Cream
“Is this what you want?”
You tease her, dangling the plump chocolate eclair above her sugar-stained lips. She answers with a moan, her mouth parting in a gasp, her head tilting back in pleasure. You know by now that she won’t answer, that she can’t answer. She has no breath left to give. But she nods, every inch of her begging you not to stop.
“That’s right. You need it, don’t you?”
You lower the treat to her lips. She stretches to take in more, greedily filling her mouth with doughy pastry, urging you to give her all she can take. She moans again through the mass of cake, her cheeks filled to the brim. She chews through layer after layer of devilish delight, through creamy filling that bursts across her tongue, through frosting thick enough to make her eyes water, until she finally manages to swallow the mass of eclair in one momentous gulp.
The whir intensifies, and she lets out a low, shuddering moan.
“Such a good girl” you say. You grab another.
You hadn’t expected her to enjoy it this much. You hadn’t expected her to want it this much. After all, it was your idea – and your kink. But she had obediently stayed as you pushed her in her seat. She shivered with anticipation as the rope tightened around her wrists. She whispered “hurry” when you bound her ankles to the chair. She had gasped when you placed the toy between her legs. And she had eaten every last bite you gave her since.
“Mmm…” she purrs through a mouthful of pastry.
“That was the last one.”
The remote clicks in your hand, and the buzzing rises. Her thighs tense and her knees squirm as she lets out a squeal.
“You did so well, I’m proud of you.”
You pat her bare tummy at the apex of its bulge, admiring its fullness, pleased with its growth. You wonder how much more it would take to make her truly grow. To turn this chubby starter belly into the blissfully fat gut it was meant to be.
As she writhes in pleasure, her pleading eyes meet yours. And you hatch an idea.
In the fridge you find your mark. A pint of heavy cream. Unopened. Sixteen-hundred calories in all its pure, indulgent, fattening glory. Just waiting to be drunk.
You don’t even need to ask.
She’s waiting for it when you return, mouth already open, head already tilted back. She needs no encouragement, no instruction, no gentle push. In this moment, it’s all she ever wanted.
You tilt the bottle to her mouth. She wraps her insatiable lips around it, ready to take it all in. Her eyes close and she swallows a mouthful. Hundreds of calories are guzzled down to stretch her overfilled stomach. She swallows another. And then another.
You flick the remote, and the whirring between her legs reaches a fever pitch.
“Mmmmm…”
She moans as she sucks down another gulp. A faint trickle of ivory white liquid spills from the corner of her mouth until fat droplets drip from her chin. She strains against her bonds, her back arching, her hips grinding against the seat. She does not stop.
A third of the bottle gone. A half. Three-quarters. With each second that passes, the box grows lighter, and her cries intensify. You know she’s close. You know she can’t take much more. You know she won’t stop now, she can’t stop now. Not until she finishes.
You run your hand over the curve of her tummy. She groans at your touch. You can feel how taut her skin is, how much her stomach has stretched. You’ve never seen her this big before. You run your hand in a circle around her girth, tracing your fingers from the bulge beneath her breasts down the crest of her middle. You encircle her wide navel teasingly before letting your hand come to rest, cradling the softness of her belly where it distends between her legs.
“Be a good girl and drink every last drop,” you ply. “Then you’ll get your reward.”
Your words send her tumbling over the edge. She guzzles down the final gulps, throes of ecstasy already washing over her, sucking greedily at the remaining drops before her mouth opens in a cry. She hangs there, back arched behind the perfect rounded curve of her belly, as she reaches her peak. She shudders and writhes in pure, utter climax for a blessed eternity. And then collapses. Falls back to a quivering, shuddering, shaking reality, in all her beautiful overfed glory.
“Such a good piggy,” you tease. Your hand returns to her bloated middle, already imagining the fat settling beneath your touch. “Can’t wait to see how much you’ll handle next.”
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White Lily Cookie's braids were giving me a hard time so I decided to draw how Pure Vanilla's appearance would look instead lol. I was going to make him a jester like the faeries but then remembered that Shadow Milk Cookie likes plays and stories. A story wouldn't be fun if everyone was the same character, and Pure Vanilla was supposed to be more of a main character, unlike the faeries. So, going with the jester theme, I decided to make him a puppet king instead!
His appearance doesn't change in the animation because Shadow Milk Cookie figured that it would hurt White Lily more if Pure Vanilla Cookie betrayed her while still looking like himself. Casually planting seeds of doubt in her mind.
I also realised kings have knights, so I'm giving PV a knight :D (to be designed later). Also, I headcanon that Shadow Milk Cookie is a theatre kid who likes dancing.
edit: I spelt Knight wrong in the image XD
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See now the thing is that Poppy has so much love in her. So much to give. And all of that love has compounded into the duty she feels as a princess-now-queen. Her entire life she's poured her love into trying to do the right thing for her friends, her people, everyone she adores. In a way, her love was oriented into trying to be the absolute best version of herself possible. She wanted to be the one who made the right decisions and did the right things. Because if she wasn't a good princess, good queen, good friend, then she wasn't good enough for the people she cares about.
But see what Branch did, is he loved her.
He didn't love her as his queen, or even just as his best friend. He loved her whole and simply for who she was. And he didn't very much care if she reciprocated because his loyalty was based purly on that love. He would support her whether she wanted him as a follower, friend or partner. Branch's love was completely and indisputably uncondintional. And he proved that to her by telling her to her face that she was making a mistake, showed her that she was hurting him, and still said "I love you."
And I just think that changed Poppy forever.
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