Mellie's Belly Art!

The hall was fill with the roundest, flabbiest guts. If a belly wasn't fully exposed, it was straining whatever clothing attempted to cover it. Stalls for fertility remedies, aphrodisiacs, labor inducers and delayers were mixed with food stands that offered the fattest foods known to man.

But there was one tiny problem. With the changes pregnancy brings, one's palate might drastically change, resulting in finding your favorite food to be nauseating. With the combined conventions and the increased stalls, paired with the widened walkway for the wider average of guests, there was no space for trash cans.

You were one of the lucky few to be hired as an "official leftover eater". If somebody couldn't finish their meal for whatever reason, they'd drop off whatever they had at one of these wandering employees. None of them expected the pregnant attendees to have such reactions, giving up on massive burritos or pizzas with only a single bite taken out of them.

You, however, were different than all these other living trash cans. You were also hired to show off a new medication to would guarantee a high order pregnancy. So your stomach was already packed with 10 massive babies. And you were stationed at the highest traffic location.

Your belly groans and gurgles, attempting to deal with the endless onslaught of calories. Your babies kick and squirm, fighting for space with each other and the pounds of food in your intestines. You're sweating as if you ran a marathon, but you've just been eating all day. You struggle to swallow another bite, huffing as you drink some soda.

A preggo waddles up to you. About 200 pounds before getting knocked up with triplets, maybe large twins? "Sorry, these hormones make the sauce taste like rust" the preggo apologizes, handing a massive slab of ribs to you. You nod, understanding that this is your job. As the preggo waddles away, you recall that even before your pregnancy, you were bigger.

Every part of your body is telling you to stop. Your stomach groans in protest, the babies kick in retaliation, your two seats creak under you. But you take a bite, chewing and swallowing, slowing working on the slab. You glance at the clock.

"Only halfway done with my shift."

I think I regret this. I overestimated how much I could take on.

I figured with 10 extra mouths to feed; it would have been a breeze. But I truly did not account for the amount of people that would show up; how massive this event and its guests’ appetite could possibly be, and how long it would go on for.

I don’t think if I was going to survive

The last half of my shift felt like it was going by slower. The patrons didn’t slow down on buying food and the preggos kept on buying too much food.

As much as they had reversions, they had these crazy cravings too. And like the old saying says: “Their eyes were bigger than their stomach”

You can tell that most of the food they trashed were impulse buys. Their cravings took them over for a second and fooled them into devouring whatever they saw but clearly after that first bite, they were sourly disappointed and realized they were doing too much.

Almost all of them had a guilty or embarrassed look on their face before approaching me.

It almost doesn’t help that you knew most of the vendors here were charming and quite persistent with enticing their customers.

Two hours away from clocking out, I finally broke my combined chairs. I landed hard on my ass and it caused a full brawl within my belly, the babies getting greatly upset with the harsh fall. I whine and try to calm them down, but another event-goer approached me, expecting me to take care of their unwanted food.

I think the guy was a sadist cause he just shoved the food in my mouth HIMSELF whilst I was trying to regain myself after the fall – that he no doubt witnesses.

The staff noticed my accident and generously help me up into a sitting position. But they went without cleaning the mess around me. The remaining of their chairs remain scattered around me and under my ass, though I probably shouldn’t blame them for not being able to get under me and clean.

My accident seemed to have provoked more to come and use me as their garbage disposer. I can tell for sure that they weren’t throwing away unwanted food anymore; they were actively trying to feed me. They weren’t just gluttonous preggos anymore; the feeders started to approach me and do their thing.

My co-workers also took the time to explain the drugs I took to get 10 babies in me. With each evil feeder that came and forced me to hork down their “garbage”, my co-workers would pat my belly and tell them half of the reason why I’m so big was because I’m eating for 10.

This excited some of them and encouraged them leave and then, return with even more food to throw away within me.

I felt like I was inching closer and closer to blowing. I felt like I was starting to get larger than most of the people at the con. Each presentation on the drugs, they do so further and further away from me cause I’m now taking up so much space.

I’m getting so big, it’s starting to get difficult to even function as a disposal too.

The event-goers struggle reaching my mouth and I had long lost the strength to lift my arms , grab their food trays and feed myself. A couple daring feeders chose to climb over my belly and pour whatever down my gullet, much to the cheer and praise of their friends and other passerbys behind them, but the staff quickly solved their issue and installed a custom funnel that would make things easier for them and get rid of the need to exercise to feed me.

But it became much harder for me.

While there were some who actually began to hesitate to use me ( before the funnel got attached, I noticed a couple people freeze at the sight of me and at such an event, choose to walk away with their food ), I kept being forced to eat and grow.

I’ve stopped checking the clock at this point. I was too tired at this point… to look up or to notice anything at all.

I was too full. I was blinded by all the food coursing through my funnel and my increasing fat.

I couldn’t hear over my chugging or the dark scary gurgles within.

The world was starting to lose all definition. Everything was dissipating into nothing. I couldn’t feel most of my body anymore, except for the immense tightness of my gut and the searing pain of taking it all in.

In a convention of feeders, feedees and pregnant people, one place in the world where everyone can be as big as they wish and have all the food, they can feast upon to achieve their best, I’ve consumed a whole day’s worth of their waste.

The food they were too full to eat, too hesitant to eat, too foolish to waste, too eager to dump in me

All of it was in me.

My co-workers started watching the clock, getting worried for me now.

All of my babies have stopped kicking. Absolutely no doubt because they were stuffed too and sluggish.

Sluggish, but still angry. Perhaps bitter towards me. Then, suddenly the pain tripled and I nearly choked on the funnel.

I was suddenly brought back to reality by this new pain. This… piercing cramp. A type of tightness.

I scream into the funnel and try to flail my arms ( which just amounts to me wiggling my fat fingers ), trying to alert my co-workers and bring attention to myself.

Once releasing me from the funnel, I blabber and wheeze.

I had the funnel on for too long. Speaking ( especially with the new tons of fat all over me ) is difficult but I shout “More! More! More babies!”

I don’t need more babies. It was just a codeword.

Just a codeword in case I felt like I was going into labor.

It took a full minute to get my breathing right and sounding the words out correctly, then after my closest co-worker rummaged through his pocket to retrieve an emergency labor delayer.

He popped a single pill. That’s all I needed.

The pill was tiny; barely bigger than your fingernail, but I felt nauseous just looking at it. Just looking at it makes my stomach rumble and the contractions induced by my gluttony feel worse.

“Come on, buddy. You can take one more bite,” He could tell I was at my limit.

I felt like I was staring straight at a double-edged sword. I needed it, but I really couldn’t take no more. Just that little spec felt…  like it would be the very thing to tip me over the end.

I knew that my belly was just pulsing, that it was beating red from all the pressure and rife with stretch marks. I knew that I was horrifyingly morbidly obese and there would be no conceivable way of transporting me out here without some kind of machinery.

That my kids may be just as obese as me and the only reason that I’m in labor so early is because I had overdone it.

And to say I overdid it is putting it lightly.

But I knew if I didn’t take it, these babies will just start pouring out of me and make a mockery of the company that put them all in me.

The employee unhinged my jaw and force it down my throat. They tilt my head back, making sure that I swallow, and kept their hand over my mouth as an extra measure.

God, that tiny pill did it. Subsequently that, I passed out. I plunged into a deep food coma and then and there…my shift ended.

The event-organizers left me in my spot til all the guests were gone and while the event was still open and I was passed out, my body was just a display.

They had some bit of mercy on me and allowed no one to interact with me while I was out, but…

When I would eventually wake, I will have hundreds of new pounds of weight to deal with and 2 more months to ride out this pregnancy and possibly gain more weight.

This is one of my favorite things. In particular, I love a rapid pregnancy that brings on an intense, irresistible hunger. The food fuels their pregnancy, making their babies grow bigger with every bite, as well as fattening them up with pregnancy weight.

One thing I really love is someone laying back somewhere, their body thin, maybe even muscular, when they're suddenly starving. People around them start feeding them, and they're too hungry to turn it down or question it. Soon enough, their belly is growing, but they don't notice right away, too consumed by their own hunger. Their chest starts to feel tender, and it doesn't take long for them to start feeling little flutters. They don't look down, too busy getting stuffed, but their hands roam over their belly, rubbing it all over frantically as they feel how firm and swollen it's become.

They keep getting stuffed, their belly growing huge, so big and heavy that they're trapped, too pregnant to move. They whimper and groan as they eat more and more, getting bigger and bigger. Their tits swell with milk, and two of their feeders pull off their shirt the rest of the way and latch, suckling from their heavy, milk-filled teats eagerly.

Trying to max out size on just a singleton huh? You're gonna look great, even if your pants wont button after this! Polyhydramnios with a dropped, wide belly, heavier baby, popped navel, with huge tits, wide hips, and some extra belly fat, and you'll be like that for a WHILE. You'll have such a pronounced waddle too between the weight and how low it sits...

the small swell of the stomach in first trimester, almost shy in its roundness. but you'd feel so big, so weighed down, already — unprepared for how big you'll become.

the rapid growth throughout the second semester, pushing how much your body can change; surely, this is the limit to your bump!

then the third trimester hits, and before you know it, you're due, left with a hefty and burgeoning mound of a belly, marked with stretch marks and the linea negra. forced to be deliberate in how you sit, move, walk. (or is waddle the right word?) your tits, full and weepy, begging to be milked.

the small swell of the stomach in first trimester, almost shy in its roundness. but you'd feel so big, so weighed down, already — unprepared for how big you'll become.

the rapid growth throughout the second semester, pushing how much your body can change; surely, this is the limit to your bump!

then the third trimester hits, and before you know it, you're due, left with a hefty and burgeoning mound of a belly, marked with stretch marks and the linea negra. forced to be deliberate in how you sit, move, walk. (or is waddle the right word?) your tits, full and weepy, begging to be milked.

After years of settling down, Nelia went “eh, fuck it” and got herself Very Pregnant once again

Ain't it though?

Genuinely, I think that's why it's as popular as it is, and I get so many asks about it. It's the "choose your toppings" of pregnancy kink content. We even have weirder stuff like glowing tummies and monsterpreg and really specific side effects of pregnancy. And you can just... feed someone a burger to slot some temporary pregnancy into about any modern day scenario. I'm really happy with it, and it's very encouraging and exciting to get asks about it and see the notes on the menu posts climb.