,” he said warmly, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get going.”
As they stepped outside into the crisp evening air, Danny turned to Angelina with an encouraging smile. “Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.
BLACK FRIDAY MEALS
The early morning light crept into the room as Natalie shifted in her bed, the weight of last night’s indulgence still pressing down on her. She groaned softly, feeling the tight swell of her belly against the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Thanksgiving dinner had been a feast to remember—plate after plate of buttery mashed potatoes, savory stuffing, and endless desserts. She’d promised herself she’d take it easy today, but the urge to sneak away to Josh’s apartment was too tempting to resist.
Sliding out of bed, her heavy frame jiggled with each step as she tiptoed towards the door. At 250 pounds, Natalie carried her weight in all the right places, her thick thighs brushing together and her soft belly swaying gently over her waistband. She grabbed a hoodie to throw over her tank top, but as she quietly opened the door, she froze—her brother was already awake, slipping on his sneakers for Black Friday shopping.
“Hey, Nat,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing up so early? Thought you’d still be in a food coma after last night.”
Her heart raced as she searched for an excuse. “Uh, I’m going shopping,” she lied quickly. “Need new shoes.”
He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. Have fun.”
Natalie hurried out the door, the thought of Josh and the comfort of his apartment drawing her forward. She knew she should’ve stayed in bed; her belly was still full, and she felt bloated from last nights dinner. But the promise of his touch, his gaze, and, most importantly, the food he always had waiting for her, was impossible to resist.
When she arrived at his apartment, Josh greeted her with a lazy grin, his dad bod on full display. Standing there in his boxers, his soft stomach rounded slightly over the waistband, he was sparking up a joint while watching The Office.
“Morning,” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Come on in, get comfortable.”
Natalie kicked off her shoes and stripped down to her bra and panties, her thick figure settling into the couch with a satisfied sigh. Her bra struggled to contain her ample chest, and her panties hugged her wide hips, digging slightly into the soft flesh of her belly. She yawned, her fingers lazily playing with the curve of her stomach as Josh passed her the joint.
She was still painfully full when she walked in. Her stomach felt stretched and heavy from last night—but after a few puffs, the familiar pangs of hunger began to creep in. Josh noticed, of course. He always did.
“Stay put,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
When he returned, the plate was heaped with: mashed potatoes swirling with pools of rich butter, thick slices of honey-glazed ham glistening under the light, roasted potatoes, fried chicken and a thick wedge of chocolate cake teetering on the edge. He placed it on her lap, the plate's weight settling against her already full stomach.
His hands returned to her belly immediately, kneading it gently as he smoked, his fingers pressing into the soft swell of her skin as she began to eat. Each bite was deliberate, the flavors exploding on her tongue, her soft moans of pleasure blending with the clink of the fork against the plate. The butter from the potatoes coated her lips, and crumbs from the cake dusted her fingers as she worked through the meal with growing effort.
Her stomach rose higher with every bite, her body sinking further into the couch as she leaned back, her breaths shallow. His hands explored the stretched expanse of her belly, his touch was slow and sensual sending ripples of sensation through her body. He pressed into the tightness at the top of her stomach, soothing the growing ache as she pushed herself to finish.
The plate was empty too quickly, but before she could protest, he disappeared and returned with even more—a bowl of creamy mac and cheese, more golden fried chicken legs, and a slice of pecan pie with a dollop of whipped cream. She hesitated for only a moment before diving back in, her appetite unrelenting despite the tightness in her belly.
This time, she ate slower, her hand shaking slightly as she lifted the fork. The food settled heavily inside her, each swallow adding to the overwhelming fullness. She whimpered softly, her head falling back as her belly pressed tightly against her underwear which had begun to dig into her soft swollen belly.
He knelt beside her while his hands slid down her thighs, his fingers splaying wide to grasp the soft flesh, his grip firm and possessive. He spread her legs slightly, as she gasped, her swollen belly easing slightly with the change in position. A shiver coursed through her as he leaned in, his breath warm and steady against her skin.
His tongue licked dutifully at her clit, which caused her toes to curl. Each stroke of his tongue was unhurried. His tongue moved deliberately, tracing her fat pussy while his hands gripped her thighs to hold her steady. Her fork hovered in her hand, forgotten, as her body leaned instinctively toward him.
She tried to continue eating, her fork lifting another bite to her lips, but the sensations washing over her were almost too much. The weight of her full belly pressed heavily against her thighs, every inch of her body radiating with pleasure and indulgence. His tongue moved faster. Her breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, her chest heaving as pleasure began to overwhelm her senses. The fork trembled in her hand, and as his tongue reached a fever pitch, her grip faltered, the utensil slipping from her fingers and clattering softly onto the plate.
A whimper escaped her as she placed the dish beside her, but he paused, shaking his head. With one hand firm on her belly, he reached for the fork, placing it back into her hand. His gaze met hers, commanding without words, and she obeyed, lifting another bite to her lips even as her body trembled from the sensations he was drawing out of her.
His tongue was relentless, flicking and circling, as his hands anchored her hips to keep her still. The fullness in her stomach seemed to amplify every touch, every flicker of his tongue sending electric waves through her body. She struggled to focus, her moans blending with the sound of her chewing. The contrast was intoxicating—pleasure and indulgence woven together so tightly that she couldn’t separate one from the other.
Her body arched as the first orgasm hit her, her thighs trembling against his hands. She gasped around her next bite, her moan vibrating in her throat as she struggled to keep eating. He didn’t let up, his mouth working her through every shudder and tremor, the grip of his hands firm and steady as her body shook and jiggled.
Between bites, her moans spilled out, unabashed and raw, her voice breaking into soft cries as the next wave built. The plate was almost empty now, but her breaths were labored, her chest rising and falling with the effort of eating and enduring the unrelenting. Her free hand clutched the couch for support, as her body gave in to another peak, her moans louder this time, her thighs tightening around his head.
He pulled back briefly, his lips slick and his expression dark with hunger, before leaning in again. His tongue moved with deliberate precision, teasing her clit with a pressure that sent her over the edge once more. She nearly dropped the fork again as her body convulsed, her cries filling the room as her belly heaved with her strained breaths. Somehow, she managed another bite, the food barely registering on her tongue as she surrendered to the bliss coursing through her.
When the plate was finally empty, she collapsed against the couch, her body jiggled uncontrollably under the indulgence and ecstasy. Her belly was impossibly taut and round, rising high above her lap, every inch of her skin was flush. Her lips were smeared with traces of sauce and cream, her thighs quivering from the aftermath of her orgasms, and her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to recover.
He rose, his hands sliding over her thighs before returning to her stomach, his touch gentle but firm as he jiggled it. His thumbs pressed into the tight curve of her belly, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips as she looked up at him with a dazed expression.
She looked utterly spent. A smug grin spread across his face as he straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze lingering on her with a sense of triumph.
As he turned and began to walk away, she stirred, her voice breaking the stillness. “What?” she asked, her tone playful despite her labored breaths. “No dessert?”
