Dehydrated Disaster: Swollen and Stuffed (Patreon)

MooberryG leaned back against the headboard, her breath coming in shallow, excited gasps as the first waves of expansion rippled through her. She had just finished scarfing down the entire packet of “Space Feast” astronaut food—crunchy, flavorless bricks she’d ordered online on a whim. She hadn’t bothered to read the tiny warning label: Rehydrate with 2 liters of water before consumption. Instead, she’d eaten them dry, chasing each bite with greedy gulps of soda.

Now, her hands roamed over her belly in slow, soothing circles. At first it was just a pleasant fullness, but within minutes the dehydrated meal began to react with the liquid already in her stomach. She felt it—a warm, insistent swelling, like a balloon slowly filling with thick, heavy air. Her palms pressed gently against the tightening skin as her tummy rounded outward, pushing against the fabric of her white turtleneck. “Ohhh… what’s happening?” she whispered, half-alarmed, half-aroused, as the pressure built. Her belly grew rounder, heavier, stretching impossibly tight and smooth, the navel deepening before popping outward. She massaged deeper, fingers sinking slightly into the taut dome, moaning softly as the inflation surged, making her thighs quiver and her core ache with unexpected heat.

Hours blurred into days. The expansion never fully stopped; the strange compounds kept absorbing every sip of water, every bite of food, turning her into a perpetually swelling, greedy vessel. She adapted quickly—too quickly—learning to love the immense weight that now rested between her spread legs like a living anchor.

Now, her room was a delicious mess: empty pizza boxes piled in the corners, chip bags crumpled on the floor, donut boxes and ice-cream tubs scattered across the dresser.

MooberryG lounged on her bed like a spoiled, bloated goddess, her gigantic belly an enormous, glossy orb that dominated everything. It was so heavy she could barely shift without help, the skin stretched drum-tight and warm, rising and falling with each lazy breath. She didn’t want to move anymore. Why would she, when being fed felt so much better?

“Come here, baby,” she cooed to her boyfriend, her voice thick with lazy lust. He knelt beside the bed, holding a some ice cream. She opened her mouth eagerly, like a spoiled little piggy, letting him slide it between her lips. Ice cream smeared her chin as she chewed slowly, eyes half-lidded in bliss, one hand idly stroking the vast curve of her belly while the other beckoned for more.

“That’s it… more...,” she murmured between bites, wiggling her hips as much as the weight allowed. Another scoop of ice cream, then handfuls of candy—anything to keep the fullness growing, to feel that delicious pressure build just a little more. She spent her days like this: immobile, indulged, utterly surrendered to the pleasure of being stuffed senseless, her massive belly her throne and her prison, every bite sending shivers of erotic satisfaction through her swollen, helpless body.