WARNING: The following document contains belly stuffing, feedism, and feeding as a romantic activity. Oh, and described toplessness. If these aren't your jam, I recommend giving this story a miss.
This beanbag chair is really comfortable. Well, for its purpose, it really ought to be.
You feel quite drowsy, harbouring no particular interest in moving. The living room is warm, thanks in no small part to the fireplace crackling in a lively orange blaze a few feet away. The evening has brought a moderate downpour of rain, but you can't see any of that; the curtains are drawn, and the fire is the only light you see. You feel increasingly relaxed as your ears absorb the crackling of the fire, the gentle cascade of rain on the windows, and the soothing music playing through a set of speakers that sit in each corner of the room.
You lean back and take a deep breath. You smell food; freshly cooked and so succulent that the mere thought makes your stomach growl loudly.
Even more delicious than that; you smell her
You've had your eye on her for quite a while, now. She first caught your eye around two months ago in a fast food establishment. Two big boxes of chicken nuggets, two cheeseburgers, two lots of fries, and two strawberry milkshakes. She must have been waiting for a friend who was running late.
A few days later she was in your local pub, having a cheeky afternoon pint while clearing a plate of scampi and chips. No sooner had she cleaned her plate than a waiter arrived with a mixed grill and an enormous shortcake sundae. On this occasion you had more time to spare. You made sure to walk past her table when getting another drink from the bar, and as you drank with your friends you sneakily glanced over every so often. The more times you looked, the less food was present on her table. Soon it was time to move on - the one time pub crawls are so annoying! With only five minutes to go, you opened the pub's app on your phone and ordered a large slab of chocolate orange cake to her table - with a cherry on top, to boot. The moist, inviting dessert arrived just as your friends were dragging you out of the door. You took one last look as her eyes widen, and you felt almost certain that her eyes met yours.
From that point on you ended up seeing her more and more often, and each situation always seemed to involve food; from the time at the cinema when she'd bought a foot-long chili dog, noticed that you were standing there, and then quickly rushed back to buy a second one, to the time back at the pub when you ordered a pitcher of her favourite cocktail and she made fully sure that you were watching when she downed the pitcher with nary a pause in between, holding her stomach the entire time. She gently grabbed your wrist to place your hand on her midsection.
"Come feel my baby kicking." She teased.
Of course, she wasn't really pregnant; her belly was jostling and bubbling because drinking so fast had given her the hiccups. Looking down at her jiggling belly also gave you ample opportunity to look into her cleavage; her tantalising breasts bouncing with each movement from her hiccup-infested stomach.
Your eyes rose from her stomach up to her breasts, and then from her breasts up to her eyes, and from that point you were lost.
You were lost, and you were rejecting all search parties.
Now here you sit in the middle of the living room. You sprawled out in this ridiculously comfy beanbag chair; she bringing a hot cheeseburger to your lips. In your encounters with this magnificent woman you have essentially been feeding her. It all started with that chocolate orange cake; since she realised that you ordered it for her, even after eating two full meals and a sundae, the very sight of you - nay, the mere thought - made her want to eat. Since you wanted her to eat so much, she wanted to make her stomach swell with her favourite foods and drinks. She wanted to stretch her clothes and make passers-by believe she was pregnant - and she wanted you to see every second of it.
Tonight, however, you both know that it's your turn. You obediently open your mouth and take a bite.
Your bond over food has developed into one of romance. The best thing you can do for each other is obtain your favourite foods and fill each other up as much as possible. Testing each other's limits; rubbing each other's bellies for encouragement; kissing and stroking each and every new inch that grows - no matter where it may be. Right now you are just sitting back and relaxing while this gorgeous woman brings you burger after burger, rubbing a circle on your firm belly as you continue to eat.
"You're doing wonderfully." Her plump lips curve up into a smile.
You lose track of time, only able to concentrate on the mass of food stretching your stomach outward and the irresistible charmer who is responsible. She has you finish another burger wile rubbing your belly, leaning in to kiss the top of the gurgling ball. Her warm lips feel soothing against the area where all of this food is sitting. She gently slides her hands down your stomach, giggling sweetly before unfastening your jeans. Your engorged midsection expands freely, pushing the zipper down all the way. It seemingly gives out a rumble of relief while she caresses the painful red marks from where your jeans dug into your flesh. You let out a moan and lean back, pushing your belly outward to give her easy access; a gesture she greatly appreciates.
You suddenly feel yourself sink further into the beanbag chair than before; a warm softness enveloping your front. She has climbed on top of you. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as she brings another burger to your lips. She leans toward you so that her lips tickle your ear; her soft belly contrasting with the solid mass of meat inside yours.
"One more burger, and you get to see my tummy." She whispers.
You swallow hard. She's teased you with her belly for a month now, but you've never actually seen it bare before! You eagerly open your mouth, but you find that you can't fit as much in there this time.
That's when it hits you - you're starting to get full, and this is a double burger!
With no wish to disappoint her, you chew and chew and chew and swallow, getting ready for the next mouthful. With each bite your cheeks bulge; her soft hands gently rubbing them to encourage you. Your jaw is beginning to feel a little sore, so this massage is well-appreciated. The skin at the sides of your belly is starting to feel taut. You don't even need to say anything; she is laid next to you and kissing one side while reaching around to stroke the other.
You know that you have your limits. You know that you're getting ready to explode - but with the way she treats your expanding stomach, you feel like you could keep growing forever.
Another burger down. Your breath is laboured; your hands holding your belly still. She gives it a few gentle pats and you have to let out a few burps; each one makes her smile wider and wider.
"I do believe I promised you a reward, my cherie." She winks at you.
She walks into the kitchen, leaving you to get a good look at her rear end. She knows perfectly well that you peek at it - that is, if her exaggerated hip swaying is anything to go by. She returns with a two-litre bottle of cherry cider. She could always put this stuff away; at the bars you went to, you noticed that she'll get bloated before she gets tipsy. She kneels down next to you and unfastens her shorts. You can see a small triangle of her belly, but she isn't showing it to you yet. Is this what the cider is for? Does she feel like she has to dissolve her inhibitions beforehand? You have no time to ask any questions; she slowly twists the cap off the cider bottle, looks you straight in the eye, and then tilts her head back.
The bottle bubbles loudly as her cheeks swell with liquid; her gulps loud and determined. She needs both hands to support the heavy bottle, leaving her no way to caress her rapidly filling belly. With the huge amount of food pushing you into a ridiculously soft chair, you can't move even if you wanted to; all you can do is watch as she drains this two-litre bottle of carbonated alcohol. She begins to take deep breaths as she chugs, giving soft moans that are muffled by her intake.
With each gulp her moans become louder and longer. You know she isn't in any pain, though. Or at least no more pain than she can handle. Your eyes become glued to her expanding stomach. Her sides are swelling outwards; her flimsy vest top is being pulled tighter and tighter; her underside is slowly pushing the fastenings of her shorts further and further apart. You catch a small glimpse of her underwear peeking out from beneath the shorts.
Her panties have cherries on them. Everything's cherries with her. She even smells like them - it's come to the point where you can't eat or smell a cherry without feeling romantically and sexually stimulated.
The bottle is nearly completely empty; you glance up to check the contents, and then a gurgle from her belly brings your attention straight back to the inflated blimp. With one final gulp, the bottom side of her top forcefully bounces up over her belly, resting gently against her breasts. She drops the bottle and brings both hands to her pregnant-looking abdomen, giving a loud, triumphant burp before waddling closer to you so that you can get your hands on her. Your hands and lips eagerly explore her enormous water balloon of a belly, causing her cheeks to flush a deep red. She gasps under your touch and sticks her tummy out as far as she can, hoping to completely envelop your view with how positively inflated she has made herself look.
"I'm gonna burst wide open!" She teases you, picking up another double cheeseburger.
Her free hand rubs circles on your own bloated middle, indicating that this next burger is for you. You feel your stomach rumbling; is this in anticipation, or in fear?
"One more burger, and you get to see my boobs.
Your mind jolts back to the night with the cocktail pitcher. You've wanted to see her amazing breasts ever since that night when they were nearly bouncing out of her dress. With each hiccup you felt sure that the next one would bring them out in all their glory - and now this deliciously playful balloon of a Goddess is saying that the only thing standing between your eyes and those breasts is one double cheeseburger.
You greedily bite into the burger and chew for all it is worth. Within seconds you've gulped it down and taken the next bite, but a loud grumble of protest from your belly implores you to slow down.
"Take it easy, gorgeous." She laughs, handing you the half-eaten burger. "We have the whole weekend."
This is the first time she's handed you the burger instead of feeding it to you herself. She must be aware of your determination. While you slowly take down bite after bite she gently spreads your legs and lays down between them. She reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a bottle of oil.
"It's called Warming Booby Oil, but it's good for bellies, too." She winks.
Popping the cap off the bottle, she drizzles a wave of oil over your distended belly that is starting to ache from the testing of its capacity. Her soft hands massage the oil into your stomach, rubbing all around every inch. The warming effect picks up almost immediately, sending a wave of passion through every part of your tummy and permeating through your whole body. She wraps your arms around your belly and hugs it, giving you lots of kisses and much-needed squeezes. It gurgles and groans as you force more food down your throat, each grumble emanating from deep in your core and bubbling to the surface. She can feel your belly's gurgles, too; each point of rumbling gaining a sweet kiss from her cherry lips.
You wrap your legs around her and squeeze her in close, pressing the topside of her tummy up against the underside of yours. The two bellies generate a ferocious amount of heat between them, making her moan in delight and kiss your belly button. You run your fingers through her hair while she massages the sides of your aching belly; the two stuffed organs are even gurgling in unison. For the two of you, food could never be merely about survival. You feed each other and encourage each other to eat more. By bloating each other's stomachs to ensure you take up more space, you are telling each other that the worst thing about you is that there isn't enough of you.
You nourish each other to make each other softer because you cherish each other's hugs and touch.
Feeding each other is your way of saying "I Love You".
She gently rises up, spotting that you no longer have a burger in your hands. With a sultry look on her face, she reaches for the underside of her vest top and pulls it up slowly. With every inch it rises, you see more and more of the undersides of her breasts, until finally they fall out from underneath, bouncing on the top of her distended belly in all their soft, round glory. She drops her top to the side and just kneels there in front of you; her heavy breathing making her breasts and belly rise and fall. Your jaw drops as you stare with lust in your eyes, unsure whether to watch her bosom glistening in the fire's light; or her hands rubbing every part of her bursting belly that she can reach.
You can suddenly tell that she has a cheeky idea. She begins to stroke her already-hardened nipples, blushing and moaning as they grow larger and stiffer. She then covers her breasts with one hand and picks up a double cheeseburger with the other.
You know you can't handle it. Your belly is screaming out for mercy already. Your sides are so swollen and your skin so tight that you're certain that you're developing stretch marks right now.
"One more burger, and you get to play with them.
How are you supposed to refuse an offer like that?