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Hannah - Stuffing, SSBBW

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Fupa Troopa
Oct 7, 2005
A short-short, vignette about a fat woman full of a lot of stuff.

The bloated woman reclined in bed, caressing her enormous belly. Propped into a sitting position against pillows, Hannah’s head lolled back and to the side, she let out a sigh almost as heavy as she was, and moaned. It was a sound of discomfort for certain- but overwhelming that was the distinct tone of pleasure. Her chubby cheeks were flushed with it, framed by dark blonde curls; her breathing came hot and heavier than usual. Glancing over at the mirror on her wall merited another pleasured moan, and she bit her lip, shifting her bulk and squirming.

She looked like she felt- a beached whale. Her thick double chin was stained with some of the sauce and food that had escaped her mouth, but more had fallen onto her breasts, which only appeared small because they sat on top of a huge, stuffed belly that swelled like a beach ball, tight and packed full at the top and descending into a second roll of softer, hanging flab. That lower bulge hung down between her thighs, the very bottom of it just brushing the bed, a sensation that sends electric shivers up her spine.

Her consumption tonight had been gargantuan. She ran pudgy fingers along the inside of one of her belly rolls as she too stock- two steaks, rice, cheese by the bowl. Fried tortillas. Fried fajitas, and fixin’s thereof. And loads of guacamole.

Bloated, practically stuck on her back, Hannah was stuffed beyond reason. She felt filled like a prize pig, and the thought of that turned her on even more. Her hand slid between the fat of her belly and the jiggling mass of her thigh, until she brushed her pussy with delicate fingers, gasping at the ecstasy of the sensation. It was almost worth the discomfort of trying to lean over her ballooned gut… almost.

Instead she laid back again, allowing a small belch to work its way out of her and resuming the caresses and exploration of her glutted self. She only had a moment to do so, though, before her phone chimed on the nightstand.

Ugh, she thought, now? Fuck.

Hannah made her slow, shimmying way across the bed. She was surprised she could even manage this movements, she felt so heavy. The few feet that she’d traveled left her winded- which worked her pleasure even more. She picked up the phone, checked the message.

12:14 a.m. Bringing over dessert. Want donuts?

Fuck. She was painfully full, but somehow felt hungry again… this was playing with fire, though. A moment of deliberation ended in a decision heralded by yet another wave of pleasure. Before returning to her original position, blissfully pinned under her gluttonous bulk, she sends her response-

12:16 a.m. Oink

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