#thanksgiving stories

[aterimber]

Description: Sam and Gabriel have differing Thanksgiving priorities.⁠ ⁠ Sabriel (Implied), 2023's Thanksgiving story⁠

Prompt: Stuffing Month ⁠ Words: 487⁠ ⁠ Check out my latest short story on my Patreon!

I post new short stories every 2 weeks on Fridays and have 100+ already waiting for you!⁠

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This is the 3rd last story of 2023! I'll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I'll be back January 12th, 2024 with the first story of the new year!

[bixiebeet]

The team bonds while trying to cheer up Peter, who is stressed about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Meanwhile, Egon and Janine share an intimate moment in the lab and plan a big step in their relationship.

[tryathingortwo]

Thanksgiving Drive Finale, Part 1

The dress miraculously found its way into her hands.

The mall trip had been a near disaster, as Aurora made a not-so-quick stop by the food court first. As she waddled into her usual place for dresses, one of the employees noticed her and joyfully led her over… to the maternity section. Defeated, the plump girl picked out a cocktail dress and jacket for the final feast of the month. She could only groan as the dress stretched over her bloated middle, slim-fitting but luckily with enough room to stretch.

It’ll have to do, she thought to herself as she purchased the form-fit curtain and headed back home, albeit with a quick stop for a milkshake along the way.

The outfit was cute by all means, though she was none too keen on her stomach being so accented. She just couldn’t resist Helena’s advances all month, and the evidence had settled pretty prominently across her body. Her hips wobbled just a bit now with every step, and she felt just a hint of a double chin starting to form just above her neck. Her breasts, as plump as they were already, had easily grown into another cup, much to the chagrin of her bra selection, and her cheeks couldn’t fit into any of her pants anymore.

Her stomach, however, took on the brut of the weight.

Aurora hadn’t yet gotten used to the feeling of her stomach entering a room just a half-second before her face. Though she didn’t bother to check, she only imagined that she had put on several inches around her waist, as the band of her stretchy pants gave out after the first two weeks of binging. With a sigh, Aurora cradled her stomach, attempting to find some comfort in her newly-padded form.

Aurora grinned as she slipped on the dress. It had been days since she’d worn anything publicly decent - no more 4XL t-shirts that she wore as a dress until the day’s buffet left it covering better as, well, a t-shirt. No underwear, as, again, almost nothing would fit over her rear end, though she thought the dress would surely hold out long before she’d need that.

The plump girl stepped out of her room, stumbling down the hall toward the dining room, where plates were already set. Helena had already invited several of their close friends, and Aurora, though embarrassed by her overindulgence, was still excited to see all of her friends for the holiday. She was a bit surprised that no one had arrived yet, though none of them were particularly early arrivals in the past anyways. She took a seat at the end of the table, wincing as her hips squeezed against the arms of the chair. She squirmed in her seat a bit, trying to cozy herself in, before leaning back. Her arms came to rest atop her belly, subconsciously using it as a sort of custom armrest.

Helena waltzed in, carrying the prized bird, a large, plump turkey the size of Aurora’s stomach currently, and sat the main course down in the middle of the table. She leaned down for a kiss from Aurora, who tilted her own head up to meet those sweet lips she craved.

“Everything’s just about ready. Side dishes are spread out around the dining room, and there’s extras in the kitchen. No one should go hungry tonight,” Helena smiled, patting her wife’s tummy as she pondered on that last sentence.

Aurora could only blush and twirl a loose strand of her violet hair. Her tummy let out a subtle grumble, which Helena immediately took notice of. “You know, we could get you started early if you’re hungry…?” She suggested to the beauty, her smile curling upwards into an expression more sinister.

Aurora gulped, blushing as she remembered the two plates of Chinese she had from that booth at the food court. “M-Maybe we can see where they all are first…” she stuttered, not wanting to indulge before anyone else even had a chance at the food first. “Let me go check on that,” nodded Helena, turning and walking back into the kitchen. Her grin widened, eyes twinkling as she grabbed her phone. She typed away at the keyboard, her phone’s volume cranked up as she made a note to herself to take pictures afterward. Confident that Aurora heard the clacking from her phone, she sat it down.

Helena never did invite anyone– well, not today at least. She had invited the crowd over for tomorrow, as she did want to celebrate with all of their friends; however, today was all about Aurora. The month of “taste-testing,” as she put it, had done its job. Aurora was fat, by all accounts except her own, and was hungrier than ever.

Helena had conditioned her wife for this feast. Prepping her for weeks to bring her to the absolute pinnacle of fullness. She wanted to watch Aurora struggle with her new weight, worry over every morsel she consumed. Helena wanted to see Aurora finally give in to her gluttony and become the embodiment of pure, hedonistic pleasure that she knew the girl could be. It took weeks of cooking and feeding, and months prior that were full of planning and hiding her devious scheme.

Of course, she loved Aurora, so much that she wanted to see more of her. Helena only tricked her love into this because she knew that, deep down, Aurora enjoyed it. She saw the way Aurora cradled her full belly after a hefty meal, or the way she would sleepily drape Helena’s arm around her tummy as the two would spoon. Helena just wanted to give Aurora the biggest feast of her life, and then the most passionate night of her life, because she simply loved her wife.

“Oh my,” Helena put on a shocked expression, “it seems there was an accident on the freeway! The others are stuck in traffic, might take all night…” She watched as Aurora gasped.

Before the bloated girl could speak, Helena chimed right back in. “I’ve already rescheduled for tomorrow and rerouted several ingredients from the firm’s thanksgiving celebration next week. Unfortunately, most of this just won’t keep that well…” she sighed, bringing a hand to her chin in mock consideration of some idea.

Aurora’s stomach let out another soft rumble, to which Helena grinned once again. “Well, certainly can’t let someone starve, now can we?” She asked, tipping the girl’s chin upward once again as they locked eyes. Aurora just stared, trying to read the pink-haired girl.

She knew that Helena was up to something. Sometimes the woman practically wore her face on her sleeve. Yet, as Aurora stared into those bright red eyes, she could only feel drawn in, a deeper desire to serve taking over. She felt a hunger stir within her, growing and shifting until another, louder rumble emerged from her stomach. Eyes wild and wide, she darted her face away from Helena, focusing instead on the bird.

The bird. The big, juicy, meaty bird that sat in the middle of the dining room, just a few feet away from Aurora’s plate, practically begging her to dig into its tender breasts.

Helena watched as Aurora’s pupils dilated, a sliver of drool forming on her bottom lip.

“Y-Yeah, one plate wouldn’t hurt,” the lavender-haired beauty admitted, fork and knife already clutched in each hand.

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Happy turkey day! Fuck the colonizers! Pop those buttons! Eat until you feel like bursting, then eat some more!

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Original tweet & stories here: twitter.com/twoathingortry/sta…

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Twitter: twitter.com/twoathingortry

Patreon: patreon.com/trywrites

Commission Info & Links: tryathingortwo.carrd.co/

[akitbeast]

I look forward to all submissions.

[newwavesylviaplath]

sept 01

[foldingfittedsheets]

A silly holiday story time:

At thanksgiving one year my family had all gathered at my nana’s house for the family meal. My family are… not cooks. In more recent years I’ve had to warn my betrothed to lower their expectations of what we’re going to be fed. They hear the menu and think, well that sounds okay only to eat the blandest most poorly cooked food to ever shame our ancestors.

But the year in question I was still but a teenager and had not yet learned better food existed. I knew next to nothing about cooking, nor did my nana, so I was vaguely puzzled when she volunteered to cook a turkey.

It was good fortune really that I was in the kitchen when she came to check on it. I watched quietly while she opened the oven and made a sound of disgust at the juices surrounding the bird in its pan. She opened the oven door wider. She looked from the oven to her trash can. She looked back in the oven.

“Are you- uh- are you thinking to pour that juice in the trash?”

“Yeah! It’s gross, I’m just trying to figure out how.”

I, with my mere seventeen years of life experience looked at my fully grown wizened grandparent in bafflement. “If you pour that in the trash it’s going to melt through the bag, and also probably through the trash can itself? It’s really hot?”

She looked surprised to hear this basic law of thermodynamics, looking at the bubbling well of turkey fat as if seeing it for the first time. She then turned back to me, a child who had never learned to cook, “Well what am I supposed to do with it?”

“I think you leave it there? And-“

What I said next was cobbled together from television, pop culture, and American teens fixation on the hilarity of the tool for sex jokes-

“I think you baste it? There’s like a thing you get the juice in to squirt back on the top?”

She made a thoughtful hmm and closed the oven again, wandering back into the living room. I took a moment to imagine the alternate timeline where my family cleaned burning hot fat and melted plastic off the floor.

By and by our underwhelming dinner was completed and we tucked in. My mom keeps chickens so as we finished our food we put all our scraps into a big bowl that was going to the birds. We filled it with dry under seasoned turkey, stuffing, unfinished mashed potatoes, half eaten dinner rolls, etc.

As we were all lounging in contented fullness my brother finally arrived. Being older he had the luxury of showing up to family events hours late. He greeted everyone and went to fix himself a plate. He came out of the kitchen carrying the metal bowl of scraps, delightedly mowing through it.

My mom looked up and started laughing and we all turned to follow suit.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s the bowl for the chickens! Why did you pick that instead of making a plate?”

“This had everything!” he protested, showing us the conglomeration of every component of dinner all mixed up in one bowl.

He sat down and finished the whole massive bowl, unbothered by eating scraps, and the family watched in fascination. His only comment at the end was, “That was great! Turkey was a little dry.”

[smallgodseries]

[image description: A black pony with large rust-brown eyes and a smiling pumpkin on her hip stands on golden and orange fall leaves. Behind her, the dark sky is filled with stars and her flaming orange mane shines brightly against the blues of night. Text reads “24, The Small God, Pumpkin Spice”]

• • • • • 

People assume she’s a newcomer, a fad, a frivolous flash in the pan.  But she was there when the first pumpkin pies were being baked; she was there when the first colonist cookbook was published, in 1769.  She was there when the British raided the rest of the world for flavors they could steal, and while her appearance may be sweet and adorable, her hooves are soaked in the blood of empire, for without conquest, she could never have been born.

But people, unwilling to consider the structure beneath the surface, look at her and see only big eyes, a flowing mane, a coat as soft as silk and as dark as midnight, and they mock her adherents, call them “basic” as if anything could be considered truly basic when it had been built through so many crimes.

Every piece of her was stolen.  Every pinch and particle was the subject of a terrible war.  The price of cinnamon is slaughter.  The fee for nutmeg is subjugation.  And now we serve her sacraments with whipped cream and sugar sprinkles, as if both those things had not also been stolen at some point, as if a foamy cloud could somehow clean the blood from those long lashes.

In these modern days, her most common manifestation is blended with sweet cream and coffee—a drink that has many gods of its own, that has sparked even more wars than her cinnamon pungency.  But for most of her time, she has been carried in the pie.

Pumpkin pie.  The ultimate jewel in the crown of colonialism.  Cooking techniques from Europe, spices stolen from India, Asia, and the Middle East, and a vegetable crown taken from the Americas, sliced and mashed and mixed until its wildness is lost, subsumed into custardy blandness, become one with the melting pot.

She’s not a newcomer.  And she’s not nice, either, and so few of those who worship her understand, anymore, that she’s not a god of whimsy or basic delights.

She is, now and always, a god of war.

• • • • • 

Please join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities:

WordPress: https://leemoyer.wordpress.com/

Instagram: https://instagram.com/smallgodseries/ 

Homepage: http://smallgodseries.com 

Mastodon: @SmallGods@mastodon.world 

[mazojo]

“Is it like Korean thanksgiving?”

“Yes minus the genocide”

Yuri as my favorite character

[catcas22]

Grudge Match headcanon:

Messmer owns many, many snakes, but his favorites are two albino reticulated pythons. Their names are Uriel and Tamiel. Both are pushing nine feet long, and both are certified therapy animals. They wear little vests with their certification patches. They help Messmer keep calm by draping around him like a weighted blanket, and they are quite well attuned to his moods. In stressful social situations, Messmer will find a place to sit down and then slowly disappear under his cocoon of snakes.

[i-am-roadrunner]

katherynwinnick: 2 More Days! Leftover Thanksgiving Lunch

[mrdelorian]

John Carver in THANKSGIVING (2023)🔪🦃

[aterimber]

Description: Hallucifer impedes Sam's attempt to make Thanksgiving dinner.

Prompt: Pizza & Beer Day

Hallucifer, Dark-ish, 2023's 1st Thanksgiving fic

Words: 1,560

Like the preview? Read the full story on my Patreon!

I post new short stories every 2 weeks on Fridays, have 100+ just waiting for you to fall in love with them and am now offering 7 Day FREE trials!

This is also the 5th last fic of 2023! I'll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting stories! (And articles on my website) I'll be back January 12th, 2024 with the 1st story of the new year!

[jilllovesmike]

Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Mike Faist fans. I’m so thankful for you! 🍁

[tryathingortwo]

Thanksgiving Drive Finale, Part 2

She felt content after plate two.

She felt full after plate five.

By plate seven, her dress began to feel a bit tighter than it should.

She stopped counting after plate thirteen.

Aurora was in a state of pure bliss. Helena must have been teasing her with the cooking before because nothing had tasted nearly as delicious as the feast she had been making her way through now. If all the other meals that month were worth five stars, this one was off the scale.

Helena cooked like that on purpose. She knew that if she cooked at the same level of quality, then despite all the training, Aurora would have backed out by now. Everything had gone according to plan; Helena was finally reaping the rewards of her training, her manipulation, the whole month long.

So, too, was Aurora.

Her stomach bulged tightly against her dress, though she hardly noticed at all. Her dress, which had draped well past her knees, was slowly pulled up halfway across her thighs. Her rear, still propped up in the chair she sat in before, squirmed as she took another long, wistful bite. Her breasts, resting against her middle like a table, only accented the prominent feature that took up all of Helena’s concentration.

Aurora's stomach was huge.

Helena was still shocked, to be quite honest. She stared at Aurora as the bloated beauty shoved another spoon of sweet potato casserole in her dainty mouth and fawned, then let her eyes wander to the orb that sat in front of the lavender babe. It stretched out in front of her like something out of a DeviantArt fanfiction. She must have added a foot to her waist at least, Helena thought as she continued to stare at her wife.

Size comparisons couldn’t do her belly justice. Aurora seemed almost ignorant of her size, otherwise, she’d be in a mixed state of shock and sheer discomfort. Her tummy was starting to stretch into the realm of the imagination, pushing far past a full-term pregnancy. Helena could only continue to glare at her wife as Aurora mindlessly patted her stomach while chewing on another bite of the turkey.

Oh yeah, the turkey.

Helena joked earlier about Aurora mistakenly eating the whole bird because of how ravenous she was. She didn’t expect the girl to take the comment to heart. Yet, here sat Aurora, picking meat off one of the bones of the now-devoured carcass of a previously plump turkey. Helena would almost be horrified at how easily the turkey was consumed if she wasn’t so turned on at the same time.

Aurora stifled a burp as she gently tossed the bone back onto the turkey’s main dish housing. Patting her stomach absentmindedly, she hummed something to herself as she stared at some of the other dishes around the room that had been mostly untouched.

“Helena, dearie, that platter of macaroni looks delish, mind bringing it closer?” She innocently asked, pointing to a dish on a side table on the other side of the room. Helena, a bit dumbfounded, stumbled over to the dish and picked it up. She brought the platter in closer, to which Aurora giggled with delight and stuck a fork in. She plopped a hefty bite of the cheesy dish past her lips, sighing contently as she chewed.

“So, hun,” Helena asked, slowly stepping behind the girl and leaning down, “how’re you feeling?” The pink girl placed a gentle hand against her lover’s engorged stomach, feeling just how tightly packed her guts were underneath the soft layer of fat that had been stretched quite a bit.

“Mmmm… fantastic! You went all out!” The girl giggled, her stomach quivering slightly as she did.

“Yeah, I suppose I did,” Helena murmured, rubbing slow circles against Aurora’s overstuffed stomach. “Are you sure you feel alright? You have been quite… hungry today,” Helena asked.

“Y-Yeah, why do you ask?” she said in between chews.

“Just… you’ve eaten the whole turkey,” she looked into Aurora’s eyes, “...and half the other main dishes.”

Aurora locked eyes with Helena as she asked, slowing her chewing until she stopped and swallowed. After a pause, they both began to let their eyes travel down in unison until Aurora finally took notice of the massive swell extending from her sternum. The fork in her hand, in the process of diving in for another bite, slowly slipped from her fingers. Aurora could only stare in horrified awe at her stomach, which began to press against the table in front of her despite leaning back against the chair. Only when the fork rang out as it clattered against the edge of the table did she blink, then shake her head and turn to face Helena.

“Wha-UUUURP– happened?” She asked, quickly covering her face out of sheer embarrassment. A bubble of gas had dislodged somewhere within her insides, taking advantage of her momentary break from gorging to clear itself out. Cheeks darkening as she slowly became self-aware of her state of gluttony, she slowly lowered her hands and placed them atop the curve of her stomach. As her fingertips pressed into the taut skin, she grimaced. The touch she felt through her stomach finally caught up to her, and she felt the weight of her middle slowly weigh down on her consciousness.

“Well,” Helena began as Aurora tried to lean forward a bit, to no avail, “Sometime after the fifth plate you just kinda… kept eating. Without any help.” She patted the side of Aurora’s tummy. The plump girl could only continue to stare at her stomach, head bobbing slightly in time with Helena’s rubs. The two girls sat in silence for a few moments, Helena continuing to rub Aurora’s stomach while she sat there, stunned, belching every so often.

Finally, Aurora spoke up. “...babe?”

“Yes, my love?” asked Helena, leaning down closer to her face.

“Can you… pick up my fork?” She smiled, nervously.

Helena stared for a second, then picked the fork back up and grinned at the bloated beauty before her.

“Good girl,” she whispered as Aurora grasped the fork, then went in for another bite.

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Helena's training for the past few weeks has paid off... almost too well. Seems both girls are in for quite the evening...    --- Sketch of Aurora was done by my bestie, RabidBunBun! go give them a follow~! Their DA: https://www.deviantart.com/rabidbunny1

Their Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/RabidBunBun/

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Original tweet here: twitter.com/twoathingortry/sta…

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Twitter: twitter.com/twoathingortry

Patreon: patreon.com/trywrites

Commission Info & Links: tryathingortwo.carrd.co/

[pocket-ozwynn]

Hey no one asked but I wanna talk about ✨ Freyja Montayne ✨

I love this absolutely rough-n-tumble herbo of a giant woman SO DANG MUCH.

Why?

Because when I came into G/t I genuinely felt an emptiness for the kind of thing that my heart craved. I wanted to find a genuinely Giant woman who was big and strong, loud and proud, a big dork and the absolutely purest of sweethearts. I dumped everything that brought me joy in life—both platonically and romantically—into a character and just made her so self-indulgently.

Freyja is powerful, but gentle; immense, but kind; passionate, but patient. She truly is the kinda giant woman that I daydream about all the time because she just is all of my favorite parts of G/t and more.

I’m so excited to share more about her with y’all 💖

[usermoon]

e&a

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with while i was gone i would have asked you it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass but i felt it when i passed you there's an ache in you put there by the ache in me but if it's all the same to you it's the same to me