An excerpt from a piece I'm currently working on:
...There's something about the sheer hunger, something very masculine about the concept of devouring--Takeru Kobayashi's world famous hot dog eating eating contests, frat boys downing bongs. It definitely has something to do with the fact that once he has filled himself to capacity--the good ones, the "feedees", can drink almost a gallon at a time--he is incapacitated. No bondage cuffs could hold a pretty boy as willingly in thrall as the warm, heavy belly and the loggy feeling that comes after an orgy of overindulgence. To my mind, there is nothing so sweet to look at as a naked, full-bellied boy "sleeping it off"...
It's a lot like bar hopping in that I drop down into a crossfire of conversation, a hungry boy latches onto me, and if he passes the first tests of grammar and basic articulateness I take him aside into a private chat-room. We'll stay there for the first "getting to know you" paragraphs and then switch to Yahoo chat for the webcams. The little screen opens and I see an unfamiliar bedroom, a new body.
He's naked in an office chair. I can see his brush, his dick...oh, and his belly. He's just a little plump, so it contrasts nicely with the rest of his body, not to big or too small, and I can't see the rest of him because he's angled the camera to cut out his face. Once when he moved to the other side of the room to get something something shifted and I spied the color of his hair before he bought up his hand to cover his face like a prima donna hounded by the paparazzi. I want to respect his privacy and yet at the same time it seems so frustrating and pointless not to be able to see his face.
Beside him is one of those plain plastic tubs of ice cream you can get at the grocery store. He says he's let the ice cream inside melt, so that he can swallow it more easily and it won't give him a tummy freeze. Such details fascinate me, all the little bitty things that can't be thought of, but can only be realized through experience. Like a sailor talking about proper knots or a foodie describing the various ways to make a single dish, you can tell a true expert by the attention to detail, the little things he does to make the job easier.
He lifts the whole thing to his mouth, like drinking from a bucket. There's no way he can drink a gallon, but he's going to try. My clit swells as I watch his throat move, and if I watch carefully I can even see his tummy grow a bit with each swallow, each gulp traveling down to press it out a little more. A loop of melted cream falls across the soft flesh just above his nipple, and I offer to lick it off.
He stops, overwhelmed. He can't do it, though he made a good try. His tummy is noticeably bigger, rounder. fuller. This pleases me: that he looks better, that my favorite part of him is more exaggerated, that his senses are overwhelmed with sweetness and richness and gluttony. He runs his hand down his belly, caressing it, then, without asking me, begins to jerk off.
Showing posts with label cyber sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cyber sex. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Chat of the Week: How Americans Have Sex
I don't know what I wrote anymore, but my UK friend Cee found it pretty offensive.
Cee: Theres a diffrence between being sexy and tasteless, you know
Me: I never quite figured that line out, I suppose. Anyway, feederism is supposed to be messy. Sex is messy. Or maybe I am just a tasteless American chubby chick.
Cee: Yeah, you'd fuck a bald eagle burger on top of the stars and stripes.
Me: Wow.
Cee: With a baseball shoved in your asshole--
Me: um...
Cee: --underneath your gun rack whilst your sister watches. American dream. :)
Cee: Theres a diffrence between being sexy and tasteless, you know
Me: I never quite figured that line out, I suppose. Anyway, feederism is supposed to be messy. Sex is messy. Or maybe I am just a tasteless American chubby chick.
Cee: Yeah, you'd fuck a bald eagle burger on top of the stars and stripes.
Me: Wow.
Cee: With a baseball shoved in your asshole--
Me: um...
Cee: --underneath your gun rack whilst your sister watches. American dream. :)
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Stuffer Story: Warm Milk
Here it is at last: the first part of one of my stuffer stories.
Rufus Hex
Rufus Hex hated hotel rooms.
Strange aversion, for a musician, but then he had spent his formative years in a dormitory, rather than on the road. Upon his becoming more well-known he had become more familiar with them, but had hated them none the less. He despised them whether they were clean with huge smothering comforters, so quiet you could hear the ice rattle in the machine at the end of the hallway, or old ratty ones where the coverings scratched and the AC banged all night long.
This one was pretty, though, with a huge picture window looking out on New York City. And a kitchen and private bath. When he had come in he thought this might, possibly, be the first hotel room he would have liked--for there would have also been a pretty boy in it, barefoot, with neatly pressed shirts, a magically small waist, and bare feet below the immaculate suit.
Instead it was raining, and Rufus was kneeling on the sofa, his tummy pressed into the rough cloth, and listened to Mister Six talking about canceled flights.
"And there's no other way...?" asked Rufus. He brushed his hair out of his eyes as he listened. It was jet black and very long, but the stylists had it dyed deep blue so that in light it shimmered with indigo highlights.
"...but it doesn't really matter," said Mister Six into his ear, "because I'm going to be there for a whole week afterwards..."
Yes but not this day, this time we agreed on. Instead of the vision he had been nursing all day--all week--all the month they had been sending a web of e-mails and texts and late-night phone calls to create a vision, an idea, that Rufus Hex and Mister Six might actually meet in a hotel room and touch one another, become real, he would have to pretend he had more important things in his life, plans, hobbies, and read books whose words he would not even remember the next day. He felt the whole day opening up before him, empty, a wasteland.
"All right", said Rufus, and he could hear every drop of his defeat pressing through those words. "Love you." Press end. He put his arms down on the sofa back and watched it rain.
It was all so fragile, he reflected, these ridiculous assignments. There was no Mister Andre Six. All this time he had been making love to a photograph without seeming to notice...only this one could talk, would tell him how much to drink, how to finger his ass, could whisper all the gluttonous fantasies that would never fail to bring him to orgasm...There had been days he thought he could not live without that voice in his ear. But today, what did he have?
Rufus heaved an immense sigh, miserable with his own stupidity, and flung himself back on the sofa with his arm on his eyes. He should have known better. These things seemed so simple--Mister Six would move from one point to another, and the two would meet, point A and point R, when in reality it was just another torment.
Rufus had unbuttoned his shirt in his privacy and anticipation, and realized he had been unconsciously tracing his soft nipples. They were large, each with a nip of softness underneath them....not moobs, but proof his stockiness wasn't all just broad shoulders. His skin was perfect, an almost phosphorescent white, which had somehow come out along with his pure black hair and sleepy blue eyes, with their girlishly long lashes. He fervently wished that it was not his own broad hands touching his nipples, and that made him rub them until they became hard. He traced the scar around one of them, followed the spiral down his chest and then to his tummy, which made him smile. Unlike most pop singers, Rufus had no abs, just a gentle rounding below his pectorals. Around the height of his navel it became more pronounced, a soft bulge of tummy, and he remembered the gasp of joy he'd heard when he had taken off his shirt for the first time in front of Mister Six, modeling for him in front of the webcam.
Rufus grinned without realizing he was doing so. That was the power that Andre Six had over him, that even in his disappointment, even when he wanted to throw his laptop across the room in his frustration, just the idea of him could get him off. Rufus curved his back slightly, pushed out his stomach muscles, and ran his broad hand down his belly, caressing. There was something special about that curve, something so delightful in the feeling of soft, delicate flesh that was a secret key to all his lust. He pulled his tummy in, pressed it out, began to rub a little harder, faster.
His phone throbbed in his hand. Check e-mail, it said.
Andre Six to me:
virgin sucks ass.
but i don't want you to have a sad birthday. and, actually, one of your presents was supposed to come today. but since i can't be there, i thought sending you an e-mail would be best.
Happy Birthday, Rufus: i got you a tummy fluffer!
"A what?" said Rufus, though there was no one to hear him. He had learned a lot of words from Mister Six in the six months that they had been emailing each other, such as feeder, feedee, stuffing, and inflation (though Rufus felt like he had never quite been able to get over that last one.) Still, this word was entirely unknown to him.
as far as i can tell, she's the first of her kind. but she's something you'll really like. she's quiet and adorable, and will help you with whatever you want, but she says she likes boy's bellies best. i've told her your likes and dislikes and she should come prepared to cater to them. she's a good masseuse.
she told me she liked boys with black hair, blue eyes, "and I like it if they're taller than me they should have a little bit of a tummy." now, who does that sound like?
her name is Molly Ren, but she likes to be called "kitten".
The attached picture was of a very curvy lady, dressed in a corset and with some very frilly underthings on. She had curly hair. Rufus couldn't tell much more about her, however, because the main focus of the photo was her behind.
* * *
More to come! Part 2 is now here!
Rufus Hex hated hotel rooms.
Strange aversion, for a musician, but then he had spent his formative years in a dormitory, rather than on the road. Upon his becoming more well-known he had become more familiar with them, but had hated them none the less. He despised them whether they were clean with huge smothering comforters, so quiet you could hear the ice rattle in the machine at the end of the hallway, or old ratty ones where the coverings scratched and the AC banged all night long.
This one was pretty, though, with a huge picture window looking out on New York City. And a kitchen and private bath. When he had come in he thought this might, possibly, be the first hotel room he would have liked--for there would have also been a pretty boy in it, barefoot, with neatly pressed shirts, a magically small waist, and bare feet below the immaculate suit.
Instead it was raining, and Rufus was kneeling on the sofa, his tummy pressed into the rough cloth, and listened to Mister Six talking about canceled flights.
"And there's no other way...?" asked Rufus. He brushed his hair out of his eyes as he listened. It was jet black and very long, but the stylists had it dyed deep blue so that in light it shimmered with indigo highlights.
"...but it doesn't really matter," said Mister Six into his ear, "because I'm going to be there for a whole week afterwards..."
Yes but not this day, this time we agreed on. Instead of the vision he had been nursing all day--all week--all the month they had been sending a web of e-mails and texts and late-night phone calls to create a vision, an idea, that Rufus Hex and Mister Six might actually meet in a hotel room and touch one another, become real, he would have to pretend he had more important things in his life, plans, hobbies, and read books whose words he would not even remember the next day. He felt the whole day opening up before him, empty, a wasteland.
"All right", said Rufus, and he could hear every drop of his defeat pressing through those words. "Love you." Press end. He put his arms down on the sofa back and watched it rain.
It was all so fragile, he reflected, these ridiculous assignments. There was no Mister Andre Six. All this time he had been making love to a photograph without seeming to notice...only this one could talk, would tell him how much to drink, how to finger his ass, could whisper all the gluttonous fantasies that would never fail to bring him to orgasm...There had been days he thought he could not live without that voice in his ear. But today, what did he have?
Rufus heaved an immense sigh, miserable with his own stupidity, and flung himself back on the sofa with his arm on his eyes. He should have known better. These things seemed so simple--Mister Six would move from one point to another, and the two would meet, point A and point R, when in reality it was just another torment.
Rufus had unbuttoned his shirt in his privacy and anticipation, and realized he had been unconsciously tracing his soft nipples. They were large, each with a nip of softness underneath them....not moobs, but proof his stockiness wasn't all just broad shoulders. His skin was perfect, an almost phosphorescent white, which had somehow come out along with his pure black hair and sleepy blue eyes, with their girlishly long lashes. He fervently wished that it was not his own broad hands touching his nipples, and that made him rub them until they became hard. He traced the scar around one of them, followed the spiral down his chest and then to his tummy, which made him smile. Unlike most pop singers, Rufus had no abs, just a gentle rounding below his pectorals. Around the height of his navel it became more pronounced, a soft bulge of tummy, and he remembered the gasp of joy he'd heard when he had taken off his shirt for the first time in front of Mister Six, modeling for him in front of the webcam.
Rufus grinned without realizing he was doing so. That was the power that Andre Six had over him, that even in his disappointment, even when he wanted to throw his laptop across the room in his frustration, just the idea of him could get him off. Rufus curved his back slightly, pushed out his stomach muscles, and ran his broad hand down his belly, caressing. There was something special about that curve, something so delightful in the feeling of soft, delicate flesh that was a secret key to all his lust. He pulled his tummy in, pressed it out, began to rub a little harder, faster.
His phone throbbed in his hand. Check e-mail, it said.
Andre Six to me:
virgin sucks ass.
but i don't want you to have a sad birthday. and, actually, one of your presents was supposed to come today. but since i can't be there, i thought sending you an e-mail would be best.
Happy Birthday, Rufus: i got you a tummy fluffer!
"A what?" said Rufus, though there was no one to hear him. He had learned a lot of words from Mister Six in the six months that they had been emailing each other, such as feeder, feedee, stuffing, and inflation (though Rufus felt like he had never quite been able to get over that last one.) Still, this word was entirely unknown to him.
as far as i can tell, she's the first of her kind. but she's something you'll really like. she's quiet and adorable, and will help you with whatever you want, but she says she likes boy's bellies best. i've told her your likes and dislikes and she should come prepared to cater to them. she's a good masseuse.
she told me she liked boys with black hair, blue eyes, "and I like it if they're taller than me they should have a little bit of a tummy." now, who does that sound like?
her name is Molly Ren, but she likes to be called "kitten".
The attached picture was of a very curvy lady, dressed in a corset and with some very frilly underthings on. She had curly hair. Rufus couldn't tell much more about her, however, because the main focus of the photo was her behind.
* * *
More to come! Part 2 is now here!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Cyberfun
MOLLY REN: i wish you were in my country. it's a bit odd just knowing you on the internet
CEE: howcome?
MOLLY REN: you could be anybody, and yet I talk to you more than I talk to most people here
CEE: well, in all fairness, we're anonymous and similar in fetish, allowing for what may be considered my most open friendships, ever
MOLLY REN: that's exactly it. we are anonymous
CEE: yup
MOLLY REN: and yet we talk all the time
CEE: you dont even know my real name
MOLLY REN: yep. Mr. Lives or "Cee: a friend" on my blog
CEE: hehe. im not gonna tell you either of my names tho
MOLLY REN: i kind of don't want to know. a shred of romanticism, I suppose. if i knew your real name it would be harder to have fantasies about you
CEE: if you knew too much about my real life, i would probably feel worse about sharing fetishes with you
MOLLY REN: why worse?
CEE: the idea that exploring fetishes on webcam may be seen as cheating. yet, there's the realization that i love my gf and not you, which puts it back in perspective
MOLLY REN: i was reading an article about that today. people are still trying to figure it out, how seriously cyberfun can be taken
CEE: my real life is too good to take it seriously. even at the worst of times, its still eventful. and i dont come to the internet to escape reality, more to escape monotony.
CEE: i went to the shops, did paperwork, coursework, had a ride, did some gardening and housework today. i have mild insomnia by night
CEE: i donno
CEE: cyberfun is serious if you consider it the main part of your life, i suspect
MOLLY REN: mm-hmm
CEE: what do you think?
MOLLY REN: i think it's just fun for us
CEE: yeah, like exchanging pornography. but some people see porn as being unfaithful. i say fuck em
MOLLY REN: haha. even if YOU'RE the porn?
CEE: pornstars uphold serious relationships. its just a job for them
MOLLY REN:so you're an amateur porn star I am on friendly terms with
MOLLY REN:or
MOLLY REN: the most awesome interactive porn ever
CEE: howcome?
MOLLY REN: you could be anybody, and yet I talk to you more than I talk to most people here
CEE: well, in all fairness, we're anonymous and similar in fetish, allowing for what may be considered my most open friendships, ever
MOLLY REN: that's exactly it. we are anonymous
CEE: yup
MOLLY REN: and yet we talk all the time
CEE: you dont even know my real name
MOLLY REN: yep. Mr. Lives or "Cee: a friend" on my blog
CEE: hehe. im not gonna tell you either of my names tho
MOLLY REN: i kind of don't want to know. a shred of romanticism, I suppose. if i knew your real name it would be harder to have fantasies about you
CEE: if you knew too much about my real life, i would probably feel worse about sharing fetishes with you
MOLLY REN: why worse?
CEE: the idea that exploring fetishes on webcam may be seen as cheating. yet, there's the realization that i love my gf and not you, which puts it back in perspective
MOLLY REN: i was reading an article about that today. people are still trying to figure it out, how seriously cyberfun can be taken
CEE: my real life is too good to take it seriously. even at the worst of times, its still eventful. and i dont come to the internet to escape reality, more to escape monotony.
CEE: i went to the shops, did paperwork, coursework, had a ride, did some gardening and housework today. i have mild insomnia by night
CEE: i donno
CEE: cyberfun is serious if you consider it the main part of your life, i suspect
MOLLY REN: mm-hmm
CEE: what do you think?
MOLLY REN: i think it's just fun for us
CEE: yeah, like exchanging pornography. but some people see porn as being unfaithful. i say fuck em
MOLLY REN: haha. even if YOU'RE the porn?
CEE: pornstars uphold serious relationships. its just a job for them
MOLLY REN:so you're an amateur porn star I am on friendly terms with
MOLLY REN:or
MOLLY REN: the most awesome interactive porn ever
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
It's A Small World After All
When you have a rare fetish, you often wonder how many other people share your interests. Are there only a few dozen, or maybe uncounted millions, just waiting for you to stumble upon the right keyword or underground club?
MOLLY REN: bet you'll make the elastic snap soon with an appetite like yours
Bloated Belly Boy: Well, it's not just my belly stretching it
MOLLY REN: yes I bet you can hardly keep it in. maybe you could slip them off, reach around that swollen gut of yours and give it a pull or two
Bloated Belly Boy: mmm, sounds good to me
MOLLY REN: just shut your eyes and imagine a plump girl like me reaching around to massage that big hog's belly
Bloated Belly Boy: Oh god, that would be heaven
MOLLY REN: have to use both hands
When Bloated Belly Boy (or BBB for short) messaged me on Myspace, we wasted no time getting hot and heavy. Of course, since BBB is from the UK, it was only cybersex.
Bloated Belly Boy: Mmm, I'd reach back and rub you too
MOLLY REN: you'll be too busy playing with that stiffy in your pants, because that's what I want
Bloated Belly Boy: Mmm, yes ma'am
MOLLY REN: I don't want you to stop until you come all over your huge stuffed belly
Bloated Belly Boy: How can I say no to that?
This is strange, I thought. I suppose in RL terms it would be the equivalent of picking up a stranger in a dark bar and finding out in the make out room that you both had the same rhythm. He demanded to be punished, I called him names; he told me he was "so close" and I sent him a string of saucy words designed to push him over the edge. Then suddenly he wanted to see my face.
MOLLY REN: what do you look like?
BBB: That:
The collarbones-to-navel shot that was his profile pic was replaced by a face shot. It was like pulling someone out of the bar into the light of the street lamps and realizing they were the same person you'd dated in the same bar months before.
MOLLY REN: hmmm. you know, you were on {pervy website XXX}, weren't you?
BBB: I was, crap I didn't realize it was you
Even before I showed him a face pic, he knew at once who I was.
MOLLY REN: hahahaha, of all the boys in the UK how did I not recognize you?
Bloated Belly Boy: God, who'd have thought, I can't believe I never realized it was you
MOLLY REN: i can't either. so, dear, long time no see :)
BBB, using different pics and a different handle, had IM'd me almost nightly in the "early days"--i.e. around 5 months ago--when I first began a serious search for a boy that shared my fetish. Like Alex and the Colt, he'd disappeared from the internets without a trace. But apparently it didn't mean he'd lost interest.
Bloated Belly Boy: Indeed, I had to take a hiatus, real life got in the way. But I'm back now
MOLLY REN: amazing. i was going to like send you an e-mail or something, but I thought you'd lost interest, so I didn't.
MOLLY REN: geeze, I guess this fetish really is rare, eh?
I suppose, in some way possible only on the internet, it makes sense that we would all know each other eventually. The main hangouts on the internet for (straight) stuffers and feeders are Myspace, YouTube, and the occasional fetish website. The Colt says he's talked to Bellydude500, who I also occasionally chat with. In cyberspace, the fact that the Colt lives on the western side of the US and Bellydude500 the east are immaterial. Seen like that, perhaps it's not so crazy me and BBB would run into each other's profiles again, even though we live on separate continents.
MOLLY REN: bet you'll make the elastic snap soon with an appetite like yours
Bloated Belly Boy: Well, it's not just my belly stretching it
MOLLY REN: yes I bet you can hardly keep it in. maybe you could slip them off, reach around that swollen gut of yours and give it a pull or two
Bloated Belly Boy: mmm, sounds good to me
MOLLY REN: just shut your eyes and imagine a plump girl like me reaching around to massage that big hog's belly
Bloated Belly Boy: Oh god, that would be heaven
MOLLY REN: have to use both hands
When Bloated Belly Boy (or BBB for short) messaged me on Myspace, we wasted no time getting hot and heavy. Of course, since BBB is from the UK, it was only cybersex.
Bloated Belly Boy: Mmm, I'd reach back and rub you too
MOLLY REN: you'll be too busy playing with that stiffy in your pants, because that's what I want
Bloated Belly Boy: Mmm, yes ma'am
MOLLY REN: I don't want you to stop until you come all over your huge stuffed belly
Bloated Belly Boy: How can I say no to that?
This is strange, I thought. I suppose in RL terms it would be the equivalent of picking up a stranger in a dark bar and finding out in the make out room that you both had the same rhythm. He demanded to be punished, I called him names; he told me he was "so close" and I sent him a string of saucy words designed to push him over the edge. Then suddenly he wanted to see my face.
MOLLY REN: what do you look like?
BBB: That:
The collarbones-to-navel shot that was his profile pic was replaced by a face shot. It was like pulling someone out of the bar into the light of the street lamps and realizing they were the same person you'd dated in the same bar months before.
MOLLY REN: hmmm. you know, you were on {pervy website XXX}, weren't you?
BBB: I was, crap I didn't realize it was you
Even before I showed him a face pic, he knew at once who I was.
MOLLY REN: hahahaha, of all the boys in the UK how did I not recognize you?
Bloated Belly Boy: God, who'd have thought, I can't believe I never realized it was you
MOLLY REN: i can't either. so, dear, long time no see :)
BBB, using different pics and a different handle, had IM'd me almost nightly in the "early days"--i.e. around 5 months ago--when I first began a serious search for a boy that shared my fetish. Like Alex and the Colt, he'd disappeared from the internets without a trace. But apparently it didn't mean he'd lost interest.
Bloated Belly Boy: Indeed, I had to take a hiatus, real life got in the way. But I'm back now
MOLLY REN: amazing. i was going to like send you an e-mail or something, but I thought you'd lost interest, so I didn't.
MOLLY REN: geeze, I guess this fetish really is rare, eh?
I suppose, in some way possible only on the internet, it makes sense that we would all know each other eventually. The main hangouts on the internet for (straight) stuffers and feeders are Myspace, YouTube, and the occasional fetish website. The Colt says he's talked to Bellydude500, who I also occasionally chat with. In cyberspace, the fact that the Colt lives on the western side of the US and Bellydude500 the east are immaterial. Seen like that, perhaps it's not so crazy me and BBB would run into each other's profiles again, even though we live on separate continents.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Miss Lioness
I'll tell you what I look like.
I have a mane of curly brown-gold hair, falling between my shoulder blades. I have an oval face, plump cheeks, a beauty mark by the side of my mouth. Hazel eyes. My throat is very soft. Sometimes my chin looks double when I lower my head to type or write.
I'm not sure where the hair starts. Perhaps it begins under my chin? Or further down, around the collarbones? It's plush and tawny, like a new child's toy.
One thing for sure, my large breasts are bare. They are delicately soft, and pure white, with large nipples. Two rows of smaller pink nipples, like those of a bitch, run down the curve of my plump furry belly. At their end there is bare skin again, around my slit and anus.
In profile I am a lioness--a sphinx--with a large belly and a tufted, lashing tail.
When the Colt and I am talking, playing games with text messaging or IMing with our webcams--this is how I imagine myself. I don't know how he sees me when he's having the happy fantasy of me much larger than him, pressing him down under my heavy body, licking him with raspy tongue. It's as much a costume as a French maid's or a slutty little outfit to go clubbing in, and it gives us both the same sudden freedom to do as we like, to let a part of ourselves out we can't show to anyone else.
There is one big difference, though. Since it is all a fantasy that we're writing together, existing only in the shifty realm of cyberspace, we can do things that are impossible in the ordinary world.
MISS LIONESS: Purr?!
THE COLT: I prefer Lioness growl!
MISS LIONESS: --Nibbles your tummy! --
Then nothing for an hour or two. I was in bed asleep when my phone buzzed on the table.
THE COLT: My phone died I so sorry Lioness!
MISS LIONESS: Rawr!
THE COLT: Furgive me lioness!
MISS LIONESS: You know what lionesses do to little beasties like you!
THE COLT: --shivers-- What do they do Miss Lioness!--
MISS LIONESS: They eat them! --gulps you down in a single bite--
THE COLT: --gasp!-- isn't there some sort of compromise we can reach?!
MISS LIONESS: Nope, ur in my tummy! --patpat. burp!--
THE COLT: What can I do!
MISS LIONESS: You'll never get out!
THE COLT: --squirms!--
In the half-trance that writing and wanking puts me in, I feel the pleasure seize my belly. I imagine I have a little colt snuggled inside it, pushing up on the inside of my skin, a acidless biteless full-body fuck.
THE COLT: I could escape if I wanted you know!
God, I think, rubbing my heated belly, I like this.
Image is of the Guennol Lioness.
I have a mane of curly brown-gold hair, falling between my shoulder blades. I have an oval face, plump cheeks, a beauty mark by the side of my mouth. Hazel eyes. My throat is very soft. Sometimes my chin looks double when I lower my head to type or write.
I'm not sure where the hair starts. Perhaps it begins under my chin? Or further down, around the collarbones? It's plush and tawny, like a new child's toy.
One thing for sure, my large breasts are bare. They are delicately soft, and pure white, with large nipples. Two rows of smaller pink nipples, like those of a bitch, run down the curve of my plump furry belly. At their end there is bare skin again, around my slit and anus.
In profile I am a lioness--a sphinx--with a large belly and a tufted, lashing tail.
When the Colt and I am talking, playing games with text messaging or IMing with our webcams--this is how I imagine myself. I don't know how he sees me when he's having the happy fantasy of me much larger than him, pressing him down under my heavy body, licking him with raspy tongue. It's as much a costume as a French maid's or a slutty little outfit to go clubbing in, and it gives us both the same sudden freedom to do as we like, to let a part of ourselves out we can't show to anyone else.
There is one big difference, though. Since it is all a fantasy that we're writing together, existing only in the shifty realm of cyberspace, we can do things that are impossible in the ordinary world.
MISS LIONESS: Purr?!
THE COLT: I prefer Lioness growl!
MISS LIONESS: --Nibbles your tummy! --
Then nothing for an hour or two. I was in bed asleep when my phone buzzed on the table.
THE COLT: My phone died I so sorry Lioness!
MISS LIONESS: Rawr!
THE COLT: Furgive me lioness!
MISS LIONESS: You know what lionesses do to little beasties like you!
THE COLT: --shivers-- What do they do Miss Lioness!--
MISS LIONESS: They eat them! --gulps you down in a single bite--
THE COLT: --gasp!-- isn't there some sort of compromise we can reach?!
MISS LIONESS: Nope, ur in my tummy! --patpat. burp!--
THE COLT: What can I do!
MISS LIONESS: You'll never get out!
THE COLT: --squirms!--
In the half-trance that writing and wanking puts me in, I feel the pleasure seize my belly. I imagine I have a little colt snuggled inside it, pushing up on the inside of my skin, a acidless biteless full-body fuck.
THE COLT: I could escape if I wanted you know!
God, I think, rubbing my heated belly, I like this.
Image is of the Guennol Lioness.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Stuffer Boy Sunday: Alex
When Alex re-appeared on IM after several weeks with no word, he told me that he was leaving next month. For Japan.
ME: fuck
ME: you wanna meet with me before you go?
ALEX: you'd want to?
ME: yeah
ALEX: i wasnt sure if you'd want to since i was leaving but id still really like to
ME: hey, it's not your fault you have to leave
ALEX: you'd be real disappointed in me right now though, i havent been working out and i gained like 10 lbs
He'd sent me pictures of himself before he disappeared, when he'd looked like this:
My mouth watered as I tried to imagine this succulent new addition to his body. It's the contrast that I crave. Just as a man wants a tiny waist to be on the same body as a pair of DD breasts, the combination of extremes pushes all my buttons.
ALEX: ive totally been gorging myself since ive been home
ALEX: i had a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake, then mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, general tso's chicken with chicken fried rice, then 18 wings tonight and a frappucino from starbucks
Alex is a long distance runner. He has a long, hard body, and I've often imagined stroking its hard taut angles. But now there will be this little bit of softness, proof of his voracious appetite. And where there's a huge hunger for one of the sensual pleasures, there's usually a desire for the others that's just as strong...
ME: I wanna see your new body
ME: that's like my favourite fantasy, bony guys getting slightly softer
ALEX: that's kinda what happened to me, its mostly in my torso i think, you cant really tell anywhere else
ALEX: you dont think i should work out and try to get back in shape, it usually only takes me like a week
I quibbled, told him it was really his decision. I didn't want to force him into changing even more when I knew how much work it took to get his body to that level of hardness... even when the thought of him gorging himself even more had me rubbing against the chair.
But he wouldn't let up:
ALEX: why dont you tell me your opinion and ill take it into account and make a decision
ALEX: so same, lose or gain?
ME: do you get turned on being this way?
ME: or do you not like how it looks?
I know he's told me before he's had fantasies about gaining weight. He's told me that he wouldn't even mind if it slowed him down a little, even though he's used to leaving all the other boys in the dust.
ALEX: im okay with it either way as far as looks, its not exactly like i have anyone to impress
ALEX: your kind of like the only person i have to impress which was why i wanted your opinion because it matters
ME: I can't be the only one
ALEX: you are and im happy with that
ALEX: seriously i can go either way with it so you just have to let me know, dont be shy you can be honest
ME: hmmm
ME: can I see a pic?
ME: then maybe I could decide
its your lucky day, he wrote. His camera phone was working.
ME: you can't get rid of it until we get to cuddle
ALEX: wow im kinda surprised, i thought you liked me better the other way but that's cool you changed
ME: i was interested
ME: because I, um, have never been with a dude with abs
ME: but the fetish gets me every time
ME: tummies rule
ME: especially on boys
ALEX: haha that's true
ALEX: okay so now just to be sure, stay the same, gain or lose?
ME: I think stay the same
ALEX: okay sounds good
So he's keeping his body this way. For me.
It's the way a sub might wear a collar for their dom, I suppose. Only it's not like that at all. Collars can be taken off, marks made on the flesh from bites or a cane will heal. Instead he's changed the very form of his body into what both of us most desire.
ME: fuck
ME: you wanna meet with me before you go?
ALEX: you'd want to?
ME: yeah
ALEX: i wasnt sure if you'd want to since i was leaving but id still really like to
ME: hey, it's not your fault you have to leave
ALEX: you'd be real disappointed in me right now though, i havent been working out and i gained like 10 lbs
He'd sent me pictures of himself before he disappeared, when he'd looked like this:
My mouth watered as I tried to imagine this succulent new addition to his body. It's the contrast that I crave. Just as a man wants a tiny waist to be on the same body as a pair of DD breasts, the combination of extremes pushes all my buttons.
ALEX: ive totally been gorging myself since ive been home
ALEX: i had a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake, then mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, general tso's chicken with chicken fried rice, then 18 wings tonight and a frappucino from starbucks
Alex is a long distance runner. He has a long, hard body, and I've often imagined stroking its hard taut angles. But now there will be this little bit of softness, proof of his voracious appetite. And where there's a huge hunger for one of the sensual pleasures, there's usually a desire for the others that's just as strong...
ME: I wanna see your new body
ME: that's like my favourite fantasy, bony guys getting slightly softer
ALEX: that's kinda what happened to me, its mostly in my torso i think, you cant really tell anywhere else
ALEX: you dont think i should work out and try to get back in shape, it usually only takes me like a week
I quibbled, told him it was really his decision. I didn't want to force him into changing even more when I knew how much work it took to get his body to that level of hardness... even when the thought of him gorging himself even more had me rubbing against the chair.
But he wouldn't let up:
ALEX: why dont you tell me your opinion and ill take it into account and make a decision
ALEX: so same, lose or gain?
ME: do you get turned on being this way?
ME: or do you not like how it looks?
I know he's told me before he's had fantasies about gaining weight. He's told me that he wouldn't even mind if it slowed him down a little, even though he's used to leaving all the other boys in the dust.
ALEX: im okay with it either way as far as looks, its not exactly like i have anyone to impress
ALEX: your kind of like the only person i have to impress which was why i wanted your opinion because it matters
ME: I can't be the only one
ALEX: you are and im happy with that
ALEX: seriously i can go either way with it so you just have to let me know, dont be shy you can be honest
ME: hmmm
ME: can I see a pic?
ME: then maybe I could decide
its your lucky day, he wrote. His camera phone was working.
ME: you can't get rid of it until we get to cuddle
ALEX: wow im kinda surprised, i thought you liked me better the other way but that's cool you changed
ME: i was interested
ME: because I, um, have never been with a dude with abs
ME: but the fetish gets me every time
ME: tummies rule
ME: especially on boys
ALEX: haha that's true
ALEX: okay so now just to be sure, stay the same, gain or lose?
ME: I think stay the same
ALEX: okay sounds good
So he's keeping his body this way. For me.
It's the way a sub might wear a collar for their dom, I suppose. Only it's not like that at all. Collars can be taken off, marks made on the flesh from bites or a cane will heal. Instead he's changed the very form of his body into what both of us most desire.
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