I want to watch someone stuff themselves shamelessly. Eat until their belly is full and rounded out. So full that they’ve had to unbutton their pants, or even remove them. I want them to moan about how bloated their belly is, how much it aches and how badly they need comfort. I want them to hold their belly with both hands, rubbing gently, trying hard to soothe their discomfort. I’ll praise them for how much they stuffed themselves. They did it for me. I’ll rub their big, stuffed belly until they feel less achy. Kissing them, telling them how proud I am. I want them to feel safe with me, comfortable. I want them to know how good it makes me feel to watch them overindulge. Of course a little teasing won’t hurt. I’ll pat their full belly, reminding them how good they feel when they stuff themself. How embarrassed they’d be if anyone else ever saw them groan over how satisfied a stuffed belly makes them feel. How happily full they are, how much they love rounding out their belly for me.
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