Five Buns Full: Day 110 (Patreon)

“I… am going… to kill you.”

“Maybe someday. Knowing you, it’ll probably be by accident.”

Her husband’s reply was as light as her threat had been dark. Mischievous sparks twinkled brightly in his blue eyes, wearing the smile that he fought to keep off his lips.

Nino’s nose lifted, her chest swelled, her belly puffed… and then she growled. Whether it had come from her throat or her stomach, the growl was a heinous rumble that would have terrified lesser beasts.

But her wolf just sat there, smiling that infuriating grin with his eyes, comfortably assured that his plump bunny rabbit was securely bound by her cuffs and her choker while his finger playfully removed the wrapper from the pint of her treasured ice cream.

“If you don’t untie me,” she said through bared teeth, “it’ll be very much intentional.”

“You’re not tied. You’re cuffed.”

The white leather handcuffs and matching heart choker were all that Nino wore, save for a single black rose which was tied into her hair. Her dress lay in a crumpled heap on the floor beneath her stockings, clothing which had been torn, repaired, let out, and then torn again by the inevitable consequences of a spoiled diet.

A diet which had her eyes locked onto the lid as her husband opened her ice cream.

A diet which forced her stomach to rumble and her mouth to water when the scent of sweetness slithered up her belly and into her nose.

A diet that caused Nino Uesugi to jiggle with hunger, desire, and rage.

“Untie… me…”

“I told you, you’re not-“

Her hands pressed against the solid headboard, her shoulders griped as they took her weight. The redhead flung a foot towards his elbow, but her darling bastard had clearly expected the move.

Still wearing his lazy enjoyment, the man lifted to catch her leg beneath his arm, leaned over, and her right leg became pinned.

“Violent,” he said. “You’ll set such a bad example.” Then he grinned, full of teeth and dark, delicious delight.

Nino considered striking at him with her other foot. But no, he’d be expecting that too, and she didn’t want to actually hurt the jerk.

She just wanted to bite him. Hard.

The last three months had done things to Nino. She had burst bras, she had torn skirts, she had popped buttons, she had split shorts. Cravings and calories clung to the once-proud-and-skinny bunny. So many pounds on an overfed waist.

‘Plump’ might be a good word to describe an expecting mother of five, but ‘plump’ stopped applying to Nino about forty pounds back. She had a credit card dedicated to tailoring costs, had collaboratively banned herself from wearing belts after a buckle had burst and ruined a cake display at her sister’s work.

Most recently, her and her husband discovered that the bunny had already outgrown most of her maternity wear without even wearing a single dress out.

That had been this morning.

‘You know, if you keep eating ice cream each night…’

’I don’t want to talk about it!’

From the look in his eyes as his gaze drifted down to her pooching potbelly, her husband clearly wanted their talk to continue.

“I should have expected you were up to something,” she glared.

Finally he chuckled, and she hated how much she enjoyed the deep noise. “You weren’t immediately tipped off when I scooped you up in my arms and carried you to bed, like some kind of caveman?”

She moved and felt the rose in her hair bristle. “I was too busy enjoying it.”

That hit him. It wasn’t a playful tap, like their usual banter, but rather it was a barb that pricked at the warmth in his blue eyes.

A breath of worry came into her, and she quickly considered taking it back but… well, it hadn’t been a lie. She’d been literally swept off her feet by the love of her life, assailed with kisses and squeezes and loving breaths. She’d felt him pluck the high-heeled shoes off her aching feet, tugging at where sweat caused her dress to clutch at her belly.

He’d even growled out a chortle, nibbling her neck when she had gasped, ‘F-Fuutarou! I haven’t… even… had dinner, yet!’

“Don’t look at me like that,” she blushed, fingers awkwardly fumbling with the binding that connected her cuffs. “It felt nice to be… swooped.”

“Heh,” her husband breathed, his posture regaining some of his playful mirth. “You just don’t like walking.”

“… I don’t,” Nino felt her own smile plucking at her lips. She lifted her left foot to poke at his bare shoulder, letting her eyes drift over his figure. “And, seeing as we still don’t have that sports car-“

“Minivan,” he interjected.

The redhead continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “- then soon, you’ll have to start carrying me home after work each day!”

She met his level eye and felt the breath rise in her chest as one dark eyebrow lifted and, in perfect union, the partners looked down at Nino’s belly.

It was soft, pooching over her lap and onto her thighs, and just a bit pink where her skin had been stretched. She had no marks, a nightly ritual of moisturizers and body butter had saved her from reaping what her cravings might wrought, but as soft as she was, as girly and pale and princessly cute as she had managed to keep, Nino did not look like the expecting mother of quintuplets.

She just looked fat.

“You’ve gained weight.”

“Shockingly, Fuu-kun, I also have eyes.” Nino said, rolling them.

“You’ve gained a lot of weight.”

She glared at him for several long seconds before speaking, “Today’s Saturday, right?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not,” she replied evenly. “Is it Saturday, or isn’t it?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “You already know that it is.”

“Mhmm. And Saturday means…?”

His eyes narrowed. Recognition.

“It means that, just like the past seven Saturdays, there’s a full, fattening cheesecake sitting in our fridge. Doesn’t it?”

He said nothing.

She lifted her free foot, poking her husband in the cheek with her toe. “Doesn’t it?”

“And what if there is?”

“If there is, then that would make me very happy,” Nino glared, “because I have spent the last two hours hoping nobody would hear how embarrassingly LOUD you and our little darlings have made my stomach!”

A punctuating purr rose from her belly, low and affectionate but no less whiny than it had been as she waddled her way home. Her heated cheeks became hotter still, intensely aware that she could feel the vibration on the pudge of her thighs and the curves of her nude breasts.

Each of the pair glared into the other, their blue eyes swirling around one another like flames. An onlooker who saw only their expressions might feel some heat of battle pouring off the interaction, a sight like warring dragons. But to them, it was a dance. And it was so fun.

She felt her breath catching, her eyes flicking down towards his waist and the band of his pants. The strip of elastic that bound her cuffs was also secured to the back of her choker, adding delicious sensations of firmness to her neck that were, unfortunately, limiting, or she’d already have pounced atop of her bastard.

“You can’t seriously blame me for…” Fuutarou gestured.

Nino grinned, and growled through her teeth, “Who was it that forgot to get protection, again?”

Fuutarou rose on his elbow, which would have freed Nino’s leg had she the presence or care to notice it. Her eyes were too busy focusing on her opened ice cream, her nose huffing hungrily as he lifted it towards her… and touched her stomach.

A chill trembled through Nino that had little to do with the temperature of the frozen treat. Her senses rippled; gooseflesh erupted across her bare shoulders. The scent swam through her, filled her lungs and gave her belly the taste it so wantonly craved.

Then, the man committed an unspeakable crime. Something horrible, something that made her belly howl with outrage for which she’d never be able to forgive until she actually had a plateful of that cherry-soaked cheesecake.

He lifted the pint to his lips and drank several drops of Nino’s ice cream.

“I-i-if you… think… I’m just… going to let you eat… m-muh-m-my…”

He rose to his knees, spreading his legs to either side of her hips. His head blocked the light of the room and Nino’s eyes twisted away from the pint to what she craved even more hungrily than ice cream.

“How many calories are you eating a day?”

“Do I look… like I’m counting?” she replied, her eyes finding numerous love bites she’d already left on his neck from their previous dances.

“No,” he smirked.

Her eyes flicked to his lips. He was so close. She could headbutt him, she could knee him in the crotch, she could do countless violent things, but Nino just blushed.

She liked when he smirked.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she met him. Their lips held, parted, then came back hungrier. His lips were cold and wet and delicious with flavor, but his hands were warm and the noise of his breathing made the bunny’s heart thump and her belly purr and her mouth drool.

“Feed me,” she gasped into his lips.

He lifted himself slightly. “What?”

Another growl, another rumble, a plea from her stomach as well as her sex. Her nostrils drank, her belly panged, her fingers reached, and Mama hissed. “Take your fucking pants off and feed me.”

Fuutarou rose another inch, glaring, grinning, his grip tight enough on the pint that several droplets were beginning to spill over the top. They dribbled down to their sheets and onto Nino’s pale skin.

“You swear too much,” he said, lifting to bare his weight on the headboard.

“I never swear, dumbass~” Nino wheezed, her fat throat sweetly pinched by her choker as she smiled up at her husband.

She spread her legs as he kicked off his pants and, with some help from his wife, flicked them from the bed.

“Hmph… I’m too high,” she said when he came down, wiggling her hips and awkwardly blushing at the pillows that were pinched beneath her butt and her back. “H-help me…”

She drifted off, her eyes looking back to her husband. She looked at his hips, his waist… she stared at the muscles in his chest, his shoulders.

Fuutarou had the body of a man in the background. He wasn’t scrawny, wasn’t bulky, wasn’t much of anything. He was average height, average weight, he had a goofy haircut… but there were differences. Details to muscles that once were invisible, shape to a form which had once been formless, and yet still nothing compared to the light of the blue moons that shined from his eyes.

She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to stroke his cheek and tell him how handsome he was. But she was cuffed, and naked, and incredibly horny, so she giggled as he got his arms beneath her hips and grunted and jiggled her to slip downwards.

A few inches. She blushed and giggled and brushed her feet against his calf. “Not too heavy, right?”

“N-never,” he pant. “You joking? I carried you, didn’t I?”

“My big strong caveman,” she said, and laughter kissed every word.

Another tug and Nino helped him along, locking her legs around his hips and pulling her to him. A sigh of excitement colored her when she felt his hardness press to the bottom of her softness, and she bit down lightly on her tongue as she teasingly stroked him with her thigh.

“Kiss,” she demanded, and he was happy to oblige. This one was more animated, his slimness pressed to her pudge.

Strangely, in that moment, Nino thought of her sisters. Is this what it felt like? Not to simply know that you’re pudgy, but to feel overweight? To have your belly lift and slap on your thighs, this incredible chill that you are unquestionably the fattest girl in the room?

But then he touched her breast and all thought was gone. There was only the flesh, the heat, the lust… the hunger.

“Feed me,” she pleaded, again.

And once more, her husband was happy to oblige.