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Follow me? 😇

You had already arranged several harmless little objects across the floor by the time I walked into the room.

Plastic containers, an old cardboard box, and a tiny stool that looked far too fragile to support me.

I stared at them, then at you.

“What are these for?”

You pointed toward the stool.

“Sit.”

My cheeks immediately grew warm. I looked down at its thin plastic legs and hesitated.

“You know I’m too heavy for that.”

You smiled like that was exactly the answer you wanted.

“I know. Now sit on it.”

I slowly turned around and began lowering myself, keeping most of my weight on my legs at first. The stool creaked beneath me before I had even fully settled onto it.

You placed your hands on my waist.

“All the way down.”

I obeyed, letting my full weight sink onto the plastic. It bent beneath me instantly, the legs spreading slightly while my soft belly rested heavily in my lap.

The creaking grew louder.

I looked back at you nervously.

“It’s going to break.”

“That’s what it’s there for.”

You told me to shift my weight, and the plastic groaned beneath every small movement. Then, with one final crack, the stool collapsed completely.

I gasped as it flattened underneath me, leaving me surrounded by broken pieces while you stood there looking far too pleased.

“Look at what your weight did,” you whispered.

I lowered my eyes, embarrassed.

But you were already placing the cardboard box behind me.

“Again.”

I glanced at the crushed stool, then at the next fragile object waiting beneath me.

“You want me to break all of them?”

You rested a hand on my belly and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I want to see how many things give up beneath you.”

So I obeyed.

One after another, you guided me onto every harmless prop you had prepared. Each one bent, buckled, or flattened under my weight while you praised me for staying still and letting my body do all the work.

By the end, broken cardboard and crushed plastic surrounded me.

You sit me down and place the plate in front of me, but before I can reach for anything, you gently move my hands back into my lap.

“Let me.”

I look up at you and nod.

The first bite is warm and soft, covered in something creamy that melts slowly over my tongue. Then you switch to something crisp and salty, making me chew a little slower just so you can watch my reaction.

“Good?”

“Very.”

You smile and offer me another bite.

Soon, I stop paying attention to what is left on the plate. I only watch your hand, waiting for whatever texture you choose next—fluffy, crunchy, sweet, buttery.

My belly grows warmer and heavier as I relax into the chair.

You notice me shifting.

“Getting full?”

I nod quietly.

Your hand settles over my stomach, rubbing the soft curve while you look at me.

“Still comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Then be good for me.”

You bring another small bite to my lips.

My cheeks warm, but I open my mouth immediately.

By the time we finish, I’m leaning back, pleasantly full and heavy, your hand still resting over my belly.

You smile.

“There. That’s exactly how I wanted you.”

You sit me down in front of you and tell me to keep my hands in my lap.

“Just let me feed you.”

I nod.

The first bite is easy—warm, soft, buttery. Then another, a little richer. Then something crunchy and salty that makes me want the next bite almost immediately.

You notice.

“Still hungry?”

“Yes.”

So you keep going.

At first, I barely feel it. Just a comfortable warmth settling in my stomach.

Then the bites start adding up.

My belly begins to feel heavier, a little tighter beneath my clothes. I shift in the chair, and you place your hand over it.

“Getting full?”

“A little.”

You smile and bring another bite to my lips.

I open.

The food feels thicker now, slower to swallow. Every mouthful seems to settle directly on top of the last, turning that gentle warmth into a deep, heavy fullness.

You rub my stomach slowly while I chew.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Heavy.”

Another bite.

“Fuller.”

Another.

My waistband starts pressing into me. I lean back slightly, breathing more slowly while my belly pushes firmly against your palm.

You look pleased.

“And you’re still being such a good girl.”

That makes me open my mouth again.

By now, I can feel every swallow. Every bite seems to make my stomach rounder, tighter, heavier. I’m no longer hungry at all—I’m just sitting there, letting you take care of me, feeling myself become more and more full with everything you give me.

Finally, you pause.

“Still comfortable?”

I nod, cheeks warm.

You give my belly a gentle rub.

“Good. Then one more for me.”

I look at the bite in your hand, then at you.