Stuffing

i think this stuffing and exercises later idea is so hot
it would be even better over time with vids to compare and a slightly chubby gf/personal trainer who gets fitter and stronger while secretely making me addicted to sex and food until she has found ways to overpower me with food and sex to make me gain even when i try to resist her or do more exercises.....to compensate her doings in fear of seeing it coming that she might get a chance to get some sweet teasing revenge on me for my evil teasings back then when i liked to tease her about getting chubby so easily when i tempted her and she never could resist my food and seduction .....

[quote]GrowingLoveHandles:
[quote]Ghouliette:
Good lord.


You need to make this into a short story and post in the stories section. It is just sooooo goooooood!

[quote]lesbianasexualstuffer wrote:
I want to be in a force-feeding centered BDSM relationship, and get caught by my Mistress doing something naughty, like eating dessert that she was saving for later. But instead of getting mad she just smiles sweetly and says it's ok, I can make it up to her right now. She has me help her cook a small dinner party's worth of delicious gourmet food... fancy pasta, roasted duck, a huge designer salad that's more cheese and croutons than vegetables, fresh fruit over thick but foamy vanilla mousse, a fancy spiced Italian pizza, loaves of specialty bread (savory rye, gooey garlic bread, cheese and shallot biscuits...), mounds of expensive, rich cheese, thick juicy steak fillets wrapped in bacon, crepes with custard and sweet jam, a huge cheesecake, batches of caramel chocolate cookies, homemade gelato, dark chocolate eclairs, light fluffy cupcakes in every flavor... And I'm thinking that she's going to punish me by stuffing me in front of a dinner party, there's no way she'll seriously try to make me eat all this... But I sit down and gorge myself anyway, and just as I feel like I'll burst, I weakly ask her when the guests will arrive, but I see her take out her ropes, and the last bite of cheesecake sticks in my throat. I'm powerless to stop her, she's so beautiful and sweet, and I can't let her down... I moan pitifully as she presses a beautiful handmade eclair into my mouth, and prepare for the worst. I'm so, sooo full... I'll probably get nauseous in a few minutes and have to use the safe word, oh but I don't want to, I just want to keep eating and eating... Soon I can feel my jeans forming a restricting meridian around my waist, and my belly feels like it's on fire. But this time it's different. I'm starting to feel a lot of pain and pressure, but no nausea. I groan and steal a glace at my heaving middle. It's bigger than it should be, oh my god, how is she doing this to me? My jeans feel like they're being drawn tighter by corset strings. Just as I feel like they'll cut me in two, a loud pop sounds over my muffled complaining and her giggling and teasing. Unbelievable... is it even possible to pop open jeans by stuffing? My mind feels as heavy as my groaning middle. My skin is stretched tight from chest to legs. Now even my mistress is surprised. How much can you hold, chubby girl? she muses with genuine wonder. Her hands glide over, then poke and prod my distended abdomen. I grunt weakly in between my quick panting. My lungs feel squashed between my stomach and skin. She reopens the bread basket, and garnishes each into a tiny masterpiece of butter, cheese, spices, onions... My brain is screaming at me to stop this, but the rolls are so delicious, I want more... I'm aching and trembling all over, but the fire in my belly is oozing outward, and it overwhelms my nerves so much that I feel euphoric. This is better than an orgasm; it's total surrender to gluttony and overindulgence. Adrenaline rushes into my aching jaws and renews their ravenous fervour. I notice a new sensation on my back and belly, and manage to roll my heavy head down to see. I've swelled up so much, my midsection is lightly nudging the table and the chair back. I fuss over my unnatural shape, but my mistress is mesmerized. She runs her hands over my overstretched stomach, pushing and pinching. But she can't even gather any skin with pinches, it's so very tight... I notice my blissful fire receding, and impulsively call out, ugh, don't stop! She slowly raises her gaze to meet mine, and grins. Oh, I'm not done yet, she says with a sharp, mocking tone. First you eat my dessert, then consume half this feast, and you're still not satisfied. I think it's time I taught you... She pauses and slices a huge wedge of cheesecake. ...Some portion control. I'm in for it now. I practically choke down it's rich, dense mass, she's stuffing it into me so quickly. Bottle after bottle of sparkling juice are drained, plates are emptied, containers are ravaged, pretty tray arrangements are decimated. I can feel my skin stretching, my organs shifting, and my stomach wobbling and sloshing. My arms feel tight against my sides, and my thighs are pushed apart by the weight of my bloated middle. I have lost all human shape, and am decidedly round. My mistress or I should be panicking at my impossible state, but we are powerless to curb our desires. She is frantically gathering the last of the feast now. Eat, eat, eat! She bellows, squealing with glee. I have felt my shirt riding up for a while now, but I begin to see my skin beneath it, even over the quivering horizon of my new expanse. She cheekily pokes a finger into my inflamed navel; her long slender digit doesn't even reach its new depth. I cry out in surprise, anguish, and helpless add

a lot of my fantasies revolve around being stripped/forcefed against my will, often in very public places.

for example, wandering into a party in clothes two or three sizes too tight and everyone is staring

"Oh!" I ask, "When did you guys hang a swing? And what's up with that keg and tube?"
"Funny you should ask...." the host tells me, cutting the buttons off my shirt...

My biggest fantasy is to own and operate an upscale weight gain resort for women complete with all the anemities. A fully furnished buffet would be open 24/7. Cost would be zero for those staying there. The only obligation would be an agreed upon Wt gain per week. Those that are falling short of their weekly quota will receive special attention to help them meet the agreed upon goals.

Right now I've been thinking about funneling again. While the rush of the beer bong and it's immediate effects are (well) a rush, I also want to try something a bit more gentle and constant. Here is the scene, sitting on the couch watching a show with a tube in my mouth which is constantly trickeling more and more of whatever liquid my feeder deems appropriate into me. It is a constant stream but not so fast that I have to focus on it or struggle to breathe. But over the hour (or two) of watching, a gallon and maybe a bit more has gently been deposited into my greedy belly. Swollen, heavy, stretched and nearly completely passive I'd be lulled into a totally unexpected food coma.

I also would like to eat till I couldn't make my self eat any more. Then having a hottie shove more food in my mouth. Lovingly though. Then when I just couldnt take any more just rub my full belly, Slowing feeding ice cream. Wile I digest. Then napping. Only to be awaken by more test treats. That would be great!

I have seen a fantasy of mine in a friend's house. He has a room called the Dessert room - at least, that's what he calls it. It's a room in the house, slightly on the warm side, with two round tables. Around each table is furniture with soft, stuffed cushions.
After dinner parties the feedees are taken there, to rest but more importantly to eat the desserts he has laid out along the table. He takes his own feedee there to stuff her. Sometimes there are plates but my butterball says sometimes there are only utensils. I've asked him and he says he thinks the feedees eat more when they don't have to worry about the "manners" of plates.
The only rule is that the feedee / feedees can't leave until all the food is gone. He s said his feedee has fallen asleep in there, as it is designed so that the feedee wants to rest, stay, and eat, that they don't feel rushed, but feel relaxed and calm.
Quite the fantasy room.

My fantasy is a resort where you sign up for the desired weight increase, from there you are funnel fed gainer shake every several hours, only being able to nap and sit in place in-between. Of course this whole experience is documented as the weight is gained.

My fantasy is to go on an all expenses paid Transatlantic cruise with my feeder, one with unlimited five-star cuisine at any time of day or night. We would sail from Florida to France, Spain, or Portugal with stops in the Azores and/or Canary Islands, and the whole time my feeder would be lovingly feeding me massive quantities of the most delicious foods.

I wouldn't use the onboard gym or take walks around the ship, just lounge around eating, reading, and watching the live entertainment. I would be as lazy as humanly possible with the eager assistance of my feeder. The goal would be to outgrow the clothes that fit at the beginning of the cruise!

One I was thinking about lately would be owning a doughnut or pastry store and nightly having to finish off all the leftover food.

All to make sure that nothing goes to waste at all.