bambina-lita - Tumblr blog

[bambina-lita]

my belly this morning vs now. today i ate:

half a bag of chips 3 litres of milk a baconator from wendys a large poutine from wendys a root beer a can of alphabet soup leftover pizza a crispy chicken from dq a large poutine from dq a large cookie dough blizzard from dq

im waddling like a pregnant woman and my belly is still growling for more 😋🤤🤰

[bambina-lita]

So achingly full of cum, my huge belly can’t take anymore… does anyone want to force more?

[bambina-lita]

Noisy, gassy tums!

Ate spicy ramen a little too late last night and woke up to this... reminder not to eat hot stuff before bed!

[bambina-lita]

do you want me to fill you up, love? is that what you want? for me to keep you swollen and full? do you like when i bend you over and fill you up, promising to that soft belly swell and grow even bigger? how often do you think of me breeding you, making you my perfect little overfed, fucked full toy? does that turn you on, thinking of yourself that way? thinking of yourself, belly rounded into your lap, constantly being pumped full by me, until you can’t tell what’s your own indulgence and what’s my doing? 

[bambina-lita]

Reblog this if you'd like to see some horny anons :3

[bambina-lita]

the thought of someone grabbing their belly as it begins to inflate out of nowhere and doesn’t stop for minutes so they just moan and groan

[bambina-lita]

happy tuesday

[bambina-lita]

imagine being at one of those old dive bars in town with friends, and after a few drinks in, you get dared to take an egg from the giant glass container of fermented, pickled eggs. only thing is, you’re an absolute lightweight when it comes to alcohol, so in your buzzed brain, you somehow misinterpret the dare as to take them all. this container is absolutely huge, mind you, at least half your body weight. the bartender has no idea how old it is, he says it’s been there since they started working, and this is an older gentleman whose been here a long time.

while the bartender and many others as distracted by an ongoing game on television, you manage to lift the entire container and tip it back in your mouth like its a drink. again, in your drunken stupor, you think you can handle this like it’s a drink. so the softened eggs come rolling in down your mouth, down your throat, one by one. you can’t even decide how they taste, because you’re just blindly sucking it all down. gulp gulp gulp. loud, obnoxiously slurping sounds as your throat bobs visibly taking in each egg and all the fermenting juice. and the effect is almost instantaneous. your stomach protrudes like a slow rising dome. it peeks out from your sweater, and then before long, the massive, gravid bump is pushing back the whole fabric. halfway through, you are stuffed beyond measure. but you keep going. you want to finish the dare, don’t you? so you spread your legs a little to adjust to the growing new weight — a literal globe distending from your belly —and keep going. it’s a good thing you’re drinking the fluid too, otherwise your belly would be awkwardly shaped from all the eggs squishing and crammed inside you. instead, the additional bloat allows for them to slosh inside. chug chug chug, your idiotic brain is chanting as you keep going.

by the time you finish, a highlight of the game is over and the bartender realizes what you’ve just done. he shakes his head disapprovingly. some of the patrons notice your apparent late-end pregnant belly that was definitely not there when you first arrived. they all shake their heads, as if in agreement. what a stupid, attention-seeking girl. she’s gonna pay for it later, for sure.

you wobble your way back to your friend circle; half of them are mortified, the other half are mystified. someone playfully slaps your drum-tight belly playfully, it elicits a hot, hearty burp you didn’t even know was welded up in there. the alcohol is preventing you from feeling any pain over your error; you just feel so warm, so stuffed, so packed. is that such a bad thing on this cold night? it’s not. but what is bad is how distracted you are from all the mystery gases brewing and churning inside. your friends can hear it when they curiously place an ear beside your bump. it’s just like the patrons all said before — you’re gonna pay for later.

when it’s time to leave, one of your friends mercifully helps you shuffle towards their car. the bump hasn’t gone down by any means. you’ve been stifling burps for the last few minutes. swallowing them back down means you’re only keeping in all the air you foolishly sucked down, on top of the fermented egg jar. now you’re acutely aware of the tightness too. everything hurts. you’re shamelessly moaning open-mouthed, leaning back miserably in your car seat. your friends are just barely able to get the seatbelt around your distended middle. they tell you that they’ll be home soon. but at some point, they hit a bump. that jostles you terribly. your painfully stuffed stomach jostles and sloshes loudly for everyone to hear. and then;

frt. frt. frrrrrt.

it’s like an air leak from a balloon. you don’t do anything to stop it. the plethora of little noxious farts slips one by one in quick succession. everything is bubbling up inside of you. burps soon accompany it. you can taste the stench of the pickled eggs and your liquor. each burp, each fart, grows shamelessly louder and louder. your friends whine and moan, windows are immediately rolled open for the mercy of fresh air. at least the air being released is somewhat helping with the bloat. somewhat. barely. no, honestly, it’s barely made a dent in the damage you self inflicted.

one of your friends sitting next to you rubs your belly in small circles, as if to coerce some more air out. they’re one of the only ones who is sympathetic to your plight. that is, until they whisper in a voice which only you can hear; “i think you can handle more, don’t you?”

the one fragment of common sense remaining in your head screams no. that’s absolutely insane. why would you go any further than this with mindlessly stuffing yourself? you’re already a ticking time bomb, your belly is ready to implode from being so overly packed.

but you dumbly nod your head, a cute little squeak-fart following. in your head you’ve somehow conjured up the image of those pickled eggs as being your own brood now, so you’ve gotta eat for two now. or two hundred, or whatever the number was.

[bambina-lita]

consider: edging them while they eat. not letting them cum until they finish their food, bringing them right to the precipice, until they're squirming in their seat, pinned down under their round belly. right when they're about to go over the edge, you pull your hand away and kiss up their neck as they whine and whimper and beg you to let them cum. you tut, telling them that if they cum before they finish their food, they'll have to eat another plate before they get to come again.

[bambina-lita]

Imagining (unknowingly) being a host for an alien fungus of some kind that reproduces through spores and gas and slowly changes my body to accommodate it's needs. It starts fairly innocent, I'm just pretty gassy for a few days and it will probably go away soon. But it doesn't. The bloated belly on my slim figure is getting harder to ignore with each passing day, growing more and more, spores multiplying every hour. I feel constant bubbling in my guts, and it's getting louder. It's starting very hard to control my farts and burps, sometimes a loud PPFFRRRRTT just slips out of my ass, and all that's left for me do is blush and apologize, while rubbing my stomach to try and calm it down. After several days of farting and belching at the office workplace (and getting scolded for it) , i notice that my appetite has increased ten times, and despite my stomach being constantly full with gas, i find myself always very hungry, and I feel the need to be constantly stuffed to the brim with food too. My body, especially ass, thighs and belly quickly gain a thick layer of fat, and the cheap fast food diet, of course, makes my gas situation even worse, and the alien fungus in my gut finally decides that I'm ready to spread it's spores. Almost no clothes can fit my bloated figure now, and what does fit, covers very little of it. I can't stop myself for blasting nasty gas from both ends everywhere i go, unknowingly spreading gassy spores to unsuspecting people around me who just thought I was a slobby weirdo.

My huge, stretched stomach constantly sounds like a bubbling cauldron with all of the glorps and gurgles, and i constantly feel myself ready to blow up, unless I release some pressure from my guts. I quickly grow to enjoy this feeling though, and become really proud of my gross behavior, spores probably influencing me to be a more proactive host.

After another week, almost all people in the office where I worked at, cannot stop themselves from blasting ass every minute or so too, clutching their huge bloated bellies, although none of them are even close to being as huge as I am. Absolutely no signs left that I was quite skinny and petite a month ago or so.

I absolutely love all of the attention I'm getting now from passerbys and random strangers when they see my unbelievably bloated form and hear my loud ass from miles away. Being constantly bloated, farting, belching, releasing thick clouds of gas almost every moment of my life is truly the life i've always desired... Even if these thoughts are not entirely mine. 🍄

[bambina-lita]

encountering a slime when you have no combat abilities, so it defeats you easily,,, it covers your legs with slime so you can't move, before reaching up, slimy tendrils climbing your body before it forces its way inside your mouth, slowly forcing you to gulp it down,,, and your chest starts swelling, growing bigger and full of slime, until your shirt starts popping open, and your tits bust out, heaving down as they continue to grow until the whole slime is inside you,,, and you slosh your tits back and forth, they feel so sticky and full,,,

[bambina-lita]

consider: edging them while they eat. not letting them cum until they finish their food, bringing them right to the precipice, until they're squirming in their seat, pinned down under their round belly. right when they're about to go over the edge, you pull your hand away and kiss up their neck as they whine and whimper and beg you to let them cum. you tut, telling them that if they cum before they finish their food, they'll have to eat another plate before they get to come again.

[bambina-lita]

Kinktober day 13: Tentacles

You slowly regain consciousness, feeling disoriented and alarmed. As your vision clears, you become acutely aware of the sensation of something coiled around your arms and legs, holding you firmly in place. The eerie dimness around you reveals that you're in some kind of shadowy chamber. The tentacle-like things glisten in the subdued light, their movements somewhat rhythmic as they gently squeeze and caress your limbs. You struggle against their grip, but they hold you fast.

They continued their unsettling but surprisingly gentle manipulation, rearranging you in a sitting position. As you sat, you couldn't help but feel how smooth and slippery their surfaces felt against your skin.

Your breath quickens as the tentacles venture between your legs, slithering upwards to reach your chest. You gasp as one of the tentacles forcefully pushes itself past your lips, it's slick surface filling your mouth. Your lips wrap around it instinctively, its pulsing rhythm now even more prominent.

A cold, creamy liquid oozed into your mouth, and it kept coming, relentlessly filling you up as you’re forced to swallow every ounce.

At first, you try to resist, but the tentacles hold you in place, their grip tightening whenever you moved. It continues pumping you full of the liquid, and with each surge, your belly swells further. You can feel the pressure building inside you as you're forced to accommodate more of the sweet, creamy substance.

With a sudden burst, your pants give away, the seams tearing apart, and you look down to find yourself significantly fatter. Your abdomen is now buried beneath layers of soft, jiggling flesh, and you could feel the weight of your plump belly resting on your lap.

The tentacles grew bolder, their relentless groping and squeezing intensifying the heat that coursed through you

At some point, the initial discomfort transformed into a greedy desire, and you begin to suck down on the thick tentacle, savoring every drop of the ice cream-like fluid. Your moans mix with the slurping sounds as you eagerly consume the tentacle's offering.

The combined sensation of your burgeoning hips and thighs, along with your ballooning belly, left you in a state of near-constant arousal.

The transformation wasn't limited to your physique; your thoughts and desires began to shift as well. You feel an insatiable hunger, your inhibitions dissolved, replaces by an overwhelming urge to constantly be pumped full of the mysterious liquid.

[bambina-lita]

massaging someone's stuffed belly to rub out the burps is literally the hottest thing ever like i could cum just from that

[bambina-lita]

I know it's a bit cliche for fetish stuff, but how about syrup vines? A predatory plant that grabs unsuspecting people, wrap them up then pump them full of a thick honey like syrup for days on end. A vine in their mouth and a vine in their pussy or slurping on their cock to keep them dizzy and desparate as they get filled to the brim. The syrup is alcoholic as well, the poor victim might resist at first screaming and thrashing in the vines hold, however as the food fills their gut, they grow heavy and drowsy and high on pleasure, forgetting where they are and what they're doing besides slurping down the delicious feast. After a day or two what was once a thin and lively hiker is left looking like a bloated balloon of honey with a giant sloshy gut that they could almost roll away on.

But this is only the first part of the vines plan, as the weary adventurer wabbles and sloshes away, the syrup digests in their belly and they are slowly covered in fat. But most importantly their tits bloat up and start to grow heavy and full, drooping under the weight of thick syrup. Even if the poor person doesn't milk themselves to relieve the pressure, it will eventually start dribbling out all on it's own. Wherever this sweet, refined, syrup lands on the ground spores take place and another syrup vine plant will sprout in short order.

Sometimes whole groups of people are caught together by a grove of syrup vines, bloated and fucked in front of each other until they all have to waddle away, clutched to eachother to try and stay upright as they waddle away desparately, swearing to never speak another word of what they saw of eachother.

oh my god this is the hottest thing ever I just 😍😵‍💫 I literally do not know what to add to this its perfect in every way .

let's just say I'll be going on 'nature walks' more often~

[bambina-lita]

“no more. please— urp. i can’t.” i stifle between bites, managing out a pathetic little burp. my jaw still works, instinctively chewing any and all morsels of food that pass through my lips. i may manage to weakly turn my head here and there, but the resistance is pathetic. she knows it. i know it. in the end, i’ll always be an obedient little piggy dutifully chewing whatever waste is thrust into my mouth. but this time? this time it hurts. really, really hurts. this is the farthest she’s ever pushed me past my limits and then some.

my stomach is utterly massive. stuffed to the brim, and even that’s an understatement. it’s packed like an oil drum. it’s stretched out and sits on my knees now, a crushing, bulbous weight that no longer even makes sloshing & gurgling sounds indicative of digestion. every possible square inch has been packed with the food that she’s managed to cram down my throat.

i remember it being flat this morning. i remember being able to glance down at it as she tied my arms back in this chair.

my girlfriend studies me, studies her work thus far. she has no intention of stopping, truthfully, and we both know that. there’s still plenty of food to go through that she went through the trouble of making. but the size and state of my gut draws concern. she likes to be able to squeeze and knead handfuls of it. she loves the sloshiness of it when engorged. it’s music to her ears.

“let me try something, baby.” she coos, setting down the plate of gooey nutella stuffed brownies we’d been working through. i would sigh in relief, but everything is stuffed so tight it hurts to breath. i manage to swallow down whatever’s left in my mouth so that way my cheeks aren’t comically stuffed like a squirrel’s. i try to crane down and see what she’s going to do, but my swollen tits — near bursting out of the bra which fit perfectly this morning — block the way.

i feel what she’s doing, rather than see her. her fingers lightly dance over the surface of my skin, as though inspecting a snare drum. her index finger tentatively circles around my sensitive navel — nearly ready to pop into an outie — before she lays a whole flat palm against it. she strokes and soothes random aches and pains here or there. she must have some kind of magic touch to know where exactly it aches most.

then, without warning, she presses down. hard.

frrrrrrrrrrrrt. a long winded, high pitched fart blasts from behind. seconds later, as i open my mouth to gasp in relief from the amount of packed gas forced out, another escapes. BRAAAAAP. the belch is less subtle, less elegant sounding. it doesn’t matter. the packed air is leaving. back and forth this continues. loud, noxious farts and hearty, magnificent burps. i nearly roll my eyes back in euphoria.

“there we go.” my girlfriend smiles like the cat that’s caught the cream. mmmm. cream. i suddenly remember a container of that sitting on the table somewhere. she rubs my belly, feeling it go down ever so slightly. not enough to setback any hard earned progress of course. but enough to where the sloshiness and gurgling sounds return.

she gives it a playful, light slap. another fart, quick and tiny compared to the symphony from moments before, squeaks by. everything is still tightly packed. it’s still an effort to breathe. but i smile dumbly at her like a baby that’s been properly burped after all the whining and crying.

“let’s get the rest of that air out of you,” she rubs my bloated belly so lovingly. “so that i can fill up the empty spaces when i’m done. sound good?”

all i do is nod like the dumb little pig that i am.

[bambina-lita]