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[$10] NSFW Patron's Pick Five Buns Full: Day 179 P.2
🕑 Added 2020-11-01 02:24:54 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: The following is the second part of an eventuality for Five Buns Full! We are not there yet, but consider this as a sort of sneak peak for the playful antics to come ;) When we are properly here, these stories will be added as standard chapters!
Patrons' Pick nominated this NSFW Halloween story as well as another Monster Musume story that will be coming soon! Please stay tuned, and enjoy!
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Nino stepped out of the shower, moving back to the strawberry-cream blob that was her reflection. She took her cleaned contacts from their holsters and replaced them in her eyes, regaining her sight and letting the nude woman smile proudly at herself.
“How much have I even gained?” she asked herself.
In way of response, her belly rumbled.
“Quiet, you,” she poked her gut. “I’ve got to clean up the damage you’ve caused.”
She leaned on the counter and lowered herself down on one knee, opening the lower cabinet. She began to withdraw bottles, several relieving creams and skin moisturizers that have been a miracle on her swelling skin. She spotted another object, a white analog scale near the back of her drawer, and Mama’s curiosity caused her to hum.
She withdrew her product as well as the scale, placing it down on the white tile floor. It was a small thing from during her diet, the cheapest scale that she could afford on her budget. It had been months since she’d used the little thing, more often relying on the digital scale at the hospital. A tiny red strip rested on the third strip, indicating the scale needed to be recalibrated. But to do that, she’d need to lean over again, and Nino was too fat and too lazy when she could just minus three.
“Gimmie a minute,” she told the scale.
She returned to the product, staring with her moisturizer. A quarter-sized dab of Yubi’s Cocoa-scented Cream lathered into her cheeks and her scalp. Next was several dabs of Peko Eye Cream, touches of vanilla mixing with her sweet chocolate.
For her body, Nino hesitantly sniffed at her latest two products. The nightshade-scented Deathly Body Cream for her torso and seaside Chumbuddy Body Butter for her thighs, calves, and legs. She nodded, satisfied with the mixed scents, and spent a few minutes lotioning herself.
As proud as she was of her chubby body, Nino was even happier with her ability to care for it. She had always been good at caring for her skin and was infinitely grateful when her acquired beauty skills helped her through her pregnancy. She had minimal stretchmarks and what few she did have were extremely faded, practically mixed into her snowy white skin.
When she was done, Nino looked herself over with both hands on her hips, pleased with how well her reflection glowed. Her legs were shaved, her arms were clear, she had no blemishes and no visible marks. She looked like the princess she always wanted to be, but the weight in her belly and the ring on her finger reminded her that she was a queen.
It was fate, really. Not chance, not luck. Her and Fuutarou were meant to come together. They’d made their vows before God. Which meant that Nino was meant to get pregnant with quintuplets, that she was made to be fat. Again she remembered her sister, how comforting it was to know how well she would wear her weight.
Nino wondered if Miku enjoyed herself as much as they did, or if her other sisters could have fun playing with their bodies like she could do now. It was just so amusing to watch her breasts jiggle, playing with the lips that hung over her nipples.
Nino was meant to be fat.
She turned and stepped on the scale. The immediate amusement made her chuckle at the grinding of plastic and whining of metal, but her mind immediately became filled with the belly of the beast as she realized.
Her stomach was blocking the numbers. In fact, the short girl’s body was blocking the entire scale. Soft curves were bloated hills, hiding the overburdened measuring tool beneath flabby hips and her fatty belly.
She let her hands coast over her curves, her nails leaving the slightest of impression marks that were becoming tighter as Nino’s enjoyment grew higher and higher. She looked at herself in the mirror, her wide profile with a belly that hung over her crotch, saw her biting her lip and the glimmer in her eye. She saw her long hair, her fat body, her tubby grin, and Nino wiggled back and forth with a pleased giggle.
She stepped off of the scale, her mind picturing something else in the reflection. A soft, tubby Mama, wearing a wide sapphire dress that made her hair pop. Around her waist stood five little angels, circling around the woman who was as wide as her doorway.
She pictured her husband over her shoulder, one of their daughters climbing up on his back, and Mama’s smile became a ray of beautiful sunshine. She felt as if she were about to cry, knowing it was the hormones grabbing her sides, but still she found her hand lifting up to her chest, feeling the beating inside of her heart.
Nino felt something more powerful than hunger, more heavy than fat, filling out every inch of her body. Weighed down with love, Nino took a step back from the mirror, waddling towards the bathroom door. As she passed, she intentionally stepped onto her scale with all of her weight.
Springs crumpled and the plastic frame cracked, breaking beneath the woman who imagined herself over five hundred pounds. Nino couldn’t wait.
Her pink and white robe was left on the hook as she wobbled out of the bathroom and into the chilly hallway. She could practically hear the building quiver along with her body as she plodded towards their bedroom, intent to lay down with her husband. And, she hoped, to revive him in the best way she could.
She opened the door, peaking her head in first, then stepping fully inside when she realized.
Fuutarou wasn’t in bed.
“Fuutarou?” she asked, looking from side to side. She saw something on the bed, some plastic package. Then she noticed her vanity. All her wrappers were cleaned up, but her costume was gone. “Hey! Fuu-kun, where’d you go?” she placed her hands on her hips.
There was no response.
“That man,” she grumbled to herself, turning away from the room. “He better not have run off. We’ve got to get ready!! Fuutarou!”
She checked the living room, spotting his shoes, then checked the other areas. He wasn’t in the kitchen, wasn’t in the pantry with Nino’s vanilla snowballs or her snack cakes, and wasn’t in the refrigerator with her yummy cream sodas. And while her fingers worked without thought, shoving the snowball into her mouth, she had to struggle to open her soda. Long nails weren’t any good for the bottle’s top, she couldn’t get a proper grip.
Grumbling and slowly building her temperature back, Nino hotly entered the bedroom. She nearly swallowed the vanilla puffball all at once but caught herself and bit the thing in half. Flakes fell down her naked breasts she shouted, “Hey, idiot!!” She stomped to her side of the bed continuing, “We’ve got to go to Ichika’s party! You better be getting ready! Ehhh?”
Now closer, Nino saw the package again, the setting sun illuminating the familiar figure of the girl on front. She hovered over it, casting most of the bed into an overweight shadow.
A skinny reflection with pearly-red hair grinned up at her from beneath a flowing red hood. Blue eyes seemed to taunt her as Ichika was posed with one hand on her cheek, the other on her waist, squeezed by a black garter over a frilly white dress that barely covered her hips.
Black boots over black thigh highs pinched Ichika’s waist as she modeled the outfit like no one else could. The label was for ‘Adult Little Red,’ and had an hourglass icon to indicate the shape of the wearer.
Nino used to be an hourglass. Itsuki and Miku used to be too. But the immediate comparison to her tiny big sister put a pink blush on her face.
Then, something shifted. A change in the cold air, as if the oxygen were suddenly a rushing wind that circled the room. There was a shift in the lighting as a shadow moved.
Behind her, the moon was rising, and she thought she might have heard the howl of a wolf.
His voice was soft but powerful as he whispered, “Put it on.”
Nino didn’t move. The electricity was still sparking, rising from her thighs to her love handles, then around to her chest. “Were you hiding in the closet?” she asked, trying to peer from the corner of her eye.
A paw, a hand, lightly rolled over the chubby bunny’s back. It squeezed her fat shoulder, circled around to her neck, bringing with it goosebumps and a bright sense of thrill. “Yes,” it said so matter-of-factly that it nearly caused her to laugh. “It was the only place I could hide your present. You’d have smelled it when you walked in.” His touch traveled down to her sugar-packed hand, flicking the sweet. “Fatass.”
Nino’s smile became sharper, her eyes became lidded. With hardly a touch, he’d lit the torch of her sex-drive, the fire in her belly. “Stupid wolf…” she whispered.
The loving nicknames rocked both of the couple, and graciously she felt him step forward. He was wearing something, something she instantly already decided she would rip and tear off, but still she could feel the craving, the want. His hands came to her love handles, pinched her belly forward. He rocked her up and down, placing his chest to her shoulders, his head to her neck.
His left arm took hers, stealing her bottle of soda and opening it flawlessly. “Put on the costume. Or you won’t get dessert.”
Nino eyed the picture of her sister. Ichika’s blue eyes now seemed teasing, her body now flaunted. Soft pale thighs, a perky white chest. A true hourglass with a mocking grin.
The choker clicked shut around her neck. Nino blinked, hardly aware that he’d been draping it on her, but every nerve now seemed to fire in lusting want.
“You-” Nino broke off to wheeze. It was tighter now, fighting with the fat that bulged around her neck, and sparking the hearts back into her sight. Her body tightened, her chest thumped, and her belly roared. “You said dessert,” she panted. “What do I get?”
“Do you remember?” he moved, his voice so intense that she didn’t need to see. She heard him enter their closet, then removed something. Something heavy and covered with foil. “The hot springs,” he said, then lifted the top.
Chocolate. It wasn’t like the cocoa scent of her moisturizer, this chocolate was dark, it was heavy and fresh. Nino’s nose hopped up and down while the memory returned. The memory of a warm, sticky, beautiful night.
She licked her lips, already feeling the saliva building up. It was the toffee pudding, the chocolate confection with a fudge crust. “You learned how to make it?” she asked, then added in the tentative sound of a fat little rabbit, “Did you get ice cream?”
“Put it on,” the wolf said again. She felt the tray resting on her butt, the warmth a loving and heated sensation. His muzzle pushed her fluffy hair aside, teeth gently nibbling the soft woman’s neck.
Nino began to pop open the top of her costume, enjoying her shortness of breath, enjoying the sweat now dribbling down her forehead. Her fingers were quaking when she took out the top, the bottoms, and the fine little cape.
Then she stopped, and put the costume down. She looked across the bed, at her own eclipsing shadow. “I want to see you,” she said.
She could tell he had to think about it before she felt the tray step back and, very slowly, Nino turned around.
Fuutarou Uesugi was wearing a pair of filthy jeans and a ripped gray shirt, beneath which she could see little red marks painted over her husband’s hard work. He wasn’t strong, not exactly, but he wasn’t soft either. There was a slope to his chest, a firmness in his stomach, but after Nino looked up to his face, she couldn’t look away.
It was the eyes that did it, his beautiful eyes on top of his dangerous smile. But the fluffy gray ears that didn’t match his black hair at all caused Nino’s belly to leap and her throat to throb. She tried to stifle the laugh by snorting into her hand as Fuutarou’s grin grew even wider.
“The ears look stupid, don’t they?” he asked.
“Yes,” Nino managed, trying not to suffocate on her collar.
“I know, but I wanted to show you.”
Nino put her hands to her cheeks, allowing a much lighter laugh. “Awww,” she muttered, still with a wide smile. “I thought they’d be cuter!”
“Are you saying I’m not cute?” Fuutarou’s eyebrow lifted.
“Would you shut up, that’s not what I said!” Nino sighed. “Here, give me those.” She reached for the ears.
“Hey!” he batted her hand, stepping back and crossing himself with the heavenly-scented tray of chocolate. “My wife gave me these. I’m not giving them up so easy.”
Nino scowled. “Give me those stupid ears!” she plodded a step closer.
“Now you’re calling me stupid?!” he feigned hurt, placing the dessert on the dresser. They both knew where this was going. “Why, when my wife hears abo-”
She rushed him, trying to catch him off guard, and was rewarded with a startled yelp as she belly-checked him. He tried to cross himself as she leapt for his ears, but she managed to grip one of the furry bastards and started to fall back. “HAH!” she called. “Got-WHAA!”
Before she could find her feet, he had her, lifting her by the hips. Her legs instinctively closed around his waist, her sensitive breasts smothered either side of his face.
“F-Fuutarou!” she shouted, the collar flexing beneath her neck. “Ahh! I’m too heavy, you’re gonna-”
They fell together, collapsing onto the bed with an obese slam. Her whole body trembled and the floor boomed, but the solid frame of their wonderful nest held
“Yaagh!” she pawed at his head, tugging his hair until their eyes were level. “Be careful, you idiot!! I’m pregnant!!”
“They’re fine,” he dismissed, then a bright color heated his cheeks. “They’re fine… right?” he asked, now sounding alarmed.
Nino started batting his chest, her nails clawing at his shirt. “Of course they’re fine!! You hardly dropped me. But you’ve got to be careful, I’m fragile like this!! You’re lucky I’m so damn fat.”
“I’m lucky?!” he demanded. His hand sank into her fatness, mushing her breasts and squeezing her tender skin.
“S-stop that!” she panted. “Fuutarou!!” Her belly squelched and she quivered, enough force jiggling through to shake their entire mattress.
He lifted himself back, spotting her gaze drifting to the tray. His laugh was a bark and the fat bunny blushed. Her short breath and sweaty skin was turning her on more and more, but the hunger was powerful.
“Put on the costume,” he said, the loving heat causing Mama to jump. She bobbed, looking from his sharp blue eyes over to the tossed cloth on the bed.
“I want to try it,” she replied, again pulled to the tray by the sweet chocolate stream.
“Then put. On. The costume,” he growled.
Nino licked her lips, trying to stall. “It won’t fit.”
“No. It won’t.”
God, she hoped it didn’t. She wanted to be squeezed, to be gripped and played with. She wanted to enjoy every pound, wanted her husband to hold her down and make her squeal.
But Nino wanted to eat, and she desperately sought how to do both.
“Feed me,” she breathed, then looking up to his face. “I’ll get dressed. You feed me.”
Her voice seemed to ring through the air like bells, the angelic tone that both had wanted to hear.
Fuutarou took a step back and reached for the tray, while Nino sat down as heavily as she could. Her belly slapped on her thighs before she reached for the stocking. “I measured myself today,” she said as she leaned forward. She had trouble lifting her leg, the fatty thigh mushing her belly to make space. “I used the- oof,” she righted herself, “used the scale. In the bathroom.”
“What did it say?” her husband asked.
Nino looked up to him. She wanted to watch his face when she said it. “I couldn’t see it. I think I’m getting fat.”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed the subtle reaction. They wouldn’t have seen the crackle of the fire that burned in his eyes, the slightest lift in his prideful smirk. His skin seemed to glow as the moon rose higher and illuminated the drips of sweat from his exhilarated face. “Maybe just a bit.”
“I was two hundred at my last checkup,” Nino said. She grunted, finally getting the stocking over her foot, tugging it up. It barely could stretch to come over her knee, just beneath the flabby overhang. She looked up to him. “You know what that means?”
He nodded sagely, as if totally understanding. “You’re over two hundred pounds.”
Nino rolled her eye. “I just said that, idiot.” She leaned back and spread her legs, kicking her hardly clothed one. “See? One stocking.”
Fuutarou watched her before, dipping his hand into the tray, he pulled a clump free. Warm chocolate pudding dribbled from his hand. Neither of them shied away, bringing it over Nino and letting it dribble onto her thighs and her belly. She took his hand and guided it to her mouth, lightly nibbling the fudge while droplets spilled over her breasts.
The fudge was perfect. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but it was a perfect recreation of that night at the hot spring hotel. He must have hunted down that recipe, maybe even the old woman who’d baked them that tray.
Chocolate. Loving, filling, delicious chocolate dripped down Nino’s throat and pooled into her belly. It met the vanilla snowball and wrapped around it, dunked into the mess of ice cream. All of the food Nino had munched on today, the chocolate was welcomed with an increasing rumble of sugar-soaked cheers.
“What does that mean, then?” he asked.
Nino licked his hands, letting a droplet coast down from the corner of her lips and down her round chin. “I’m over two hundred and twenty. Two twenty-two.”
Fuutarou rolled his eyes. “You are all so damn superstitious. Is Miku three hundred and thirty-three pounds?”
Nino shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck about Miku’s weight,” she reached for the next stocking.
A chocolate stained finger flicked her cheek. “Hey. Language.”
Nino tried to bite it before pouting at him. “You just said damn!” she complained.
A silent moment passed before Fuutarou lifted a finger and flicked himself on the cheek.
Nino’s laughed with piggish enjoyment, a delighted snuffle that quivered her belly. “Alright, alright. Fine.”
“We can’t get into bad habits. Do you want their first words to be cusses?”
Nino paused midway through lifting the second stocking. A fresh, embarrassed dribble of sweat coasted down from her temple.
“… You didn’t,” he whispered.
Nino puffed up to the round shape of a snowball, her cheeks colored a brilliant red. “M-Mama was under a lot of stress, okay?!” she looked away from him as he started to chuckle. “She didn’t know I was in the room, and it’s not like I knew what she said!”
“What was it?” he asked.
“Shit,” she pouted. “She got really upset, and then got way worse when I taught it to Ichika.” She tugged her stocking up to her knee, leaving it mostly undone and then turning with her mouth waiting open.
“You quintuplets are a handful,” he said, lovingly spooning chocolate into her mouth.
It was more this time, filling out Nino’s cheeks. She nibbled lightly on his fingers, sucking off extra droplets with her hungry tongue before she worked the bite over.
“Let me guess then. Itsuki’s was related to food?”
“Bees-turger,” Nino said through a full mouth.
“Of course. And Miku’s was…?”
Nino had to think for a moment. She swallowed the bite, feeling it push against her choker before landing on the slop in her tummy. “I believe it was Mama.”
“Leave it to her to make up for her sisters’ mistakes,” he grinned.
She aimed a kick at him before standing up, crossing her arms beneath her chocolate-stained breasts. “Are you just going to tease me, or are you going to help me get dressed?!”
“I am capable of doing both,” he grinned.
Nino blew out her tongue before taking the skirt. It would very, very obviously not fit her, and it looked like it was a cheaper material than Ichika’s model. Still, Fuutarou offered his shoulder and Nino stepped up, tugging the skirt over one leg, then the other. She lifted, tugging as hard and as high as she could, even falling back onto the bed. It wouldn’t move any higher than mid-thigh, not even able to reach the bottom of her backside.
“Here, stand up,” he said, gripping her wrist. He helped her, moving her forward and circling around to her back. “Ready?”
“Ready for what? Fuutarou, it’s not gonna-”
He seized the skirt and pulled with enough force to lift Nino up from the ground with a lardy scream that flexed her collar.
“Fuu-kun!” she wobbled from side to side before, with a hideous tear, she fell to her bare feet with a skirt, more or less, clinging around her backside. He mushed her belly down, causing her to gasp and wiggle before the skirt circled her waist, squeezed into her love handles. “Oi, oi!” she shouted. “That’s not good enough! You can see my… my…” she brightened, her fingers covering the bright hair around her most sensitive spot.
“Good,” her husband whispered into her ear before nibbling the nape of her neck.
“Ohhhh, whatever!” she shouted. “I’m going to need another shower anyways. I’m not going out in this!!”
“No,” Fuutarou came around the front of his wife, enjoying every angle and every droplet. “This is just for me.”
Nino chuffed, hands over her tummy. “You’re damn right it i- oh damnit!” Then she ducked the oncoming finger. “I know! I know, back off!”
Fuutarou glared, enjoying himself as much as he could. His hand then scooped another section of fudge, much larger than the last two had been. He scooped it up to her and she hurriedly opened her mouth through the groan. “Fuubatuo!” she mumbled, spraying more chocolate down over herself.
A tooth-filled grin met her ferocious stare, but she nibbled and chewed bite after bite, swallowing it down. The slop made the bunny feel more and more bloated, even moreso than what actually ended up inside. She was sloppy, wet, spoiled and fat. The glare was fading, moving quickly away as the pleasure of sugar filled all of her senses.
A sigh shook through her as the final mouthful came, Nino leaning back and letting the hearts fill the center of her eyes.
“Can you do more?” Fuutarou asked.
Nino realized she was really sweating, heavy dribbles mixing with her chocolate that covered her chin. Her magenta bangs were wet, she felt the sweat in her folds, and the collar on her air was really choking her now.
She loved every moment, but it took her a few to nod her head.
Fuutarou climbed the bed, lifting the white dress over her head around her chest. Her breasts fought the buttons, snapping the bottom two before they could come even close. Then she tried to get her arms, the seams splitting and filling with the little bunny’s fat.
Fuutarou held the tray over her belly, as there was no longer room left in Nino’s lap. He squeezed her with his legs and his bride took the hint. Both hands dipped into the delicious fudge, staining her white sugar skin with the delicious brown fat. She scooped both to her maw at the same time, dropping back in his lap and pushing all she could fit.
Which wasn’t much. Her mouth was hungry, but too small to accommodate the slop pouring from her greedy hands. The choker creaked as she took throat-bulging gulps. Even so most of it ended up running down her fat face, rolling over her shoulders and trickling into her hair, then down her back. Even more ended up on the costume, her squished belly and explosive breasts making the outfit as filthy as she.
Her stomach squealed, rumbling in fullness rather than hunger now, the vibration snapping open a few more inches of cheap costume seam. Nino felt the eclectic mix of foods she'd stuffed herself with today bubbling hotly, shifting around inside her belly and mixing to release a low, emphatic “Uuurp…”
Her husband laughed. “You want some of your soda?” he asked.
Nino nodded, leaning back into him. The weight was passing alluring, becoming lethargic and making her tired. She wanted to make love, but wanted him on top and doing all of the work. Instead, she took the offered soda as he tilted it toward her mouth, breathing noisily through her nose as she swallowed. She felt her belly swell with carbonation, the cool soda mixing with the heat in her tummy before the bottle ran dry and she gasped for breath.
She sat up, peeling her sweaty back from Fuutarou's shirt, feeling a belch brew audibly in her chest before she released it to the room. She heard her husband strain as she dropped back onto him.
The little rabbit fought just to fill her lungs, the collar on her neck as tight as the bloat in her gut. But Fuutarou wasn’t finished with her, another electric delight as he tied the cloak around her shoulders, lifting the red hood over her head.
Nino held herself up as he pulled himself backwards, let her tongue lull over her lips as he came around front. He was completely silhouetted by the full light of the moon, and in that moment, Nino saw it all. She saw her husband’s smile, his muscles, his hidden strength. The willpower, the mind, the overpowering love.
And she saw herself, sitting back on the bed, barely able to support herself. Filthy with chocolate, wet with sweat and her flooded hunger. She could see the wetness that stained her leg, realizing that she had orgasmed at least once already. Pregnant, bloated, a fat spoiled princess who, in the white moonlight, glowed with all of the beauty there was in his world.
“Make love to me,” she panted. “Make love to me. Right fucking now.”
Fuutarou moved forward. He lifted his shirt, stood over his wife. From behind his back, he pulled a pair of white and gold cuffs, and the blue fire became a roaring inferno.
“I’m going to have to teach you how to watch your fat fucking mouth.”
