Sakuya WG - Vote 2 - Food Goes in Here (Patreon)

Another birthday bit courtesy of @belkadog!

Thanks so much!

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Getting off the sofa took both hands and a long, undignified grunt.

Sakuya planted her palms on the cushions and pushed. Her belly arrived first, a heavy, warm mass that slung forward and refused to tuck itself away. The maid’s short skirt carved into the underside of it. Her thighs, thick enough that they had long since stopped leaving a gap, smeared against each other as she rocked, stood, and immediately had to catch the arm of the sofa so she would not sit straight back down. Fabric creaked. Soft flesh settled. She was breathing harder than a walk down the hall should have required, and she loved it.

Meiling’s room smelled like ink and leftover bao. The gatekeeper sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by pages: Sakuya on all fours with her gut hanging, Sakuya from behind with the dress split up the back, Sakuya holding a cake with both arms because one was no longer enough. Every drawing was loving, precise, and extremely fat. Meiling did not look up from the line she was thickening around a particularly generous hip.

“Those are getting us banned,” Sakuya said. “Cheating the algorithm is too obvious.”

Meiling finally glanced at her, taking in the real thing: the strained bodice, the belly that had grown since the last sitting, the way Sakuya’s own weight made standing look like an event. “Then we need a pose that looks unsuspecting to people who do not already want all of your glory. Something they can share without admitting why they do.”

They tried a few. Hands on hips made the gut look extra aggressive. A kitchen shot looked like a fetish centerfold. Sakuya, already tired, dropped back onto the nearest couch in the room—the same sprawl she had lived in for days. One hand found a chip her tongue had been craving for. The other lifted her phone. Her belly poured across her lap. Her thighs claimed the cushions. The maid outfit did what it always did and strained to contain her.

Meiling stared, then started inking.

“That,” she said. “That is the one. It looks lazy. It looks like you just live on the couch. That could be a mood. Normies will call it ironic. They will say it is just a bit or attach memes to it. They will not say they are staring at the way your stomach sits on your legs or how much they want to burry their face between your tits.

Sakuya shifted so the pose matched the reference in her head: chip near her mouth, screen lighting the underside of her chin, body turned just enough to show scale. “And the shadowbans?”

Meiling rummaged, found a bright sticker, and smoothed it onto the highest curve of Sakuya’s belly, slightly off-center, impossible to miss.

FOOD GOES IN HERE

“It’s a PSA,” Meiling said. “You take regular meals seriously. You are a responsible public figure reminding the community that skipping breakfast is bad. The fact that the meal has already become another roll on you is just a badge of due diligence.”

looked down past her chest at the sticker riding the slow rise and fall of her gut. It was both sensual and ridiculous enough to fool the censors. It was also perfect. The pose was still sexual—the overflow, the tightness of her panties, the idle gluttony—but now it had a caption a moderator might hesitate to delete.

She ate another chip without moving her hand far from her mouth. Meiling kept drawing, lining the weight, the slump, the quiet intention in Sakuya’s eyes.

And drawing her juuuussstt a little rounder for her own use once she retired to her room that evening…