#water bloating hog

[fluffybellyhog99]

New Water Bloat:

To Video

[kimberly-spirits13]

How Bruce Wayne Is On Your Period

This is really just meant to make me feel better tbh- lol kill me

He won't tell you, but he knows that it's starting 

like come on- the mood swings are terrible, you get more violent on patrol (you put Joker in the hospital for a few days), you're quicker to be snide towards shady business partners, you cried when you dropped a cracker and then went right back to normal, like seriously 

When you start to get bad PMS symptoms, you don't do patrol for the week

It's hard to control feelings, thoughts, and painful cramps while fighting crime

You're basically on probation from patrol

You and Alfred make a lot of food (or Alfred makes it happily and you devour it)

Bruce tries not to stay away during patrol for too long since you start to worry about him and he really, really worries about you when you're not feeling well

He makes sure to bring home lots and lots and lots of chocolate and meds if that's what you need

Goes to your favorite bakery and gets a massive amount of whatever you want 

Makes sure that you get plenty of water

like all the water because it helps so much 

Is totally fine with you raiding his closet for any sweatpants and massive t shirts

doesn't care if there's blood anywhere or if you ruin a set of sheets

he's a billionaire, it's not a loss 

he makes sure you aren't uncomfortable or if you need space, that you have it but you know that he's there when you need 

Sometimes being around guys when you're on your period is gross and idk why it's just like ugh get away from me you trash bag 

speaking of trash bags, if anything grosses you out or starts to make you feel icky (even if it usually doesn't), he totally removes it from your presence 

for me, it's cheese and weird or strong smelling things 

or anything that looks slimy or too rough *bleh*

If you're ever feeling bloated or just really really gross, Bruce is the hype man

"no gorgeous, you're stunning, exquisite, perfect, amazing, I'm in the presence of an angel babe." he'll spin you around and press kisses all over you 

"No, don't say that about yourself, you're so pretty, you're not gross."

I mean he's like this all the time, but he'd definitely play way way into it if you're feeling down

If you're married and wearing a wedding ring, he gets the ring custom made to be adjustable incase you fingers swell 

I can see you expressing something nasty about yourself like that you hate a scar or you feel like you're stupid or something and he'll start crying when you start crying 

like don't say that dude it's not nice to yourself 

You feel like a sweaty hog because your body is pushing out blood and tissue 

you're going into mini labour, leave yourself alone

When you can't sleep, he pulls you very tightly into him and plays with your hair 

braids it into a hundred tiny braids or brushes it 

anything that relaxes you

you probably have a treasure trove of comfort movies and tv shows and if you can't sleep or just want to watch something, he'll happily stay up with blankets wrapped around the two of you and watch whatever

rubs your back and makes sure that you're taking pain medicine every few hours to stay in your system 

sometimes when he's working in the cave and you're lonely but not feeling good, you'll wrap yourself in a large blanket and sit on his lap, head against his chest while he works

He thinks you're like a cat and finds it adorable 

You basically turn into a cat for a week and maybe some change and he finds it very very funny

makes sure that there are no galas or any meetings that you have to deal with

plans events and meetings around your periods to make sure that when you're on it, you don't have to deal with high society because they make anyone's blood boil (no pun intended)

When you get mad or start crying, he doesn't take it personally at all and just lets you get it out

sometimes laying in the fetal position for a few hours and falling asleep is the best thing that can happen for periods and he will happily cuddle you the entire time, even if it's not the optimal position for cuddling 

he tries to stay as neutral as possible on subjects when you're on your period so that you don't kill someone because he seemed equally as unhappy 

trust me, period mood swings are incapacitating, it's not a snarky thing, it's just so so sosososoososososoooooooo bad

please don't talk to me when I'm in my mood swing phase, I'll accidentally insult you and then cry about it later or decide never to talk to you again 

Local villains will not pull insane shenanigans while you're on you're period because they're terrified 

Terrified. 

if batman has to call in the calvary, its the calvary call out of hell

You're busting skulls and taking names the entire time 

Bruce is scared, the villain is scared, everyone is terrified of this blood thirsty being that wants everyone to be in as much pain as they are

Bruce knows that the world is insufferable and being super hormonal and feeling disgusting and being in pain doesn't help ignoring that fact, or even just living with it

He just wants you to feel better 

Bruce gets sad when you don't feel well 😂

[biggothbelly]

10+ sodas a week????? Damn, girl, no wonder you’re so bloated.

between that and the food addiction, you and i both know you can never stop. i mean, we both know you’re too far gone to ever want to, but even if you did? nah, your metabolism is destroyed. your brain is rewired. You set up your system to be as much of a fatass as possible, and now you have to live with it, it’s just the consequences of your actions (and inactions)

is it really that scary, though? or is it just… hot? be honest, the thought of actually being skinny again, actually going through all the effort that’d take makes you drier than the Sahara, doesn’t it?

can you even get off anymore without your belly stuffed to the brim, or wishing it were?

you’re so close to doubling that 140 start weight… so close, you can taste it almost more than the food you keep inhaling. wouldn’t it be SO HOT to hit that milestone this month?

go on, fatty, we all know what you want. we do the moment we see that giant gut of yours.

eat up.

Yeah probably more tbh I usually have like 3-4 a day ngllll I just love it soooo much I drink it more than water 😅🥴 I’m always feeling big and bloated. I can’t stop my snacking if I was forced to be put on a diet I’d fail instantly and maybe sneak some snacks. It’s alll I think about food food food. I’ve gone ultra hog mode and I feel like it’s too late and I can’t stop!! I could never be skinny again at this point being fat and fatness is the only way I get off 🫠 that’s why I’m really going allll out I wanna hit that milestone >:3

[hungrykeaton]

It's the weekend isn't it

What's on the menu tonight 😈

I can't control myself on the weekends 😩

I just had a fuckton of BBQ and I'm so bloated from it all. My gut is really feeling so fucking big and round just all the time it feels. I don't know if it's all the food or if it's swollen with fat, but it feels the heaviest and meatiest it's ever felt.

And I can't stop eating.😩 I'm trying to control myself, trying to tell myself to stop. But once I start eating I just can't fucking stop till every last bite is gone. And I just keep getting more food each time. Thinking that this time, it'll be too much.

But then the next thing I know, I'm beached on the couch high and/or drunk and my gut looks like a beachball pushing up into the air. I'm belching and groaning like a dumb fat hog, too obvious and engorged to realize I just packed it all inside of me.

But it's never enough. Even then I'd struggle and waddle to the fridge, chugging down sodas and sparkling waters slowly. Just so I can feel my gut stretching even further. I can feel how tight my stomach feels as I gulp down each mouthful while wincing afterwards.

I just need to be filled to the maximum all the time. Just perpetually fed so my gut just keeps growing bigger and rounder in front of me to hold all that food. I'd blissfully gulp it all down in a gluttonous dumb hog gaze in my eyes as I can never. Stop, Eating.

[chubbycelebs]

Big Fat Boyfriends (pt 2)

“I think I’ve started putting on weight!”

“You think? Babes I’ve been staring at your fat ass for weeks!”

“Oi! Anyways you can’t talk fatty! We can all see how your gut jiggles when you walk”

Harry and Louis were getting changed after a few weeks of regular stuffing. Harry was laid on the bed in just his underwear, arms behind his head as he observed his boyfriend return from the shower, his body glistening with the water he had dried yet. As Louis walked in with just a towel around his thicker waist, it was very noticeable that his extended belly was no longer just a bloat, but he has in fact started to get fat. His belly was permanently extended outwards, even slightly starting to droop over the rim of the towel. His chest was a bit perkier, his nipples looking slightly bigger and softer to touch. Harry could even see the development of little love handles that pushed on the edge of his towel. Harry got up out of bed. Louis looked over. The same could be said for Harry. His belly had become permanent pushing at the top of his boxers causing there to be a slight overhang to his belly. Whilst his chest stayed relatively the same, his ass very much did not. As he walked over to Louis, it was obvious that his backside had developed a bounce as he walks. Louis turned to Harry as he approached him. He put his hand around his waist and pulled him into him. The two boys looked down and saw their slightly squishy bellies pressed against each other. The both went insanely hard and both could feel the other get excited. They knew this is what they wanted more then anything.

Later that evening Louis and Harry prepared a feast for them to eat. They both got dressed up sat around the table stacked with amazing food. Louis could hear Harry’s belly rumble with excitement. They both took a seat and Harry filled both their wine glasses. “To a good meal and a fattening future” he said raising his glass. Louis raised his and the two boys then dug straight in.

After a long time of eating, going back for seconds, thirds and so on, Harry threw in the towel. He leaned back undoing the bottom few buttons on his shirt revealing his soft bloated belly. His trousers dug into his expansive gut. He gave his belly a pat which released a little burp. As he relaxed into his seat he looked over at his boyfriend.

Louis still eating. His belly was so bloated and pulling so hard on his clothes. He used his belly as a shelf for a plate of food which he was still stuffing into him. He had spilt food all down him self but didn’t care, just focused on eating and eating. Harry had never seen a sexier sight. He thought he was fat and bloated but looking at his boyfriend it was obvious who was the natural hog in this relationship.

As Louis cleared the plate off his gut, he looked over at Harry as he reached for another helping of food. “You’re not finished yet are you?” Louis said with slight worry in his voice.

“I’m beyond full babes I couldn’t eat more if I tried”

“Bullshit.” Louis said pushing him self off his chair. The extra weight of the food in his belly making it harder than he realised making him rock slightly before pushing himself up. He stomped his way over to the other side of the table and grabbed the tray of lasagna. “You eat this whole thing now and I’ll fuck you so hard tonight” Louis said standing over his full boyfriend. Harry was looking up at him, his bulging belly nearly touching his face. He had never seen his boyfriend so determined before. He picked up a fork and started shovelling the food into his already full belly. After a while of Harry filling himself, he couldn’t do it anymore. Louis took the fork off him and made sure he kept eating and eating. With this method it didn’t take long for Harry to finish the tray, but Louis wasn’t done. He pulled out a tub of ice cream. “Now we share this and then I’ll fuck you huh chubs?” he whispers into his ear. Harry couldn’t resist. He opens his mouth and lets Louis fill it creamy ice cream. It didn’t take long for the two boys to finish the tub.

Harry looked down at the damage that had been done and couldn’t believe just how fat he looked. He sighed and fell back into the chair closing his eyes ready to pass out. Louis sat on the floor next to the chair rubbing his hands up and down Harry’s thighs. As he sit there, the pressure on his belly was so tight. He looked down and notice how much his belly was pressing on his button up shirt. There were gaps between the buttons where his belly was visible. Louis felt so uncomfortable being restrained like that whilst Harry had his belly out on full display. He reached to unbutton them but then had an idea, one that would make Harry so horny they would be going at it all night even though the two boys were beyond full.

Louis got up leaving Harry still groaning away in his chair He went to the fridge and pulled out a 2 litre bottle of coke. He cracked open the lid and bought it into the dining room. Louis stood in eye-line of Harry. Harry slightly opened his eyes to see Louis stood there gulping down the whole bottle of coke. He watched as the bottles contents went down and his belly blew up. He could see his belly getting bigger with every gulp, the buttons straining more and more to contain his belly, the gaps getting wider and wider. As he polished off the whole 2 litre bottle, he took a deep breath and then let out the largest and biggest belch they both had ever heard. Louis smacked his belly and just on queue the bottom 3 buttons went flying off shooting across the room. His belly lunged forward causing his trouser button to also pop off. The rest of his shirt rode up becoming a strained looking bra, barely containing his softening moobs. Harry’s mouth was on the floor. He couldn’t believe how greedy and fat his boyfriend was but also how sexy and breathtaking he was. Even though Harry was full beyond belief, he shot out of his chair and pushed him self onto Louis, locking lips with him instantly and ripping off the remains of his clothes.

The two boys had never been hornier and it showed in the bedroom exploring each others bodies like never before. They were at it for hours until the food coma finally took the two piggies out. When Harry awoke the next day, he looked over at his naked boyfriend still passed out. He was so proud of his fat boy. As Louis laid on his side, his chest looked like boobs as they pressed together. His belly resting on the covers and his morning wood pressing softly into his under belly. Harry got up and went to the mirror. He rubbed his belly and felt the softness of it pinching and jiggling it. He turned around and saw his ass cheeks had expanded a lot possible even seeing the faintest line of a stretch mark. He thought back to him and his boyfriend just a month or two ago and how fit and in shape they both were and how different their lives had become now. Harry slapped his belly making it wobble as he opened up the delivery app to order breakfast. He knew this was just the beginning of his and his boyfriend’s gainer journey.

Part 2 of my new story! hope you guys enjoy!

[frenchfrywrites]

Indulging Gluttony 

MINORS DNI

trans male dom top reader, sub bottom Beelzebub, feminization (Beel receiving), feederism, piss, mommy kink, reader uses a strap on

terms used for reader: cock, dick, tdick

Thank you to @lilacrodent for the commission!! Been so long since I wrote for this gentle giant, so thank you for letting me go hog wild <3

"Open up" you hum quietly, lifting another pastry to Beelzebub's mouth. He stares at you through his lashes, dropping his jaw as he's told, wrapping his lips around it and biting down, being careful of nicking your fingers.

Beel chews and swallows quickly, not taking the time to savor the flavors on his tongue. He's opening his mouth for you again before you know it.

You pick another treat, and repeat the process, furrowing your brows when he nibbles on the pads of your fingers. "Sorry," he mumbles softly, his mouth still full. You don't say anything, just watch him swallow with a heavy gaze.

Beel is sitting in front of you on the floor, between your spread legs, with you sitting on the edge of your bed. You've now guided him through an entire meal, and are midway through dessert. Beel's been eating quickly, on par with how he usually does, so you've been trying to feed him slowly to counter it.  

"Please," Beel mumbles softly when you make him wait more than a minute. He tugs on the side of your pants nervously. You smile, and grab another pastry. Before you even have to instruct him again, Beel is opening his mouth. You press the food onto his soft pink tongue, and keep your fingers there. He catches on after a moment, and wraps his lips around your fingers. You let him hold you in his mouth for a second, then slip your fingers out so he can chew and swallow the food he so desperately wants.

Slow as molasses you place treat after treat into his mouth. Your fingers are sticky with sugar and Beel's spit by the time you're out of food.

He's not done yet, you think giddily. There's still some water left that he hasn't finished. Taking a hold of the glass, you bring it to Beel's mouth. He obediently opens his mouth to drink, pressing his thighs together tightly and squirming just a bit.  His fingers play with the hem of his skirt as he excitedly gulps down the rest of his water.

Glancing down, you see that Beel's skirt is now sporting a large tent in the front, lifting the fabric and further exposing the skin of his thighs.

"Good girl," you praise as you set down the now empty glass on your bedside table. Beel licks his wet lips, catching any trace of leftover water.

"I haveta pee," he tells you softly, fidgeting and bouncing around. This was the plan all along, but hearing him say it makes heat rush to your loins.

"Can you hold it for me, pretty girl, just for a little bit?" you ask, though both you and Beel know that it's more of a demand than a request. "Go get my cock then come here," you say, and Beel scrambles from his position on the floor, rushing to where you keep your strap.

He brings it back, and shifts from foot to foot as he watches you take off your pants and slip into your harness. Once you have it on comfortably, you sit back down on the edge of the bed, and pat your lap.

Beel practically falls into you, settling his massive thighs on either side of you. "Shirt off?" you ask, tugging on it. Beel practically rips it off, showing off his pretty red, lacy bra, that covers his full chest. He chews on his lip as you reach out to touch his stomach.

"Do you feel full?"

"Um, a little bit," he responds honestly, "I could probably eat more," you laugh at that.

"I'm sure you could darling," you press harder against his slightly bloated skin, and plan to make more food for him next time. You'd hoped he would have felt more full, but watching him devour the meal you'd prepared, moaning, while sucking and licking your fingers, was enough to satisfy your desire to stuff him.

"Ungh," Beel grunts, as your hand presses down on his bladder while you feel up his stomach. You note his reaction and continuing to massage his belly, teasing his bladder just enough to get him on edge. Sooner than later Beel is breathing heavier, scrunching his eyes shut tight, trying his best to squeeze his legs together, trying so hard not to piss himself without permission.

It's safe to say watching him get like this has made you nearly uncomfortably wet. You lose yourself watching him, feeling his body tense and tremble under your hands. The sound of Beel gasping your name snaps you out of your lustful haze.

"I'm sorry, I have to pee so bad mommy,  I can't hold it, I can't-" he rushes, like he's been wanting to say this all along but has been holding it in. Before you can get a word out, Beel gasps and his purple eyes shoot down to look at his crotch. You get a single second to see a small wet spot forming at the front of his skirt before Beel's hands cover it as he presses his hand against his cock to stop his stream.

He whines and whimpers like a dog, giving you his biggest, most desperate puppy dog eyes. You break easily.

"Aw sweet girl, you've gotta pee so bad huh?" he nods at your words, his eyes becoming wet with tears. You pull down the waistband of his skirt, which has been tight against his full stomach and bladder, and smile at Beel's sigh of relief. It's a bit of a struggle but you manage to help him out of it while still keeping him on your lap.

Beel is properly squirming now, from both desperation and excitement. Gently, you remove his hand from where it's been pressed against his cock. The sight you're met with is the outline of Beel's fat, hard cock, straining against his wet- and no doubt sticky- bright red lacy panties.

"Oh baby," you coo, breathless at the sight of him. His cock twitches visibly under your gaze, and you can feel his thighs flexing where they rest on either side of your waist.

"Mama," he whines softly, prompting you to peel back his underwear next, letting his cock spring free against his stomach. A bit of pee leaks out, but with a sharp breath, Beel stops the flow, waiting oh so obediently for your permission. Hastily you pull his panties down under his balls keeping your view to his cock unobstructed.

"Okay baby girl," you give his cock a single stroke and Beel's whole body shudders. "C'mon, let go for me."

Beel clings to you, and for a moment you two just hold one another, before he finally wets himself.

"There you go darling," you hum, watching as Beelzebub moans and pants, wetting his abdomen, and your laps. The sight of him, and the warmth of his piss sinking into your clothes, makes heat burn under your skin; it's nearly unbearable. You sink your fingers in his plush thighs, rutting your hips up into him, your tdick aching.

Desperately, you want to touch yourself, but you want to touch Beel even more. You run your fingers through his stream, and his breath catches in his throat, his hips jutting upwards and causing his piss to make an even worse mess.You bring your messy fingers to his mouth, and Beel accepts them happily, sucking and moaning at the flavor.  

His stream dies down- it ends too fast in your opinion- and Beel already looks fucked dumb.

You pull your fingers from Beel's mouth, a trail of his saliva connecting your fingers to his puffy lips. Beel keeps his mouth open, his eyes wide and pupils blown.

You bring your spit slicked fingers around his back, and rub them against his hole. Beel knocks his head into your shoulder,

"Mommy please," he whimpers, drooling against your shoulder. Keeping him sedated with your fingers playing with his entrance, you busy your other hand with reaching for the lube. When you pull your hand from between his cheeks, Beel whines, clinging to you tighter.

"Patience, princess," you remind him as you lube up your fingers. Beel nods his head,  and goes pliant in your lap, letting you stretch him open for your cock.

Looking down you can see his cock weeping precum. He's so close already, and you can't wait to bring him over.

"Up," you say, your voice heady with lust as you pull your fingers from him again. Excitedly, Beel lifts himself up, and hovers over the head of your strap. You grip your dick, and line it up with his hole.

"Go on," you barely get the words out before Beel is sliding down, his mouth open as it rubs against all the right places, and fills him so nicely.

All it takes is one thrust. Beel, ever the eager bottom, lifts his thighs to ride you, and slides himself back down. You jerk your hips up as he does, and his prostate dead on .

Much to your surprise— though really you should have expected it— the sensation makes him cum without warning, and untouched.

"Good girl, cum for me baby, fuck," you groan as he rocks himself against your strap. You work him through it, thrusting your hips up and hitting his sensitive bundle of nerves with your cock until he's pawing at you and whining. You kiss his broad shoulder,

"Thank you mommy," he mumbles as he comes down from his high.

"You're welcome sweetheart," you hum, "now, you wanna get me off pretty girl?"

You can feel Beel lick his lips, then pull his head away from your shoulder, "Yes please mama."

[feederheart]

CW: Humiliation and lots of it. Also some bdsm and weight gain.

Death of Dignity: PART 1.

It was all mine and it was beautiful.

The towering monuments cut from stone, the opulent palaces that once housed The Kingdom’s disgraced aristocracy, the shining, golden temples to their false gods, the ports and markets trading goods from leagues beyond our borders, the grain fields that stretched into each horizon, and the bustling streets between homes, shops, and temples that had been rebuilt after the coup seven years ago, all of it was visible from my royal palace balcony that stood high above everything. As the body of the former king turned to dust beneath the city, my brethren have been hard at work restoring order on the streets above, protecting the borders from opportunistic raiders, and enforcing our vision for The Kingdom, making it the most prosperous it had ever been. Our sailors have reached new lands and are already returning with exotic trade goods that had never been seen in by anyone in The Kingdom. Our coffers have never been fuller, our grain deposits have never been greater, and our reservoirs are at maximum capacity and teeming with fresh fish.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. As I mentioned before, countless good, strong men and women lost their lives during the aftermath of our coup; there were even thirteen straight days when I had to stay locked up in a temple without food, water, or any hope of relief before I was rescued by the gods that chose me for this. At the time, so long ago, it seemed that despite living every waking moment crushed by heavy taxes and unfair laws written only to benefit the aristocracy’s cavernous appetite for luxury, the common people believed that their false gods chose those bastards to rule us all.

I had an ingenious solution to this problem.

“My King?” called out the voice of my beautiful queen.

“What is it, my love?” I responded.

“I need you,” she whined pathetically, sounding like a turtle stuck on it’s back (which probably wasn’t too far from reality)

“Where are the servants?” I asked.

“They’re still rubbing my belly, I’m still eating remember?” she responded. “And I’ve run out of food. Can you send one of the guards outside to get some more?”

“Sure, of course,” I replied warmly.

I turned around and stepped past the silken curtains that led to my private lounge. Lazily reclining on a large, reinforced, golden throne was my wife and the daughter of the former king, The Queen. Her corpulent rolls of fat spilled over the armrest and onto her lap, completely covering her silken sarong. Two chained and naked women, the daughters of the former archpriest I had executed inside a temple to the false gods, tirelessly rubbed down the bloated fat hog of a queen as she digested her gargantuan meal that included a whole pheasant, four loaves of bread, three pounds of butter and a gourd full of sugary wine. Her fat, blubbery arms rested atop her stomach just beneath her massive melon-sized bare breasts, giving the servants plenty of room to rub her down. Beneath her enormous belly were two fat legs that hardly ever saw any effort expended to walk and were even growing their own fat rolls. Wrapped around her flabby neck, ankles, and wrists were rows of glittering gold jewlery that had to be custom made to fit the corpulent queen. On her head atop her long, shining, black hair was a tiara covered in The Kingdom’s finest gemstones. The double chins on her fat, lipstick and foundation-laden face quivered with each labored breath as her lungs fought against the hundreds of pounds weighing down on them.

She was once the real owner of the throne she sat on. Now, it is mine; she only sits there because it is the only piece of furniture up here that doesn't crumble beneath her massive girth.

“What would you like for me to bring?” I asked her.

“Just more of everything, please,” she pleaded “I’m going to eat it all, I promise.”

“You know you don’t have to do that anymore?” I said to her, wondering that if in her food-fueled stupor she had forgotten that little fact.

“I know, I just don’t want you to think I’m wasting food,” she replied innocently. “I know you hate that.”

“You’re right, I do,” I added with a warm smile as I headed for the lounge door.

As I was saying, she was once the occupant of that throne, ever since I had slain her father. One may think she would hate me and would never take me as her bride but that wasn’t the case at first. She, like I, were both young, impressionable young adults who wanted change for the dogmatic kingdom, the only difference between us was that I was a lowly junior officer enlisted from an impoverish outer province and she was a bright and beautiful princess. She caught wind of our plot and sought the help of my brethren and me to overthrow the king and put herself on the throne. I had little idea I was so charming but apparently she was absolutely smitten with me and she was happy to risk her life to be our woman on the inside.

It didn’t change the fact that I had no interest in toppling the throne for her or anyone tainted with their bloodline. They too had to pay for the luxuries they took from us and I wasn’t going to let any of those thieves get off easy.

After we succeeded and installed ourselves as the new rulers, I immediately stabbed her in the back; metaphorically, of course. She begged and pleaded with me to help her understand why I had betrayed her as I had her dragged to the dungeons beneath the palace. I simply ripped the jeweled tiara off of her head and pointed at one of the diamonds.

“This alone could have saved the mountain tribes from the Great Famine,” I snarled with anger. “We could still be listening to the epics and tales of my people’s heroes as they were sang atop the mountain peaks for The Kingdom and the true gods to hear, but their voices now fall silent and their spirits were taken by starvation.”

With nothing to say, she simply sobbed as she was dragged away.

The next months were filled with assassinations, betrayals, riots, and invasions, making my struggle to seize power all the more difficult. The biggest problem by far was securing my legitimacy as I was not a scion of their false gods. I was busy trying to increase the royal palace’s security when I received word that the princess was on a hunger strike and demanded to speak to me.

So I decided to pay her a visit that night.

“You need me,” she said to me, skinny, frail, covered in rags, and bound by chains deep in the dark depths of the royal palace. “There’s trouble and you need me to help you.”

“I think you just want to get out of here and go back to your luxurious life,” I growled at her, seeing right through her ploy.

She began to break down and cry.

“Please, I’m so sorry what happened to your people,” she bawled. “Please, I’m begging you, let me out.”

“Goodbye,” I said, perfectly happy to let her waste away so that I may be done with her family forever.

She sobbed harder as I left, bemoaning her failure to trick me. I turned one last time at the doorway and saw how pathetic and defeated she looked, fighting desperately and pathetically by the chains she bound herself in for her family’s greed.

I then paused in my tracks and had a thought; I realized that she was right and she could help me after all.

“On second thought, I have an idea,” I said, turning around and walking back to her cell.

Her crying ceased and she looked up at me with her red, swollen, tearful eyes.

“A-a-an idea?” she stammered.

“Yes, an idea,” I replied. “I’ll let you not only have the throne but I’ll even return you the excessive luxuries that your spoiled self is used to, but on one condition.”

I leaned down and grinned with glee as the details of my plot materialized in my mind.

“You will do everything I say,” I whispered sternly. “And I mean everything. I’ve got my brothers stationed all over The Kingdom and if any of them even catch a whiff of something foul, they will happily convene on the palace and rip you to pieces like they wanted to when we overthrew your family. You are not in charge, I am. You are just a figurehead to keep those cumbersome loyalists happy. Is that clear?”

The princess nodded quietly.

“Your wish is my command,” she replied, knowing that she had no room to protest. “What do you want from me first?”

“To begin, despite what rumors you may have somehow heard from down here, everything is going quite well,” I lied. “We found the food that the aristocracy had been hiding for themselves and it was more than enough to end the famine. The excess, however, is takes up too much space and risks spoilage because you pigs had them for so long. Our first harvest is expected soon and our stores will be overflowing for the first time in this kingdom’s history. I need someone who will eat that excess food so that it does not go to waste.”

She looked at me sideways as if I were speaking a foreign language.

“Wait, all of it?” she asked.

“As much as I put in front of you,” I said. “Unless you want to end up here again.”

She stared at me wide-eyed in disbelief, not so much horrified but simply baffled.

“I’ll do it,” she agreed. “Just let me out of this place.”

I smiled and ordered a nearby guard to oblige her request.

After I had her restored on the throne, word got out that the princess became The Queen and nearly all of the riots had disappeared. My own supporters, however, demanded answers and some started riots of their own. One even made an attempt at my life. I pleaded with them to trust me; I had a plan.

The meals commenced shortly after The Queen’s release. She had her dignity back along with her silken clothing and jewelry with a new piece I had made for her; an iron collar to remind her of her place. She was not allowed to say a word to anybody without my explicit approval. Every night I would lock her in her bedroom with two servants as they stuffed her with bread, meat, stews, cream and butter until she could take no more. I would watch and pace around holding the same sword I used to slaughter her despotic father. Despite that, she did not seem intimidated by me. She kept her cool and her composure as she stuffed herself, hiding her discomfort as she got full. I watched as she finished every bite.

“I'm finished,” she said, looking up at me as she rubbed her tight stomach.

“No, you’re not,” I replied as I walked over ot the lounge door and knocked twice.

A moment later, the door opened and three cooks entered the room with an entire pheasant for The Queen to eat. She stared at it wide-eyed and slackjawed as it was set before her and the cooks left.

“Well?” I said as I brandished the sword. “Get eating, pig.”

The Queen closed her mouth without argument and began to eat. She took quite some time to do it, sometimes stopping to rub her stomach. If she stopped too long, I would swing my sword at a random piece of furniture to remind her to hurry up. If she gagged or retched, I held my sword up into the air to remind her that the food belonged inside her, not outside. After many hours, long after I could feel myself falling asleep, she finally finished. Satisfied, I let her rest and digest her meal.

These feedings would go on for weeks as the troubles that plagued The Kingdom slowly disappeared over time and my control was sealed. Although she was the one holding the holy scepter, the symbol of The Kingdom power supposedly handed down by their false gods, she was sitting at my feet wearing nothing but a sarong, her jewelry, and the iron collar around her neck, now attached to a leash held by myself.

I decided it was time for the entire kingdom to see my new pet hog. The there was a grand procession for Heroes Day that had to be attended by the ruler of The Kingdom. However, she could not go anywhere in public without me behind her holding her chain. This, combined with her softening flabby figure that was bare for all to see, drew shocked looks from crowds of both her family’s loyalists and my own brethren and supporters when she emerged from the palace for the first time. Her supporters looked embarrassed for her and some were even angry. However, The Queen did something that I did not see coming. She maintained her poise and even wore a smile on her beautiful face as if nothing had ever happened. Her nonchalance tempered their anger and they quietly accepted the new status quo. My brethren and supporters, on the other hand, seemed to forget their anger and instead basked in The Queen’s humiliation. Despite this, she remained poised as if she could not hear their taunts and jeers.

That night after her first outing when it was time for her to feast, I kicked the servants out of the lounge and shut the doors.

“You seem to be taking this well,” I said, frustrated by her lack of embarrassment but unwilling to let her know.

“I’ll admit, it was a little embarrassing,” she admitted. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What are you trying to do?” I growled. “Are you trying to fool me into undoing everything that my brethren and I have accomplished?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she answered, still poised like the queen she was. “I’ve never seen the city so full of life and excitement. Nearly everyone in The Kingdom came to see you.”

“No, they came to see you in chains and fattened like a pig.” I spat back. “They came to see your humiliation and finally cease their efforts to overthrow me.”

“You miscalculated,” she replied matter-of-factly. “If I were to break down in tears and bemoan my sorrows in front of them on a sacred holiday, they would take such great offense om my behalf and they would riot and fight until their last breaths. You would never be able to restore stability in The Kingdom if that were to happen.”

“Oh really?” I snarled, angered by her audacity. “Well how about I throw you back in a cell if I’m fucking up so bad?”

“Well then you would lose your bargaining chip keeping the loyalists in line,” she said calmly, unmoved by my threat.

I was now steaming at the ears with fury. I was ready to reunite her with the rest of her greedy, despotic family. However, something about the calm and unafraid way she looked at me, while still aggravating, reminded me that losing my cool would solve nothing.

“So what?” I said demandingly, throwing my arms up in the air. “Are you telling me you helped keep the peace by hiding your embarrassment?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she confirmed.

I scoffed.

“Why in the name of the true gods would you do that?” I demanded. “You passed up a perfect chance to fuck everything up with never-ending riots? Why?”

“The people are well-fed, richer, and happier than before,” she answered as she slowly walked toward me, swaying her hips back and forth seductively. “Like I said before, all of those people filled the streets to see you because they love you. When life was bleak, you helped them rise up and take back what was rightfully theirs. You did what my family and I failed to do; earn the respect of The Kingdom.”

My fiery rage was supplanted by dizzying bafflement. Her being a step ahead of me and still submitting to me made me deeply uncomfortable as was her approach. I grabbed the chain and yanked it; The Queen yelped as she fell onto her hands and knees right in front of my feet.

“What is your ploy?” I demanded, sounding more intimidated than intimidating.

“My ploy is that my kingdom needs a hero like you,” she said. “And I want to help you and keep you happy.”

“You want to keep me happy?” I growled. “How about I double your fucking meals, how does that sound?”

“Only if you stay with me all night as I eat,” she crooned as she kneeled at my feet and looked up at me, her eyes shining fearlessly and seductively. “Something tells me that you like seeing me stuff myself and ruin my body with excessive calories. I think you enjoy seeing me stuffed full, unable to move because of my gluttony.”

The brain in my skull was screaming at me to kick her for stepping so far out of line. The brain between my legs, however, kept me paralyzed as she rubbed my crotch over my tunic.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” I said, the latter brain having won against the former.

[super-jump]

I finally finished translating all three chapters of my DMC fanfiction! Reading it in English gives it a whole different vibe, and I love it. Alright, time to get back to working on my Valentine’s Day fanfic. Hopefully, I can post the next chapter by this Monday! 😊

Here is a sneak peek from chapter 1

After the destruction of the Qliphoth tree by the combined (and slightly reluctant) efforts of the half-demon brothers Dante and Vergil, the two found themselves reunited for the first time in decades. Though Vergil had previously wreaked havoc in Redgrave City, Dante managed to stop his twin’s chaos before things spiraled completely out of control.

Of course, Dante wasn’t about to hog all the credit—Nero deserved his fair share too. The loudmouthed kid not only helped clear out countless demonic minions to speed up the process but also used sheer determination to knock some sense into his father, Vergil, forcing him to reconcile with Dante in the end.

Near the remains of the Qliphoth roots, the clash of swords echoed loudly for over ten minutes. One blade was Vergil’s Yamato, wielded by the elder twin clad in a deep blue coat. The other was the Devil Sword Dante, in the hands of the scruffy, red-coated younger brother.

They weren’t fighting out of anger. The silver-haired siblings had agreed to spar endlessly to pass the time until the portal between the Underworld and the human world reopened.

“Alright, round’s over. I need a break,” Dante, the legendary demon hunter and proprietor of the infamous Devil May Cry shop, shouted at his sparring partner before plopping down onto the dusty ground. He ran a hand through his messy silver hair with an exasperated sigh.

“This round…” Vergil pointed the tip of his katana at his panting twin. “I win.” A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he watched Dante collapse, heaving for air amidst the pale, withered grass.

Waving a hand dismissively, Dante groaned, “I’m… hungry.” He swallowed dryly. “Damn it, I want water… no, pizza. All I can think about is a hot, cheesy pizza… just one damn pie.”

Hell might be crawling with demons for him to slay, but it lacked basic necessities like clean water and decent food. The best he could hope for was charred grass or maybe roasted demon meat if he got desperate enough.

After sheathing Yamato, Vergil sat down across from him, equally exhausted. “Human junk food? No wonder you’re so sluggish and bloated.”

“Shut up,” Dante shot back with a middle finger. “My human body follows its natural processes. And I’m not bloated!”

Want more? Then click the link below! And please enjoy!

Hidden messages by Super_Jump - Devil May Cry (Gameverse)

[fluffybellyhog99]

New Water Bloat:

To Video

[sterekchub]

jfc that last video you reblogged 😵‍💫 imagining Derek with a huge gut like that and what it would take to get him there + who he’d be showing off for 🤤

Yesss I fully saw it and thought "DEREK." The shirt gives me ex-jock Derek. Tries to prove to his chubby client Stiles how easy it is to loose weight. There's nothing "Addicting" about fast food or sugar. It's all laziness! Stiles takes that deal - and a year later Stiles is watching Derek cramming milkshake soaked fries into his mouth, swearing that the diet and going back to his workout starts tomorrow. One year getting fat, and only a year to trim down, that was the deal! Derek swears he hasn't gained as much weight as it looks. He's all gut, that's why (even though that ass and the fat rolls on his thighs say a different story). It's just bloat. Water weight. The shirt is tight, it makes him look fatter. So Stiles tells him "Fine, Big Guy, take off the shirt." And without it, Derek looks even *fatter*. Belly spilling out between his legs, no muscle tone of definition, he's a lard filled hog. And Stiles can't wait to see what Derek can accomplish with another year of "training."

[gayvorestories]

which is better for bloating, soda or just water? ive been wanting to get into it for a while but dont know where to start

If you’re starting out then probably water, it’ll give you a good idea of your capacity and won’t make your stomach hurt as badly if you do too much (soda continues to carbonate for a bit and can make an accidental over-bloat hurt worse, esp if your body isn’t used to it yet)

After you’ve been doing it for long enough to be used to the stomachache, you can start using soda as a way to stretch your stomach a little past your normal limit. Over time your stomach will expand and having something to stretch it out a little for you will be very helpful

The best way to approach increasing your stomach capacity is to keep in mind not to push too hard too fast. It can be tempting to go whole-hog and try to down as much as you can as quickly as you can, but overfilling too much too quickly is a good way to put yourself off of it (and also make yourself un-fill, which happens sometimes but is never fun)

[gainprincess]

"Mom."

Alexandria fidgets back and forth, playing with that same, battered rubix cube she's had since she was 4.

Mythra bought it for her, after her diagnosis. It's good for keeping her stimulated.

"What's -BURRRPPPP- up, kiddo?"

Mythra places her glass of water down, levelling a look at her daughter over the book resting on her chest.

"You need something?"

A quick, repetitive nod. Alex doesn't like talking much when she can help it. Loud noises make her very uncomfortable.

"...Bra."

"...Yeah, that makes sense. Cooome on, we'll go see if some of my old ones fit you, yeah?"

Mythra takes a while to get up from the couch, given that she's the size of it, but when the heavy hog of a woman finally rises to her heavy, fat-bloated feet, wheezing and panting, she immediately starts trudging off to her room, with her thin, quiet daughter following her.

[gobboguy]

Chapter 41: The Siege

Carrion swarms circled the sky, their rotting wings beating in slow, heavy strokes as they descended, beady eyes searching for any sign of flesh. The foul birds croaked and hissed, diving and tearing at whatever remnants they could find in the decayed landscape. Beneath them, waves of tall, brittle grass rippled in the wind, bending like broken bones under the ever-looming shadow of the central pillar. A sickly glow radiated from the base of the monolithic spire, magical energy swirling and twisting in unnatural currents. But even this eerie light was overshadowed by the grotesque and cancerous keep that grew like a tumor from the pillar itself.

The Underking's bastion, a fortress of twisted stone and flesh, spread like a malignant growth from the central spire, its walls riddled with pustules and oozing tendrils of dark energy. Towers, malformed and cracked, reached into the sky, while diseased banners fluttered weakly in the poisonous wind. The entire structure seemed alive, pulsating with foul magic, feeding on the very corruption it spewed into the world.

Hordes of shambling zombies roamed the tainted countryside in endless, mindless swarms, dragging behind them pox wagons and blight cauldrons. These vile contraptions leaked dark, oily fluids that seeped into the earth, turning once-fertile fields into festering swamps. The air was thick with the stench of rot and decay as blightbearers—hulking, bloated abominations—wandered from pool to pool, corrupting the clear waters into oily cesspits that festered with disease. The Underkingdom was falling deeper into his thrall with each passing moment, the landscape warping under the weight of his corruption.

On a hillock, overlooking this nightmare, five Orcs and a lone half-human stood in a mixture of awe and horror. Twig’s wide eyes scanned the grotesque scene, taking in the sheer enormity of the keep and the legions that surrounded it. The sheer scale of the fortress, the hordes of undead, and the corruption spreading like a plague across the land seemed insurmountable. His mouth hung open slightly as he tried to wrap his mind around the sight.

"How… how can we possibly invade that?" Twig muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure if anyone else could hear him, but the doubt was clear in his tone.

Ulf stood at the forefront of the group, her eyes scanning the twisted scene before her. She bit her bottom lip, a hint of worry creeping into her usually fierce expression. The severity of the corruption was far worse than she had imagined. She could feel the eyes of her suitors, her sworn vassals, fixed on her. They were waiting for her to make a decision, to lead them into battle. The realization struck her, cold and heavy. "One day, they will call me queen," she thought. "And what then?"

For a moment, Ulf nearly despaired. The enormity of the task ahead—the responsibility of leading her people, of confronting the Underking's forces—felt crushing. But she quickly shoved those thoughts aside. Her suitors couldn’t see weakness. They couldn’t know the uncertainty gnawing at her. Instead, she twisted her face into a savage grin, baring her tusks as she let out a low, guttural oink.

“Well, looks like we've found ourselves a welcoming party," she growled, her voice brimming with a forced bravado. “I say we crash it.”

The others exchanged nervous glances, a few chuckles escaping their throats. They knew Ulf well enough to recognize the false confidence in her voice, but they didn’t question it. They had to believe in her. The alternative was too grim.

Hate looked worried but chuckled. “I like the sound of that. Can’t let the Underking hog all the fun, can we?”

Snagkill’s hand rested on the hilt of his mace, his gaze lingering on the bastion as if he could see the countless undead minions within. “We’ll need more than luck if we’re to breach that,” he murmured.

Twig nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowed with grim determination. Sudbad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and nodded to Ulf. Goreboar cracked his knuckles, his crimson eyes fixed on Ulf. “Whatever you decide, we’re with you.”

Ulf nodded, her grin never wavering. She had no idea how they were going to pull this off, but one thing was clear: they couldn’t stay idle. The Underking’s forces would only grow stronger, and time was running out. They had to move. And soon.

Goreboar stepped forward, his sharp, hunter's eyes tracking the zombies' movements with a precision that spoke of countless years spent in the wild. His keen senses absorbed every twitch and shuffle of the undead horde, and after a long moment of silence, a grin slowly spread across his face, his tusks glinting in the dim light.

“There,” he said, pointing toward the distant edge of the keep's sprawling defenses. “A gap in the patrols. They can’t see past that sharp ridge. There's a culvert hidden just beyond it. If we pass through, we’ll slip into the underbelly of the fortress unnoticed.”

The others turned their attention to the area Goreboar indicated, their eyes narrowing as they tried to make out the details. Ulf crossed her arms, studying the spot thoughtfully. But Hate, ever the cynic, leaned back against a tree, casually tossing a knife end over end in his hand.

“You think we can just stroll up to that culvert?” Hate sneered. “The whole area’s crawling with zombies. We’d be torn apart before we got close.”

Goreboar shot him a hard look, his dislike for Hate simmering just beneath the surface. “That’s why we need a distraction,” he said coldly. “If their attention’s elsewhere, we can sneak in without them noticing. We need to make the Underking's forces think our invasion was tharwted. That way, they'll never know that we've breaches their walls!"

Hate caught the knife by the blade and pointed it at Goreboar. “And who exactly is supposed to be the distraction? Sounds like a suicide mission for whoever draws their attention.”

Without hesitation, Goreboar slapped his toned belly, the sound resonating with confidence. “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice steady. “I’d gladly give my life for Ulf.”

The group went silent, and Ulf’s eyes widened, a touch of surprise and something else crossing her face. “Goreboar, your bow is too valuable. Your loyalty means more than your life.”

But Goreboar stepped closer to her, his rough hand reaching up to tenderly touch her face, his tusks nearly brushing her cheek. “It’s my decision to make, Princess,” he said softly, his voice carrying an undeniable resolve. “Besides, if I’m to win your hand, I’ll need to live through this, won’t I?”

His grin widened, and despite the gravity of the situation, a hint of playfulness flickered in his eyes. Ulf felt a flush of warmth rise to her cheeks, and for a moment, her usual tough exterior faltered. Inspired, she reached up, cutting a greasy lock of her hair with her dagger. Pressing it into a handkerchief, she folded it with care and handed it to Goreboar.

“Take this as my favor,” she said, her voice low, “and may MOG watch over you.”

Goreboar accepted the gift with a tenderness that belied his brutish strength, his eyes never leaving Ulf’s. He tucked the handkerchief into his belt, and with a final glance at her, he stepped back. When she asked what his plan was, Goreboar grinned widely, his tusks glinting once more in the dim light.

“I plan on showing them what true archery is,” he oinked, his voice full of grim confidence.

The others looked on, uncertain but trusting in Goreboar’s resolve. This was no ordinary task, but Goreboar was no ordinary Orc. As he prepared for his mission, Ulf’s gaze lingered on him, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision they had all made. The path ahead was perilous, but the bonds between them, forged in battle and loyalty, would see them through—one way or another.

“Alright,” she finally said, turning to face her companions. “Let’s get ready. Tonight, we strike back!"

The group moved as one shadow along the leeward side of the hillock, creeping through the knee-high grass that rippled like waves in the cold wind. Overhead, the central pillar loomed, glowing with its malignant light, the Underking's cancerous keep clinging to it like a festering sore. It was a place of unimaginable evil, and even from this distance, the towering bastion exuded an oppressive, choking aura. The faint sound of shuffling feet and guttural groans echoed through the valley, the patrols of undead dragging their broken limbs across the corrupted earth.

At the front of the line, Snagkill led the way, his broad shoulders hunched beneath a heavy cloak that concealed his gleaming armor. His mace and shield were ready, muscles tense with the anticipation of battle. His eyes scanned the horizon, ever watchful for danger. Behind him, Sudbad kept a close eye on Twig, the half-Goblin struggling to keep up with the giant Orc’s long strides. Twig’s earlier cockiness had faded, replaced by a deep gratitude for Sudbad’s protective presence. There was something reassuring in the way Sudbad kept one hand close to the hilt of Baybreaker, always prepared.

Ulf followed in Sudbad's wake, her black armor blending seamlessly with the shadows. Her hand never strayed far from her sword, and her crimson eyes flicked back and forth, scanning for any sign of a threat. She moved with quiet grace, her mind racing as she considered their mission—and the risks. Goreboar’s promised distraction weighed heavily on her thoughts. Could she really trust him to pull it off? She had no choice now but to believe.

Bringing up the rear, Hate slunk along silently, his every step calculated, his knives gleaming faintly in the dim light. His sharp eyes were always on Ulf, watching her with something like hunger. He said nothing, his thoughts hidden behind a cold mask.

The castle loomed closer with each passing minute. Shadows danced unnaturally along its walls, and the ground beneath their feet grew slick with rot. Their breaths fogged in the chill air, and an oppressive silence settled over the land.

Suddenly, Snagkill raised his fist, signaling them to stop. Ulf tensed, peering through the gloom. A patrol of shambling corpses wandered dangerously close, their milky white eyes staring blankly into the dark. Ulf's heart hammered in her chest as the undead passed just feet from where they crouched in the grass. For a moment, it seemed they would be discovered.

But then Sudbad, his crimson eye glowing with resolve, motioned for them to follow. His sharp instincts had found a narrow path through the patrols, leading them through an unseen trench carved into the landscape. One by one, they followed his lead, slipping silently between the patrols of the dead. Sudbad’s calm presence and quick thinking were their salvation, his experience as a seaman and defender of Mugzoz coming to the fore as he navigated the treacherous terrain.

They finally reached the culvert, its dark maw opening before them like the jaws of a great beast. The stench of rot and decay poured from its depths, but it was their only way in. The weight of the moment fell heavily on their shoulders. This was the point of no return.

As they crouched in the shadows, a deep rumble echoed through the valley. Ulf turned to look over her shoulder, her hand tightening around her sword hilt. Something massive was moving toward them—a hulking monstrosity, half zombie, half abomination, covered in boils and oozing black ichor. Its grotesque limbs moved with sickening slowness, yet its sheer size was enough to paralyze the group with fear.

"Where is Goreboar?" Twig hissed, his voice trembling.

The monstrosity lumbered closer, the ground shaking beneath its weight. It let out a bone-chilling roar, the sound reverberating through the valley. For a terrifying moment, they thought all was lost.

Just as the creature’s shadow fell over them, a single arrow whizzed through the air, embedding itself in the abomination’s eye. The monster let out a guttural scream, stumbling backward in confusion. From somewhere above, a figure stood silhouetted against the dim glow of the central pillar.

It was Goreboar.

With a triumphant roar, he unleashed a volley of arrows, each one finding its mark. The creature reeled, swiping blindly at the air, but Goreboar’s aim was true. He moved with fluid precision, his bow singing as he fired arrow after arrow. His grin was wide, his tusks gleaming in the light.

“There he is,” Ulf whispered, her voice filled with both relief and awe.

Goreboar leapt down from his vantage point, his heavy feet pounding against the ground as he charged toward the undead patrol. With one final shot, he brought the abomination crashing to the earth, its corpse twitching and convulsing.

He looked back at the group, a wild grin on his face. “Now that’s how you create a distraction,” he oinked.

They all stared in astonishment, even Hate was forced to admit the brilliance of Goreboar’s daring maneuver. Ulf, her heart racing with admiration and gratitude, gave a fierce nod.

"Let's move," she commanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

With the way clear, they slipped into the culvert, their hopes pinned on the possibility of survival—now emboldened by the sheer audacity of Goreboar’s heroics.

Goreboar sprinted up the small rise, his muscular legs pounding against the ground, his breath coming out in controlled bursts. His bow, strung tight with sinew, was clenched in one hand, and his quiver of black-feathered arrows rattled softly against his back. He stopped at the top, taking a deep breath and tensing his entire body as he surveyed the scene below. The undead army stretched across the corrupted plain—hordes of shambling corpses, bloated abominations, and hulking death knights clad in decaying armor.

It was a sight that would have driven most into despair, but Goreboar grinned, his tusks glinting in the eerie glow of the central pillar. He wasn't here to fight them all. He only needed to sow enough chaos to give his companions a chance to slip into the Underking's fortress unnoticed. The signs of a hasty retreat had already been planted—broken arrows, discarded armor, and the unmistakable marks of Orcish boots hurriedly fleeing. He needed the enemy to think an invasion attempt had been thwarted.

Taking a deep breath, he nocked his first arrow, sighting one of the lumbering abominations. His black-feathered shaft gleamed with a ghostly light, a flame that flickered between white and black as it ignited along the tip of the arrowhead. Goreboar exhaled slowly, aiming for a weak spot between the abomination's eyes. The bowstring twanged, and the arrow flew true, slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The moment it struck, the abomination let out a guttural roar, its body consumed in ghostflame. The black and white fire spread rapidly, engulfing the creature in agonizing heat. Goreboar didn’t waste a second, already nocking another arrow. This time, he aimed for a death knight who was rallying the undead troops. The knight’s hollow eyes flickered just before the ghostflame arrow pierced through its helm, sending it crumpling into a heap, the flames devouring both its body and soul.

Zombies turned and shrieked as the black and white flames spread, igniting their rotting flesh. Chaos erupted across the battlefield. Goreboar fired again, taking down another key figure in the undead ranks—a necromancer who had been standing at the rear, commanding his skeletal forces. The ghostflame ignited his bony hands, and the necromancer screamed as he was consumed in black and white fire.

Grimacing, Goreboar realized he had to move quickly. The undead were beginning to take notice of him. He could feel their cold, hollow eyes searching for the source of the devastation. He grunted and fired one last arrow, watching it arc through the air and strike a hulking corpse-beast. It collapsed, its massive limbs twitching as the flames ate away at its insides.

"Time to go," he muttered to himself, turning on his heel.

He sprinted down the rise, diving between rocks and debris as arrows and spells flew past him. His legs burned with effort, but he pressed on, weaving between the tall grass and boulders, firing arrows over his shoulder as he ran. He took down another zombie, then dodged a thrown spear that whizzed past his head.

He nearly made it to the safety of the forest when something cold and clammy clamped around his ankle. Goreboar stumbled and fell, cursing as he looked down to see a rotting corpse, half-buried in the earth, its bony fingers wrapped around his leg. With a savage snarl, Goreboar stomped on the creature’s head, crushing its skull beneath his heel. The hand twitched and released him, and he staggered back to his feet, but his path had been cut off.

More zombies were closing in from every direction, their milky eyes locked on him, their rotting bodies moving with single-minded intent. Goreboar’s heart raced as he realized there was no way out. He fired another arrow, but there were too many of them. Desperation fueled his every move as he dodged and ducked beneath the swarming undead. His breath came out in ragged gasps as he sprinted for a narrow hollow beneath a cliffside, throwing himself into the small crevice just as the undead reached him.

Goreboar crouched inside, his broad frame barely fitting. He held his breath, watching as the zombies swarmed past, their gnarled fingers brushing the edge of the hollow. One of them paused, sniffing the air, its decayed face inches from where Goreboar hid. He gritted his teeth, silently drawing his knife, preparing for the worst.

But then, a loud war trumpet sounded in the distance, its mournful cry cutting through the silence. The zombies froze for a moment, their heads swiveling toward the east. Another blast of the horn echoed across the battlefield, and with a sudden lurch, the undead turned and began to shuffle away, their attention drawn to some far-off battle.

Goreboar exhaled, slumping back against the cold rock. His pulse slowly steadied as he watched the last of the zombies disappear into the distance. He was safe. For now.

"Thank MOG," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

But the sense of victory was short-lived. He had bought his companions time, but for how long? Goreboar could only hope it was enough.

[m8qlaff]

"When are we?" Asked the Wizard before succumbing to exhaustion once more.

Lome looked down his fuzzy long snout and sniffed. The small pink tendrils like fingertip that ringed his nose bristled with the smell of the musty dampness.

Lome strummed a handful of revivifing notes before he slung the instrument to his back and helped the sodden creature to its feet.

Shuffling over the road Lome managed to carry and drag the Wizard in the direction of a favored watering hole.

The Soused Hogs Face, so named for its specialty dish and the crudely painted sign that portrayed a bloated boiled pig head, was a warm establishment that welcomed all comers. And who wouldn't if you wish to make good coin in these troubled times. If, like its sign, it was a little rough around the edges and somewhat repulsive at first sight.

Lome walked in and instantly recognized the bar tender, a fellow Wombletoe, but the inn was crowded even at this hour, packed with humans, and elves in all their diversity alongside, dwarves, halflings, and even a couple of tiny brownies that were also known to Lome.

"Hol' on Lome, we won't serve their kind in here."

Lome the Wombletoe steadied himself in the doorway struggled to support this new burden.

Dinner with the family would have to wait.

[drades-lair]

New Arrival

Fandom: HelluvaBoss

Rating: T

Pairing: Striker x Male Original Character

Calus finished sweeping around the stable where Bombproof and aurora were kept in the carpark corner underneath the building housing the penthouse suite. Placing the broom away he noticed aurora off in the far corner keeping to herself which wasn't normal for the female steed who’d ordinarily be over investigating everything Calus was doing. Moving over Calus patted his steed on the neck then offered her a treat of hell hog heart allowing him to look her over, luckily nothing seemed wrong other then Calus noted she'd gained some weight. Shrugging he decided aurora was possibly just suffering from some minor bloat, a slight change in diet could fix that in a couple days thus bidding both hell steeds goodnight, Calus went to join Striker in the penthouse for the evening.

…

The next morning Striker got up early, grabbed a coffee then headed down to tend to the hell steeds as was the routine; Calus did evenings and Striker mornings. Yawning as he exited the elevator Striker immediately noticed something was off, bombproof was stood at the fence nickering while aurora was laying on the ground towards the back of the stables. Furrowing his brow Striker made his way over to the stable where Bombproof greeted him happily as was normal yet aurora remained laying on the ground that’s when Striker noticed the blood around the hay. Moving into the stable Striker went straight to aurora now highly concerned for the mare only to be shocked at what he found. Lying about a foot from aurora in the hay was a tiny foal barely a few hours old sporting beautiful purple flames and a body pattern like auroras.

Taking a moment to absorb what he was looking at Striker managed to put two and two together eventually. Gingerly Striker set to work checking on aurora who seemed fine other then being exhausted from labor, grabbing some water, food and a blanket Striker made the mare comfortable till she'd be able to stand again. Moving to the foal Striker quickly discovered the little one was a male but in addition to that he was in rough shape. The young colt was very small and thin, he was sluggish and hadn't stood up yet all of which were not good signs, unfortunately there wasn't much Striker could do for the colt it would be up to aurora and bombproof to get the little one up to feed from this point. Striker cleaned the colt up a bit then draped a blanket over it, finished feeding the adult hell steeds then headed back up to the penthouse to fill Calus in on the new arrival.

"She what!?" Calus exclaimed upon hearing the news while standing in the kitchen making coffee.

"Yep, newborn little colt layin' in the hay," Striker chuckled.

"That explains the weight gain I noticed last night and her odd behavior," Calus noted rubbing the back of his neck.

"Guess we weren't the only ones havin' a good time," Striker joked with another chuckle.

"Guess not, purple flames huh?" Calus chuckled in turn.

"Uh-huh, pretty lil colt but I'm not sure he'll make it. He's small and scrawny," Striker explained with a slight frown.

"We'll check on him later, hopefully he'll have stood up and fed," Calus retorted.

Striker nodded in agreement as much as the two of them wanted the colt to survive and thrive they were realistic. Calus wasn't raised on a farm like Striker, but he'd worked on enough to know just as much as his mate and that was that sometimes there’s not much you can do in circumstances like this. The morning went by normally with both making phone calls to arrange jobs or confirm details while enjoying their breakfast. Once afternoon arrived the duo made their way to the carpark to check on the unexpected arrival and were pleasantly surprised at what they found. Aurora was standing near the far corner of the stable with her newborn colt happily nursing beside her while bombproof stood closer to the stable fence keeping a watchful yet casual eye on the duo in the back. Striker and Calus draped their arms lazily over the fence as they smiled at the sight although the colt was still smaller then normal if he was standing and eating it didn't matter.

"What Ya thinkin' for a name?" Striker asked Calus.

"Hmm, not sure. Aurora was obvious but this little guy..." Calus trailed off in thought.

"How about...Abraxas?" Striker offered.

"Hmm, not bad...Abraxas it is," Calus agreed.

The duo watched the colt for a while as it took shaky first steps around the stable. Bombproof went to Aurora to nuzzle her snout, nickering softly to one another as their colt found his legs as well as his spunk. Striker and Calus got their first real good look at the colt only to notice something peculiar on the colt's sides near his back ridge. Flaring out slightly as Abraxas played was a pair of leathery small wings, he wasn't just a hell steed rather he was a winged hell steed.

"Well, I'll be damned," Striker chuckled in disbelief.

"What are those odds?" Calus wondered with a smirk.

"Winged hell steeds are a one in a million shot, last one in hell was over 100 years ago from what I know," Striker explained.

"Humph, not anymore," Calus corrected.

[cookiesuga55]

Just One Slice

(Sequel: A few years and a hundred pounds later...)

________________________

"How much cake do you want, baby?"

Namjoon pats the swell of Jungkook's bloated gut. The piggy is stuffed fat from dinner, lounging on the couch with his belly spilling heavily between his thighs. Jungkook belches and grunts, his chins tripling as he looks down at the massive dome of food encased in fat that he calls a stomach. He smiles down at where his belly juts forward like a shelf, and rests his tubby hands on either side of the rich weight.

"Mmmm, just a small slice. I'm stuffed-" Jungkook squeezes and gropes the blubber that pools at the bottom of his belly, always soft even when he's packed to the brim. Jungkook has to strain to reach when he's this full.

Namjoon brings the decadent cake over for Jungkook to lust over. He sets the entire thing on the table of Jungkook's gut and the sugared scent hits him. Rich chocolate with buttercream frosting. Jungkook knows from experience that there's a slathering of strawberry jam through the middle too. This is his favorite out of all of Namjoon's delicious home-made cakes. His mouth waters.

"How's this?" Namjoon has a cake knife, about to cut a moderately sized piece.

Jungkook's gluttony takes over. "Nnnh- Just a little bit bigger."

Namjoon chuckles and moves the knife an inch to the left. It isn't enough.

"A... bit more..."

Namjoon is about to cut him a fourth of the cake.

"Wait, a bit more, please..."

His feeder makes a point of moving the tiniest millimeter bigger, teasing him.

"I thought you said a tiny slice. What happened to being stuffed?"

Jungkook glares up at Namjoon to see his dragon eyes glittering, and despite the teasing, it tugs a grin across his fat cheeks.

"Hyung, come on- stop teasing..."

Namjoon pinches his cheek, not listening. "A big slice for a big boy. My good, fat hog~"

Jungkook is about to pout when Namjoon readjusts and cuts the tiniest wedge of cake imaginable. A sliver. Jungkook's mouth falls open in disbelief and he actually does protest now, whining.

"Namjoon! Please! That's mean. You know I want more than that."

Namjoon sets the itty bitty slice on a plate, and Jungkook's scowl deepens as the plate is set in his hands. "Hold this for me, baby... I need a fork-"

Namjoon is back in a moment, sitting down next to him and dipping into Jungkook's side from how heavy Jungkook is on the couch. The tiny piece of cake is offensive on the plate. Jungkook's gaze slides to the fat, glistening mountain of sweetness still perched on his belly. It softly rises and falls as his belly expands with his breath.

"Thank you, dumpling-"

Jungkook's hands are freed from holding the plate and he opens his mouth expectantly, ready for the bite that his feeder will surely spoon into him. Sometimes Namjoon is just sadistic, torturing Jungkook to admire such a massive dessert but only letting him have a tiny portion, like chubby puppy with a treat set on his nose and told to sit and wait and be good.

The bite of cake that Jungkook is waiting for doesn't come.

Jungkook tears his lusty gaze away from the dessert resting on his gut and pouts. All of this teasing is working him up, making him needy and whiney. He wants his mouth full of cake and frosting!

He turns to Namjoon... who is smirking. Namjoon carves off a chunk with his fork, lifts it... and eats it himself.

"Hyung!!" Jungkook squeals in complaint. Namjoon is going to make him watch? He doesn't get any?

"I don't know what you're pouting about, piggy. " Namjoon pops another bite into his own mouth.

"I want cake too!!" He wails and tries to swipe the diminishing sliver on Namjoon's plate, but he's too full to move that much. He just ends up huffing and red-faced.

"Hey! This is my slice, greedy pig. Eat your own." Namjoon pulls the plate out of his reach and gestures to the cake sitting on Jungkook's belly. Suddenly he feels slow and dumb, like his mind is as lazy as his body has become.

"W-what-?"

Namjoon grips his fat chin with his forefinger and thumb. He turns Jungkook's head so his attention is directed towards the massive cake sitting mere inches from his face.

"I said... don't eat mine. Eat yours." Namjoon's lips brush his ear as his hand slides down, over his chin rolls, his doughy chest, and settles on the side of his immense gut.

Jungkook's cheeks heat as he realizes that his 'slice' is the whole entire cake.

"I-" his voice shakes as Namjoon massages into the side of his gut. A gassy bubble of bloat dislodges inside of him, and he belches deeply. The stretched tightness in his stomach softens, giving him room to fill right back up with delicious, heavy cake. "I don't have a fork..." He mumbles, hands resting on the sides of his belly as he stares at the rich, luscious cake just waiting for him. Namjoon chuckles.

"That's never stopped you before." Namjoon pushes against the back of Jungkook's head, guiding his face forwards so his nose, lips, and fat cheeks kiss the sugary frosting.

"Make a big mess for me, pig."

Jungkook moans at the instruction and opens his mouth, sinking into the sweetness.

Home-cooking

Thinking about cute twiggy Jungkook getting nice and fat from his thick hunk of a boyfriend. It's been a few years of constant feeding and loving... and Jungkook waddles into their kitchen with the biggest belly and ass, pudgy chin doubled up, and deep rolls creasing his sides.

As always, Namjoon is cooking him a heavy dinner and beaming at his plump pudding as Jungkook jiggles closer with each step.

"What's for dinner, hyung?" Jungkook suppresses a belch into his fist like he didn't just eat enough chips and snacks to make his gut bloat round.

Namjoon's eyes crinkle in affection and Jungkook earns a proud pat to the front of his belly. Of course Namjoon can tell. Jungkook looks so full that his gut is practically spilling out of his shirt. Although that's been happening a lot more these days...

"I hope you saved some room, dumpling. I baked you dessert too."

Jungkook's stomach rumbles so loudly that his full cheeks blush. He can be completely stuffed to the brim and somehow find room for Namjoon's dessert.

"I always have more room for your cooking-"

Jungkook squeals in delight as Namjoon plants a fat kiss on him.