;)

Jake grunted as he finished inside his girlfriend. Claire was seven months pregnant with quints and waddled to the park with her man for some sunshine. She needed to sit down after the grueling 50 yard walk from the car and Jake convinced her for a quicky.

“No one will be able to tell,” he said. “Besides, your belly will hide anything. People will just think I’m holding my massively knocked up girlfriend.”

Jake sat underneath Claire and her gentle rocking was enough to get them both off. “Oh yeah baby,” Claire moaned. “Cum inside my huge belly. Look what you’ve done to me!”

Jake came hard. Claire could feel him pulsing inside her, then suddenly she felt a twinge in her ovaries. “Oooh baby, something is happening!” Claire’s tits suddenly swelled and snapped her bra. Her tits quickly rising and blocking her vision.

Then the telltale pinch in her abdomen as more babies implanted. Three, four…six, seven! “Oh God baby, you knocked me up again!” Claire moaned as she started swelling.

Her legs spread as she kept swelling. “God baby, you bred me so good! I’ve got a baseball team inside me!”

Claire’s belly finally showed down after it was past her knees and spilling over her thick thighs. She panted as her skin stretched. “ You fucked me full” she exclaimed. Jake smiled as her girlfriend grew and he grew hard inside her again.

You imagine them slipping whole through your lips in one satisfying shape. You buy every package the store has, and all that the store across town has. Twelve squishy bags. Six dozen eggs waiting to be consumed. They barely fit in the bowl you dump them in, a few falling off the pile’s precarious top. You let yourself start early and slide one into your mouth. It sits large and round on your tongue, but you can roll it around. Your teeth sink through it with a squeak before the pieces rush to your wanting stomach. A second and third slide down whole, the process difficult at first but easing as you get the feel for it.

Another three go down as you fill the bath piping hot and undress. The water’s heat makes you gasp and moan as you slide in, pinking the skin of your too-flat belly. The bowl is placed on the tray across, within easy reach as you nestle back into the tub’s seat. Another six go down leisurely, filling but not filling, and with a dozen inside you slip down so your ears are under water. The gurgles and squeaks of a digesting stomach echo louder through the water. You swallow a thirteenth egg, listening to the sounds of your swallow and the efforts of your esophagus and the egg sliding down down down to your stomach. The eggs taste different brought down through the water but the sounds are so intoxicating that the next five are eaten the same way. You burp, and bubbles roll at the surface.

At two dozen your stomach is stretching. The little paunch of your growing belly looks even larger in the bath, distorted by water and stream and the low light of candles. It’s no where near big enough, and the next few eggs go down faster.

Three dozen and you’re halfway, stomach rumbling audible even from down below. You’re beautifully overfull now, stomach complaining about the continuous additions. Your groin throbs and you stir the water around it, teasing yourself as you continue to eat with the gentle flow. If you thrust your hips above the waterline, your belly looks swollen in the air as much as in the water. Heat-pink and malleable and rounding, and you sink fingers into it to shake and play.

The heat keeps the cramps away as the fourth dozen disappears. The stretch of your stomach walls aches as it’s forced larger and larger but your skin and muscles grow easy, relaxed as they are. You toss salts in the bath and moan at the pleasant smell as you stir the water and rub your hands along your tightening belly. It’s heavy even in the water, bulging out over your thighs, and tighter, more solid. Your fingers press down rather than sink in, and it takes effort. The eggs are harder to swallow now, throat tired and stomach protesting, and you bite in every few in half. Halves or wholes, you still fill, you still grow.

Five dozen eggs fight for space in your stomach as you groan and writhe in the water. Each swallow is hard work, and your body screams for attention, but it is impossible for you to stop. Your stomach is an aching hard balloon inside you, and it bloats your belly into a tight, heavy ball that’s red with more than just the water’s still high heat. You pant around each egg, muscles crying for you to stop. You can feel the wetness of yourself even in the bath, running from your burning sex in rivulets. It’s begging for attention but you only have hands for your enormous middle. When you press you can feel the eggs sliding around themselves inside you, barely enough room to slip around. When you swallow another, they all jostle to move out of the way of the newest. Your stomach, your belly sparks every time its packed contents are added to-fighting the unrelenting stretch needed for another, the internal movement needed for another, the increasing pressure from another. Another and another and another, more more more the only thought in your brain.

Six left and your stomach has given up. It’s straining through the upper curves of your bloated belly, rock hard and conformed around the lumpy shapes of nearly 72 hard-boiled eggs. You shove the last six down in quick succession, and they stick heavily in your throat before one by one pushing, shoving in. Your body is a glorious mess, sex throbbing, belly screaming, everything tingling in heat and pressure and pleasure. You ghost your hands over your enormous bloated form and try to buck your hips into the water automatically with the blinding pleasure of being so tight so big so full, so so full. You’re huge and heavy and even with the water’s help can’t lift your hips under the weight of your gluttony.

It’s amazing what four months of eating can do 👀

The left is 01/27 and the right is 05/27 🫣

I want to watch you struggle and gasp and clutch at whatever's in reach (especially your heavy belly) to pull yourself upright.

I want you to suffer and strain under the immense weight and pressure of all the babies and food and soda I've put in your belly until your thighs are wet with your slick and you're panting too hard to keep trying to get up.

How much pasta did you make? Five boxes? Six? Seven? You didn’t even measure as you made the sauce, dumping ingredients in the huge stock pot in ratios you know by heart.

How much pasta is swirling in you now? The pot still has a quarter left, but your stomach is rebelling. You pant as you clutch at your distended stomach, it’s curves visible where it hangs from your ribs. You can feel the contents sloshing and churning, and you whine through the belches as you massage it. You’re so fucking full, so heavy with pasta and creamy sauce that is so so delicious. You can’t fit anything else but you’re not full yet, there’s still room, you know there must still be room.

You struggle to reach the pot, unable to sit up around the enormous belly hanging off you. You pull it into your lap and shove both your hands deep into the pile of still warm pasta. Your face is flushed the same red as your gut, every inch of you hot with arousal, digestion, and effort. Every swallow makes your stomach tighter, tighter, tighter but you can’t stop yourself. It’s too good, it’s not enough, it’s too much it’s too much. Ohhhhhhmmmmmmm you’re so stuffed but you can’t stop eating. Your belly heaves with the force of every swallow, no stretch left and only pressure. Building pressure, it’s so fucking tight oh god you’re going to burst but it’s still not enough.

The pot is empty and you let it fall to the ground in your desperate scrabble for the nearly untouched liter of soda. Each gulp feels like a shove to get down, but you’re so thirsty. Your stomach shakes with growls and whines, and you moan with it as you drain more into its depths. The skin is shiny and hard and you feel like you swallowed concrete and it’s so gooood. It’s so full, oh god you’re so full, you can’t believe how enormous you are. You gulp desperately. You need to be bigger, heavier, tighter. Ahhhhhmmmmm you’re so tight. Pain lances across your stomach but you keep drinking, the pressure keeps growing, it’s hard to breathe. It’s unbearable but it’s incredible.