flabby boi

Stealthily trying to rub is burgeoning stomach, feeling how good it feels to touch it, pleasure blooming as if it were his cock in his hands. He’d shove another helping of last nights dinner down his throat. Anything to keep himself from sin.

It would be so easy for him to dive for more. To completely glut himself- sure, gluttony is a sin- but isn’t lust worse? If he’s ultimately staving himself off from temptation then he should be perfectly fine.

A few weeks later he’s practically waddling. Stifling groans of discomfort as his overstuffed belly slaps against his thighs with every step. He’s rounded out his robes, desperately needing a new size but refusing to admit that this is more permanent than he realized. When he sits his shame fills up his lap, and he stifles a heavy burp. Even now he feels the urge to pleasure himself- more than he ever did when he was thin.

He grabs a bottle of communion wine. It’s the emptiness in his stomach that is making him feel this way. He brings the bottle to his lips and chugs it. Letting it fill his throat and feeling the way the wine bloats him with his free hand. He’s huffing and moaning around the bottle, not satisfied until he’s beached in his chair. It’s a slow process now, but slowly and surely he feels it. His skin stretch around the wine, just as it did with his feasts just an hour before. Growing taut to hard- and then overstuffed completely. Until pain begins to clutch his insides. When he gasps, finally pulling the bottle away, His belly dominating his lap as a gurgling, sloshy mess. Angry with how stuffed it is. He’ll be soothing the poor thing all night…

Reblog if you wanna have your metabolism ruined by a gym girl