drpeppertummy

[drpeppertummy]

torturing my favorite meme again

[ID: a meme that has dozens and dozens of images pasted over top of each other. on the surface, text at the top says "me feed you big (big long) fucken boiga," with less important text "big long greedy ass feet" and "dild no" beneath it. beneath the text is a picture of a huge burger with many patties and a doodle of a little guy looking up at the viewer with big sparkly eyes.]

[drpeppertummy]

oh no some water got in there & now its turning into steam bc its 90000 phucking degrees outsideee

[ID: a drawing of a pooltoy dragon laying on his back in the water under the sun, holding his round belly as it expands.]

[drpeppertummy]

🥨🍕🍽️ You already know

[insert that emoji of him looking at u here]

🥨 Is your character more likely to eat too much during a meal or while eating snacks?

definitely meals, he can certainly enjoy a good snack (sometimes too much of course) but there is little sunny loves more than Real Food

🍕 Your character is eating a pizza of their choosing. How many slices can they eat?

i think he can happily make it to 3 before he starts feeling full and he could push it to 4-5 before he starts feeling too uncomfortable, but he could probably get through a whole pizza if he was determined. he would not feel great afterwards tho

🍽️ Describe a meal your character would love to go wild on.

literally any kind of pasta especially with any kind of red sauce. he loves homemade spaghetti with marinara & he loves baked ziti & he loves cheese ravioli but when it comes to pasta he is not picky whatsoever he'll eat the whole pot if u let him & say it was worth it when hes too stuffed to move

also a big beautiful (or hideous) sandwich. you know the kind of sandwich that looks great on a menu but when you see it for real youre like "how the fuck is anybody supposed to eat this?" thats the sandwich of sunnys dreams and he is hell-bent on cramming the whole thing in his belly (but unlike the whole pot of pasta, for which he has a second stomach bc its his favorite food, he probably cant)

[drpeppertummy]

🍽️ Leslie

Thank You My Dearest Colleague

🍽️ Describe a meal your character would love to go wild on.

u Know that guy would kill for a really good veggie wrap/sandwich with all kinds of shit on it. hummus. cucumbers. maters. grilled peppers. sauteed mushrooms. spinch. shredded carrot. avocado, even. get some sauce on there. hes gonna have to fight me for it. & u know hed make it on an empty stomach after workin all afternoon make it a little too big & eat the whole thing anyway bc its just that good

[drpeppertummy]

stuffing ask game for your favorite characters

(pro tip: name some available characters in the tags when you reblog this so newcomers can ask with ease, and be sure to send an ask to the person you reblog it from!)

🤢 When your character overeats, do they typically just go a little overboard, or do they push themself to the point of sickness/pain?

🤐 Your character's belly is aching, be it from overeating, hunger, or illness. Do they say anything about it?

🏚️ Are there any particular settings where your character is more likely to stuff themself silly? Home, restaurants, parties, etc?

🫄 How does your character feel when their tummy is too bloated to hide?

🍰 Your character is stuffed after a big dinner, but they're being offered dessert. Can they say no to it?

🍲 Are there any particular foods your character is likely to overdo it on?

📊 At what point does your character typically stop when eating? Full? Too full? Not full enough?

🏃‍➡️ Does your character tend to eat fast or slow? Are there any consequences to this?

🤤 What's something that might cause your character to go hungry on an average day? Do they make up for it?

🍩 What's a casual, mundane situation where your character might overeat?

🥨 Is your character more likely to eat too much during a meal or while eating snacks?

🪨 Does your character's belly ever get bloated enough to be hard to the touch, or is it always soft?

🍕 Your character is eating a pizza of their choosing. How many slices can they eat?

😢 Do your character's emotions affect their appetite at all?

🔊 Your character's belly is rumbling. Are they the first to tend to it, or does somebody else address it first?

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Is your character more likely to eat too much when they're alone or when they're with other people?

🍽️ Describe a meal your character would love to go wild on.

[drpeppertummy]

how you drew the tummy hair in a swirl was rlly cute and i might add it to my ocs lolz

yesssssssss we love tummy hair

[drpeppertummy]

[drpeppertummy]

She GOT his ass. Also I made a template of her streaming page cos I love the layout idea. Don’t lose faith in me guys 😂

[drpeppertummy]

who here without allergies is gonna take one for the team and get cumflated by all these trees so i can enjoy a moments peace. id nominate sunny but he has asthma

[drpeppertummy]

✈️

For Keonda would be cool!

ik i said i would write for these but the image was in my brain. i just realized i didnt even finish drawing that guys book what the fuck

[ID: a drawing of a woman sitting on a plane between two generic featureless people. she's clutching her very bloated belly with an uncomfortable expression, and the people on either side of her are giving her awkward looks. one thinks "Jeez, she's gonna pop if she gets any bigger," and the other thinks "Her belly sounds like it's about to explode."]

[drpeppertummy]

too much pumpkin soup be upon ye old men

i been writing this for like a week😭😭😭😭😭

[stuffing]

"Okay, I know it's too hot out if you're wearing short sleeves," groaned Connie, leaning against the door frame.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I think it's beautiful out," grinned Val. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek as he passed by her, pot in hand.

"Whatcha makin'?"

"Pumpkin soup!"

"Oh, Christ, Val!" Connie let her head fall back against the wall at the thought of hot soup.

"I know, I know, it's not pumpkin season," he teased. "Canned will still get the job done." Connie rolled her eyes. "Hey, don't worry, I'll make somethin' nice and cool for the rest of you."

Connie leaned against the fridge while she watched Val work, hoping to leach out some of its coolness. While the rare sight of his exposed arms was a testament to the heat--he spent most of the year bundled up, the New Jersey air far too chilly for a man from Hell even when it was warm--it was a welcome view for Connie, who seldom got to see much of her husband's skin. He had just a touch of muscle to him, not too much for her simple tastes but enough to give him the enticing air of a man who could move some furniture, and plenty of dark hair. A faded scar across his bicep was just visible under the edge of his sleeve, which, as the story went, was left by his sister centuries ago when they were wrestling as children. While Val passed easily as a human, his sister, whose long claws had dug deep enough in play to leave a permanent mark, was another story.

"Excuse me, miss, can I help you?" Connie pulled her eyes from Val's arms to see an amused look on his face. She smiled back at him.

"Maybe when it starts getting chilly again," she teased. She'd have loved to sweep him off to bed right then and there, but with his body temperature being well over a hundred, she couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Oh, believe me, I'll be there," he grinned. In theory, summer should have been Val's favorite season. It was the only time of year the weather felt good to him, and the only couple of months where he didn't have a cold. He'd gladly have traded both of those perks, though, for the comfort of Connie's arms. In chillier weather, he made a perfect little personal heater for her to cuddle, but in the sweltering heat of summer, they had to keep a little more distance between themselves for her sake. It was tough for both of them, particularly Val, who, in addition to being an exceptionally physically affectionate person, still craved a little extra warmth against his body even during the hottest of days. If he couldn't get that extra warmth from her, a hot bowl of soup would have to suffice.

With the soup simmering away on the stove, Val got to work putting together a lighter, more refreshing dinner for the rest of the family. He didn't realize how hungry he'd been getting until he started preparing the salad, and his belly let out a loud rumble. Connie, now by his side at the counter helping him chop vegetables, gave his empty middle a playful poke. He smiled sheepishly up at her.

"It's dinnertime," he said with a shrug.

The recipe wound up making far more soup than Val expected, and he was glad he hadn't doubled it like he'd thought about. If nobody else was interested in having any, it would be close trying to finish it all off before it went bad. Of course, he could always freeze some, but Val hated handling anything from the freezer. The frozen-solid packages stung his hot skin, and the rush of cold air when he opened it chilled him to the core. He preferred to avoid it altogether. With that reasoning, he sat down at the table with a particularly large serving of soup.

"Since when do you have room for all that?" Connie teased, taking her seat across from him.

"I'm hungry! Besides, there's a ton of it."

"Mm, whatever you say," she said, and he gave her a look of playful annoyance.

Val had done an excellent job on both soup and salad. The salad was light and flavorful, filled with fresh berries and tender chicken and crisp vegetables, hardly even needing dressing to enhance it. The soup was rich and creamy, hot and filling and exactly what Val had been craving all day. The two even exchanged a few bites, unable to resist the allure of the other's dish.

"How'd I manage to snag such a good cook?" Connie leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the nose.

"Oh, where do I begin?" He smiled adoringly at her, and she stuck a strawberry in his mouth.

"Don't start," she giggled. "Your soup's gonna get cold."

"Ooh! Can't have that." Val gave an exaggerated shiver and scooped up another spoonful, humming happily to himself as he ate. He was halfway through the bowl now, and he was starting to feel the weight of the soup in his belly. It was good, though, and while he began to slow his pace, his appetite had yet to falter.

"Aren't you full yet? That's a lot of soup for a little guy like you," Connie teased, slipping an arm around his waist. She hadn't been particularly hungry herself, and she'd already finished her small serving of salad.

"A little," he confessed, leaning back in his seat. His tummy poked out slightly against his shirt. Connie gave it a friendly pat.

"Don't go overdoing it," she warned. "You're not gettin' a belly rub outta me when it's this hot out." She was only bluffing, of course; even in the heat of the summer, she would never leave him to nurse an upset tummy on his own.

"I'm fine," he assured her, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to finish. He was in the stage now where he was thoroughly aware of how snug his stomach felt, and each bite nudged him closer and closer to the threshold of discomfort. Still, he was enjoying the warmth in his belly, and picked up his spoon and went back in for a few more bites. Connie rose from her seat and started straightening up the kitchen while he slowly worked on his dinner.

Val was quickly running out of space, his tummy feeling uncomfortably tight now, and he paused to let it settle for a moment. He set the spoon down and held a hand to his belly. It bumped out snug against the waist of his pants, his belt hugging it tightly, and the curve was plainly visible under his shirt. He leaned back with a sigh, hand resting on his belly.

"Do you want the rest of this? I'm stuffed," he said.

"Nah. Why don't you throw it back in the pot? I won't tell."

"Ah, it's just a tiny bit. May as well finish it." He hesitantly picked up the spoon again. Truthfully, he wasn't sure his stomach could hold that tiny bit. He felt like he had pumpkin soup up to his tonsils. Still, it seemed silly to quit with such a small amount left in the bowl, and he reluctantly scooped up another bite.

There were only a few spoonfuls left, but each one felt like a gallon to his straining belly. The first one went down hard, the second even harder. As he picked up the third, his hand stopped. His stomach felt like it was stretched to its limit, and in that moment, he felt sure that if he searched his entire body inside and out, he wouldn't be able to find even a pinch of space to fit that last bite of soup. With a heavy sigh, he set the spoon back in the bowl and slumped back in his seat, both hands resting on his distended tummy.

Connie glanced over her shoulder to see Val looking utterly defeated, his belly sticking out dramatically over the waist of his pants and peeking out under the hem of his shirt, and she barely stifled a laugh. He looked up, his expression weary but good-natured, and she smiled fondly at him.

"Little too much?"

"Little too much."

[drpeppertummy]

little dinky thing for my treasured colleague @tummyfreakoftheweek

[light hunger, light stuffing]

"Hey, you're home late," said Marsha as Max trudged through the door. He looked like he'd been run over by a bus, but she knew better--it had simply been a long, grueling day at work. Following the actual school day, which had been end-of-the-year mayhem, he'd had a ton of paperwork to deal with, a couple of interviews for next year's potential new hires, a lot of cleaning up, and he'd taken the time to help Keonda pack up her room, given that her only having one arm made it a moose of a task. He was sweaty, disheveled, exhausted, and, perhaps above all, starving.

"I was starting to think I'd never get out," said Max with a weak chuckle. His stomach growled, and he considered going into the kitchen, but collapsed across the couch instead with a heavy sigh.

"Alfie made dinner," said Marsha. "There should be plenty left, unless he went ahead and ate the whole pan."

"Oh, ha-ha," said Alfie, bumping her with his hip as he came through the kitchen doorway. "There's a ton left, and it's still warm. Don't move, I'll get you some."

"You're an angel," Max called after him. He didn't think he'd be able to peel himself off the couch again if his life depended on it. Marsha plopped down on the couch beside Max and ruffled up his hair, and he sat up just enough to kiss her on the cheek before flopping back down again. Alfie returned from the kitchen with a well-filled plate and perched it on Max's chest, then lifted his long legs out of the way and sat on his other side.

"Hey, are you sure this isn't your plate?" Max sat upright, holding the dish carefully.

"Eat your dinner, Princess," Alfie retorted, and Max leaned down to kiss him on the cheek too. He didn't need to be told twice; he gladly dug in, thankful to finally appease his rumbling belly. Alfie had made a hearty dinner of chicken, mashed potatoes, and grilled vegetables, and there was about a double serving on the plate, more than Max typically ate in a day, but he wasn't complaining. He was ravenous.

"Have I ever told you you're a great cook?"

"Right now, I'm not sure that means a whole lot," Alfie chuckled. "You look like you'd eat the siding if I wasn't feeding you."

"Oh, please," said Max, rolling his eyes. Alfie wasn't wrong--he was hungry enough to be happy with just about anything--but he meant it. The food was delicious, and it was exactly the warm, comforting, filling meal he needed after such a long day.

Once the starved feeling began to wear off, Max slowed himself, and the trio chatted about their days. Marsha had met a positively delightful one-eyed, three-legged cat in a sweater named Milton and the oldest Yorkie she'd ever seen, and Alfie had gotten the thrill of working on a beautiful old car belonging to one of their neighbors. Max's day had been the least exciting, and he was glad to hear about his partners' highlights. It always lifted his spirits after a tiring day of his own.

As the trio talked, Max became almost too absorbed in the conversation to notice how much he'd eaten. That, and the fact that his brain was fried from exhaustion, and the fact that he'd barely eaten a thing since breakfast, and the fact that the food was too good to stop picking at it. It was a very large portion, but by the time Max realized how full he was beginning to feel, he'd put away two thirds of it.

"Hey, don't they let you eat at work? Since when do you have such an appetite?" Marsha looked at the half-demolished plate, amused, then at Max's tummy, pushing out gently against his shirt. He smiled sheepishly.

"It's been a long day," he said. "Your sister's killin' me with all those posters. I think I spent half an hour pullin' Sticky Tack off 'em."

"And you're a sweetheart for that," said Marsha, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "You know she loves her decor."

"She sure does. The kids love it too. That's how an art room oughtta look. Fun, colorful."

"Just like her," Marsha chuckled.

"Hey, you got it too, with those little Frenchie shoes."

"Well, I've gotta dress for the job, don't I?"

"I don't know, they don't look like they'd protect you from gettin' peed on," said Alfie, and Max laughed. "What you really need is some Frenchie-themed rainboots."

"Yeah, sure, Alfie, why don't you go find me some?"

The three went on talking, and Max, impressively, went on eating, though not for long. He finished with less than a quarter of the big meal left on the plate and a very full tummy. It didn't ache; he had the sense to stop before he started feeling bad, but it felt very snug, almost uncomfortably so but not quite, and stuck out past his belt. He set the plate down on the coffee table and leaned back with a sigh.

"Hey, look at you," said Alfie, giving Max's full belly a pat. Ordinarily, with his small appetite, he might've eaten about half the food on the plate, if that much. An Alfie-sized serving was hardly equal to a Max-sized serving.

"Ain't it nice to see him eating good?" Marsha slipped an arm around Max's waist and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I'll tell you, Marsha, it is nice to see him eating good," Alfie declared, and Max rolled his eyes.

"You two are a pair of goofballs," he said, draping his lanky arms over their shoulders. "I love you."

[drpeppertummy]

Fan boy becomes streamer’s Best boy…. Face reveal at 999k subs

[drpeppertummy]

miserable sunny milk event for my good colleagues who like to kill him with rocks

[liquid bloat, bellyache, tummy rub]

"Oh my gosh, remember that gallon challenge people used to do?"

"I can't believe anybody was dumb enough to try that," said Laurie.

"What's that?" asked Sunny. Carrie looked up from her phone, but Laurie cut her off before she could explain.

"Do not tell him."

"Tell me what? I wanna know," whined Sunny, trying to peer over Carrie's shoulder at her phone.

"It was some stupid viral challenge a while back where people would try to drink an entire gallon of milk," said Carrie.

"I bet I could do that," said Sunny.

"You absolutely could not," Laurie said sternly.

"Says who?"

"Yeah, says who?" asked Carrie, and Laurie shot her a glare.

"A gallon of milk is bigger than your whole stupid torso," said Laurie, giving Sunny a firm poke in the chest. He flinched, then crossed his arms.

"It is not. I bet I could do it. I have the determination." Sunny turned and scampered off to the kitchen, where he retrieved an almost-full gallon of milk from the fridge. He'd just bought it a day ago; only a cup or two for pancakes had been used.

"Does it count if I used a little bit?"

"It totally counts," Carrie called back to him.

"I hate you two so much," said Laurie, leaning back on the couch with a sigh.

Sunny, ignoring the remark, popped the cap off the milk and brought it to his lips. He wasn't a huge fan of plain old milk, but he didn't dislike it, either. Still, it wasn't something he typically drank as a beverage, especially straight from the carton. Today was the day he made up for that. He tipped the carton up and drank.

"Come on, Laurie, it's free entertainment," said Carrie, putting her phone away and standing up.

"I'm good," said Laurie. "I'm not a big fan of watching stupid little men barf all over the floor."

Carrie joined Sunny in the kitchen, helping herself to an apple from the bowl on the counter and taking a seat. Sunny was hard at work, standing beside the fridge and gulping loudly as the milk poured down his throat. It felt uncomfortably cold in his stomach, and surprisingly heavy even though he hadn't drank much yet, and he realized that this task might be a little more difficult than he imagined. Still, he wasn't going to give up this early, especially not if it was going to prove Laurie right. Determined, he went on chugging.

It took only a minute or two of steady drinking for the milk to fill Sunny's small stomach. Following that milestone, it began to swell. His belly felt taut already, and he lowered the carton for a moment to catch his breath. A pair of burps rushed out of him. He looked down at the carton. He felt as though he must have gotten through half already, but it barely looked like he'd made a dent. He frowned. The task was definitely going to be more difficult than he imagined.

Bored of sitting by herself in the living room, Laurie finally gave in and joined her friends in the kitchen. She was amused to see that Sunny was already looking pretty full, taking a breather from drinking with his tummy poking out ever so slightly against his shirt. Looking up at her, Sunny felt another wave of motivation, and, after forcing up another small burp, he lifted the carton back up and continued drinking.

The burps had freed up some space, but that was quickly filled back in with more milk, and it was only a moment before Sunny felt fuller than ever. Still, he went on. He could feel his belly pushing out tight now, expanding against the soft fabric of his shirt and pressing against his snug belt, and he tried to ignore it. He couldn't think about how full he was getting if he wanted to stand a chance at downing the gallon. He thought about tasty things like cheese and tomatoes and burgers, hoping to somehow trick his stomach into thinking it was hungry. It was hardly effective.

"You think he's gonna do it?" Carrie asked through a mouthful of apple. Laurie simply gave her a long, unamused stare.

There was a definite curve to Sunny's usually flat belly now, and it only bulged further as he drank. Each gulp was beginning to feel like a chore. The pressure inside him was growing uncomfortable, as was the belt squeezing him tighter and tighter around the middle. He paused again, another big burp rushing up his throat the second he took the carton from his lips, and set it down.

"Oh, good, he's quitting," said Laurie.

"Am not," said Sunny. He loosened his belt and inched the waist of his pants down a little lower, giving his tummy some space to breathe. With his shirt already a hair too short, there was now a nice sliver of skin peeking out beneath the hem. He rubbed the exposed skin, trying to soothe the sore spot where the belt had been digging in, then picked the carton back up. The adjustment hadn't opened up any space, but it did ease the discomfort a little, and, feeling a little more willing, he began drinking again.

He was about a quarter of the way through the gallon, and his belly felt unbelievably heavy. It felt like there was a bowling ball inside him. The weight of the milk pushed out hard against the walls of his straining stomach, and with each swallow he could feel it push out a little bit harder. Carrie and Laurie watched in silent awe as his belly slowly swelled up before their eyes, trembling gently with each audible gulp. His free hand, no longer needing to support the heavy carton, wandered mindlessly to his tummy. It was very tight now, bulging out impressively over his belt, and while he was drinking more slowly, he was still drinking. His stomach rumbled uncomfortably as it stretched, struggling to contain all the milk and the air bubbles he was swallowing along with it.

Sunny paused again with a heavy sigh and another burp. The heavy pressure inside his belly was becoming unbearable, and on top of it, he was beginning to feel very cold, the milk chilling him from the inside out. His stomach felt painfully stretched, having expanded too far too fast, and, looking down, he saw that it stuck out far enough almost to hide his sneakers from view. He held it with his free hand. It was just about rock solid.

"Sunny, put that shit away," Laurie said wearily, gesturing to the carton.

"I'm not done yet though." That was true for the carton; not so much for his stomach. He'd made it through about a third of the milk, farther than either of his friends had expected him to get, and there was no questioning where he'd put it all.

"You're gonna pop if you keep drinking! That can't possibly feel good," she exclaimed incredulously.

"I feel fine," Sunny lied. He felt like the enormous mass of milk inside him was seconds away from coming back out; whether it would retreat up his throat or burst right through the strained walls of his stomach was anybody's guess. His belly rumbled miserably.

"Seriously, you are going to explode," said Laurie, leaning forward to take the carton from him. He held it away defensively.

"I'm fine," he argued, and she sat back in her seat, rolling her eyes.

Motivated by stubbornness alone, Sunny began chugging again with a new wave of determination. He could practically feel his stomach stretching as it bloated out further, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over the alarming curve jutting out beneath his ribs. He rode that determination until the ache in his belly forced him to slow down, but he kept on drinking, one slow, strained gulp after another, and the pressure inside him kept on building. His belly rumbled with each swallow, struggling to squeeze in any more, but he kept going. He knew that if he paused again he wouldn't be able to continue.

Gulp by miserable gulp, the milk disappeared slowly down Sunny's throat, and Laurie and Carrie were beginning to wonder how he was still going. His belly looked ready to burst, pushing drum-tight straight out as though he'd swallowed a basketball. It was stretched so tight he could hardly breathe, straining and trembling with each shallow inhale, and his small, snug shirt had ridden up just over his belly button, which looked about ready to pop out. Finally, he pulled the carton from his lips, panting, clutching his distended belly with his free hand. He set the carton down on the counter, nearly dropping it, and almost doubled over, holding his tummy.

"Jesus, Sunny," said Laurie, instinctively standing to help him. She and Carrie led him to the couch, and he carefully sat down, holding his aching belly. He undid his belt with a whine, then unbuttoned his pants. He felt absolutely awful. The cold milk left him freezing, his stomach felt like it was beyond the verge of bursting, and the heaviness of its contents weighed him down like a boulder. And on top of it all, he'd made a damn fool of himself, proving Laurie right in the process.

"Well, you didn't quite make it," said Carrie, giving his belly a gentle pat. He'd made it nearly halfway through the carton, far more than Laurie or Carrie had expected, and certainly more than should ever have been forced into his small stomach.

"Christ, Sunny, you're shivering," said Laurie. She sounded surprisingly sympathetic, and Sunny felt more ashamed than he would have if she'd just been angry with him. He looked up at her sadly, and she took the quilt that was draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around him. She and Carrie sat on either side of him.

"You know, you are absolutely dumber than a bag of rocks," said Laurie. There it was. "I can't believe you'd do something so stupid. Why can't you ever just listen to me?" Sunny shrugged sadly, his gaze falling to the floor. There were plenty of answers to that. He was impulsive, he was stubborn, he had a desperate need to prove himself, and once he'd decided to take on a challenge, there was just about no stopping him. As far as Sunny was concerned, the answer was that he was just no good at all, and Laurie could read that in his glum face. Her expression softened, and she sighed.

"Look, I didn't mean to snap at you," she said apologetically. "I just don't like seeing you feeling so bad. You gotta take care of yourself, Sunny." He nodded sheepishly, feeling thoroughly foolish, and she gently pulled him into a hug. He leaned his head against her shoulder. He wasn't sure why he'd thought he could fit so much milk into his belly. He wished he'd listened to Laurie after all. He imagined she'd probably like him better if he had, and he wondered why any of his friends stuck around at all.

A warm hand on his belly pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up. Laurie gave his sore tummy a gentle rub, wincing at how uncomfortably tight it felt. The pressure of her hand almost ached, but the warmth of it was soothing and comforting.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled sadly after a few quiet moments. Laurie looked down, surprised.

"It's fine, Sunny," she said. "I just wish you'd take better care of yourself."

"I should've listened to you." His voice was almost inaudible, but Laurie was astonished to hear it. Sunny almost never admitted that she was right. Feeling sorry for him, she tipped her head down to kiss his cheek, and he looked up, blushing.

"Well, I am usually right," she said, and he rolled his eyes.

[drpeppertummy]

hiii i am in a MONSTROUS rut rn and your writings the best for it and wanted to request smth if u wanted to. could you do something absolutely horrifically burst teasy and round with sunny. hes so darling and cute i think itd be funnest with him (i only request this as i think this overlaps with some of ur interests... but if this was smth ud be into some cruel size comparisons with the belly would be wonderful)

as a matter of fact i have somethin already cookin😎 & if it doesnt wind up bein burst teasy enough i will gladly do another

[drpeppertummy]

🧋

WOWIE did i get into this one. but yes, marilyn for sure as illustrated here. shes always bloating up on booze, often stuffing herself up so bad itd be a struggle to eat (thats when shes not skipping meals out of sheer laziness). dont worry though, dell keeps her in line.

[drpeppertummy]

📏 🏀

worse drawing but heres ur answer. lesley has a much softer tummy that she can suck in pretty far to make it seem flatter, all the food she eats pushes it out further for her to get that pregnant look, optimized for popping buttons and obscuring feet. marilyn is much more taut, she does have a layer of fat shes not concave or anything but itll go out in more directions like a basketball inside her (or maybe im just thinking of the emoji), shes the queen of muffin tops and ill fitting clothes, the most balloonlike tum in behaviour. sorry i wanted to make a diagram for fun