|1||tummygirl88 missing stories||10||23 April 2014 09:09|
|2||Content 17: Questionably Legal||2||21 April 2014 13:20|
|3||A Normal Inflation Fetish Story||6||20 April 2014 10:25|
|4||Content 16: Also Known As Content 2^4||2||16 April 2014 10:41|
|5||Looking for Overlai's Stories||25||10 April 2014 01:03|
|6||Story about cock/ball expansion w/ pop - general warning||2||7 April 2014 08:32|
|7||Force feeding story search||2||6 April 2014 21:28|
|8||New Expansion Writer!||1||5 April 2014 23:37|
|9||Wrote a self-indulgent scene that's kind of wordy. Please enjoy!||2||5 April 2014 12:27|
|10||Inflation cafe||2||4 April 2014 07:51|
|11||Content 15: One More Than Content 14||6||29 March 2014 01:05|
|12||expansion||1||28 March 2014 07:07|
|13||Does anyone have marvai's stories?||1||28 March 2014 02:37|
|14||Give me two sentance writing Prompts I'll write a story!||11||19 March 2014 23:49|
|15||Getting back into Writing||2||16 March 2014 21:16|
|New Thread | All Threads|
Looking for a few missing stories from this deactivated deviantart account: All parts of 'Puffing up', 1 to end, and 'Midnight Air Expansion". They were surprisingly really good!
The backlog is done, so now it's time to pull an idea out of the other backlog and work on that. An idea that, according to the other backlog, is a work in several parts. Oh boy.
Warning: It's a dude.
In a plume of sulphur and brimstone he arrived, kneeling in the center of the sigil. He slowly rose on sandaled feet, leather pants clinging to his lean body. The candles lining the room cast it in a dark glow, illuminating his deep purple skin, raven black hair, and two dark horns curling back from his forehead. He straightened out, his mouth upturned in roguish smile as he opened his eyes, an unnatural gold on black. "So, is it you who..." His smile fell. "...summoned... me?"
He would be called by a woman; this much he knew and expected. What he did not expect, however, is that the woman would be at least two heads taller than him, with breasts that could put most succubi to shame. The incubus was not particularly tall - indeed, he was slightly below average in height - but this didn't excuse his first glimpse of the mortal world of being so... plump and pendulous.
"Hey." The owner of the breasts waved a hand in front of his line of sight before pointing up at her face. "Eyes." The incubus looked up to long-haired brunette smiling back at him. "Don't worry, a lot of people are surprised when they see me. It's good to see the ritual worked, though." She looked him over. "How old are you?"
He made an attempt to turn the charm back on as he casually brushed a lock of hair back. "Two hundred and sixty-"
"Oh, right. Demon years. Let me rephrase that: If you were a human, how old would you be?"
"Look how fat I am!"
I was hanging out with my friend Lisa at her home. We had gone to Cinnabon and gotten Cinnabons, now we were eating Cinnabons.
"Do you think I'm getting fat?" She grabbed the rolls of her stomach for emphasis.
"You're not fat." These kind of situations are awkward. Tbh, she was kind of fat. Her belly pooched out and her hips jutted. Her breasts had perks, but she was a pear if I knew the shape. I knew the shape well. I was being very careful about how I lead this conversation. I could feel my fetish itching.
She bit into her Cinnabon. I hoped for a few seconds of silence, while she swallowed the plastic bullshit baked good. But she opened her mouth.
"Bullshit. I'm a blimp!" My hopes had been dashed! These kind of situations are awkward and tend to be moreso as attention is paid. "I've been blowing up since we graduated."
She had been blowing up since we graduated, I knew. I counted the spare notches on her Hot Topic belts when I had the chance. They had decreased at a rate of approximately 1 every two months in the past year. Her Cinnabon intake had increased markedly as well. A person in my situation notices these things.
"These Cinnabons taste good." A person in my situation knows how to change the subject.
my fetish was fully awake now and on Skype with his girlfriend, my penis I started laughing and didn't stop. Now I'm an awkward mix of amused and aroused.
Eh, it's got BE, as well as lactation, which is kind of tangentially related? I guess? Whatever, we got mods.
Jordan crossed her arms, watching the house out of the car's side window. "Man. What's taking Kevin so long?"
The driver - himself a teen of legal age for your state or prefecture, as was Jordan - shrugged. "When I said we were going out he said he had to take a shower first."
"Yeah, but shouldn't he be done by now?" The brunette thought for a second before leaning forward between the front seats, blue eyes moving between the driver and passenger. "Wait, did he say 'take a shower' or 'take a shower -first?-'"
"'Take a shower first.' Why?"
It was still tailored towards a fairly specific audience though, and in my defense, I commented with constructive and thoughtful criticism to a quite a majority of them. Would greatly appreciate to see them again :)
Story found on some site, author is "Jockbreaker", enjoy...
(planning on rewriting it for a girl)
The creature was immortal, and obsessed with its own cruel entertainment. It had the ability to read human minds, change form and alter physical reality. It was an extra terrestrial being who had come to earth simply for pleasure.
Shortly after landing, it became fascinated with the males on the planet. The creature quickly understood that not all men were equal. Some were special specimens, advantaged genetically over their weaker brothers and cousins, the alpha males, physically more disciplined and more powerful than all the rest. What humans called JOCKS and STUDS. These men were tough and strong, arrogant and muscular with egos to match their enlarged sex organs. It was the testosterone that made everything possible, their power, their cockiness, their downfall.
It was only a short time afterwards it realized how much it loved to torment and humiliate these specimens of machismo. It picked up the scent of it easily and it used the scent as a trail to follow. Today was Monday.
* * *
It decided to be a woman today. She slinked into a heavy testosterone trail and entered “Muscles Gym” in Los Angeles. She could smell jock immediately. Her fine tuned senses told her where to go. She could sense in which direction the strongest amount of testosterone was, as well as read the minds of everyone in the gym to find the biggest, strongest, toughest stud in the gym. His name was Butch and everyone feared or envied him. She could tell that some of these men wanted to be with him, to touch him, to stuff their faces into his big balls, his musky crotch; and the rest wished to be like him, to possess the muscles, the attitude, the confidence. She sensed that the men were full of jealousy, and would delight in his misfortune.
Towards the back, she finally saw him. He was 6 ft 5 and twice as wide as all the other men in the gym. She took him in. He was made of grade “A” beef and his chest and stomach covered in dark fur, his arms and back full of roughneck tattoos. He had a square jaw, black beard speckled with silver. His tors
Good day/night Internet. I ask a simple question and that is all. Does anyone know any good force feeding inflation stories or at least a place to find them?
Hello, peeps of inflatechan! The name is Near N. Far, and I have recently begun producing expansion erotica. You can find my first story (blueberry expansion) and the first few parts of my next, which is breast expansion, at nearnfar.deviantart.com. Additionally, you can go to https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/426421 if you want to buy the ebook version of my blueberry story or just want to support a guy who'd like to make expansion erotica a more full-time pursuit.
This is an exercise to practice quantity and speed in the hopes that I can dash my desire to edit as I write. Curing my writing woes through erotic fiction.
Apologies if this is too slow or, uh, verbose for anyone's pleasure. I am, however, a builder of stupid worlds and the like. To that end, these girls have thoughts and feelings and lives and goals and there are plot threads in my head that will never, ever go anywhere but gum up the works of what should be little more than a guilty pleasure. So bear with me and please enjoy the eventual swelling and masturbating and fantasizing. It's far from perfect, but I had fun!
Installment 00: Impatience
Far more often than not, a brief span of anticipation floods my mind during the last reaches of weekday afternoons. It's a little window of hope and excitement laced with a sort of nervousness that can toe at the border of fear. Typically, it spins my thoughts into a frenzy, sending assorted threads delving into memories and hypotheticals. It lingers for a few moments or minutes til I think it away or until she calls as she's leaving the office. She tends to calm any dizzied thoughts that I've left lying around with a few short sentences about her day or to ask what I'd like for dinner. But she's not always direct and it drives me wild. With vague, carefully selected sentences she sticks tiny burning pins into my wandering thoughts that set me alight and so I yearn.
I used to tell myself that she sometimes spoke in code because of the nature of her work and the perceived insecurity of telecommunications. Without a doubt, her glowing passion for illicit alchemy has always been buried under the most tenuous of veils. I've always assumed that it's the weight of her intellect and persistent forward-drive that keeps her in good standing at Apothekaria. The knowledge and experience she holds sans education or training practically screams illegality but I suppose some rewards are worth the risk. Certainly, I should understand that.
It troubles me that the afternoon is burnin
Traci was very happy to be accepted to her favorite school in Tokyo, but the cost of living was more than her scholarship would cover unless she wanted to eat just once a day. She hoped the new job at a maid cafe in Akihabara called "Buttons" would work out so she could see the rest of the country when she wasn't studying. Traci was about five foot six inches with a average body and pink hair that she just got dyed. When she arrived she was greeted by all the waitresses wearing the cutest maid uniforms she had ever seen. Traci knew a little Japanese, but still had trouble understanding some words. "Hello, my name is Yumi and I am the manager here." she said as she handed Traci a cute maid uniform "please try this on, the waitresses bathroom is in the back". Tracy made her way back to the bathroom while examining the cafe's decorations and the waitresses maid uniforms when something caught her eye, there was a small tank almost hidden by the bow on all their outfits. "What is that for?" Traci said to herself. Once Traci got to the bathroom and put on her uniform she looked at herself in the mirror "Wow, I look really cute, though this is a little loose in areas, maybe I can ask for another one.". Traci's maid outfit was traditional black with white lace, and a plunging neckline with really cute buttons. She also wore black wedge heels, and white thigh highs.
When Traci walked back to the front of the cafe Yumi appeared happy. "I'm so glad it fits you, one of our other girls is sick and can't come in, could you fill in for her?" Traci was surprised, she just got there and didn't even know that she had a job. "Well, I can't pass up an opportunity like this" Traci said "But is there a way to get another uniform, this one is a bit loose?". Yumi looked at her puzzled "Don't worry about it, you'll grow into it." Traci had a confused look on her face as Yumi lead her out onto the cafe floor. "Since you only know a little Japanese we will just have you bring food and drink out to customers after one of our other girls takes their orders, and entertain custome
Hey, here is a story I wrote about a girl in Japan who accepts a job at a maid cafe without knowing all the details, and chaos ensues. There is inflation in this story.
This was an idea morphy-mcmorpherson and I had about what if there was a inflation themed cafe. This is my first serious attempt at a story, let me know what you think.
Warning: Contains penis-haver expansion.
"...are you sure this is safe?" Nathan asked, eyeing the strange industrial pump. He knew that, relatively speaking, standing in the middle of a field completely naked with his girlfriend was safe. He just wasn't sure about what was going to happen next.
"Oh, you always ask that," Maria replied.
"Well, I just want to know. You -do- do a lot of strange things to me."
"I do a lot of strange things -with- you. There's a difference." She handed him a hose. "Now stick this up your butt."
"Is this going to be like all those other times?" he asked, wedging it in firmly.
"Up to a point." She walked back to the pump. "Ready?"
And the cranberry sauce. Unless you don't like cranberry sauce.
Here goes: An alien disguised as a woman finds herself addicted to earth food. She gains regrettably gains weight while failing at sucking in to maintain her disguise.
Well, that story went the opposite direction than I expected. When I wrote that prompt I was thinking more of inflating to support the structure of something. Kudos for taking to a different place.
I used to occasionally write inflation/expansion/wg stuff. Trying to get back into it. If you guys have any opinions on this, I'd love to hear them. (The exact nature of the expansion in this story is left a little ambiguous, thus the multiple tags.)
My body feels too full to move. But the leash pulls, so move I do.
I can barely swing my thighs wide enough to slide them past each other. The friction between them is almost unbearable. The women leading me trot right along, but I'm already almost out of breath. Beads of sweet are forming between my fat rolls, on my forehead, my upper lip. My head spisn. I hear myself walking. It's hard to believe the sound is actually me. TOOM TOOM TOOM. That's the sound of my feet hitting the floor. I try to adjust my gait to lighten my footfalls, but then the woman tugs the leash and I stumble back into my clumsy waddle.
My breasts bounce against my giant globe of stomach. This bra they put on me is hardly sufficient. At least it's better than nothing--actually, maybe it isn't.
We go around a corner. I need a moment to change the direction of my momentum, but the women don't slow down, and I almost fall.
"Jane, walk behind her and keep her going."
The one called Jane gets behind me, and now I have the distraction of her slapping my mammoth hindquarters to deal with. It's hard enough to coordinate without the little tremors that propagate through my gelatinous body when she slaps my ass. I'm panting like a racehorse.
"Slow down," I try to shout through my mouthpiece, but it just comes out "Oh ow."
"Sounds like she likes it," says the one who isn't Jane. Jane laughs, then plays a little drum roll on my ass cheeks. If only I could do something. Every fiber of my being focuses on moving my bulk. TOOM TOOM TOOM.