WeakestTummyEnjoyer

Tying you up for a stuffing facing a TV playing one of those documentaries on the death of self control and the obesity ‘crisis’ while I funnel more grease into your waiting mouth. Watching your eyes glaze over, but forcing you to focus on the TV so you can realize you've become the very thing the world's supposed to be ashamed of. Making sure you understand that you're the splitting image of the gluttony movement now, a girl who's traded her autonomy for a triple digit BMI and a life of total, sedentary bliss. Reminding you that whether you like it or not, you’re just another statistic for a wave of submission to grease, oil, and processed junk food. Laughing while you struggle to move, to even attempt to protest what you are before going back to getting off on the fact that you really are just a statistic, a greedy little cow who's being fed to see exactly how much lard her body can pile on before she's finally too big to ever leave this room.

Taking over for you when you’re too over-exerted just from feeding yourself, and continuing to help you swallow while footage of massive, blob-sized cows flashes on the screen. Forcing you past capacity (because trust me I know your real max-capacity) while dieticians and experts explain exactly how I've trapped you, how I've rewired your brain to crave your own expansion from the constant salt, sugar, and grease I’ve drowned your appetite with. The irony of using their warnings for the ways obesity claims people as proven methods to fatten you until your own lust drags you further down into it. If only they knew the land whale watching their PSA was squirming in her chair, pressing her big, pillowy thighs together at the idea of being a helpless, swollen, gluttonous anomaly.

woagh new vid with @meowpuptummy …

Your puppy is sprawled across the bed like they own it, surrounded by half open boxes, crumpled wrappers, empty soda cups tipped on their sides. A messy little kingdom of takeout. And right in the center? Them.

Soft. Round. Full in a way that’s not new anymore.

From where they’re lying, their stomach swells up like a little hill, rounded and prominent, rising high enough to crowd their view so they have to tilt their head just to see past it.

The surface looks smooth and gently taut from everything inside, lifting slow with each shallow breath and only barely settling before the next one pushes it up again, like it’s just too full to fully relax.

Hic. A deep, warm burrrp follows.

They blink up at you, dazed. “…oh. hi.”

One hand is already spread over the curve, fingers pressing in absentmindedly. You don’t say anything. You just stare.

They notice.

A small hiccup pops out, then a softer burp slips free right after. Their fingers press in again, slow and curious, like they’re feeling just how tight their belly is.

“…it got really big,” they mumble, more fascinated than worried, eyes flicking down at the way it rises in front of them.

You keep staring.

They hesitate.

“…sorry,” they add, automatic and flat, like it slips out on reflex because that’s what you trained them to say whenever they felt that kind of attention on them. Their hand never stops rubbing slow circles over their tummy.

Then they keep going like nothing happened.

“…your the one who got me used to this,” they say, a little more defensive now. “You let me try your food. Let me eat off your plate and said it was okay… so I can keep eating it.”

A small pause.

“…and it tastes soo yummy,” they add, more insistent, like they need you to understand. “Like… way yummier than what you used to feed me.”

Another hiccup. A low, longer burrrp follows, stretching out of them.

“…I can’t stop when it tastes like that,” they say, a bit stubborn now. “…you can’t take it away when you’re the one who showed me how good it tastes.”

You move closer. They track you, still rubbing their stomach. You climb onto the bed.

They relax instantly, tipping into you, pressing that full, rounded belly right into your side, warm and solid. The contact pulls a thick, wet gllrrrkkk from inside it.

They freeze, then glance down. “…hey.” Another hiccup. A small burp. Then a louder, angrier gurgle rolls through them, making the surface shift under your hand.

They pout and nudge you with it. “It’s being loud. Fix it.”

You huff a laugh. “You did that to yourself.”

They shake their head immediately. “No. You made me like this stuff.”

They shift, trying to sit up, pushing against the bed with their arms. Their stomach shifts with them, heavy and tight, and they stall halfway, letting out a small, strained sound before dropping back down again with a soft bounce.

Another hiccup escapes them. A quick, helpless burp follows.

“…it’s too full,” they mumble, poking at it like that explains everything, even as their hand lingers there.

You glance down, then lean in, pressing a soft kiss against the warm curve of their stomach.

They let out a small, surprised sound, breath catching as their belly shifts under your lips. Another quiet burp slips out right after.

“Mm,” you murmur softly, teasing. “Stuffed yourself so full…”

Their eyes drift to the containers again, distracted. “…there’s still some left,” they mumble.

You hum, thumb brushing over the curve. “…and you’re still thinking about more?”

They pout, weak, pressing into their stomach again like they’re testing the tightness. “…it still feels like I could have more.”

A sharp, irritated gllrrrkkk rolls through. They pause, then poke at it, curious. “…it’s mad.”

Another hiccup. A big belch follows.

“…I think there’s still space,” they add, completely serious.

You give their stomach one more soft kiss, lingering just a second. “Of course you do,” you tease.

They nudge into you again, expectant, already settled like you’re going to deal with it and let them keep going anyway, because you will, you always indulge them in the end.

——————————————————————————

POV: Your Conditioning Your Puppy To Eat Till They Can’t Burp Anymore and It’s Affecting Their Waistline

Your puppy doesn’t notice when things shift…they just start going along with it like it’s always been this way.

At first, your shy little pup would sit across from you, barely making it halfway through their plate before giving up, pushing the plate away like what they ate was enough.

“I’m full…” they’d mumble, all unsure, like they needed you to agree.

You never did. You’d just smile, soft and patient. “No you’re not, baby” you’d murmur softly. And after a little hesitation, they’d pick the fork back up and keep going.

It didn’t take much. A quiet “just a few more bites for me, sweetheart,” a gentle “be good for me, pup,” or a look they just couldn’t ignore.

You never forced it. You just made stopping feel… wrong.

And slowly, it started to show. Your puppy would lean back after eating with a soft, weighted kind of exhale, like the fullness had somewhere to sit now instead of disappearing.

Then you could see it start to linger. Their stomach didn’t pull flat anymore, didn’t vanish when they stood. It stayed. A gentle swell that rounded outward just enough to catch the light, to shift the way their clothes sat against them.

When they stood, it pushed out far enough that they had to lean forward slightly just to see past it, like it was starting to get in the way now.

Their favorite tank top started giving it away the most. It used to fall loose, barely touching them. Now it followed. The fabric stretched lightly over their middle, skimming that softness, rising inch by inch when they sat until it exposed more than it hid.

They’d fidget with it, tugging it back down, but it always crept back up, like it couldn’t quite contain them anymore. You’d smooth it down for them, slow and easy, like nothing was different.

And the burps… Oh, how those changed too. They used to be tiny, easy to hide, something your puppy could swallow down without you noticing. Not anymore.The more they listened to you, the more they ate, the fuller they let themselves get, the easier they came up.

Deeper.

Heavier.

Louder.

Sometimes they’d try to hold them in, cheeks puffing slightly, but you’d catch them every time. “Don’t hold it in, baby,” you’d chastise softly, and eventually they stopped trying.

After meals, they stopped wandering off like before. They lingered. Hovered. Until ending up exactly where they are now became the most natural thing in the world.

Straddling your lap.

Your puppy settles down on you with a soft, heavy exhale, knees on either side, weight sinking into you in a way it never used to. There’s more of them now. Softer. Warmer.

You feel it immediately, hands coming up to their hips to steady them. “Right there,” you murmur quietly, hands firm at their hips to keep them settled. They huff, embarrassed, but stay like the good pup they are.

Your hands slide forward, palms spreading over their belly, and it’s impossible to miss. It fills your hands now.

Rounded.

Full.

It presses right back into your palms when you touch it, soft but firm underneath, like it belongs there. You give it a slow squeeze, amused. “This didn’t use to stick out like this, did it?” Their cheeks flush a bit as they whine out an excuse, “It’s because I just ate…”.

You press in gently. A small burp slips out of them. They freeze instantly, stuck right there on your lap. You just hum softly. “There we go.”

“I didn’t mean to—” they whine, covering their mouth, but your thumb presses in again, slower this time, more deliberate. Another burp rises, turning into a soft belch before they can stop it. “S-stop…” they whine.

Your hands tighten slightly on their hips. “Stay, puppy. You’re fine.”

Your fingers spread over their belly, holding that rounded shape, feeling how it settles into your hands now. You press again. Another belch escapes, deeper this time, and you feel the way it shifts under your palms.

“Oh baby…” you murmur softly, almost amused. “Are you really full if your body’s still helping you make more space?” They go quiet at that. Because they can feel it too.

You press again, slow and steady, and another low belch slips out, heavier this time, harder for them to hide.

They sag slightly against you, cheeks burning, trying not to shift too much where they’re straddling you. They whine at the prospect of eating even more. “I can’t… I’m already so full,” they mumble weakly.

To which you just give them a look. Not harsh. Not even serious. But it makes them hesitate anyway, like maybe they’re wrong.

You tilt your head slightly, fingers pressing in again, drawing out another deep, helpless belch. “Mm… you can,” you purr softly. “Listen to yourself.”

Your gaze dips for a moment, taking in the way their belly rounds into your hands, the way it resists your touch, pushing outward instead of giving way.

“You keep saying you’re full, sweetheart…” you murmur, voice low with quiet amusement, your thumb tracing slowly along the curve of their belly.

You press in again, drawing out another deep, helpless belch, and hum softly. “…but your body’s still making room for more with those nice, big burps, isn’t it, baby?”

They don’t argue.

They just sit there, warm and heavy in your lap, letting it happen. Another firm push, another belch follows. Lower this time.

You hum, satisfied. “Good puppy… that’s it. Don’t fight it.”

Your touch shifts, easing into slow, steady circles, your palm gliding over that swollen curve. “See?” you murmur. “We’re just helping your tummy along.”

A gentle press pulls another quiet belch from them. “Making space so you can keep eating.”

Your puppy barely reacts, just sags a little more against you, heavy and warm in your lap. You give another gentle press, drawing out a low, tired belch, and hum under your breath. “See? Still going…”

Your hand settles back into slow circles, unhurried, like you’ve done this a hundred times. “We’ll take our time with it,” you continue quietly.

“Let your pretty belly settle… make a little more space… then you can eat a bit more for me.”

Your thumb traces along the curve again, grounding them where they sit. “And once you’re settled back down on my lap again… we’ll just do it all over again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, puppy?”

They don’t answer. They don’t need to. You already know.

Your hand stays on them, slow and steady, keeping them right where they are. Another gentle press draws out a soft belch, and you let out a quiet, satisfied hum. “Mm… there it is.”

Your thumb drifts along the curve of their belly, unhurried, like you’re in no rush at all.“See? You’re handling it like a champ, baby.”

Your hand keeps moving in slow circles, grounding, familiar. “Don’t worry,” you add, a faint teasing edge slipping in, “I’ll tell you when you’ve had enough.”

The door opens a little too slowly, like your pup had to lean against it for a second before making their way inside. They stumble in with a soft little giggle, cheeks warm, eyes a bit glassy. Definitely tipsy. “Mmm…hi” they hiccup, drifting towards you automatically.

Their button-up is not cooperating tonight. Pulled snug across their middle, fabric stretched tight over a very obvious, very swollen belly. One hand keeps absently pressing against it, like they’re still trying to process just how much they overate.

A small, airy burp slips out mid-step and they pause, blinking…then they just smile, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. “they wouldn’t stop offering me stuff,” they mumble, a little dazed, a little pleased.

Before you can even respond, they’re already climbing into your lap, a little clumsy about it, settling down to straddle you with a soft huff. Their weight sinks in, warm and heavy, their belly pressing right up against you through their tight shirt.

Another burp escapes, louder this time. They don’t apologize. Instead, they just lean in closer, resting their head against your shoulder like they belong there. “Mm…I don’t wanna stand,” they mumble. “M soo full” they belch before tapering off to soft hiccups.

You can feel how firm their tummy is where it presses into you, how there’s almost no give. Your hands hover for half a second before your pup grabs them, guiding them to their swollen tummy with zero hesitation. “Here,” they murmur, already pushing your palms into their belly. “Fix it…”

You let out a soft, amused hum from you as your hands start moving. “Fix it? It seems my puppy’s feeling bossy tonight” you tease.

They whine quietly, shifting just to press closer. “I’m serious” they start, before, another burp cuts them off. They huff, pouty now, still melting under your touch. “Feels like I’ve got no space” they groan.

Your thumb brushes over one of the strained buttons, and you pause there deliberately. “Keep eating like this at those company dinners of yours,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, “and you’re gonna pop a button one of these nights, sweetheart.”

They go still for a second… then give the tiniest, most unapologetic smile. “Mmm… not my fault,” they mumble. You raise a brow. “Oh?”

They nuzzle into you, chasing your hands as they keep moving. “I’m new…” they murmur, like that explains everything. “I can’t say no… they hand me stuff and just…I have to eat it” they murmur.

Another soft burp slips out and they barely react this time, just relaxing more into you. “So you just accept that rule and eat all of it?” you tease. They give a slow, tipsy nod against your shoulder. “Mhm, it’s free food”. They mumble.

“And then come home like this?” your hand presses lightly over their full tummy for emphasis. They let out a soft, needy sound, leaning into it. “mhm…”

You laugh under your breath, shaking your head “Yeah, you’re definitely gonna lose a button at this rate.” They don’t argue. Don’t even pretend to care.

If anything, they press closer, guiding your hands again like you might stop. “Keep going…” they whine, softer now, clingy again. “Feels better when you do it”

Another quiet burp follows, and they just melt further into your lap, warm, heavy, and completely used to ending their nights exactly like this.

You keep your hands moving in slow, absent circles, feeling how they sink into you more with every pass, how easily they settle in your lap now without a second thought. It’s becoming a pattern. The dinners, the fullness, the way they end up right here, needy and pressed close like this.

And, honestly…you’re not exactly complaining.

Winter was the coziest time of the year, it made it easy not to look.

Every day just meant another thick sweater or oversized hoodie, soft fabric sitting loose around their middle. Nothing pulled tight, nothing caught when they moved. Even when your pups belly started rounding out a little more after indulgent meals, they’d just shift, smooth the fabric down, and that was enough.

Out of sight, out of mind.

So it never really registered what was slowly but surely happening. Not in the way it should have, anyway.

Holiday after holiday, there was always something happening. Loud parties where your pup wandered with a plate that never stayed empty, a bite here, something sweet there, then back again without thinking. Potlucks where just a “little” of everything turned into a lot of everything, then seconds because it felt easier than declining someone’s polite offers for more.

Quieter get togethers where food was left out for people to eat, conversations drifting, your pup curled up somewhere, grazing, mindlessly reaching for something every few minutes without noticing how full they were getting.

Mostly, it was late nights in the comfort of home. Standing in the kitchen with containers full of leftovers, telling themselves they’ll just have a couple bites. But it never really was just a couple bites, especially with you there encouraging them. One more bite, then another, until the leftovers meant for the next day were gone and their belly was nice and swollen, and they’re just standing by the counter, a little dazed, letting out soft belches and quiet burps without even thinking about it, like it was just routine now.

And your pup? They got used to eating. Used to being full. Overfull, even.

At first, it was that heavy, sleepy feeling after a big meal. A soft sigh, their hand resting over their rounded belly without thinking. Then it became expected. Familiar.

Something they subconsciously started craving.

That slow, swollen fullness…the warmth of it, the weight of it. The way it lingered. Even the little things that came with it, the quiet burps they tried to hide, the occasional bigger belch that slipped out when they were especially full. They stopped being embarrassed by them. If anything, your pup started leaning into it.

They stopped checking in with themselves. Just kept eating, following the flow, letting that full, rounded feeling settle in deeper each time.

Eventually, even getting up took a moment. A small pause, a hand pressed to their belly before they pushed themselves up, a quiet breath leaving them, like it took more effort than it should. By the time they made it a few steps, they were already a little out of breath, moving slower, heavier, their steps turning into that soft, careful waddle toward the bed.

And later, always later, they’d end up tucked against you. Blankets pulled close, your hand resting over their warm, rounded belly, rubbing slow circles while they melted into you. Soft little noises slipping out, quiet burps, that hazy, overfull look settling in as they sank into the feeling.

You took notice. I mean how could you not?

You don’t say anything, though. Just keep a small, knowing smile on your face as you helped them settle, your hand returning right where it always did, over their full, swollen belly.

— - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - —

Now it’s summer.

Your pup stands there with their favorite high waisted denim shorts that they haven’t worn in a while. They step in, pulling them up like usual. They stall halfway; The denim catches, tighter than it should be. They tug again, shifting their hips, a small huff escaping.

It takes effort. Way more than they remember it ever needing before winter.

They finally get them up, waistband sitting high over their stomach. They reach for the button, take a breath…And a sudden, loud belch slips out. They freeze, hand still at the button, face going warm. “It’s cause I just ate,” they say quickly. You just watch.

They suck in and try again, pressing harder until the button finally gives and loops properly. And the second they relax, the shorts pull tight. The waistband presses in, firm, holding everything right there as their belly pushes up against it instead of flattening. The fabric stretches smooth, outlining that soft, rounded curve they’ve gotten so used to carrying.

Your pup looks down, pressing at it like they can make it go away. “I swear…they didn’t fit like this before.” They mumble, more to themselves than you, in disbelief. You step closer, quiet. “They didn’t?” You murmur, slyly a soft smirk on your face. And your poor, sweet puppy just shakes their head, an excuse slipping out of them, “It’s just…it’s cause I’m still full.” they mumble in denial.

But as their mumbling, their stomach gives a small, familiar gurgle under the tight denim, another softer burp caught in their throat as they shift uncomfortably.

And this time…it’s a little harder to pretend that their new found belly was just from one meal.

Oops 🤭

Another 3 months have passed.

This time only 2 months have passed 😳

Blowing up in real time 💥

@ever-so-soft - Burp Comp

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