WARNING! This Comic Is Kinda Unreadable Because Of All Of The Censors I Had To Put - Be Ready To Not

To have an overpacked cauldron of a belly that is completely controlled by your feeder.

Master hasn’t allowed for an emptying In 3 days but has still fed his prized hog to the brim. Rancid constipated farts are a small relief when your bowels are stretched to the max to compensate. He uses your cunt, needing to push a bit harder than usual to get in, feeling how everything clogging your pipes has piled into and swollen your rectum.

He finishes inside you and then goes to get your next meal. He proceeds to stuff you with a mountain of food until you can no longer breath.

He presses your fat bloated gut and you groan in discomfort, your hole inadvertently puckering.

“No, no,” he says. “No shitting yet. Just gas.”

“But if I try to fart again, it’ll be impossible to hold the rest in. “

“That’s your fault for being such a greedy piggy. Your stomach is this way because of YOUR gluttony. And You have another day to go piggy.”

The next day comes and your guts are done processing the food. Your feeder instructs you that it’s emptying day. He instructs you to take a stance on all fours , and goes to feel how hard and bloated your abdomen is.

“Ah, looks like you’ve done a great job of getting filled and having your bowels stretched to capacity,” he says grabbing a box and what looks like tin foil. He puts on a rubber glove.

“Alright you know the drill. Face down and spread em,” he instructs. You follow his instructions and place your head on the floor, ass still up and use both hands behind you to spread your deep cheeks. You sigh , knowing that finally you’ll get some relief from the unbearably fullness in your guts.

Suddenly, you feel a cold glycerine suppository press against your hole. It’s forced in along with the finger behind it. He retracts his finger to have it covered In your chocolate. He repeats this with three more slippery inserts.

“Now you have to hold it until the glycerine melts. I’m doing you a favour so your hole doesn’t rip this time. Let me know when you’re busting to empty and I’ll bring the bucket”

Last time the constipated plug of shit practically tore your ass in two while being birthed.

You hold it, clenching against everything In your body telling you to push. You’re still on your hands and knees half an hour later as you feel the pressure behind your hole is mountain and you feel the weight of days worth of sweet creamy shit pressing against your hole. Despite your best efforts, a fart sputters out along with a bit of shit and melted glycerine.

“I’m ready to empty,” you groan loudly in defeat. Your feeder walks in on a pathetic scene. Fat pig on their hands and knees, swollen gut gurgling and hanging on the floor, drenched in sweat, hole quivering with the anticipation of finally getting some reprieve. He lays an industrial bucket behind your cellulite-ridden ass.

“All right pig, let’s see the aftermath of that gluttony,” the words are barely out his mouth before the gates part and shit starts pummelling onto the bottom of the bucket. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, as log after log of constipated shit leaves its incubator. Rumbling farts and stomach gurgles are all that can be heard as the shit gets sloppier and bursts out of your poor tender hole. You moan half in pain half in pleasure.

Your feeder smirks, knowing you’ll be laying cable trying to empty all that waste for at least the next couple of hours.

#constipated #slob

The struggle between choosing the farmer persona and the eprocto scientist persona is real

Food is clearly fermenting nicely inside my intestines, and I must hold in my gas for the time being because there are people behind me that will ✨know✨

I'll also be stuffing my tummy with more food soon!

I should add- it is in fact leftover baked pasta with an ungodly deliciously sinful amount of cheese

It is official I am doing!! My very first official hold on record!!!

Ate psyllium husk, 3 big servings of baked pasta with an ungodly deliciously sinful amount of cheese, abd topped that thang off with more psyllium husk

The left of my colon feels a little full, but this is only the beginning. I'll update in the coming days, send me your encouragements and food ideas!

Perhaps I can be convinced to eat a little sugar free candy for extra gas who knows 👀

sorry I'm dead I'm stressed and lazy

ok hear me out but have u ever thought of torture w it? Like ofc consensual but like chaining someone up and continuously ripping mad ass in their lap ((they can't get away))

or someone doing THAT to YOU🧁🌺🎀

My boyfriend sent me this fucking amazing scenario and it's all I've been able to think about

So I've written this piece for it

Enjoy, I know I fucking did ^-^

CONTENT WARNINGS: Gas (of course), restraints, dubious consent/mild torture (with the gas), mild knifeplay, read at your own risk fellas ~~~

You’d known this would happen, really. When he’d taken you out to eat — to that lovely pasta place you two loved to visit — he’d ordered way more than you knew he could handle. All that free bread, too. You’d watched him. It didn’t take long for his stomach to start its familiar protest, gurgling and grumbling under his shirt while he drove. Each time it did, he’d wince, and pull a pained little face. You could tell he was trying to ignore it, to keep it out of the conversation, but you just couldn’t let that happen.

You were poking fun. Literally, and figuratively. Teasing, taunting, reaching out to prod at his gut. He couldn’t exactly push you away — you were in the passenger seat, right next to him — and with every jab, you could feel how full he was. Poor guy. He grit his teeth, and tried to endure it. “I’m fine.” He’d insisted. “Just… lay off it, ok?” Like hell you’d listen to that. More teasing, poking, bratty little retorts. Almost like you were having a conversation with his bubbling belly.

You could tell it pissed him off. He furrowed his dark brows, cheeks burning and shoulders hunched. He kept hissing little demands, pleading, asking you to stop. Softly at first, but more forcefully, the more you teased and sassed. You ignored him, like a brat. By the time you’d gotten home, he practically slammed the door of the car shut, storming inside stiffly. Fuming.

You followed close behind. “What’s the matter??” You giggled, hovering over his shoulder. “Too embarrassed to admit you have gas??”

You saw his jaw clenched the second you uttered those words. His sharp eyes darting, staring daggers at you. You’d never seen him look so stern. It sent a chill down your spine, and you faltered a little. Clearly not enough to deter him, though. He shot an arm out, grabbing at your wrist with surprising strength. His grip was so tight it hurt. You couldn’t have pulled away even if you wanted to — much to his amusement — and with a firm yank, he pulled you closer to him, lowering his mouth to your ear. His voice was husky.

“I warned you to watch your fucking mouth.” He seethed. Oh dear god…

He practically pulled you off your feet, dragging you halfway across the house, towards your shared bedroom. He was rough, and the corners of his lips twitched up into a sadistic-looking grin. His stomach continued to growl, softly, under his hand.

Grrrmmm…

He winced. If he was in pain, it didn’t last long, though, when he threw you carelessly onto the bedspread. His usual tenderness had all but entirely seeped from him, replaced with frustration and… well, a killer stomachache, you supposed. You barely had time to retain your composure before he grabbed you again. Your eyes went wide.

In your daze, he’d gone digging through the drawers by the bed. In his hands, he held a thick length of chain. By this point, his smirk had spread into a full grin, and he regarded you with wide, dark eyes. “Teach you a fuckin’ lesson, huh?” He muttered, almost to himself, as he yanked your arms up. You yelped — which he paid no attention to — and felt the cold restraint rubbing against your wrists.

Good lord. He was tying you to the bedframe.

“What the fuck-?” You managed to stammer, before a low growl cut you off. You couldn’t tell whether it came from his throat of his belly. He ignored your confusion. The restraint was tight, and held your poor arms up high, behind your head. No matter how hard you squirmed, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Shit. You instantly regretted letting him practice so much on you.

He sat before you on the bed, taking a second to admire you. He chuckled deeply to himself, his voice rumbling in his chest. That laugh. It frightened you. “Not so cocky now, huh??” It was his turn to tease. His tone caused your cheeks to burn, and you lowered your eyes, squirming. Trying to tug on the chains. No luck.

He shuffled closer, putting a firm hand on your knee. He was warm. There was no way he was gonna… not now, right?? All because you teased him a little?? … He shuffled a little, from his place in front of you, sitting himself back down. Right in your lap. His weight pressed against your thighs, and the gesture took you by surprise, your eyes going wide.

His poor, overstuffed belly gave a low gurgle. It was a more desperate sound, and he huffed, placing his other hand on his side. Giving it a quick rub. “I can’t say you were wrong, though.” He chuckled. “I’ve been, ahem… holding back. For your sake.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean??You cocked your head, shooting him a confused look. All he did was laugh. And give a soft grunt. The unmistakable sound echoed through the room, and you felt it ripple against your lap, heating the area where he sat. You went stiff. No way he just…

But then the smell hit. God, it was awful. Fucking putrid, really, a disgusting concoction of whatever bullshit he’d eaten throughout the day. He sighed, in relief no doubt, while you thrashed about, turning your head, trying pathetically to escape the damn stench. Your arms were bound. Your couldn’t plug your nose, no matter how bad you tried. It burned.

His sadistic grin never once left his face, eyes scouring your writhing form. He was clearly amused. You could tell by the smug lilt in his voice. “I saved that just for you.” He seethed, grinding himself further against your leg. “Smells lovely, hmm?” You practically gagged. He clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk, so unappreciative. Such a brat.”

You felt ashamed to be blushing at his words.

“God, that’s foul…” You managed to mutter. He scoffed, narrowing his eyes. That look, the one that made your blood run cold, returned to his face.

… He leaned over your pitiful form, reaching into a drawer behind you. He pulled out something metallic, that glinted under the dim light seeping through the closed blinds. A blade. Why the fuck did he have a knife on hand??

Never-mind that, though, because you had no time to think. Within a few seconds, he’d twirled it in his trained hand, and pressed the cold metal right against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. It was so close. You really had to watch that temper of his. “Watch yourself.” He demanded, shifting around in his seat. Still firmly pressed into your lap.

Grrrgggllmm…

He let out a shaky breath, biting his lip, and forced out another fetid, rippling burst. He strained to push it out, and you were worried he’d let the knife at your throat slip in the struggle. But he held it still.

Jesus Christ, the smell. Somehow worse the second time. You let out a sharp cough, and forced yourself to hold your breath. Blinking back the tears from your watery eyes. He didn’t seem to take too kindly to this, and with his only free hand, reached up towards your face, clamping it over your mouth. You couldn’t breathe.

You had no choice. You could usually hold it for a while, but god, it had taken you by surprise. Air was running thin, and it wasn’t long before you were forced to inhale sharply, through your nose.

Goddamn repulsive. He seemed overjoyed by your whines.

“You love it.” He hissed, pressing the cold metal further against your nape. One wrong move, and it’d slice straight from shoulder to jaw. “Go on, tell me. You love it.” You had no choice but to comply.

“I-… I love it.” Your words were muffled into his hands. His grin twitched cruelly.

“It smells good, huh??” “It… fuck-… it smells so good…”

So fucking degrading. You could tell it excited him. His rhythmic grinding against your thigh told you more than enough.

“You want more. Go on. Beg for me.” … You considered resisting, but a flick of his wrist reminded you who was in charge. You let out a strangled whimper. “I said beg.”

“Shit-… Please. Please, I want more.”

He tittered in mock disgust. “You’re fucking filthy.”

But he did as you’d asked. He lowered the hand clasping at your face, and pressed the heel of his palm into his stomach, causing it to growl and churn. He was coaxing more out, you could hear it. You have a last-ditch effort to tug at your wrists, trying one last time to free yourself. Hah. No luck.

The next one sounded awful. Loud, long, and almost sickly, damn near surprising him as well. It was a miracle that he could handle his own damn brand. Was this the kind of shit he was holding daily?? It almost made you regret picking on him so frequently.

“Go on.” He urged you. You were too light-headed to protest. You just hoped to god he’d spare you soon.

“It smells lovely-…” You stammered, swallowing back a gag as you spoke. “Th-… Thank you.”

“Good.”

For your good behaviour, he loosened the grip on his knife, giving you a little more room to breathe. Not that it’d help. Every single sniffle was tainted. And there you were, drinking it in, begging like some sort of animal. If he’d wanted to teach you a lesson, he’d made his point clear as fucking day.

But he wasn’t done with you yet. There was plenty more where that came from, you could tell. Might as well make the most of it. You could be there for a while.

Do you ever just walk around the city and feel how insanely bloated you are, while you're on your way for your lecture, nevertheless?

I'd eaten so much sauerkraut for dinner, like six times the usual serving if it's served instead of some other salad. A whole big full bowl of it. At first nothing had happened, but then I had realised just how bloated I felt and how bloated I *looked*, and how gassy I was getting. By the time I got to the lecture hall, I'd been holding in gas and everything was so uncomfortable. I was experiencing pretty painful gas pains, my whole stomach was full under touch and so round I had to undo my trousers, and I still had to squeeze my cheeks and hold all the farts is. It's a pretty small lecture, thank God, so I could sit in the last row no problems with my hand on my belly, feeling everything gurgle underneath.

Still, halfway through, I got such a strong gas pain I had to wait it out, and then I rushed to the bathroom. The second I was out of the door, I leaned forward and bore down, and a huge stinky and hot fart erupted. No one was in the hall, I think, so I rushed to the bathroom and then just squatted in the stall, and farts just fell out of me. I crouched there for 5 mins and I was farting constantly. It stank so bad and I swear I could almost feel myself deflate with each huge fart.

I came back for the lecture and less than a minute later, guess what, I had to hold in a fart *again* and feel it bubble in back *AGAIN*

-- 🧜‍♀️

anon you kill me every time I'm meltinggg 😳😩 goddamn, you rushing out of the lecture hall and immediately ripping ass would have been such a sight to see 🤤 and then going into the stall just to crouch and try and vent as much gas as possible? wish I was a fly on the wall tbh 🥴🥵 I bet the sound and smell was incredible.

hope you managed to keep a lid on it for the remainder of your lecture, and that the relief when you were finally done was worth it 😵‍💫

i believe her name might have been Olivia, if that helps

ohhh shit u right

Thx anon I'll update the search post!

at the dinned table. straight up "rubbing it." and by "it," lets justr say, my tumby