Sheila and whitney 3 dinner stuffing

    Sheila looked at the fattening food before her and began massaging her belly as Whitney sat across from her to view the next part of the show.
    “Well, dig in,” Whitney prompted and Sheila grinned her new devilish grin at her.
    “I just want you to know, I’m starting to feel full. I might need your help soon,” Sheila warned.
    “Full? You’ve been trucking through everything easily so far,” Whitney said. She hadn’t even been needed.
    “Yeah, because I was staying one step ahead of my tummy’s signals. But now...” she let out a small groan before belching rather cutely, “you might have to make me eat.”
    “Ok, I can do that,” Whitney agreed quickly, wanting Sheila to stuff her face already. Her pussy, which was already soaked, was begging for more entertainment.
    “All right, here goes,” Sheila said, one hand remaining on the top of her basketball-sized belly as the other used a metal spoon to bring a full serving of mac-n-potatoes to her mouth. She paused to lick her lips and take a deep breath before letting the fattening food into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged with the massive bites she took, and she moaned softly. Swallowing, she opened her eyes and looked at Whitney.
    “You bake pure heaven,” she said before eating the other half of mac-n-potatoes on the serving spoon. And then she got into a steady pace of eating, scooping up generous handfuls of food and eating it. Whitney couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her roommate’s once flat stomach had expanded out so far that it was actually making her shirt ride up. That the shirt had once been incredibly large on the girl made the feat that much more impressive. More and more food was shoveled into Sheila and the girl continued gaining pleasure from her binge, moaning with delight and rubbing her belly.
    “Oh, god, it hurts so good,” she said after half of the giant pan was churning through her stomach along with everything from her previous binge: a 20 oz can of cherry pie filling, a whole container of Pringles, a liter of Coke, a whole box of ho-hos, a full bag of beef jerky, and most of a box of cereal. The girl’s stomach was beyond inflated; how she hadn’t popped was beyond her.
    “Need help yet?” Whitney asked, still trying to figure out where she came in. Sheila burped loudly in response. Her stomach shook violently, and she patted it lovingly.
    “Eermph... Not yet. This baby’s... still willing... Right now,” she said in bursts, shifting her heavy body around so that she leaned back, letting her back arch and push her stomach forward. At least her stomach had room to expand into, what with the excess skin from when she had been a killer whale. Whitney eyed her doubtfully, but said nothing: she’d wait for Sheila’s instructions, since she apparently knew what she was doing. But then the growing girl spoke again.
    “Actually, could you rub my belly while I get into this ham?” Sheila asked, her fingers drumming on her stomach.
    “Of course,” Whitney said, pulling her chair next to the bloated girl and reaching towards her midsection as Sheila daringly picked up the whole spiral ham and began taking greedy bitefuls.
    For Whitney, it was the strangest experience of her life. She had seen tons of videos of bloated and stuffed bodies, but this feeling... It was different than she’d imagine. Her roommate was stuffed silly - her moaning and groaning proved that point - but there was still looseness surrounding her rock-hard belly. Even eerier, Whitney could feel Sheila’s belly expanding farther and farther out. With every couple of swallows, she could actually feel Sheila’s food baby develop. It was fascinating.
    Yet even while she was mesmerized, Whitney knew that her real work was soon to come. Sheila was finally slowing down, groaning in pain more than pleasure, and it was only moments before the ham would be discarded.
    “Oh... god,” Sheila sighed about a minute later, putting what was left of the ham hock down and putting her greasy hands on her ballooning stomach. By now, both Whitney’s and Sheila’s hands could easily rest on her dome of a belly. She jiggled it half-playfully and slapped it a couple of times. It sloshed angrily in return, and she belched loudly.
    “Oh, god,” she repeated, wincing as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying to take even breaths.
    “You ok?” Whitney asked cautiously, still kneading Sheila’s large stomach. Her roommate didn’t answer, but waited for about 15 seconds and let out a sustained belch. Even burping couldn’t help against the pained signals her stomach was sending out though.
    “Oh, man,” she moaned quietly, pressing down on the very top of her stomach and letting out another, albeit quieter, belch. Whitney waited for some instruction on what to do.
    “Oh man, oh man, oh man,” she said regretfully, jiggling her belly again and shifting in her seat to no avail. Whitney sighed, irritated even as she continued rubbing Sheila’s belly. Sheila opened an eye to peer at Whitney.
    “Yes?” Whitney prompted her, hoping that maybe this time, Sheila would give her some instruction.
    “Do we still have,” Sheila had to pause, apparently too exhausted to say full sentences, “any swiss roll?” Whitney stared at her incredulously. This girl was stuffed to the gills, could barely even speak, looked like she was 8 and 1/2 months pregnant, and was speaking with her eyes closed because of the pain, yet she still wanted to eat swiss roll? God, she was something else.
    “I think so,” Whitney heard herself saying, “you want me to feed you?”
    “Um-hum,” Sheila moaned, which Whitney interpreted as ‘yes.’ She got up and went to the fridge, where an untouched swiss roll was waiting. As she grabbed it, she heard Sheila let out another large burp before taking a breath and belching again. Before she could even return, Sheila had let out three more belches. Her eyes were still closed, though, and she looked like she couldn’t hold any more.
    “Ready?” Whitney asked, and Sheila opened wide. With a reluctant sigh, Whitney shoved a handful of cake and cream into her awaiting mouth. It soon disappeared and her mouth was wide open, waiting for more. Whitney was once again amazed.
    “More,” Sheila said eagerly when Whitney hadn’t gotten the next handful fast enough. In response, she shoved an even bigger handful in the girl’s mouth.
    “More,” Sheila repeated, and the cycle continued. Whitney felt herself riding on a new wave of guilty pleasure. Her panties were beyond soaked at this point. This was so hands-on and interactive, and Sheila was a bottomless pit, nearly choking on every mouthful yet still asking for more. She never grew tired, just moaned while she chewed.
    “More,” she said, but this time with reluctance. Whitney looked down at the swiss roll, disappointed that most of it was still on the plate. Surely Sheila hadn’t already met her match? And there was still plenty of mac-n-potatoes left.
    “Open wider, you fatty,” Whitney heard herself coaxing as she shoved a piece that barely fit in her hand into her roommate’s mouth. The girl tried to say something, but her mouth was so full that it came out muffled and incoherent. She swallowed and opened her mouth again, this time to speak, but before she could say anything, Whitney had given her an answer: more swiss roll, and more, and more. Sheila broke out in a sweat as she rubbed her aching belly furiously, trying to massage it but knowing her efforts were in vain. She couldn’t stop Whitney... But part of her didn’t want to.
    “Look at piggy, too helpless to stop,” Whitney taunted playfully, pausing to poke Sheila in the stomach and leaving a chocolately mark on the girl’s shirt, which was still somehow covering her hefty gut. Sheila’s eyes flew open to glare at her roommate, but the other girl simply smiled innocently and pushed more swiss roll in her mouth. Sheila accepted the token.
    “Yes, you’re getting quite fat already,” she cooed, “All of those calories running to fat. What if your actual body gets that fat?” Sheila tried to answer, tried to say anything, but more cake was shoved in her mouth. At this point, she didn’t even know what to say. She was so confused. Had Whitney been manipulating her? Could she trust her? Did she - Sheila - actually want to be fat again, or had it been Whitney playing some sort of mind trick? Did she want Whitney to stop feeding her, or was being virtually force-fed even better?
    God, Sheila thought to herself, I have either the best feeder there is or a roommate from hell.
    And then the swiss roll was gone and Whitney quickly moved to the sink to wash the rest of the chocolatey bits off of her hands. Within moments she had returned to lovingly rub Sheila’s even bigger stomach. Somehow, it had grown even larger. Sheila watched Whitney carefully, seeing the look in her eye as she carefully kneaded her stomach. No, she decided, Whitney was just the best feeder ever. And then two things happened at once: she let out a groan caused by a fresher and way more intense wave of pain, and Whitney’s stomach - which had been neglected through this whole ordeal - grumbled loudly. Sheila’s eyes opened and she grinned at Whitney.
    “There’s still plenty of mac-n-potatoes,” she said while giving her roommate that devilish grin of hers. Whitney gave her a confused face for a moment before realization hit her and she backed away.
    “Oh, no, no, no, that’s not what I signed up. I’m a feeder, not a feedee,” Whitney said, arms outstretched as if to push Sheila away, but Sheila made no attempt to move. Feeling as though she had overreacted, Whitney laughed awkwardly and moved forward again to plop down into the chair that was still beside Sheila.
    “My bad, Sheila, I didn’t realize you were joking,” Whitney said, but on the word ‘joking’ Sheila nimbly got up and sat down on the other girl’s lap, effectively pinning her down. Whitney’s eyes widened as Sheila reached back and grabbed the pan of mac-n-potatoes, which was still half full.
    “Don’t you want to know what stuffing’s like?” Sheila asked innocently, not even bothering to use the serving spoon but just shoving the pasta and mashed potato mixture into the blonde’s throat. Whitney’s eyes grew wide with fear, but Sheila didn’t care. Two could play at the force-feeding game. She supposed she should go easy on her, since she was a newbie to stuffing, but still: this was to be a lesson, along with some fun. Sheila’d always wanted to be a feeder instead of a feedee, but after she’d gotten her weight down, she’d been too afraid to go back into that food-centric world lest she slip herself. But now that she was slipping anyway, well, she might as well have some fun taking Whitney down with her. Whitney’s eyes grew wider as she felt her stomach expanding with the heavy meal, her hands somehow incapable of pushing Sheila away. Outwards her belly went as Sheila pushed more and more into her mouth, nearly making her gag it was so much. She moaned in protest, but Sheila simply smiled.
    “If you force-feed me, I’ll force feed you,” she said, “Got it? I rather enjoy being fed - I like it more than feeding myself - but ‘no’ means ‘no.’ And if I can’t tell you no, then, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” Whitney didn’t answer but simply chewed obediently, already resigned to her fate of being stuffed. Sheila was almost disappointed with her lack of spirit.
    “It isn’t nice to not be able to say no, is it?” Sheila asked as she shoveled more mac-n-potatoes into the girl’s mouth. Of course, Whitney couldn’t answer. She had her mind on other things, like her blimping out stomach. She was eating so fast that she could feel it expanding, pulling her rather tight shirt along with it. Wearing form-fitting clothing probably wasn’t the best idea, in hindsight. It easily rolled up away from her expanding midsection and her pants dug into her belly. She moaned through her mouthful of mac-n-potatoes. Dear god, she was getting full, and she hadn’t even made a dent in the casserole. Maybe this was karma getting back at her for making such big batches.
    “Oh, is Whitney-baby full?” Sheila asked mockingly, and Whitney nodded.
    “What’s that? I can’t hear anything, I wasn’t paying any attention to my feedee, now was I? No, I was just paying attention to my soaked fucking pussy,” Sheila then said, shoving more food into the girl’s mouth. Her own quivering, painfully filled belly had been forgotten about in her zeal to stuff Whitney. It didn’t take long for her to start feeling a pressure from outside building on her midsection, though, and she looked down to find Whitney’s naked, bloated stomach pressing against her somewhat clothed giant belly.
    The scene seemed hilarious, and she laughed, her belly jiggling violently as she did. Only when she had set down the pan, which now only had about three servings left in it, did Whitney reach down to rub her aching, swollen stomach. It felt like it was on fire.
    “Did I overdo it?” Sheila asked, worried. She rested her hand on top of Whitney’s bulging stomach and pressed down lightly, causing Whitney to belch right in her face. It wasn’t on purpose, she knew.
    “Yeah, you might have,” Whitney winced, her own fingers exploring her tender stomach but staying out of the way of Sheila’s more experienced hands.
    “It’s so cute,” Sheila said, squishing the sides together uncomfortably to make Whitney burp loudly a second time.
    “How is it cute?” Whitney demanded, and Sheila smiled playfully.
    “You're cute. Like, cuz, you’re actually barely full, technically - there’s room here for the other fourth of the ham and probably the rest of the Coke as well - but because you’re not a fat cow like me, you feel full faster and easier and more intensely,” she said as she kneaded Whitney’s comparatively tiny belly in circular motions to relieve the pain. Whitney found herself moaning contentedly instead of answering.
    “Oh, god, but I ate so much more than I usually do,” she said regretfully as she touched her own belly.
    “You’ll be fine,” Sheila replied, “it takes way more than that do any real damage. Like, my fat ass, it’ll probably keep a pound or three, depending, but you? Nah, you’re fine.”
    “Well, that’s a relief,” Whitney said sarcastically, trying to wiggle Sheila off of her, “But I think laying down on the couch and sleeping this off will be more of one.”
    “That’s a good idea,” Sheila agreed, pulling her gigantic gut away from Whitney’s and sloshing her way into the living room, where she crashed onto the recliner and began kneading her stomach. Whitney soon followed, taking her place on the couch where she finally unbuttoned her pants and let her belly free. It climbed forward on the couch and she lay on her side, staring at it and rubbing it slowly. Dear god almighty, it was painful.
But even as she tried to hold back moans, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she too would look better with some extra padding.