My three fursonas winding down from a gluttonous night.

The morning started with the two assertive feeders Beth and Max coming over to Seamus' to endow him with a tummyache. They started taking turns stuffing the little genet's muzzle with food, easily and swiftly packing his little tummy taut with calories. Max wanted to push him further, to his tummy's limits, but Beth wanted to feed him at a more steady pace, keep him less full but for much longer. As Max grew slightly bored waiting for the shortstack to digest enough to push more down, he started eating their comically large supply of junk food himself. Beth Joked "I thought you were a feeder more than an eater." Taking a jab at his more slim proportions compared to her. "Sure you're large, and it makes you beautiful, but I have zero doubts I could eat more than you." And Beth, lightly egotistical and fircely competitive accepts the challenge and the feeding of the genet devolves into a desperate competition to edge the other out bite for bite. Except they eat so much, tire thesmelves out so thoroughly, neither of them could have accurately guessed who ate more. All three of them now sported round, solid, taut stomachs that were practically overflowing with food.

Max was satisfied he got to test his own limits, and observe the rare sight of Beth's own stomach stretched to it's fullest, on top of the extreme arousal Seamus' own stuffing brought him, now laying face first in Beth's chest with a swollen gut bulging his baggy hoodie out in front of him.

Beth's obsession with growing figures was satiated thoroguhly with thousands of calories being poured down all three of their throats. She got gratification from filling her own belly, and in her own mind pushing the other two to stuff down a mountain of food that would leave a noticeagble impact on their respective figures. Especially as she laid in the center of them, trying her best to gulp down a few last bites into her aching belly, she felt empowered, her heavy ego inflated.

And it may be easy to say you feel sympathy for Seamus, at the recieving end of two eager and assertive feeders who went into the day with the sole purpose of bloating him up and making him fatter respectively. But he was intoxicated with rescinding control to them, laying back, letting them put his arms where they wanted, stuff as much in his mouth as they wanted. Drunk on the attention and affection they showed through their seemingly barely empathetic barrage against his stomach, but knowing how obsessed Beth was with each pound he gained, and how horny Max got with each inch his stomach domed out, his pseudo-forced discomfort was massively outpaced by stimulation and the way all that attention made him feel. Despite being so much smaller than the other two, and how firecely they had competed to out-eat each other, his belly swelled much, much larger than Max's could handle, and he was layered in much more plush pudge than the curvacous wolf was.