Hey everyone I've not really been active on deviantart for a long while because it's been causing me a lot of pain so I've just decided to avoid it to keep my mental health in better shape. Not to mention that most people have moved to twitter and so on. But I feel like im in somewhat of a better place now and want to try and start being more active here again and reply to notes and comments more. I can't promise too much yet but I just want to put that out there. I do still visit deviantart and I'm planning to be around more in the future! Thanks for everyone who still follows me after all these years!
Anniversary Car Force Feeding by emotionalcrit, literature
Literature
Anniversary Car Force Feeding
(This story contains stuffing, force feeding, and some burping. Also, sexual scenarios and a bit of profanity, I guess. If that’s not your cup of tea, nobody’s forcing you to be here! For the rest of you, please enjoy!) “Oh my god. That was a lot,” she groans, settling into the driver’s seat. “Even for me! You sure know how to treat a lady.” She grabs onto your hand and gives it a quick squeeze before turning the key in the ignition. “Happy anniversary, baby,” you say in response, softly caressing her thigh. “I know how much you love all-you-can-eat sushi!” “More like how I can’t control myself around it… ugh.” You lean over to kiss her cheek, and she turns to you and smiles. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight. Her resplendent brown hair is curled to perfection, falling down to her shoulders in a sparkling cascade. She’s wearing her favorite puffy jacket since it’s chilly outside, but as the car’s warm air starts to blast, she unzips it to reveal a short black dress. A chic, thin belt adorns her waist, complete with an ornate buckle that sits an inch or so above her navel. She leans in to kiss your lips, and you can feel a warm sweetness lingering in her breath. She wants you. You reach across her for the seatbelt. “Better buckle up for safety,” you say with a smirk. As you bring it across her waist, your fingertips softly drag across her stomach. “You’re so predictable,” she replies with a playful eye roll, “always making moves to touch my tummy.” “Hey,” you retort, “I’m just lucky to have somebody who likes what I like!” “Couldn’t agree more, babe. I love you.” “I love you too, cutie. Let’s roll.” Finding a hot girl who wanted to be your feedee has been, without a doubt, one of the greatest things to ever happen to you. It’s a genuine dream come true.  She pulls out of the parking lot and onto the main stretch of road. As you approach the first stop light, you can’t take your eyes off her. She notices. “What?” she half-asks and half-laughs, a grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye. “You just look so beautiful tonight.” “Oh, stop,” she guffaws, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not happening!” The light changes from red to green. “I have to focus on driving! Don’t go distracting me, you goof.” You let her be for a little bit… but you can feel your desire to touch her becoming impossible to ignore. Finally, you slide your hand between her back and the car seat, caressing just above her hips. Your fingers ever so slowly find their way beneath her jacket, and she lets out a contented sigh as your hand traces along the small of her back. Your touch becomes a little bit more firm, and you can feel her posture adjust. She’s sucking in. “You know what I’m thinking right now?” you ask. “I bet I do.” “If you’re sucking in-” you reach around her front with your free hand, “-you’ve still got plenty of room.” The palm of your hand settles on her upper stomach, and your fingertips gently skim across the fabric of her dress. “Guilty as charged,” she replies. Her waist relaxes, and before your very eyes, the belt starts to dig into her tummy, tightening as the resistance behind it is finally allowed to build. She’s rounder now; a lovely little food baby. Your fingers trace lazy circles over the surface of her belly, firm but still somewhat squishy. She rocks her hips, her coat rustling against the carseat as she gets more comfortable, settling into your loving hands. Her breathing gets a little bit heavier, causing her gut to gently heave. During deeper breaths, you can see how tightly the belt digs into her waist. She’s so fucking hot. With your left hand on her back and your right hand rubbing her sushi food baby, you start to apply a bit more pressure. She can feel your enthusiasm. “Come on, baby, don’t get carried away. We have all night! Besides-” the next words were a sultry murmur… “-I know that you’re not even close to finished feeding me.” “What if I don’t want to wait?” You whisper back, words dripping with fervent desire. She raises an eyebrow. “Baby, we’re driving home. It’s gonna have to wait!” “Oh, really?” You reach around the back of your seat to a compact cooler that you stowed away before dinner, pulling out a two-liter bottle of Cherry Coke; her favorite. “I think you’ll finish this before we get to our destination.” Both of your hearts flutter. You’ve been fantasizing about forcing her to drink a two-liter for a long time now. She knows that the thought of it drives you crazy. “In the car? Like this?” She acts like she’s protesting, but it’s all for show. “What if I don’t finish? We’re ten minutes away, and I’m so stuffed after dinner, baby,” she pouts. “If you don’t finish in time, you’ll be drinking four liters as soon as we get home, and that’ll just be the start of it!” “I couldn’t possibly do it… you’ve already made me soooo full…” she twists her waist from side to side, brushing her stuffed belly against your hand. Her cheeks have taken on a rosy flush, and her breath is growing even hotter and heavier. “Do you want me to pop like a balloon girl right here in the car? Is that what you want?” she playfully moans. “Better get ready, because as soon as we pull onto the highway, we’re getting started!” The turn is coming up. You twist the cap, feeling the clicks as it comes undone in your hands. She starts to merge and speed up, taking a deep breath. The fizz cuts the atmosphere with a sudden hiss. Your hearts are pounding louder than ever. “Baby, please-” You press the open bottle to her lips. A sudden rush of pop pushes its way into her mouth, and her flushed cheeks begin to puff up as they fill with the drink. “Mmmnn!” she protests, doing her best to focus on the road in front of her. A stream of Coke escapes the corner of her mouth, carrying some of her dark red lipstick as it rolls down her chin, across her collarbone, and eventually flows into the valley of her splendid, perky breasts. You watch her neck and chest heave as she begins to gulp greedily. She’s doing ok… but she’ll have to work faster if she wants to finish on time. You start to pant with unbridled thrill and desire; it’s time to pump her full. The rush causes you to lift the bottle higher, upping the flow. “Hmmmn, mmmmm!!” she exclaims, eyes widening and cheeks getting fuller. “Come on, be good and drink it down. You’re not gonna make it at this rate, balloon girl!” She starts to take bigger swallows to keep up with the fizzy drink pouring into her throat. One of her hands has moved off the steering wheel and now rests on the side of her belly. It was almost imperceptible at first, but now, you can see that it’s slowly growing; swelling and rounding out as the sweet soda is mercilessly funneled into her mouth. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. You pick at the ornate belt buckle with your finger and thumb, twisting, turning, and pulling. It’s starting to lose its flexibility. You watch as the brown leather of the belt starts to become more and more strained, fading into an ocean of black as her waistline continues to stretch from the forced feeding. She squirms in her seat, trying to stop swallowing for a moment to inhale through her nose. A mouthful of Cherry Coke gushes out of her pursed lips as she furrows her brow at you, giving you a pleading look. “If you fail to swallow any of it, I’ll make sure that you make up for it later!” you say in response. “Mmmmphh…” she groans, tapping your thigh multiple times. That’s the cue that she needs a break. As you lift the bottle away from her lips, she takes a deep breath, but her first exhale is interrupted by a short, sharp burp. “Ohhhh… I need a minute, baby. I’m getting- urp -so fucking full. I can still feel the pressure building…” You press your hand into her upper stomach, and she lets out a fierce belch. “Can’t we stop here? You can fill me up all you like at home.” “Come on, we’re only a quarter of the way through, love! How long is this break gonna last? You know there’s much more in store for you if you can’t pull it off,” you reply callously. You’re not usually this nasty about it, but something about tonight makes you want to be especially forceful. “This time, I’m not taking the bottle away from your lips until you’ve had twice as much. Be a good girl and drink!” “Y-yes baby,” she replies, biting her bottom lip. Oh my god, she loves it. She takes it back in her mouth willingly, gulping more desperately and quickly this time. You rest one hand on her tummy; you absolutely must feel the way that she swells up. Time to talk dirty. You lean in close to her ear- close enough for your breath to raise the hair on her neck and give her goosebumps. “Can you feel the way that the drink mixes with the rice inside of you? Absorbing into all that grain… I’m sure that by now, your dinner is even bigger than it was when we got in the car. Isn’t that right?” She moans weakly as a reply. “Better not slow down, though. If you do, I’ll really make you feel like you’re going to explode. I’ll cuff you to the bed, arms and legs…” “Mmph…” She glances into your eyes for a moment, and a shiver runs down her spine. Her legs quiver for a moment. You know that she’s wet as fuck. “That’s when I’m gonna put a funnel in between those pretty, dark red lips.” “Gluph…. Gulph… gulp…. Mmhmmm…” She wants to hear more. “I’ll dress you in one of your work button-downs. Maybe put you in one of those little pencil skirts that you like so much… yeah. That’s when I’m gonna start pouring gallons on gallons of milkshake down your throat. I’ll watch as you helplessly get fuller… and fuller… and fuller still. It will be my pleasure and privilege to watch you bust every single button on that shirt. You like that, you slut?” “MMMPH!” You notice that her hand starts to wander down to her between her legs. “Pop… pop… pop. One by one, they’ll come undone, revealing your soft skin- begging to be touched, begging to be kissed, begging to be rubbed as you start to look six, then seven, then eight weeks pregnant. Even then, I won’t stop. I’ll just keep force feeding you, making you drink as much as I please, until finally…” her belt buckle gives into the pressure of her expanding belly, blasting open with a distinct click. “Well, that’s when you’ll bust right out of that little pencil skirt.” With that, you lift the bottle away from her lips a second time. This time, before she can even try to breathe, she lets loose an earth-shattering belch. “Ohhhhhh…. You’re gonna make me explode, baby…” “Well,” you say, “that’s only if you don’t finish what’s left of this.” Even without the Coke rushing down her greedy throat, you can still feel her stomach noisily filling up with carbonation. The swelling is not slowing down. The fabric of the dress has tightened enough to see the outline of her deep innie belly button, punctuated with a silver piercing. Even sitting all the way back in the carseat, her tummy is mere inches away from touching the steering wheel by now. Once again, you fit your left hand in the small of her back and place your right hand squarely on her overfull belly. This time, there is no belt to restrict your movements. You rub the tight, dark globe all over, leaning in hard with both hands while dipping your fingers into her taut navel. In between sparkling little carbonated burps, she moans softly, lifting up her dress to completely expose her tight, enormously swollen gut. The moonlight coming through the car window allows you to get an excellent look at it. “Look what you’re doing to me, babe… and I’m not even done drinking yet!” Aside from jutting out in the front, her belly has started to fill out rather exquisitely on both sides. Round is an understatement. It’s on its way to looking like she swallowed a beach ball. “I wonder,” she croons with a sultry whisper, “if you can turn my innie into an outie tonight.” With only a quarter of the two-liter left and minutes to go, you say in response: “Let’s find out.” (I may do a part two depending on how well this story is received! Let me know if you’d be interested!)
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