#mouse burps

[mousegirlheart]

promised id post belch audio. chugged a whole can of soda for this one

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Members Only 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Grace is in tears. She’s babbling as Charlotte and Mona try to mop up her running mascara. The bottle of champagne is empty and Lillian is mindlessly swaying at the window as the club lights flash into the room. It’s chaos. You’re not sure exactly what to do. 

You’ve been with Mrs. Shelby for a few months. Typically, she’s the sort for high tea or a luncheon. Often, you’re following her around to the elitist events and waiting outside watching your phone. Or you attend her privately why she rants about the newest designs be so hard to come by or that she can’t go to Paris whenever she wishes. Her biggest complaints are your most unlikely dreams. 

“I just don’t understand... I try so hard,” she garbles and slurs drunkenly.  

You try not to listen too closely. You’re there to take orders and to make certain she is taken care of. The other women are looking after her just fine and you’d hate to embarrass her by consciously witnessing her unraveling. 

Mona burps behind her hand and you see how her throat locks up. She’s hardly in better condition. Charlotte is slumping from her foray into the tequila and hardly seems cognizant of more than try to clear away the grey streaks from Grace’s cheeks. 

You rush forward as Mona’s shoulders rise. You grab the metal bucket meant for ice and shove it under her mouth. She throws up and hugs the container as she fills it with alcoholic bile and half-digested crustini. Charlotte groans and covers her mouth. 

“Oh, Mona, why do you have to do that?” She whines, “ugh, I need to get out--” 

She hurries off into the attached bathroom and the door slams. Lillian is still entirely unaware. You wonder if it has anything to do with the pill she slipped from a small tin earlier. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. What concerns you is what’s happening right then. 

Mona finishes and nearly drops the bucket. You catch it and set it on the bar. She slumps back and closes her eyes, her head lolling as she mutters. This is no way for refined women to behave. You could never have seen Grace like this, let alone these women in their Chanel and Louboutins. 

“Mrs. Shelby,” you go to your boss and lean down, “should I get the car?” 

“Where is my husband?” She snarls in your face, her tears dissolving at once. “I want Thomas. Right now.” 

“Mrs. Shelby, I don’t know if he’s still here--” 

“I don’t care if he’s here,” she snaps and pushes you away, “don’t talk to me until you find him.” 

You gulp and rub your shoulder where she shoved you. This isn’t good. It’s the very reason you don’t drink. People are so ugly when they do. 

You turn to Mona as she groans, half-bent over her lap. Charlotte returns in a stagger and Lillian sways with her head and shoulders slouched. Alright, you have a plan. 

“Lil,” you go over to the woman by the window, “can you help Mona? Your taxi is here?” 

“Taxi? Where’s the streetcar?” She demands. 

“It’s been delayed but the cab will get you all home,” you promise her, plotting how you’ll flag down a car once you get them out in the fresh air. “Mona,” you go back to the woman on the couch. “Charlotte, how about you help too! It’s been a long night, aren’t you all tired?” 

Your pulse is thumping in your temples. You rarely ever speak to Grace’s friends, especially not like this. You feel like a mother getting her children in line. The three companions finally cluster together, Mona clinging to the other two as they wobble towards the door. You lead them as if you’re dangling cheese before a mouse. 

It takes some time and a few close calls to get them down the spiralled stairs. On even ground, they move a bit better but the dancing bodies and hollers add to the disorder of the night. When you get them outside, a bouncer catches Lillian before she slip on her stiletto heel. He’s got a round belly and a leering smile. 

“Careful, ma’am, that’s a mighty fine dress to be mussing,” he warns as he sets her straight. 

You skirt around them and wave at a yellow car just down the way. As it heads towards you, you take out your phone and sift through Grace’s shared contact book. Oh gosh, where is Charlotte? You suppose if you send them to just one house, they’ll be alright. 

You find Charlotte’s address as the driver pulls up. The bouncer comes forward again to assist the women into the car and you thank him. He dips his head chivalrously as he folds Lillian’s legs into the taxi. You cringe and poke your head inside to instruct the driver. You hope they get there otherwise you might be handing out resumes again. 

You shut the door and turn back to face the club. You’re not the sort to frequent those places and only Grace’s presence lures you in. The bouncer walks you back to the doors and you flit back inside. You’re caught in the crush, sent crashing into another person by a flailing body. You fight through the crowd, putting your elbow up as you raise your other arm to protect your head. 

You trip free of the wall of dancers and reach the bottom of the stairs to the private room. You blow out a breath and look up, then around. You should try to find Mr. Shelby. You need help with Grace as it is but you’re terrified that you may get her into trouble. She’s drunk and she’s not thinking. You doubt he’ll be impressed with her in her current state. He rarely seems impressed with anything. 

“Are you looking for me?” The voice jolts you and you jump as you face the very man who’d only just been haunting your mind. You nod and blink dumbly. “My wife...” 

“Sir, um,” you look back and forth guiltily, “she’s... not feeling well--” 

“She’s drunk,” he says pointedly. “Hmm,” his lips curve but it’s not really a smile. “Yes, she does love her champagne. We discussed this before, didn’t we?” His dark lashes flick and his jaw squares as he peers up the stairs, “well, then, shall we go save her from herself?” 

“Um, sir, she didn’t eat much, maybe--” 

“Do not make excuse for her. I pay you to keep her busy, not to cover her tail,” he insists, “please, after you.” 

He gestures up the stairs and you lower your gaze, “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby. I’m only concerned for her.” 

“Someone should be if she isn’t concerned for herself,” he remarks. 

You turn and start up the steps. He follows, closely. You lead him up the metal stairs and open the door to the private room. Your met with the shatter of the champagne bottle as it flies at the door frame next to you. You put your hand up as shards of glass rain across your right side. 

“How dare you leave me like that--” She snarls. 

“Grace!” Mr. Shelby brushes by you, nudging you gently out of his way, only to storm towards his wife. 

“Oh, there you are,” she sneers, “finally done with your whore--” 

“I’ve been about business while you’ve been here drowning in champagne. Champagne I am paying for.” He bends over her, looming dangerously. 

“Business,” she mocks then scoffs as she stares up at him defiantly, “sure.” 

“Don’t,” he warns as he stands straight, “I paid for you to have a night out. I thought perhaps you might appreciate that. I wonder when you became so spoiled.” 

She pouts and juts out her chin, “Tommy...” she reaches for him as he turns away, tearing his sleeve away from her grasp.

He marches for the door and stop right beside you, “are you alright?” 

“Sir, I was only startled--” 

You wince as he dusts off a piece of glass from your shoulder. 

“Get her home,” he demands, “but not at your own risk. I wouldn’t be so disappointed to hear if she blusters herself into the gutters.” 

He huffs and pulls open the door. You watch him go as Grace devolves into drunken sobs. You hope she doesn’t remember this. You’d rather forget it yourself. 

[trashytoastboi]

🔥Portgas D. Ace Masterlist🔥

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, Kid x S/O – Reacting to them crying in front of them for the first time

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Kid, Ace x S/O who is afraid of thunder and being comforted during a heavy storm

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x F! S/O – Telling Whitebeard he is going to be a granddad

🔥 Headcanons: Shanks, Ace, Katakuri x Royal! Reader – Working as their bodyguard

🔥 Fluff Alphabet: Kid, Ace, Perona – I, L, O

🔥 Fluff Alphabet: Ace, Shanks – C, F, N

🔥 Fluff Alphabet: Ace, Nami – P, N, L

🔥 Fluff Alphabet: Ace – K, A, M

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x Writer! S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Law, Shanks - Reacting to their S/O baking a cake for them

🔥 Headcanons: Whitebeard (Edward Newgate), Marco, Ace, Thatch, Diamond Jozu, Vista x Platonically affectionate Reader

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x Crush! Who doesn’t realize his feelings

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Nami x F! S/O with a talkative and social partner who was ignored in the past

🔥 Scenarios: Law, Ace, Zoro x Drunk! Reader - “Teach me how to kiss?”

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Zoro, Ace x F! Keyblade Wielder

🔥 Scenarios: Zoro, Law, Ace x Small! S/O discovering their S/O has a massive bounty

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Zoro x Tall! F! S/O

🔥 Scenario: Sanji discovering his F! S/O scars and comforting her

🔥 Headcanons – ABO AU! - Alpha! Ace; Soul Mate AU! - Marco; ABO AU! – Alpha! Whitebeard (Edward Newgate)

🔥 Headcanons: Bodyguard AU! Ace, Sabo, Law

🔥 Headcanons: Bodyguard AU! Ace, Law, Shanks

🔥 Headcanons – Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji – Reacting to their accident prone S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Nami – Handling having a crush on someone with seemingly flirtatious nature but completely platonic meaning

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Kid, Zoro, Ace – Reaction to their S/O cosplaying as them.

🔥 Short Headcanons: Law, Kid, Ace - Reaction to their S/O burping

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, Kid - Reacting to their F! S/O suddenly crying because of how much she loves him

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Law, X-Drake – With extremely kind, caring and protective S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Marco, Ace – Reacting to discovering their S/O is actually a famous revolutionary

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Ace, Katakuri, Robin, Zoro – Reacting to their crush that is super wary about sleeping around other people but is fine with them

🔥 Headcanons: Marco, Ace, Law – Reaction to finding their calm and quiet S/O bashing someone’s face through a wall

🔥 Headcanons: Ace with Sister!; Marco with F! S/O; Whitebeard with Daughter! – In the case of the Winter Soldier

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, X-Drake – with F! Reader who sings to express her feelings and they accidentally discover her crush via song

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Law, Kid – with a S/O who sleeps with their eyes open

🔥 Headcanons: Marco, Ace – with a Mute! S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Marco, Ace, Law – with a S/O who possess a demon devil fruit

🔥 NSFW Scenario: Ace, Sabo, Luffy x F! Reader - #28 Threesome + #38 Bartender AU

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, Sanji x F! Crush that says easily misunderstood things.

🔥 Headcanons: Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Law – Meeting Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy

🔥 NSFW Headcanons: Ace, Zoro, Mihawk, Sabo, Law – Reacting to S/O being brought to tears of pleasure

🔥 NSFW Headcanons - Ace, Sabo, Zoro, Law with S/O who uses their safeword

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, X-Drake with S/O who can be very emotional

🔥 Headcanons Law, Luffy, Zoro, Ace x S/O that loves horror

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x F! Soulmate Reader - Joining the Whitebeard pirates and misunderstood first impressions.

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Ace reacting to discovering their S/O is a Sea Dragon (Non-Devil Fruit user)

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, Zoro, Sanji x S/O – Hinting at some intimate time together with a S/O that misunderstands their meaning

🔥 Scenarios: Kid, Killer, Ace – Runaway Bride

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Law, Zoro, Sanji x S/O – Who is very honest with their thoughts and feelings

🔥 Headcanons: Yandere! Zoro, Yandere! Ace, Yandere! Law, Yandere! Sanji x S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Law, Sabo x S/O who is unusual and mysterious

🔥 NSFW Headcanons: Benn, Law, Ace, Mihawk x Virgin! S/O

🔥 Headcanons: Modern AU! Ace, Luffy, Garp, Dragon as celebrities

🔥 NSFW Scenario: Ace x F! S/O – Desiderate

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Ace teasing an easily flustered S/O until they turn the tables

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Zoro x F! S/O who has large breasts

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Luffy, Garp x Sister!/Grandaughter! Reader - Saving her family at Marineford

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x Male! Reader - Becoming friends with {Name} who has the ability to manipulate his aura into natural elements

🔥 Headcanons: Ace x F! S/O - Pregnancy and Parental

🔥 Headcanons: Dad AU! Zoro, Luffy, Ace - Sleeping with their infant on their chest

🔥 Headcanons: Law, X-Drake, Sanji, Ace x Shy! S/O that loves affection

🔥 Headcanons: Modern AU! Male! Reader being the son of Mobster Ace!

🔥 NSFW Headcanons: Law, Sabo, Ace x Shy! F! S/O who has a size difference kink

🔥 NSFWish Headcanons: Law, Zoro, Ace x F! S/O – Having an argument and ‘making it up’ to her

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Usopp, Law, Kid x Male! S/O is usually bright and loud but he had a bad day and needs some comfort

🔥 Short scenarios : Alpha! Marco x Omega! Reader – #1. Your scent is intoxicating (NSFW); Alpha! Thatch x Omega! - #2. You’ll make a wonderful parent/mate ;Ace x Omega! NSFW #10. Impregnation/Breeding

🔥 Headcanons: Law and Ace’s reaction to finding out their S/O secretly has a thing for tattoos.

🔥 Headcanons: Beta! Ace, Law, X-Drake x Beta! S/O - #2. “You’ll make a wonderful parent”

🔥 NSFW Scenarios: Ace, Sabo, Sanji getting a blowjob from their S/O who is hiding under the desk during a meeting (Or something to that effect)

🔥 Headcanons: Law, Kid, Ace wanting Reader to join their crew

🔥 Headcanons: S/O smacks Shanks, Ace and Kid’s butt.

🔥 Headcanons: Ace, Sabo x S/O Who is afraid of physical intimacy due to a past trauma

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Law confessing their love to Straw-Hat! Reader

🔥 Headcanons: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace with Sleepy head S/O – They just love sleeping and taking naps

🔥 Headcanons: Zoro, Ace, Crocodile, Doflamingo x S/O who practices deadly martial arts

[mythreality-v0re]

*Casts a transmutation spell and shrinks you to the size of a mouse. Laughs at you and calls you pathetic while batting you around and playing with your tiny body. Dangles you over my gaping throat and scares you by pretending to drop you in. Ties you up with string. Actually drops you down my gullet and swallows you with a single gulp. Pulls the string to keep you in my neck. Burps and moans and flexes my throat to squeeze you. Slurps up the string and fully swallows you into my belly. Laughs at how pathetic you feel trapped inside my tight little tummy. Continues to bully and insult you about how you didn't even taste that good, and how it would take 50 of you to even satisfy my hunger. Sloshes my stomach around and slaps it to scare you. Gets bored and digests you while taking a nap in the sun. Belches up some of your undigested bones. Casts a necromancy spell to rebuild you. Burps up your soul and kisses your body to bring you back to life. Puts you in a little cage and keeps you as a pet, or a snack, or both.*

[chips1977]

I just burped loud enough to scare the Mouse

[19ryan17]

Ryan's Team

Part One -----------------------------------------------------------------

It started with a crisis.

Ryan Burke, star running back and walking Greek statue of Roosevelt State University, was pissed. Not in a punch-the-locker kind of way. He was just sitting in the locker room with his arms folded tight across his sweaty chest, jaw grinding, eyeing the crumpled practice schedule on the bench like it owed him money.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he muttered.

“Dude,” said Josh, wide receiver, tugging his jockstrap into place, “We lost five linemen. Five. You want Coach to just draft nerds off the quad?”

“No,” Ryan said, cracking his neck, “I want guys who don’t care about class, who don’t mind being huge and disgusting. We need new blood. Bigger guys. Hairy-ass, nasty, growling monsters.”

Trevor, the linebacker with the permanent mustard stain on his hoodie, piped up from his locker, “Bro, the team used to stink. Literally. Like swampy pits and locker room BO 24/7. I miss that. Now? Everyone’s cutting carbs and shaving their pits. We’re soft.”

Ryan grunted. “No one wants to commit to it anymore. Guys don’t wanna change.”

Josh blinked. “Wait... what if we make ‘em change?”

Ryan turned slowly. “Explain.”

“You know the Musk Plan,” Trevor snorted. “We joke about it every year. Pick a weak dude, bulk him up, stink him out, make him one of us.”

Ryan actually smiled. “Yeah, but what if we actually do it?”

The locker room fell into silence. Just the steady drip from the ceiling vent and the faint, ever-present funk of post-practice sweat hanging in the air.

Ryan leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice low. “We pick someone small. Someone who's around us all the time. Someone who wouldn’t notice at first. Get in their head. Get in their gut. They start putting on weight, growing hair in places they didn’t know could grow it. Maybe they even start to like it.”

Trevor burped. “Who?”

Ryan grinned. “I’ve got two names.”

Luke and Sam were the kind of roommates who kept their fridge way too clean.

Sam was tidy, organized, and way too into graphic design. His idea of fun was making custom fonts and rating the foam on local coffees. Luke, by comparison, was a little looser—still neat, but the kind of guy who’d forget to clip his nails for two weeks and then be shocked when he clicked his mouse too hard and it cracked.

They weren’t jocks. They weren’t cool. But they weren’t losers either. They’d carved out a quiet, nerdy space for themselves. Sam designed club posters. Luke worked sound for the campus radio station. They had a system: bagels on Saturdays, “reality TV with beer” on Thursdays, and Sundays were for sleeping in and mutual judgment over who skipped class the most that week.

But that was before Ryan Burke—sun-kissed, alpha, walking BO fantasy—showed up.

It started on a random Thursday.

Ryan had walked into the dining hall like he owned the place, which he kind of did. Guys clapped his back. Girls flipped their hair. Even the lunch lady gave him an extra scoop of mashed potatoes with a wink.

Luke was in line, wearing a stretched-out Pokémon hoodie and some threadbare joggers.

“Hey,” Ryan said, nudging his tray up next to him, “You’re in my Econ class, right?”

Luke blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“You do soundboard stuff too, right?”

Luke nodded again, eyes darting. Ryan was right there, muscles packed under a tank top, a sheen of sweat still on his neck from practice, smelling like cheap cologne and something muskier underneath. Luke tried not to breathe too deeply.

“You ever go to games?” Ryan asked.

Luke shook his head. “Not really a sports guy.”

Ryan grinned, slow and wide. “You will be.”

Sam didn’t think much of it when Luke mentioned Ryan the first time.

“Ran into Ryan today,” he said, half-buried in a bag of chips. “Big dude. Smelled like a locker room. Kinda funny.”

Sam raised a brow. “Funny how?”

“I dunno,” Luke shrugged, “He kept asking about what I eat. Said I had ‘a build.’”

Sam laughed. “A build for what, the equipment bench?”

Luke chuckled too, but his ears were red.

A week later, Ryan was sitting on their couch.

No warning. Just there. Shirtless, hairy legs spread, sockless feet propped up on their IKEA table like it belonged to him. Sam came back from class and nearly tripped over a football cleat in the hallway.

“Oh hey, man,” Ryan said, not moving, “You must be Sam. Luke talks about you.”

“Cool,” Sam said, because what else could he say?

Ryan stayed for dinner. Stayed for dessert. Left his gym bag on the floor and promised to “grab it later,” which somehow meant never.

Two weeks after that, they were dating.

Luke told Sam over pancakes, as casual as if he were talking about a midterm.

“So… Ryan and I kinda made out last night.”

Sam blinked, mid-bite. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Luke scratched his cheek. “We were watching that stupid car crash reality show and he leaned over and kissed me.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Ryan? Like that Ryan?

After that, Ryan was always around.

Sometimes sweaty from practice. Sometimes just waking up from a nap on their couch. Luke started dressing different. More tank tops. Less socks. Sometimes he’d go out to “get food” and come back with an entire tray of burritos, saying Ryan had “a craving.”

Sam noticed little things.

Like how Luke’s shirts seemed to fit tighter lately, clinging around his arms and chest. How he was constantly scratching his belly or tugging the neck of his shirt away from his throat.

And once—just once—Sam walked into the living room early from class and caught Ryan and Luke on the couch.

Ryan had his big meaty hand under Luke’s shirt, palm pressed to his stomach. Luke’s head was tilted back, eyes half-lidded, a low moan caught in his throat as Ryan stroked at the soft curve of his gut.

And Luke... he had a little mustache now.

Just a hint. Barely there. But Sam noticed.

Ryan kissed it, and Luke shivered.

That night Ryan walked into the kitchen, cracking open a cold one and handing Luke a burger the size of his face.

“You’re looking good, man,” he said, running a hand down Luke’s back. “Starting to fill out.” He groped Luke's now slightly puffy midsection.

Luke grinned through a mouthful of meat. "Thanks babe."

Ryan sat down next to him, forcing the rest of the burger into Luke's mouth. He then licked the sauce around his mouth and kissed him.

Luke moaned and started to feel his crotch stiffen. Ryan let his hands travel over Luke's bigger body, feeling the start of a gut and big pecs.

Part Two -----------------------------------------------------------------

Luke wasn’t one to skip showers.

In fact, if Sam had to describe his roommate in one word, it’d be “tidy.” Luke shaved almost every morning, folded his shirts military-style, and used unscented soap because anything else was “too much.” But about two weeks into his thing with Ryan, Sam started noticing something.

Luke’s towels? They weren’t drying right.

At first, Sam thought it was the ventilation in the bathroom. But the smell wasn’t mildew. It was… something stronger. A little sour. Musky. Thick. Luke didn’t notice. He’d step out of the shower, humming to himself, hair slicked back, water running in rivulets over his skin—and leave behind a heat, a scent that lingered like fog.

Sam didn’t say anything.

He told himself it was all in his head.

Luke was eating more.

Like, a lot more.

Burgers for lunch and dinner. Leftovers at midnight. Bags of chips, greasy breakfast sandwiches, triple-meat pizzas. He’d munch during study sessions, eat between classes, constantly unwrapping something with one hand while the other cradled his phone.

It crept up slowly.

First his cheeks looked a little fuller. Then there was that one morning where Sam caught Luke tugging down the hem of his tee.

“Shirt shrank in the wash,” he grumbled.

But it hadn’t. Sam knew because it was his shirt, and Luke had borrowed it clean from the basket. It stretched tight across Luke’s belly, hugging it just enough to show a curve forming. His chest looked puffier too, not muscle—just soft, rounded, like the beginnings of a doughy shelf.

And then there was the trail.

Barely visible at first. Just a faint dusting of dark hairs under his belly button. Luke didn’t notice. He’d pull his shirt up absentmindedly when he was full, scratch his gut, then let it fall again. Sam saw it though. Every time. That hair thickened by the day.

“Dude, you’re eating like Trevor,” Sam joked one night as Luke housed his third grilled cheese.

Luke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What? I’ve just been hungry lately.”

Ryan, sprawled on the couch behind him, smirked. “He’s got a jock’s metabolism now.”

Luke chuckled and elbowed him. “Guess I gotta hit the gym.”

“You’re getting stronger,” Ryan murmured in his ear. “You’ll fill out nice.”

Luke turned red.

Sam noticed the way Luke leaned into it.

The next thing to go was the shaving.

Luke used to keep a clean face—maybe a little peach fuzz, but nothing serious. But now, he’d forget to shave for days. And then weeks. His upper lip sprouted a faint line of hair, darker every time Sam looked.

One morning, Luke came out of the bathroom scratching his chin.

“You ever get that itchy stubble phase?” he asked, rubbing the underside of his jaw.

Sam looked up from his laptop. “You… growing a beard?”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Ryan said he likes it.”

Sure enough, there it was: a little patchy at first, mostly around the chin and jawline. But the 'stache was there. Dark and fuzzy, curling slightly at the edges like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. Then came the goatee—thicker, rougher—and before long, Sam noticed the shine of oil clinging to coarse whiskers. It wasn’t patchy anymore. His cheeks had started to fill out, the fuzz spreading like moss along his jaw, dense and dark.

He was getting beardy.

Sam tried not to stare, but he started tracking the changes. He had to. Something was happening to Luke, and no one else seemed to notice. Especially not Ryan, who just kept smirking like this was all part of some long game.

It started with a slight belly bulge. It started small—barely a roundness under the hoodie. Sam only saw it because Luke’s shirt rode up when he reached for chips. And that mustache shadow? It wasn’t a trick of the light. It was legit. Then, his voice cracked mid-sentence while he was on the phone. Not dramatically, not cartoonish—but it dipped, just enough to make Sam blink. Gone was the high, tight energy in his tone. There was a sluggish warmth now, like molasses. Less “Luke the nerd,” more “Luke the lineman.” Soon the leg hair arrived with a vengeance. Sam caught a glimpse when Luke kicked off his sneakers one afternoon. Thick black tufts had sprouted just above his socks, curling out in every direction. “Dude, when did your legs get that hairy?” Sam had asked, half-joking. Luke just grinned and shrugged. “Dunno, always been that way, right?”

He said it like he believed it.

Then Luke seemed to stop showering. That’s when it got real. It started subtle—just a hint of musk clinging to the couch after Luke left the room. But it built up, week by week. The kind of humid, ripe scent that lingered under the armpits and settled into the upholstery. Sam started cracking windows. Luke stopped caring.

By then, Luke had grown thicker—like his whole body was swelling with some lazy power. His belly pressed against his waistband now, jiggling slightly when he moved. His shirts started creeping up, riding higher on his gut, revealing a stretch of newly fuzzy lower back. He didn't seem to notice—or care.

Sam did.

And Ryan? Ryan would just lounge nearby, watching with this smug little smile as Luke scratched his belly and let out a slow belch mid-sentence, brain clearly stuck in second gear. Sometimes Ryan would toss him a greasy burger or a protein shake with that same tone people use when they’re feeding a dog a treat.

“Atta boy,” he’d mutter, like Luke had done something impressive just by existing fatter and dumber than the day before.

Sam pretended not to notice. Acted like none of it mattered.

But he kept tracking the changes. Every belly shake. Every deeper grunt. Every new patch of hair curling across Luke’s skin.

Because whatever Ryan was doing, it was working.

And Luke… he was starting to like it.

“Jesus, you smell like the weight room,” Sam blurted.

Luke lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “Damn. Guess I forgot deodorant.”

But Sam saw it—dense, dark armpit hair spilling from the sleeve like wild ivy.

He watched Luke scratch, slow and lazy, letting out a soft burp.

They stopped doing laundry as often.

Luke started leaving clothes everywhere—on the floor, on the couch, balled up in the bathroom. And they reeked. Musky. Sweaty. Used. But Luke didn’t seem to care. In fact, sometimes he’d pull on the same pair of sweats three days in a row.

Ryan thought it was hilarious.

“Jocks don’t need fresh clothes,” he’d say, ruffling Luke’s thickening hair. “Just sweat and stink.”

Luke didn’t argue.

By mid-semester, Luke’s belly had outgrown half his wardrobe.

He kept tugging down his shirts, trying to make them stretch, but they’d ride up anyway—exposing more of his round gut, now dusted in thick, curly hair. His chest hair was blooming too, creeping up his pecs and out the neck of his shirts.

Sam caught him standing at the mirror one morning, one hand under his shirt, palm pressed to his belly.

“Getting kinda big, huh?” Luke muttered.

“You, uh… like it?”

Luke glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Yeah, I guess. Ryan likes to grab it. Says it’s real jock material.”

Sam didn’t reply. His heart was pounding.

Luke’s voice was deep now. Lazy. Drawling.

There was a stretch mark curving just under his love handle.

The final nail was the feet.

Luke had always had small feet. Size 9, tops. But now? He was stretching out Sam’s flip-flops.

“Dude,” Sam said, “What the hell?”

Luke grinned, lifting one foot. It was broader, hairier, toes thick and slightly swollen like he’d been stuffing them in too-tight shoes.

“Ryan says my whole body’s bulking,” Luke said, like it was obvious. “You think I should get new socks? These keep tearing.”

Sam just stared.

One night, Sam couldn’t sleep.

He wandered to the kitchen for water—and heard giggling from the living room.

He peeked.

There was Luke, shirtless, lounging on Ryan’s lap. His gut was out. Full and round. Ryan had one hand stroking the thick forest of belly hair, the other scratching behind Luke’s ear like a dog.

Luke let out a groan, low and breathy.

And Ryan? He leaned in and kissed Luke’s mustache.

“You’re turning out perfect,” he whispered.

Part Three ---------------------------------------------------------------

Sam had been sweating more lately. He could feel it clinging under his arms, a humid dampness that lingered even after showering. It wasn’t just the sweat. His undershirt clung tighter across his chest than it used to, the seams digging into his sides by midday. His face felt prickly constantly, like there was always a faint shadow no matter how recently he shaved. But it was the smell—the strange, overpowering musk that Luke now carried with him everywhere—that was really messing with Sam’s head.

Luke had changed. Sam didn’t need a magnifying glass to see it. He used to be his skinny, clean-cut best friend—neurotic about his hygiene, weirdly proud of his hairless chest. But now? Luke waddled around campus in stretched-out gym shorts and stained tank tops, burping through half his sentences and scratching his thick new gut like it was second nature. The guy hadn’t shaved in weeks, probably months. His face was covered in a dense patchy beard, his upper lip crowned with a thick, greasy mustache that twitched every time he laughed at something stupid. His chin had practically vanished under the bulk of new weight and coarse hair.

And the smell. God, the smell. Luke reeked. It hit Sam like a slap every time they hung out. That thick, manly, sour musk that clung to Luke like a second skin—armpits, belly folds, even his breath. Luke didn’t seem to notice or care. He’d just fart, laugh about it, and keep talking about protein powder and “hitting legs.”

Something was wrong.

Sam had chalked it all up to Ryan at first. Ever since Luke started dating the cocky jock, he’d started acting different. It wasn’t immediate. Ryan was charming, a little dumb maybe, but confident. And Luke, bless him, had never dated anyone before. He’d fallen hard. At first it was cute—Ryan bringing him burgers after class, Luke trying on tank tops to impress him. But then came the weight. The hair. The smells.

And Luke didn’t even seem to notice.

“Dude,” Sam had said once, trying to be chill about it. “You ever, uh, think about shaving again?”

Luke blinked. “Why? Ryan likes it. Says it makes me look ‘grown.’” He chuckled dumbly. “Plus, it’s kinda hot, right?” He lifted his arm and gave a flex, revealing a jungle of matted pit hair soaked into the fabric of his tank. Sam nearly gagged.

So Sam decided it was time. He had to confront Ryan.

The walk to Ryan’s dorm was a blur. Sam’s shirt felt too tight, the sleeves digging into his softening arms. He kept tugging at it, aware of the way his belly was starting to bulge ever so slightly over the waistband of his jeans. He hadn’t eaten anything crazy—at least, not that crazy—but his appetite had been out of control lately. Just being near Luke made him hungry. For food. For... something else.

Luke lumbered beside him, slurping a protein shake between burps.

“Dude,” he said around a belch, “Ryan’s makin’ wings tonight. Smells soooo good.”

“Luke,” Sam said, exasperated, “We’re not going to eat. We’re going to talk to Ryan. Something weird is happening, man. You don’t notice how... different you are?”

Luke scratched his stomach with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’m bulking, bro.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

They arrived at Ryan’s door, the scent of fried meat and musky jock sweat thick in the air. Luke didn’t knock. He just barged in like he owned the place.

Ryan was sitting on the bed, shirtless, glistening with sweat, his golden-tanned muscles flexing lazily as he lounged back. The room smelled rank—a mixture of old socks, fried food, and BO. Sam almost choked.

“Yo,” Luke said, flopping onto the couch and immediately scratching his chest through his tank top. “What’s up, stud?”

Ryan chuckled. “Just waitin’ on my boys.”

Sam crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

Ryan stood slowly, like a panther stretching. “Sam. Buddy. You look... bigger.”

Sam stiffened. “Don’t play games with me. Something’s wrong with Luke. And I think you did something.”

Ryan shrugged. “He looks fine to me. Healthy. Confident. Hot, even.” He stepped forward, his bare feet padding across the grimy floor. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re changing him. And I think it’s happening to me too.” Sam’s voice cracked, deeper than expected. He cleared his throat.

Ryan smirked. “Maybe it’s just... catching.”

He lunged.

Before Sam could move, Ryan grabbed him and yanked his face hard into his musky, swampy armpit. The thick hair smothered Sam’s nose, and the scent hit like a punch to the brain—sour, salty, manly, feral. Sam struggled, but Ryan held him there, rubbing his sweaty pit deeper over Sam’s face.

“Breathe it in, bro,” Ryan growled. “You’re one of us now.”

Sam groaned. It hit his gut like hunger. His skin flushed. His whole body prickled with heat. He felt it.

His belly gurgled, swelling outward inch by inch, pressing tight against his shirt. His arms thickened, fuzzing over with dark hair. His face tingled—a mustache pushing out, thick and greasy. Then his chin itched furiously, filling in with dark scruff that thickened fast into a scraggly beard. His shirt ripped at the seams as his chest ballooned forward with fat and muscle.

His feet burst out of his sneakers, toes thickening, toenails yellowing slightly as hair sprouted across his knuckles and the tops of his feet. He let out a burp, deep and gurgly, followed by a lazy laugh.

“Ughhhh... bro...” he moaned. “I’m gettin’... fat...”

Luke clapped. “Welcome to the bulk, man.”

Sam stumbled back, rubbing his hairy gut. His mind was slower, fuzzier. He could feel the dumb spreading in like fog. He liked the smell. He liked being sweaty.

Then he turned toward Ryan with a feral grin.

“Let’s get our boy finished.”

They tackled Ryan.

Ryan yelled, but he was laughing too. “Guys! Hey! I’m not—HEY!”

Luke yanked his head back and sat hard on his face, grinding his swampy, sweat-soaked ass across Ryan’s nose.

Sam rubbed his own pit, working up the stink, then pressed it to Ryan’s chest.

“You did this,” he muttered. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ryan groaned. His whole body convulsed.

It started at his abs. One by one, they softened, puffing outward, then disappearing under a soft new layer of fat. His pecs sagged slightly, then jiggled. His jawline faded under the slow crawl of a thick, dark beard that crept out like mold. His armpit hair doubled in density and color, stinking up instantly. His feet cracked and grew longer, hair bursting from his toes.

“Noooo... ughhh... I’m gettin’... gross...” Ryan muttered, his voice deepening with each breath. “Smell so bad...”

Sam and Luke just laughed.

“You’re hot now, bro,” Luke said, slapping Ryan’s belly as it surged outward with another burp.

When it was done, Ryan was barely recognizable. His once golden skin was now sweaty, pimpled, and flushed. He was massive—easily 300 pounds—covered in dense dark hair, from his thick chest to his round belly and down to his bloated, sweaty feet. His beard was unkempt and tangled, his mustache curling over his lips. He stank like a gym locker on fire.

“Ughhh... bros...” he moaned. “I’m... hungry.”

Luke grinned. “There’s wings in the kitchen.”

They all waddled off, bellies rumbling, sweat trailing in their wake.

They were dumb. Hairy. Fat. And happy.

Forever jock bros.

Part 4 ---------------------------------------------------------------

The air in the locker room was thick with sweat and old body spray. Ethan, Bryan, and Jake had just wrapped up a grueling afternoon practice—alone. Again. Their cleats thudded against the tiled floors as they wandered toward the coach’s office.

“Where the hell is Ryan?” Ethan muttered, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow and tossing his helmet into his locker.

“Seriously,” Bryan chimed in, stretching his thick neck from side to side. “That’s the third time this week he’s skipped out. Coach is gonna lose it.”

Jake shrugged, reaching into his gym bag and grabbing a protein shake. “You think it’s got something to do with Luke? I saw them hanging out a lot last week. Luke’s looking... different.”

Ethan snorted. “You mean fat? Hairy? Dude looks like he ate a lumberjack.”

“Whatever,” Jake muttered. “I say we go check his dorm. Get him back in gear.”

With a shared nod, the three left the locker room, cleats still clacking, not bothering to change. They marched across campus, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows.

The scent hit them before the door opened. Thick. Musky. Like sweat baked into a couch for years.

“Dude... what is that?” Bryan said, recoiling.

Jake made a face. “Smells like someone’s cooking socks and B.O.”

Ethan pounded on the door. “RYAN! Open up, man!”

Silence. Then, shuffling footsteps. The door creaked open—just a crack—and an ungodly belch rolled through the gap. Jake gagged.

“What the actual fu—”

The door swung open fully, and all three of them froze.

There, lounging shirtless on the couch, were Ryan, Luke, and Sam.

All three were massive. Not muscular. Massive. Their thick hairy guts spilled out over stretched athletic shorts, and sweat glistened on their dense body hair. Ryan had a thick brown beard now, curling under his chin and coated in crumbs from what looked like half a pizza box. His chest hair connected in a solid pelt to his belly, and he scratched his belly with one hand while the other held a can of beer.

Sam, no longer small or clean-shaven, had the thickest back hair of the three. He leaned forward to grab a chicken wing, his gut pushing his thighs apart. His neck had disappeared under a thickening double chin, and his voice was several octaves deeper than before.

Luke had gone fully feral. A dense forest of hair covered his chest and arms, his legs were like two tree trunks, and he was idly stroking a patch of belly hair with one hand while finishing off a carton of fries.

“Oh shit,” Ethan breathed.

“Bros!” Ryan grinned, mouth full. “Come in! We saved y’all some wings.”

None of the three moved.

“You guys look...” Bryan whispered. “Different.”

“Better,” Sam belched, rubbing his gut. “So much better.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Luke grunted, patting a seat on the couch. “Let’s chill.”

Ethan took a cautious step in. The smell was worse now—so strong it was nearly visible. Sweat, grease, and musk rolled off the couch in waves.

Bryan followed, nose wrinkled. “Ryan, man, what happened to you?”

“Just got upgraded, bro,” Ryan chuckled, taking a long swig of beer and letting out a thundering belch. “No more stress. Just eat, sweat, and hang with the bros.”

Jake looked Ryan up and down. “Dude... you’re, like, huge. And hairy.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Sam smirked.

As the three former jocks sat awkwardly on the other couch, something started to shift. Subtly. But unmistakably.

Bryan scratched his stomach. “Weird. I feel hot.”

Ethan yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. Me too. Sweaty. Like... more than usual.”

Jake frowned and looked down. “My socks feel tight. Are my feet swelling?”

The room seemed to hum with a heavy energy. The couch cushions squished under their weight, heavier than just minutes ago.

Ethan shifted, pulling at his jersey. “Ugh, my pits are soaked. What the hell?”

Sam leaned over, sniffed dramatically. “Damn, bro. You’re ripe. Smellin’ like a real man already.”

Luke chuckled, grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them in his mouth. “Let it out, bro. Don’t fight it.”

Bryan scratched again—this time at his chest. “Is it just me, or is my chest hairier?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt. Where there was once a smooth expanse of skin, a dusting of dark hair was forming, spreading slowly but visibly.

Jake’s breath caught. “Dude, your stomach too.”

All three looked down. Bryan’s once-ripped abs were starting to bloat outward, a soft gut pushing forward.

“No way,” Bryan muttered. “No way, man.”

Ethan stood abruptly, then sat right back down. “Whoa. Dizzy. My legs feel like... huge.”

He looked down—and froze. Thick, curling hair was sprouting down his thighs, and his calves were looking puffier by the second.

Jake leaned over to touch Ethan’s leg, but stopped when he caught sight of his own forearm. “What the hell...”

His normally smooth skin was sprouting blond hair like wildfire. A prickly itch ran up both arms, followed by a deep warmth settling in his chest.

Bryan let out a sudden grunt. “Oh god—my voice! Did you guys hear that?”

He coughed, then belched. The sound was guttural. Deeper. His throat bulged slightly as a patchy scruff darkened across his jawline.

Sam was grinning like a lunatic. “Told ya. It’s the smell, bro. Can’t fight it. Just embrace it.”

Luke leaned forward, lifting one of his arms and wafting the air toward the trio.

“Take a deep breath, bros. Let it sink in.”

The three jocks writhed in slow-motion discomfort as the changes began speeding up.

Bryan clutched his stomach. “I’m... I’m starving.”

Ryan laughed, tossing him a half-eaten burger. “You’re gonna want more than one.”

Without hesitation, Bryan tore into it. His beard, once patchy, darkened and connected under his jaw. His stomach gurgled as it expanded further, pressing into his waistband.

Ethan’s arms had thickened, veins disappearing under soft muscle and a coating of hair. He was panting now, the collar of his shirt tight around his neck.

“God, I’m sweating like a pig,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Sam said. “You’re starting to smell right.”

Jake was quieter. Still resisting. But his belly had started to rise, swelling under his compression shirt. His pecs had softened into thick mounds, bouncing slightly as he shifted.

“I can’t... we can’t turn into this,” he muttered. “We’re athletes.”

Ryan burped, and scratched the fuzz of his growing second chin. “You were athletes. Now you’re bros.”

He stood, letting his own massive gut swing forward. Then he waddled toward Jake, leaning in close. Jake tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

“You already smell like us,” Ryan whispered.

He grabbed Jake’s face with one hand and shoved it deep into his armpit.

Jake screamed—or tried to. The stench hit him like a freight train. Pungent. Thick. Masculine. Something primal shifted inside him.

His arms went limp. Then heavy.

He gasped when Ryan let him go, stumbling backward. “Oh fuck,” he growled. His voice had dropped an octave. “I... I need food.”

His gut rumbled loudly. A beard was already darkening along his jaw.

Bryan and Ethan were too far gone to react. Bryan was on his third burger, crumbs in his chest hair, while Ethan was pulling his shirt off to scratch at his sweaty, newly hairy chest.

“Damn, Ethan,” Sam laughed. “You’re almost as hairy as me now.”

“Can’t help it,” Ethan muttered. “Feels good.”

Ryan returned to the couch, planting himself between his two new bros. The couch groaned under their combined weight.

Bryan’s face was now encased in a short, thick beard. He scratched it absently, his other hand resting on his swollen, shirtless belly.

Jake had kicked off his shoes, revealing rapidly hair-growing feet. He reached into the box of wings and started devouring them, grunting between mouthfuls.

“Think... I need to stop shaving,” he growled, licking grease off his fingers. “It just keeps coming back thicker.”

Ethan, now fully shirtless, belched and grinned. “We still doing practice today?”

Ryan laughed, spraying crumbs. “This is practice now, bro.”

The room was filled with the sounds of chewing, burping, scratching.

Jake’s voice was now a full, gravelly bass. His body hair had connected across his chest, and his gut sagged onto his thighs.

Bryan had completely outgrown his pants. They were unbuttoned, his hairy belly hanging forward, slick with sweat.

Ethan looked around, blinking slowly. “Wait... what were we doing before?”

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter, bro. You’re one of us now.”

Jake belched. “Damn straight.”

Ryan let out a thunderous fart and slapped his own belly. “Time for round two, bros. Pizza’s on the way.”

They all erupted into hoarse, greasy laughter. The air was thick with funk and fried food. Their bodies were massive, their minds foggy, their lives reduced to eating, scratching, and hanging out shirtless with their bros.

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dave York one shot

Dave York & Kitten: Make Me, Yorkie

Pairing: Dave York x Fem!Reader (Kitten) Summary: Dave get more than he bargains for with a playful Kitten. Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 2,821 Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, swearing, snack cake eating, belly stuffing, naughty Kitten business, fingering, spanking, brat taming, domestic dom/sub dynamic, p in the v, chubby teasing, light degradation, implied consent, established relationship

Author's Notes: I promised a Dave-&-Kitten-Cookie fic way back in 2023 (okay, it was only a few weeks ago), and while there aren't Christmas cookies, Dave does has his fill. This started out as a Frankie & Mouse one shot, but I felt Dave energy trying to come out. Thank you to @softpascalito & @umnitsa for beta'ing the first draft. Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for beta'ing the final draft. This is dedicated to our resident Dave York apologist, @theywhowriteandknowthings - beef 💜 knowy

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Oh Dave… do you know where all the cookies went for the neighbourhood bake sale?”, you cooed, reaching forward from your seat at the kitchen table and poking his belly. “Oof baby… look at how big you’re getting.”

*****

Dave was in a bad mood. He’d had a terrible day at work, and he’d come home to an empty house with unlabeled – and unsupervised – cookies in the pantry.

You’d spent most of the day baking and prepping for the neighborhood bake sale, waiting patiently for him to get home, only to receive a text halfway through the afternoon, stating that he was having “the shittiest day”. You knew he didn’t send texts like these lightly, and you braced yourself, purposely putting aside a dozen or so cookies in the pantry for him as a treat. But by the time you’d returned from dropping off your baked contributions at the neighbour’s house, you walked in to see Dave with his dress shirt pulled unreasonably tight across his now full belly with his belt undone.

While Dave was trying to behave and resist treating himself regularly in the pantry, you knew he wasn’t winning that battle, given that his middle had filled out enough that it was more than the softer middle you’d grown accustom to that would become a little more when he ate; Dave now had a belly that was apparent whether he’d eaten or not and you’d only just recently sized up his wardrobe over Christmas because of it.

With a sly glint in your eye, you made the decision to have some fun tonight.

You gave him several chances to admit he ate the cookies, but he didn’t budge. So, because you were playing dumb to his refusal to come clean, you dutifully served him a full, hearty dinner. The whole time he shoveled food into his face, you teased him, getting in the odd tummy poke here and bratty remark there.

“Oh Dave… do you know where all the cookies went for the neighbourhood bake sale?”, you cooed, reaching forward from your seat at the kitchen table and poking his belly. “Oof baby… look at how big you’re getting.”

Dave let out a huff in response, trying to ignore you as he sat next to you, scrolling through his phone. Standing up, you leaned over his shoulder from behind him and kissed his neck.

“You’re gonna need some new clothes again soon. Been eating too well lately and it shows”, you grinned against his skin, smoothing your hands over his middle, curling a finger into one of the puckered openings between his shirt buttons. “Look at your poor shirt!”

“Knock it off, Kitten.”, he grunted, shrugging you off him before bringing his closed fist to his mouth to stifle a burp.

His refusal to play with you left you feeling a little hurt, but it mainly left you feeling pent up and needy for his attention. And the thought of him being too full to deal with you acting up made you squeeze your thighs together as you watched him hold his aching belly as he walked out to the den.

Dave sat back heavily on the couch, almost painfully full. And now, on top of his frustration over work, he was uncomfortable and bloated after eating his whole dinner to not look like the guilty party, trying to stifle belly-shifting hiccups. He thought he’d get some peace once he was on the couch, but he then let out an irritated sigh when he heard you making your way to the den.

“Dave?”, you called out in a singsong voice.

“Jesus Christ…”, he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face.

“Dave baby?”

“Not now!”, he snapped, not looking away from the tv.

You walked around in front of him, blocking his view of the tv, and you smiled mischievously at him. He gave you a glare with a tight mouth and shook his head.

“So you’re meaning to be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“You’re being cranky… didn’t even give me a kiss when you got home.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Kitten. I’m-“

“Ma’am.”, you corrected him, challenging him for control.

“No…”, he warned, his eyes boring into you and his mouth pulled tight into a scowl.

“Excuse me?”

Your harsh snap back at him caught him off guard.

“You’re really asking for it. Do not make me get up off this couch.”

“David… you’re not getting off that couch any time soon.”, you purred, moving slowly towards him. Your head nodded towards his bloated middle. “What you got in there?”

He rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. “You fucking know what it is! You made it and served it to me!”

He shifted in his seat and winced, hand going to his belly.

“Awe, Dave got greedy and now he’s got a tummy ache.”, you cooed in a mock-pout. You stood above him and smirked. “Look at you. How much weight do you think you’ve put on in the last month? You really treated yourself over Christmas… Just bought you that shirt and it’s already getting too small, honey.”

His brown eyes looked like molten copper from the rage you incited; you were really hitting his buttons and it only made you bolder.

“Do not do this, Kitten. I am not playing. I had a shitty day, and-“

“Did you enjoy all those cookies? It looks like you did…”, you interrupted in a soft, smug voice, nodding your head to his middle.

“Last warning.”, he growled.

 “You’re too fat and full to do anything about it.”

“Knock. It. Off.”, he snarled through his clenched teeth. “Behave! I fucking mean it!”

A grin spread across your face, and you licked your lips.

“Make me, Yorkie.”

“Oh, you fucking brat! You’re gonna get it.”

His harsh tone mixed with huffing and grunting to stand up made your knees feel weak, and you backed away. When Dave stood, his heavy middle made him lose his balance and he fell back onto the couch with a grunt. The force caused a few of his buttons to pop open on his shirt and you covered your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Getting pretty big, Yorkie.”

He raised a warning eyebrow and pointed at you. “Hey!”

You couldn’t help it. The flames in his eyes were addicting and you needed more. “Like I said before, you’re eating too well … you filled out and now you’re just getting fat…”

His breath hitching and his pupils dilating didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it emboldened you further. You stood your ground and didn’t move towards him yet, knowing that he’d take any chance to grab you and set you right back in place if you got too close.  

“Think your coworkers notice all the weight you’ve put on? Think they talk about how heavy you’re getting? Think they notice how you’re growing, making your clothes pull tight?”

His breathing had picked up as his hand moved across his underbelly and palmed his crotch, trying to adjust his too-tight pants over his erection.

“Fuck…”, he panted through gritted teeth. “I outta fuck that mouth to get rid of that attitude.”

“Like to see you try… too full and fat now to even get off the couch.”

That seemed to be the ignition for him. He let out a grunt and hoisted his large frame up from the couch. You felt your cunt clench at watching him and you began to breath shallowly through your mouth.

His eyes were dark and ripped right through you, and you swallowed thickly, managing to whimper out, “Dave? … baby?”

It only took him a few quick steps and he was towering over you.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You could feel your core drooling and Dave watched your eyes glaze over as they stared up at him.

“What was it you said? I’m ’too fat and full to get off the couch’? Didn’t get that right?”

You didn’t know Dave could move that fast. Before you could answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. He fell back to his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. You had no idea how you ended up across his lap as he sat back on the couch, his large hand shoving your dress up over your ass.

“Fucking brat. All I want is a quiet night on the couch after a shitty fucking day and you’re just doing the most to piss me off.”, he growled.

You squirmed on his lap, his belly pressing heavily against your side. He shoved his hand between your legs, and you whined.

“I fucking knew it! You’re soaked. This pussy’s just begging to take a beating, isn’t it?”, he snarled, pressing harsh circles against your clothed clit. “You get off on making me mad, Kitten?”

“Fuck! Dave! Please!”

“Please what? You got my attention now, Kitten. You can’t handle it? What else d’you want from me?”

You yelped when you felt a sharp sting on your backside. You turned and looked at him, shock written all over your face.

“David! Did you just fucking spank me?”

“I asked you a question.”, he said sternly.

“I thought you were just gonna finger me and-“

Despite the scowl planted on his face, the look in his eyes was begging for this. You gave him a small nod in agreement. Another sharp sting from his palm landing on your ass.

“I said I asked you a question.”

When you yelped out at the last smack, he smoothed his palm over your reddened skin, his tone shifting low and menacing.

“Come on, baby… you got my attention… now be a good girl and answer my question. What else do you want from me, kitten?”

And there it was. He was finally in the ring, towering over you and ready to spar. It lit your insides on fire and your core throbbed. You let out a staggered breath and croaked out, “Just… just want… you… your attention… don’t wanna be ignored.”

“My baby’s feeling ignored, huh? Probably because she’s being a little shit and not behaving…”

“I tried!”, you whimpered. “I made cookies and had some saved just for you! I… I just wanted-“

His hand guiding your leg off his lap, opening your clothed core to him. He cupped your mound in his hand, massaging it gently. It stopped you from finishing your sentence and you whimpered instead.

“Go on, Kitten…”

“I just wanted to make you- ugh!”

“I thought I was being pretty clear that tonight was not a good night for your bratty bullshit. Yeah, you made a good dinner, but your attitude is way out of line. Trying to make me feel bad about how much I enjoy your cooking and baking. S’not nice, baby...”

“I-I’m sorry!”, you whined in response.

He spanked you a few more times, the final one coming down a little harder. Each one forced a yelp from you between panting breaths and you rutting your hips on nothing. His cock was hardening under you, pushing against your hip.

You suddenly felt your panties pull harshly against your hipbones then snap off, and Dave tossed them to the side. His middle and index finger dove into your folds.

“So fucking wet… Jesus, Kitten… you’re a needy fucking brat…”

You wriggled your hips, begging for more friction against his fingers.

“Such a bad girl… getting me fat and thinking I’m slow… feeding me till I’m too fucking stuffed to get off the couch? Then you give me attitude about how big you made me?”

His tone was slipping into his usual ‘dominant’ voice, and it was almost too much mixed with his adept fingers and the soreness of your backside.

“I know you just love it… thinking you’re in control when you heap plate after plate in front of me… thinking you can feed me until I’m pliant and yours to fuck around with… no such luck, baby.”

He pushed two fingers into your weeping hole and began to pound into you relentlessly. Your back arched as you cried out.

“Yeah, baby… this is what you needed, isn’t it.”, Dave snarled through his clenched jaw, continuing his relentless pace. You could feel that the bulge from before was now almost painfully digging into your hip bone – the fact he was enjoying this so much made you love it even more. You let out panting moans as your walls began to clench on his digits.

“Oh god-fuck!… I’m-oh fuck!”

He ripped his hand away from you and another spank landed on your backside, stinging further from his wet-with-your-slick hand. You cried out and buried your tear-streaked face into the arm rest.

“You gonna behave?”, he barked as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look at him.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll behave!”, you cried out. “Please Dave!”

“You done being a brat?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I am!”

“Stand up.”

You shakily pushed yourself up off his lap, and his hands came to steady you. You looked at him, your cheeks flushed and damp, lips pouted, and you sucked in a small sob.

“There’s my kitten.”, he smiled menacingly, looking you over and the mess he’d made of you. “So fucking desperate. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me and let me come!”, you huffed back. God, you wanted him to keep this up. 

“Mind your manners!”

His voice was dark and his eyes even darker as he drank you in. Fuck, you needed him in the worst way. His hand came up and gently touched your chin before his hand went around your neck, pushing your back against the wall. His other hand went to his belt, unsuccessfully trying to undo it to get his pants off. His intensity in his eyes started to melt, giving way to desperation.

“Dammit!”, he grunted, removing his other hand from your throat and you moved forward to help.

“No baby… please… fuck, just stay there… j-just act like you’re pinned…”, Dave pleaded, eyes wide and screaming with arousal as he tried sucking in his belly.

You did as you were told, keeping yourself against the wall, watching as he fumbled with his pants, finally getting them down around his thick thighs, his boxer-briefs barely containing his rock hard, leaking cock. His hand went right back to your throat, and he mashed his face into yours in a fevered kiss. He kept your mouth locked onto his as he pulled you away from the wall, only breaking to turn you around and push you over one of the large standing speakers that framed the TV. Without warning, Dave spat into his hand and freed his cock, pumped it a few times, then ran the head through your folds. He finally pushed into you, making you keen and grip the speaker.  

“Fuuuuuck…”, he breathed as he seated himself deep within you. “God dammit…”, he hissed as he began pounding into you. “I needed this, baby.”

“Oh god- Dave! So big… fuck!”

“Good girl… come on, Kitten… come for me…”, he grunted. “Touch your clit, baby… play with it… not-not gonna last long…”

“Da-David…”, you whined, as your fingers rubbed circles on your nub, thrusting you just enough to fall over the edge. You panted erratically as your long-time-coming release ripped through you, making your walls clench and spasm around him.

He let out a groan. “Good girl… good fucking girl…” and kept pounding into you. He was beginning to falter in his pace, and his breaths were coming out in short, hurried pants. He pulled back from you, jerking his cock, and came on your reddened ass cheeks.

You were slumped over the speaker, breathing hard, when you heard Dave fall back onto the couch, making it groan and creak under his sudden weight.

sp

“Hey… baby?”, he panted. “You good, Kitten?”

You pushed yourself upright, feeling your dress sticking to his release on your backside.

“You dick.”

He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow in warning. “Excuse me?”

“You spanked me and came on my ass!”

“Yeah? And where did it get me? Panting and fat on a couch… you still got an attitude.”, he huffed out in a laugh.

“Guess you’ll have to try harder next time.”

You tried keeping an angry front, but failed as you sat down on his lap, smearing his spend on his bare thighs. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him as you fell into a fit of giggles.

“Fuck, if I try any harder, I’ll pop a seam or come in my pants.”

You grinned and then giggled again, “Please, Dave - try harder!”

He laughed and pressed a kiss you your forehead. “You’re such a shit. Behave!”

“Make me, Yorkie.”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi

[mousegirlheart]

excuse me, incredibly round mouse! hav u seen my big breakfast egg?

*burps cutely*

no sorry no clue

[thetasteofinq]

GET TO KNOW ME ✨ tag game

ty cindy for tagging me :) @hellcins

Are you named after someone?

nope my parents were just like ok i have agreat idea lets give her the most boring and most common name (in germany at least)

When is the last time you cried?

this morning when i was taking the bus to work tbh

Do you like your handwriting?

nah not really

What is your favorite lunch meat?

im a vegetarian :)

Do you have kids?

nope and i never will #childless #lesbianism

If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

yeah i would im ride or die and i think im a good friend

Do you use sarcasm?

yeah a lot but i have trouble understanding sarcasm when other people are being sarcastic

Do you still have your tonsils?

nope

Would you bungee jump?

nope noooooope yeah no

What is your favorite kind of cereal?

i love overnight oats does that count

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

never unless im wearing dr martens

Do you think you're a strong person?

yeah definitely. i fought and cried and clawed my way out of the grave several times

What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

pistachio

What is the first thing you notice about people?

teeth and ears i love cute ears

Red or pink?

red

What do you least like about yourself,

the intensity of my emotions especially when its paired with pettiness

What color pants and shoes are you wearing now?

pink + barefoot

What was the last thing you ate?

burger king plant based nugget burger

What are you listening to right now?

nothing right now but the last song i listened to was crystal clear by ms williams

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?

dark green

Favorite smell?

the smell of a tomato plant (when you just cut off some leaves)

Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

my best friend like 10 mins ago

Favorite sport to watch?

im not really into sports but ive been to several ice hockey games. that was pretty cool

Hair color?

brown

Eye color?

brown

Do you wear contacts?

no

Favorite food to eat?

pizza quattro formaggi

Scary movies or comedies?

scary movies all the way

Last movie you watched?

scream

What color shirt are you wearing?

black

Summer or winter?

winter. but i prefer spring even more

Hugs or kisses?

kisses. but i hate kissing with tongue

What book are you currently reading?

im not reading anything at the moment unfortunately :( if anyone wants to please recommend me a book or poetry collection

Who do you miss right now?

noone actually

What is on your mouse pad?

i dont own a mouse pad

What is the last TV program you watched?

temptation island germany lmao

What is the best sound?

flowers for vases by hayley williams next question please

The Rolling Stones or The Beatles?

the beatles

What is the furthest you've ever traveled?

i dont get to travel that much :( london?

Do you have a special talent?

i can burp on command

im tagging @yorktaylor and @heartbeatbutch :)

[thegoodthebadthealternative]

The Good, The Bad and The Alternative: a homestuck fanfiction. Chapter 37, an excerpt.

John narrowed his eyes at Rose as well, and Rose glanced between him and Jade. After a second, she broke, letting out a defeated laugh.

"I believe I see the family resemblance now." she said. "Thought I'm curious when you all found time to plan th-"

Dave let out a choking noise that sounded somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp and a burp.

"Woah, dude, are you alright?" John asked, taking a step towards Dave, who'd doubled over.

He held up a hand, taking a deep breath.

"What'd you just say?" Dave asked, looking at Rose. She blinked a few times, confused.

Jade realized it a split-second before Rose did.

"Dave! We never told you!" Jade shouted, catching the attention of some passerby. She winced at herself, continuing at a more reasonable volume. "Gosh, I guess with everything happening, we forgot."

Dave's eyes were wide, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Forgot... What exactly? Just run that by me real quick." he said.

"Dave, me and Jade are related." John said, gesturing at her. "Her dad was my grand-uncle. We're, uh, demigods."

"My grandmother is the Empress of Magic." Jade said quietly.

Dave's expression was unreadable.

Rose's expression was... Frighteningly curious. She was staring Dave down like a snow owl watching a mouse decide whether or not to leave its burrow.

"You made no remarks upon their physical familiarity with each other, Dave." she said. "What did you believe was occurring?"

Dave coughed, then disappeared in a blur. He reappeared a short distance away trying to reenter the apartment building, frantically jamming the code into the keypad. He was too slow. In three long strides, Rose was on him, blocking the doorway with her wingspan.

Jade looked at John. He shrugged.

"Nothing! What's some bicep stroking between long lost friends! Get your hands off me!" Dave struggled against Rose's implacable, pneumatic social pressure as she herded him back to the group.

Jade looked at Dave expectantly, though he seemed to be more worried about John's concerned stare by the way he pointed his shaded eyes away from her cousin.

"Well," Rose prompted from behind him, "tell us. You're among friends."

Dave glanced around for another escape route.

"Dave, what's wrong?" Jade asked. At her side, Bec barked, in a way Jade thought was encouraging, but Dave jumped at the sound.

Any guesses why Dave is reacting like this? Check out Chapter 37: My Friends (Part 1) and find out!

[justhilary123]

Yummy! You’re Making Me Hungry!: Episode 66

One day, Mickey and Minnie are getting ready to go on a camping trip together. So, we decided to help them pack for their trip. We need jackets to keep us warm and sunscreen to protect ourselves from getting sunburned. We also packed sleeping bags and a storybook.

Minnie explains that they’re gonna go on a lot of adventures and that they’ll be really hungry. Mickey explains that they like to pack lots of nutritious foods, tasty treats and healthy snacks, such as granola bars, fruit and nuts. Eventually, Minnie was getting hungry, so, Mickey gave her an apple. But, then, Minnie burped (Eww! Gross!), but, despite that unladylike action, Minnie excused herself.

Moving on, Mickey explains that for safety, they like to bring a first aid kit full of bandages just in case they get hurt. However, Mickey overpacks the first aid kit and gets bandages on him. After shaking it off, Mickey realized that their almost done.

The only thing left is the tent, Mickey tries to fold the tent, but, he was having trouble, so, Minnie lends a hand and helps pack up the tent. Mickey wonders if they have everything. But, realized that he almost forgot his house keys. Thankfully, they were in his pocket. We had a lot of fun helping Mickey and Minnie pack for their camping trip.

If you’re a big fan of camping, the great outdoors and being prepared, "Getting Ready for a Camping Trip", is the one for you.

Mickey and Minnie are both in top form here. It’s one of the Me & Mickey vlogs where they appear together.

First the mice pack jackets, sunscreen, sleeping bags and a storybook for bedtime. Then, the mice pack some snacks in case they get hungry and when Minnie asked what our favorite camping snack is, we get her best line in this entire vlog, "Yummy! You’re making me hungry!", the gross part was when Minnie belched when she ate an apple, which wasn’t very ladylike at all.

Another bright spot is when Mickey overpacked the first aid kit, resulting in him getting bandages on him. Then, he struggles to fold up the tent, but, he is having trouble doing it. Mickey almost forgot his house keys, but, thankfully they were in his pocket. And as they were leaving at the end of the vlog, Minnie asked Mickey if he got the sleeping bags, causing him to go back inside for a sec and get them.

And with nothing else left to say, let’s take a look at some screenshots.

So, here’s our dynamic mouse duo of Mickey and Minnie. Those two do everything together!

Anyone who remembers watching the Bedtime Story vlog from season one would surely remember the story, "Minnie and the Moonbow".

It’s always important to pack snacks when you go on a camping trip.

Whenever I think of this vlog, my mind immediately goes to the part where Minnie rubs her tummy while saying, "Yummy! You’re making me hungry!", which is her best line in this entire vlog. Almost reminds me of when Mickey said, "Aww! You’re making me thirsty!", in What’s in Mickey’s Fridge?, another season one Me & Mickey vlog.

You know you’re in for it now when the gross part suddenly comes in when you at least expect it. It was so gross when Minnie belched and it wasn’t very ladylike. But, at least she said, "Excuse me!"

"You can never have enough bandages.", says Mickey before the unthinkable comes in.

Next time when you try to pack a first aid kit, try your best not to overpack.

Mickey tries to fold up the tent, but, it’s hard for him to do. But, for a girl like Minnie, folding a tent is a piece of cake.

Anyone who remembers watching Vacation Routine would surely remember this bit. Mickey had gotta start not losing his house keys.

Closing Line: "Till next time we can play.", "Have a camping-riffic day! Mickey! Did you get the sleeping bags?", "Whoops! Hehe! See ya real soon!"

[downforthegas]

🍎 and 🐶 WH eprocto headcannons/scenarios (cause I'm gross lol)

-Ba//ar//aby probably does little gags with his farts. Like he does the whole "pull my finger" and "do you hear that" jokes. He thinks its so funny but every time he farts, he just turns whatever space/house he's in toxic. Bc of that, no one really falls for the "pull my finger" gag... except for Wa//lly. He's so gullible, falling for the gag each time -The little fart gags aren't the only thing Ba//rn//aby does. Sometimes when he's holding Wa//lly close, he holds him between his crisscross legs and farts. At first, Wa//lly doesn't know what that low, bassy noise was, but then the smell hits him. He tries to get up and leave, but Ba//rn just holds him tight, letting another fart out in the process as he forces Wa//lly to endure his stink -speaking of holding him tight, imagine Ba//rn picks up his little friend from behind, surprising Wa//lly which causes him to accidently let a small squeak out from his butt (Ba//rn almost mistakes it as a mouse). Ba//rn laughs, even calling his little toot cute. Wa//lly does his little monotone laugh, but blushes from embarrassment. But knowing that Ba//rn found joy in his little toot, he makes an effort to do it again -Sometimes Wa//lly really catches Ba//rn off guard. Sometimes he'll rip a minute long silent fart and makes Ba//rn's eyes water. Or, in very rare cases, he'll rip a loud, long bassy fart that'll get mistaken for Ba//rn's. He'll congratulate his little buddy for ripping something so huge, but also ask if he's ok (it's a big fart, it must've given Wa//lly quite the stomach ache) -They give each other tummy rubs when they get bellyaches. Sometimes when Ba//rn overeats, he'll go to Wa//lly for help (or How//dy cause he has all those arms, imagine getting two belly rubs at once). Wa//lly will crawl on top of Ba//rn's big belly to sooth the huge thing with his little hands, causing long gutteral belches and deep, bassy farts to leave him, farts that shake the ground and cause Wa//lly to say "oh you poor thing. feel better, big guy?" -alternatively, when Wa//lly get's a stomach ache, he can barely walk, especially if he's really bloated. Ba//rn just lies next to his poor friend and rubs gentle circles into his gut with one or two fingers. he'll mention that Wa//lly's flat stomach looks like a big yellow balloon that's about to pop, and Wa//lly will look away and blush, as little toots and light, airy burps puff out of him -Ba//rn has definitely ripped ass into a microphone, there's no doubting it (and probably blew out the speakers in the process)

-Ba//rn and Wa//lly have little fart contests with each other sometimes. Wa//lly always participates even though his farts don't hold a candle to Ba//rn's (bc that would just cause an explosion lol) -but sometimes, just sometimes, Wa//lly's blows Ba//rn out of the water and wins the contest instead... (only to realize there's now a wet spot in his pants) -Really I feel like they're so comfortable around each other, they don't mind farting around each other cause they're such good friends

-one last thing: Ba//rn has definitely dutch-ovened Wa//lly before. He so small and is willing to curl up with Ba//rn in bed so it's just too easy. Poor Wa//lly gets trapped in a thick blanked of stink. But Wa//lly picks up on these things quickly and gives Ba//rn a taste of his own medicine. which tastes like rotten apples lol

[nerdieforpedro]

Nerdie’s Bedtime Stories

This began with a spiral as it often does,

We were light with fervor and buzz.

The foyer was befouled again,

From copious amounts of interaction.

Below here is an edit and a Carol,

I hope you’ll enjoy and fine it quite feral. 🐈‍⬛

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a peep was heard except for a small buzz.

What is that? The Spirit asked? Why it’s a vibrating ring that keeps him hard and that’s a fact.

Oh my! That’s quite a find. This house is rather large is that a mouse? No it’s a trash panda followed by a Catfish.

The Catfish is searching for a lucky lady to slurp. Thankfully there’s many to pick from who will ready and willing fill him enough so he burps.

The trash panda scouts the home for a smooth glass table. He takes out his small baggie of powder and sniffs so hard he needed to lay down.

A man with one arm searched for a beautiful green stone but instead found a woman who was ready to bone.

A tired man with aching knees and a sore back, just searched around for a place to lay his sack.

The men in the house were slowly consumed by the women who brought them pleasure from mouth to womb.

Special thanks to @undercoverpena and @morallyinept for telling me to post it. Might as well, I’ve posted much filthier a few hours ago.

Fell free to share and make your own Christmas Carol about whatever. 😀

Possible no pressure carolers: @musings-of-a-rose @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rhoorl @trulybetty @goodwithcheese @linzels-blog @frenchiereading @for-a-longlongtime @sin-djarin @megamindsecretlair @fhatbhabie @saturn-rings-writes @sp00kymulderr @legendary-pink-dot @maggiemayhemnj @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

And anyone else who wants to write one, if you do, please tag me, I want to read it.

[beefrobeefcal]

I wanna take chubby Frankie to the michocana and buy him whatever the hell he wants, he wants an elote he gets an elote he wants three he gets three

OOOOOF NONNIE! WE THANK THEE FOR THE PROMPT.

I may have gone a little left field. While I didn't mention specific foods (as I am not well-versed on Mexican cuisine), I hope you enjoy what our fav chubby guy has in store for us today.

Beefro 👌🥩💜 --------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Dine Out & Eat In

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: Frankie wants to dine out and you're more than happy to help him out. Takes place after Part One at some point

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,818 finally, a true one shot!

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, oral (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), eating, belly praise, belly stuffing, rough sexy stuff, weight gain, oral (both M and F), hair pulling, hand necklaces, f on top.

Author's Notes: Thank you all for the Chubby!Frankie love! Does this answer why we find him being chubby so damn hot? No! But some questions are not meant to be answered... at least not right away. And an even bigger thank you to @harryleatherfit & @theywhowriteandknowthings - your kind words and support are necessary for me to churn out smut. Bless you both!

_______________________________________________

“Anything I want?”, Frankie mused.

“Anything you want.”, you replied.

It was both of your day off and you spent a good portion of the morning in bed, limbs tangled together. You wanted to celebrate Frankie's raise and promotion at work, thinking he would want to find a new way to fuck you or eat cake off your tits. But he was full of surprises.

“I want you to take me to that Mexican place...”, Frankie hesitated, still new to the idea that you liked to keep him well fed.

“Oh?”, you sat up on your elbow and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “And what would we do there?”

Frankie flashed you a smile. “You’re gonna make sure I eat everything I order.”

*****

Sitting across from Frankie, you watched as he’d gotten through two of the three plates of food he’d ordered. You’d already finished your one plate and were enjoying your soda and cranberry drink, eyeing him up from across the table.

“Fuck me, Mouse. I’m gonna need a wardrobe of spandex if I keep this up.”, Frankie huffed while sitting back into his seat. “I don’t think I can finish...”

“Hmmm. Frankie, you told me that my role tonight was to make sure you finish everything that you ordered.”, you said in a low voice, leaning forward. “You still have food, baby.”

“Mouse...”, Frankie whined much in the same way you did when he relentlessly pushed you to over stimulation. “S’too much.”

He watched as you got up and moved to sit next to him in the booth, reaching out to touch him.

“Oh, Frankie. You’re not that full, are you?”, you cooed as you pushed into his full, but still somewhat soft belly with a little more force while rubbing it. His cock was pushing against his belly and jeans, hard and straining.

You leaned in and purred into his ear before nuzzling him with your nose, “Come on. You got more room in here, baby.”

Frankie thought he would come right there in his pants.

Panting, he pulled the last dish towards him and began to eat it.

“Doing so good, baby... I gotta keep you nice and full... look at that belly, getting big and round... just a few more bites... baby, you getting full? no, you got room, honey... come on, baby... eat it all, get it in... every last bite, Frankie... good boy.”, you cooed into his ear, continuing your belly massage with the occasional push into him.

Once he had cleared the last plate, Frankie huffed out a breath, his swollen middle forcing him to sit back as he tried to hide a small burp. You sat at his side, continuing to console his overstuffed tummy, and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“Good work, baby. Look at this big, heavy belly.” , you cooed again, sliding your hand under and pushing up into his much firmer, protruding stomach. “Oh, my poor, stuffed baby... look at you- so big. Now you're full, Frankie."

He looked at you and gave a hazy grin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy your sweet pussy tonight, princess.”

*****

Once home, you kicked your shoes off and headed towards the den, thinking that Frankie would want to lay out on the couch to let his full belly settle.

“Where d’you think you’re going, princess?”, Frankie growled as he grabbed your wrist.

You turned and looked at him. His shirt was slightly riding up his engorged middle, and his eyes screamed a heated message at you: I'm not done with you.

“You said I can have whatever I want, and you think you get to walk away from me?”, he warned, stepping towards you to cage you into a corner. He put his hands on the walls either side of your head, leaning forward. You could feel the coil in your heat begin its torturous wind up.

Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you spoke in a small voice. “I figured you were going to...”

“What? You think because I'm full that I don’t wanna watch you writhe and scream under me? Think I’m too stuffed and not up for it, princess?”, he growled glaring down at you.

Your brain short circuited, leaving you whimpering under Frankie’s harsh glare.

“You’re a fucking tease, Mouse... your pretty mouth saying all sorts of sweet things to me at the restaurant. Made me almost come in my pants like a fucking teenager.”, he leaned in further, mouthing kisses along your jaw. “Shouldn’t be so mean to me, baby.”

You let out a moan as your hands reached up, one into the hair at the nape of his neck and the other to his belly. His kissing got more aggressive, turning to nips and bites along your neck, then he bit down harder at the conjunction of your neck and shoulder. You hissed and jabbed your palm into the side of his belly, eliciting a grunt form him.

Frankie grabbed your wrist roughly and spun you around, pushing your front up against the wall. His belly pressed against your back, hand still holding your wrist.

“What d’you think you’re doing? Huh? You’re mine tonight.”, he snarled into your ear.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but he pushed his weight against you harder. You panted, feeling your arousal gushing.

“Nuh-uh, princess. You’re not going anywhere. Can’t let you out of my hold or you’re gonna run.” He began open-mouth, wet kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders. “You think you’re so fucking smart. Keeping me full and fat... keeping me slow so I can’t catch you.”

Frankie bit down again, drawing out a whimper from you, then growled in your ear, “Jokes on you, baby. I’m still hungry.”

He dove his hand down your front into your leggings and ran his fingers in your folds. You whined and rutted your hips against his hand.

“You’re fucking soaked, princess. So fucking needy.”, he sneered, ripping his hand out from you and grabbing a fist full of your hair, forcing you to strain your neck and look at him.

“But I get mine first, princess.”, he growled, letting go of your hair and pulling you back from the wall by your arm, towards the den.

He let go of you once he got to the couch and sat down, leaning back with his knees spread to give room to his big tummy. He looked up at you, his amusement barely being contained behind his domineering exterior. But that gentleness was gone when he raised his eyebrows at you staring back at him.

“Well, princess? This dick isn’t gonna suck itself. Get on your knees.”

Kneeling between his open legs, you got to work trying to get his jeans open which was bit of challenge given that they were almost too small before dinner. Frankie was watching you with a smirk through lidded eyes, his belly rising and falling with each breath. “Come on, Mouse... don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

You huffed, giving him and irritated look, wanting to keep playing his game, but his  jeans were not opening.

He reached out and grabbed your chin forcefully. “Don’t give me attitude, Mouse. Last warning.”

Not thinking, you pulled your head back out of his grip and gave him indignant glare. “Frankie, your jeans are n-”

His hand went around your neck, and he pulled you towards him, eyes on fire and teeth clenched. “What did I just fucking say? Huh? You’re being a fucking brat and I didn’t order one of those with my meal.”

His other hand went down, and he was able to pop the button of his jeans open, his belly forcing the zipper wide. “Fucking easy, princess.”, he scoffed as he pushed you back from him. “Get to work.”

You looked up at him as you situated yourself between his knees. His face was stern with a clenched jaw, but his eyes were pleading with you to keep the game going. Moving his jeans, you could the see the damp area on his grey boxer-briefs from his leaking tip. Pulling those down, his cock sprung up against his belly, begging for your touch.

You pumped his cock and rubbed your thumb over the slit and Frankie sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, Mouse.”, he growled through gritted teeth.

His hand came out and grabbed your hair, pulling your head down, pushing your mouth over his cock. You swirled your tongue around the tip before you took his length down your throat. Your cunt was now drooling from his forceful actions and words.

“Yeah, please... baby... oh fuck yeah...”, Frankie groaned, as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock.

You needed a release. Your cunt was throbbing, and you whimpered around his length. You took a hand off his knee and snuck it down to begin rubbing your clothed pussy, praying for some relief.

Frankie looked down when you whimpered, his hand in your hair continuing to guide your movements. He saw that one of your hands on his knee and the other was nowhere to be seen. He yanked your mouth off his cock, pulling you up to look at him.

“You that fucking desperate, princess? Can’t just suck my dick, you gotta get yours, too? Fucking greedy brat.”, he snarled.

Frankie loved the vision in front of him: you were almost dangling from his grip in your hair, lips red and worried from your work on his cock, needy and begging for him. He let go of your hair, then gave you an evil smile and chuckled darkly, his hand now around your neck, holding you in place.

“Please, Frankie... please... I need ...”, you begged.

“My poor baby... what do you need, princess?”, he cooed mockingly at you.

You whimpered again, arousal robbing you of a vocabulary. You tried wriggling again from his grasp while holding on to his wrist.

“No words, huh? Just a fucking attitude.”, he sneered with a shake of his head. “You need me to fuck the attitude out of you. Teach you a fucking lesson.”

He pushed you back with enough force to have you land on your butt on the floor. Standing up, he tucked himself back into his boxers, jeans hanging off his hips and his belly pushing out. He looked down at you. “Get up, you fucking brat. Bed. Now.”, he barked.

You didn’t waste a second and all but ran down the hall to your room. Frankie came in behind you and began to roughly take your clothes off. Standing in front of him naked, he pushed you on to the bed.

“You’re gonna regret this, princess.”, he crooned as he grabbed you by the ankle and yanked you to the edge of the bed, then kneeled on the floor, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. “Shoulda just behaved when you had the chance. You know I can stuff myself to the max and still have more than enough room to devour your pussy over and over and over...”

He bites down hard the inside of your thigh, enough so that you know there’s going to a bruise, and you cried out. You tried to get out of his grasp, but his grip on you tightened.

“I warned you, princess.”

He dove in and latched his lips to your clit and sucked. You screeched your hands went to his hair.

He pushed two fingers into your aching heat and hummed when he found that beautiful, sacred spot, and repeatedly hit it with each pump.

“Oh god... Frankie... please... please.... ohmygod....”

You could feel your walls begin to twitch and the telltale signs of your impending orgasm.

“Oh, Mouse... baby, you gonna come? Already?”, he cooed, as he slowed his fingers down.

“No, please don’t stop... Frankie, please!”, you cried out.

“Baby, I told you - you were gonna regret it.”, he said sweetly. “You gotta learn your lesson.”

You’d had enough. As much fun as it was being his plaything, you needed your release. You sat up and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling his face close to yours, nose to nose. You were vibrating from your failed orgasm and ready to draw blood.

You growled in his face. “I’m not playing anymore, Frankie. You’re either fucking me right now or I’m gonna-”

“What’re you gonna do, princess?” He gave you a cocky grin, his hands snaking their way up your body to your waist.

Your grip on his shirt tightened and you scowled. “This.”

You pushed him backward, him landing on his back on your bedroom floor. “Jesus Christ, Mouse!”, he hollered angrily, having caught him off guard. His full stomach was protesting the sudden impact he had with the floor, and he held it protectively.

He then tried to sit up, but you crawled up and sat on his thighs and pushed him back down forcefully. He tried once more to sit up, but between his heavy belly and you shoving him back, he knew it was no use.

“You had your chance, Catfish.”, you snapped at him, voice dark and demanding. “I want it. Now.”

His eyes went wide, taken aback by your use of his call sign and ferocity. Normally when you took control, you played the role of a femme fatal with a remarkable ease but were never forceful or physical like he was. When Frankie realized that he had pushed you to your limit, he melted, and he was thrilled.

“Oh fuck, baby…”, he moaned, reaching out to you.

You shoved his hands away forcefully, and pulled his boxers down, releasing his hard cock again. You grabbed it and pumped it a few times, while growling, “You throw me around like a fucking doll and look at you now. Too fucking stuffed to fight back.”

You spat on your hand and grabbed his cock, lubricating it. He grabbed your hips as you lined up with his length. Through gritted teeth, Frankie growled, “Take it, baby... yeah, take what you need.”

“Shut up!”, you snarled as you began to drop down and take him in.

You gasped as he bottomed out in you, eyes skewed in pain and relief all rolled into one. He watched your face contort and gently rubbed his thumbs soothingly over your hip bones, knowing that you would need a minute to adjust to his size.

“Come on, princess. You got me pinned to the floor and belly’s too fucking full to fight back… use me, baby… please… come on.”, he moaned, encouraging movement through his grip on your hips.

You started to rock your hips, and you planted a hand on his chest to steady you. Your rocking started to increase, and you let small gasps and cries out in time with your movement.

Between how tight and warm you were, the sounds coming from your mouth, and the view Frankie had over his belly of you bouncing on his cock, he was a wreck.

“Fuck… princess… feel so good… pussy’s perfect for me… ride me… that’s it, baby, fucking use me… take what you- what you need… fuck me, baby…”, he panted.

Your legs started to shake, growing tired, but you pushed on and increased your speed. You reached your hand down and began to rub circles over your clit, propelling yourself to the edge.

“Mouse… honey… slow down… I’m close, baby… I gotta get you- please… oh fuck, baby…”, Frankie begged, trying to hold out for you to get close, too, and then he felt your walls start to spasm.

“Yes!… yes, baby… I’m… fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…Frankie!��, you cried out, your orgasm ripping through your body.

Frankie moaned a string of unintelligible obscenities, his hips bucking up into you as he spilled his load into you.

Both of you were breathing hard for what felt like minutes and years. You were trying not to collapse on his stomach, but he reached up and pulled you down for a kiss – the first proper one since you got home – and enjoyed the afterglow. He winced as your body laid over his strained belly.

“Fuck, Mouse…”, he breathed out, smiling.

You sat up and lifted yourself off of him then sat on his lap, while he laid on the floor, arms now behind his head.

“You okay?”, you asked quietly, rubbing his tummy with one hand.

“I’m good, baby. Just super fucking full and fucked out.”, he chuckled. “You’re a fucking beast.”

You continued to massage his tummy, and he grunted in approval. “Keep doing that… feels good, Mouse.”, he hummed.

“Frankie…honey?”

He looked up at you, puzzled expression on his face, to you looking back at him with a smirk and an eyebrow raised.

“I’m pretty sure you said you’d eat everything… and pussy’s for dessert, Frankie.”, you cooed and batted your eyelashes at him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, baby…”, he chuckled smiling, and grabbed your hips to pull you forward to your favourite seat.

___________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed

[mousegirlheart]

local mouse reblogs post 15 times, immediately gains 225 pounds, more on this story as it develops

burps cutely

[skin-of-my-teeth]

Intoxicating

Tags: hybrids, hunting, dumbification, vore

I love the idea of predators being able to use their scent and pheromones while hunting to dumb down a prey.

Sweet, enticing waves of hunger and reassurance mix together in the most heady cloud that settles on the prey's skin and fills their lungs, intoxicating them. It fogs their mind, clouds their judgement, and makes them so easy to convince that being eaten is such a good idea. That it's the prey's own idea. Within minutes of playing with their meal like a cat with a mouse, the predator's little prey is practically begging to be devoured.

Every single little thing about predators are traps to invite prey to come closer, to lure them into submission, and that extends to their scent. They're gorgeous and distracting, with the most delectable mix of flavors in their pheromones that has any prey forgetting their own name for a moment... just long enough to be pounced and convinced that they would really, really love to get inside of the predator’s gut. That it would be so snuggly and safe... that it would be so relaxing and enjoyable. And, yes... yes that sounds like such a good idea. The best idea.

Jungkook was running for his life just moments ago, but now he can't remember why he was so scared. The wolf on top of him is so pretty and sweet, and he just proposed the best idea Jungkook has ever heard. He's never been inside of the belly of a predator before... it sounds so cozy and warm...

Namjoon purrs down at the cute little bunny who was too fat and slow to escape him. He has him pinned to the forest floor, and watches in pleasure as his enticing predator scent works its magic. Jungkook's eyes practically cloud over as he breathes in the scent, dumbing down and becoming so willing to be the wolf's next meal. His pupils blow wide and he whimpers with want as he mindlessly begs the huge predator over him to swallow him down so he can curl up safe and warm in the wolf's belly.

The predator indulges the bunny in his begging request. He lifts the plump treat up and swallows him down. His gut swells out to accommodate the fat bunny, and Namjoon burps in satisfaction. He's too lazy and heavy to drag himself back to his den, so he curls up in a cozy patch of moonlight in the forest and lounges in bliss. His gut gently jiggles back and forth as the prey inside squirms against the restrictive walls of his stomach. The predator chuckles and waits for reality to set in.

Prey are so dumb and easy to catch. They're so easy to hunt and convince that they should be his next meal. So delicious to swallow and so pleasurable to digest. The wolf belches as his gut gurgles, clearly pleased at the size of its plump prey. Namjoon rubs over the fat swell, cooing to the treat inside that he'll take such good care of him. The dumb little thing doesn't need to know that means he'll be devoured and turned into warm, yummy fat settled in the predator’s belly by morning.

Namjoon licks his lips as the drugs that the prey had breathed in from his predator scent wear off. The poor little bun realizes just what's happened once it's too late, that he's now tucked inside of the wolf's belly, waiting to be gobbled up. Namjoon chuckles when the prey whines and begs to be let out, trying to fight against the overpowering strength of the predator's digestive muscles, and failing as they start slowly kneading.

It's such a delight to feel the fiesty prey lose their fight, eventually settle down, and weakly submit to their fate. Such a delight to feel his belly growl in triumph and hear the little whimpers filtering from beneath the layers of thick padding.

With his meal now limp and willing, all that's left is for Namjoon to lounge back, rub his paws over his gut in greedy bliss, and enjoy the immense satisfaction of devouring a prey.