More!

A cinnamon roll. A simple, delicious confection I brought just for you as a reward for being so good throughout dinner. Warm bread, soft layers, and gooey glaze melting over every curve. The smell drifts through the room the moment the warm plate is set down in front of you, rich with cinnamon and sugary sweetness.

This is all yours. I’m going to feed every last bite to you.

What do I need from you? I want you to cum as soon as you swallow the last bite so I can watch all that sticky, hot glaze come right back out of you.

I smile as I lift your shirt up. You know I love seeing your belly when you eat. What I love even more is watching you grow while you eat. So I unzip your pants, allow my hand to travel all the way down, and begin to palm your crotch. 

When I hear that little impatient whine, I know you're ready. I spear a forkful of the cinnamon roll. The dough pulls apart easily, still warm and fluffy inside. A little icing stretches, creamy and thick, before finally breaking away.

You open your mouth obediently and accept the bite. God, what a good boy you are. You chew eagerly, already waiting for the next one before you've completely finished swallowing.

We fall into a lovely rhythmic pattern. 

Stab. Open. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Palm. Stab. Open. Bite. Chew. Swallow Palm. Stab. Open. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Palm.

The plate slowly grows messier as the roll disappears. As it disappears, I can tell you’re getting more and more excited. You’re already leaking so much. I think it’s time I get those pesky boxers off.

Goodness, when did your thighs get so thick? Sure, your boxers always have been tight on you, but look at all these new marks on your body!

Shall we take a break? Oh! No, no! Not a real break. Just a break from eating. You look thirsty. 

I grab a nice large glass of milk for you and bring it back over. “Here,” I say, “Don’t worry about a thing. Mommy will help you.”

I tip the rim to your lips and watch as you drink. Steady gulps. Long, steady gulps. Cold milk washing away all that sweetness. Sliding all the way down your throat and filling up all the space in your belly.

Maybe filling it up too much because creamy streaks dribble down the corners of your mouth. You’re soo eager and soo greedy. Drinking up like you haven’t had anything in hours.

I squeeze your cock. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about it. You’ve gotten quite erect. In fact, you’re so turned on I don’t even think you can think straight anymore. 

I set the glass aside and rest my now free hand against your stomach. You feel so tight. Dinner was already generous, and now you've nearly finished an entire cinnamon roll on top of that. I push a palm in. A few small burps erupt from you. Oh my…

“Are you ready?” I ask, “You’re almost done with your treat.” 

There's still a little left on the plate. Not much, but it’s definitely enough.

I hear you whine. It doesn’t matter though. Too horny and full to think. No matter what, you’re gonna take whatever I offer you.

Such a good boy.

The cinnamon roll is probably becoming almost too sweet at this point. The glaze coats every piece. Oh, but I’m sure you don’t care about the taste anymore. 

You just wanna keep going because if you finish it, you know I’ll let you finish.

Back in that rhythm. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Stroke. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Stroke.

“Almost there.”

Your cock has gotten so slick. So easy to slide my hand up and down your shaft. You’re even starting to buck into my hand. Poor boy… So needy. So eager to get off.

“Attaboy,” I say as the final pieces disappear one after another until there's only a single bite left sitting on the plate.

I pick this last piece up and push it into your mouth with my fingers. My digits are instantly wrapped by your tongue, warm, wet, and sticky, as it swirls around.

And I keep them in there. I keep them in there as I stroke your cock. Faster and faster. Letting you fuck my hand. Letting you fuck it so hard because you’ve been such a good boy today eating everything mommy has placed In front of you. I delight in hearing you moaning loudly through my fingers.

And finally! That look on your face of ecstasy as you look into my eyes.

“There it is,” I smile staring at your cock as you cum all over your pretty, thick thighs. “All that sweet glaze I just fed you…”

I want you to constantly feel that you're taking up space. You know, that feeling where your brain hasn't quite adjusted to your new size; where you find yourself bumping into furniture or doorways... that you could swear were wider just two days ago. I want you to start noticing that your kitchen counter seems higher than it did before... Or maybe, your gut finally hangs so low that it kisses the countertop when you're looking for a snack. I want you to wonder why all of your clothes suddenly seem to have shrunk in the wash. After all, the nice pair of jeans you just bought must be poor quality... The button flew off the second you sat down, but it's not like you've been eating enough to stuff a stoned linebacker, right?

You haven't been eating much at all, have you? Some avocado toast for breakfast... Followed by two mcgriddles and a huge iced coffee. A salad for lunch... accompanied by a triple decker burger and a massive basket of cheese fries. And dinner, since you ate so healthy and light during the day, you treat yourself to a pizza... Or two... Or three. And fuck it, why not some ice cream too? You've been good, you deserve a treat, don't you? You couldn't possibly have outgrown your clothes eating like that. That's crazy!

But yes, I want you to feel heavier.

Not only in the sense that I can fit my entire head beneath your massive tit, but in the sense that you can *feel* yourself growing... Stretching... Spreading wider. You can feel your supple, cellulite dimpled flesh getting softer, bathing you in a cozy blanket of lard. I want you to feel weighed down by your body, to question why you should ever have to get off the couch... To ever have to do anything beside eating and getting fatter.

Yes baby, I want you to feel heavier.

Please enjoy thoroughly and feel free to let me know how it makes you feel or what it makes you do 😈

More soon, I hope

You’ll wake up the next morning to the smell of cooking grease and coffee, a massive breakfast waiting for your attention even as your gut groans from the excesses of the night before. 

And when your plate is clean, you’ll have to finish every last drop of your special shake before I’ll help you up.

I want to be preparing your next massive meal while you’re still struggling to digest the last one

another short ffa/bhm piece that was floating around in my head this morning. hope u enjoy 😘

My hands always find you in the morning. Sometimes I’m holding you before I realize I’m awake, my fingers sinking into whatever part of you they can find.

This morning is all intentional, though. Light is streaming through the window and I’m grateful for the changing seasons. The warm sun falls across your body and I watch the gentle rise and fall of your chest with a soft smile. Spring always makes me feel vibrant and a little romantic after months of dark, cold winter. I reach out and brush my fingertips over your chest and belly, pulling myself closer. My intention is never to wake you but you always catch me anyway.

“Hi baby,” I murmur, pressing my lips to your shoulder. You shift and stretch, lifting your arm up so I can scoot in even closer. Your hand settles at my back, warm and safe.

“Morning,” you respond, eyes still closed. My hands become a little bolder, pressing into your upper belly before sliding down to squeeze your overhang. I see you crack a small smile when your belly gives an audible gurgle.

“You ate so well for me last night,” I say with a chuckle. “Everything is still churning away in there.” I shake your belly gently, watching the ripples across your body. My face heats up just a little. You’re getting so fat.

“That’s because I have a very…motivational feeder.” You heave yourself to your side, all your heft shifting against me. My hand reflexively squeezes your lovehandle and your arms pull me into your chest. I can’t help myself and take the opportunity to suck and bite your heavy tits. You laugh but not before I catch the slight intake of breath when my mouth makes contact with your skin. “Proving my point,” you say when I don’t let up.

I can’t keep my hands off you. Flashes of the night before play in my head. Pushing more into your mouth, relentless in my pursuit of blowing you past every limit you thought you had, the sound of your strained breathing and moaning and the way you kept asking for more -

“Fuck, baby…” you trail off and I realize my hand is on your cock. I press myself even closer, somehow, even though I know I need to get ready for work.

“Sorry,” I laugh. “I just can’t keep my hands to myself, I guess. You’re so fucking hot, babe.” I see you pull out your phone before tossing it to the side. In a smooth motion that should be more difficult at your size, you’re on top of me. The weight of you alone makes me moan.

“I don’t want to be late…” I trail off when you finally put your hands to use.

It doesn't feel like that long ago, when I was excitedly teasing you about the "small layer of pudge" that had formed around your middle. But now that small layer of pudge has blossomed into a massive heavy paunch. It spills down off the dome of your upper belly and onto your thighs even when lying down. I can't help but think of all the stuffings and belly rubs that made it what it is now as I watch it rise and fall with every breath.

My eyes travel upwards taking in your formerly defined chest, now adorned with a large pair of moobs, that sag towards your side slightly as you lie on your back, accompanied by a thick roll of fat that wraps around your side.

And then there's your face, it's become so round and soft. Gone are your lean and angular features, cheeks and chin filling out magnificently. Every change making it more adorable.

My gaze travels down your side, indexing the rolls that have piled up there. Passing over your big meaty love handles that bulge outward over your hips. Practically begging to be filling my hands. Settling on the thick trunks that are your thighs, your old muscular legs long since swaddles in layer after layer of cellulite dimpled fat.

Lastly I can't help but marvel at your fat pad. It happened so gradually I almost didn't notice. But it's unmistakable now, only the head peaks out from that slab of fat at the base of it when you are soft. Maybe half it's original length manages to stick out from it when it's hard.

Instead, I'll stop and refill your plate for you. Then do it all over again.

It may seem mean, but I'm training you. Helping you eat more than you ever thought you could. Training you to be a bottomless little piggy.

Not only that, I'm training you for when your no longer able to reach down there. If we do this often enough the act of greedily stuffing your face will turn you on enough to bring you close to the point of cumming.

“Maggie Mae, we need another beer.

Bring us another beer.