Pann’s Feeders: Howie

“I still can’t get used to it,” I say, trying to cover my full mouth as I speak.

My mouth always seems to be full when you’re home.

With a smile, you take hold of my paw and move it back under your legs, so you can see my muzzle from your seat straddling my chest. “You don’t need to be dainty with me, Pann,” you say, stuffing another of the leftover Easter candies into my muzzle. “I know where that food’s going. If I don’t mind it coming out the other end, you know I won’t mind it going in this one.”

I can’t hold back my blush as I swallow the mouthful of chocolate, my already-stuffed belly stretching a little rounder. Your smile widens and the lengths of your lower cocks throb against my throat as you feel it working the food down.

My beardfur is soaked with your precum. The musky scent is intoxicating, but I’m not allowed to spend energy tasting any of those sweet marten dicks if you’re not good and ready to feed me your cum.

“Speaking of where that food’s going,” you say, unwrapping another chocolate bunny from the discount Easter basket, “Have you filled your padding yet?”

My blush spreads to my ears. “Howie…” Even in your bed with the protective sheets, even with your promise to clean me up afterwards, even after all these nights of us doing just this, I can’t help but be squirmy at the thought of messing my diaper.

You know this, of course. It’s why you keep asking.

“‘Howie’? Who are you calling ‘Howie’?” There’s that dangerous smile on your face, the one you show when you know there’s no way you’re getting any resistance.

You stuff the entire unwrapped bunny into my muzzle as I try to correct myself: “Daddy…” I say, even though I’m old enough to be yours.

As I struggle to chew down the enormous mouthful, you slide off my chest and move down between my legs, sliding your fingers over the white fur of my swollen belly as you go.

“Mmm,” you say, squishing your paws into my diaperfront. “Looks like my little icebear cub has been wetting, at least.” Your muzzle presses in under my balls and you inhale deeply. “Love the smell of your piss, boy. Gotta train you out of your shit-shyness though. If I don’t see some mess comin’ out of you soon, daddy’s reachin’ in to get it.”

I swallow down more of the chocolate and whimper at the pressure in my belly. “But daddy…”

“Don’t ‘but daddy’ me. I’m not stuffing this gut all day for you to act like the fuckin’ broken soft-serve dispenser in the back of a fast food joint.” You slap my gut with both paws and give it a wobble before pushing down on it hard enough that I struggle to keep my stomach from emptying into my throat.

I cough a bit, and you let up, but I can tell by the way all four of your cocks are pressing steel-hard between my thighs that the display of dominance is turning you on.

You climb back over my belly and sit on my chest again, reaching for the Easter basket. “Only three bunnies left, Pann. If there ain’t a mess the size of this basket waitin’ for me by the time I’m done cramming them in you, I’m gonna punch your hole so hard you won’t be able to keep it in for a week.”

I do try straining to empty my bowel, but as you unwrap the next bunny my focus shifts to swallowing the mass of half-chewed chocolate still in my mouth to make room.

It’s hard to keep eating at the end of a full meal though, and I’m still struggling as chocolate ears are being pressed against my lips.

“Open up, cub.”

I whimper and swallow more, fighting my belly’s complaints. A bunny that was designed to be eaten over the course of a day or two does not go down in a couple of gulps.

You can see this, of course. The way my cheeks are bulged out with food I still need to chew. The smear of chocolate I haven’t been able to slurp off my lips yet. The occasional convulsion of my throat as I struggle to keep everything down…

But you’ve been taking care of me for at least fifty pounds now. You know where my limits are.

So as I lean my head back, unready for the new mouthful, you reach down with your spare paw and give one of my fat nipples a squeeze that increases in tightness till I yelp out in pain — an opportunity that you take to cram the head of the chocolate bunny into my open maw.

I whimper as you push it deeper in, its long ears almost setting off my gag reflex as you stuff it in place. With another of your dangerous smiles, you reach for the basket and grab the boxes with the last two pieces of chocolate, extract them with nimble mustelid fingers, and shove them in on either side of the big bunny I’m still struggling to bite down on.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You climb off my chest, give my stretched gut a thump that makes me splutter, and sit between my legs again. “Though, I didn’t hear any kind of blort from ya while I was doin’ it. Don’t tell me you’re still just wet?”

Your snout presses into my diaper again, giving it a deep sniff as your paws undo the tapes holding it in place. You’d kept me too distracted with being stuffed for me to even try to mess myself, and you knew it.

“Selfish soggy cub,” you say, teasing. “Left nothing for your dirty daddy. Looks like I’m gonna have to go in and get it myself.”

I whimper a little at the unfairness of it all, but I know my place in this game, and I focus on trying to swallow the last of my enormous dessert. I take advantage of your being occupied with my undercarriage to reach up and pull a couple of the chocolate pieces out of my mouth to make it easier to chew. I can’t see anything you’re doing over the swell of my overstuffed gut, but I can hear you unscrewing the tub of fisting lube and slathering it over your paws.

My tailhole is still soft and a little loose from our play at lunchtime, and your balled fist squelches in easily. The flow of precum from my buried stiffness gushes harder, dribbling out of the fatpad whose growth has engulfed my cock and balls together. As your paw pulls in and out, working my hole further open, you lean in to slurp out the dripping tunnel, your length of tongue stopping millimeters from my cockhead — I can feel it pulling at the strand of pre.

But you never touch my cock till you’re quite ready.

I gasp out hard as your arm slides in deeper, stretching me wide enough for the widest part of your forearm, and you lean away from my fatpad with a smooch.

“There’s the stuff.”

With a wet schlick, you pull your paw from my ass, and the stink of shit is apparent almost immediately. Your paw smears a handful between my rumpcheeks and I hear you starting to stroke one of your shafts with the remainder as your other paw punches in.

I swallow a mouthful of chocolate uncomfortably, trying not to make a mental connection between the brown stuff you shoved in with the brown stuff you’re pulling out, despite the way my stomach rumbles as it struggles to take in more.

My hole twitches around your arm as you cram it further in; I can feel it closing around the bend of your elbow as you probe for deeper scat. With a single movement that I’m sure must be pulling out my rosebud a little, you withdraw your filthy arm and shove the mess in where my thighs obscure my taint.

I finally swallow the last of what’s in my mouth, panting hard, and stuff the penultimate bunny in.

Your cocks press against my rump, soaking the messy fur with the levels of precum that only four cocks constantly jostling against each other can produce. They squeeze between blubbery bear buttocks as you lean over my gut, hefting my legs over your shoulders. “Fuck… That’s the filthy cub hole I was looking for.”

I blush and swallow, though it’s difficult to get more food down with your weight on my belly. “Huff… You’re not in yet, daddy…”

You chuckle at me, giving the sides of my belly a wobble. “You fuckin’ ball of lard. You’ll be too big to fuck altogether soon, won’t you? I’ll need to bring in a couple buddies to pull your cheeks apart so I can reach your hole… You just keep eating…”

I put the last piece of chocolate in my mouth.

You slam in deeper, four cocks forcing my hole open even wider than your fist. The squelch of flesh and filth resonates as each thrust of your hips presses my flabby rump harder, letting you go deeper in.

My buried dick twitches but I focus on chewing, hoping to get the last bit down while you’re fucking me so my jaws can rest for at least a minute. Pain lances through my gut as I struggle to swallow but I power through it, forcing myself to get fatter despite my body’s protests.

A powerful gurgling sound runs through my belly as I make it through the last mouthful, and with a gasp I finally lose control, my overpacked bowels convulsing around your shafts and forcing a torrent of shit between them, the mess spilling over your balls, down my rump, and more than overflowing the open diaper beneath me.

“Fuck. Yes.” You reach between your dicks as you pull out from a thrust to grab a handful of shit, and shove my fatpad back so you can jerk my dick with your messy paw. “My fuckin’ filthy bear.”

You slam harder into my ass as you jerk me off, your dicks pounding against the ongoing rush of scat — and it isn’t long before you’re blowing your load into me, upper cocks throbbing against my prostate as they unload first, followed by the deeper sensation of your lower cocks pulsing.

You slump forward against my gut as you relax, panting, from your thrusts, and the acid rises in my throat from the pressure. “Daddy…”

“What’s that, cub?” You smile down at me over the curve of my belly, giving my navel bulge a smooch.

I struggle to answer, fearing that if I open my mouth I might splurt half-digested food everywhere — all I can produce is a whimper.

“Oh, I still need to get you off, don’t I?” You slide off my gut, relieving me of the added pressure, and return your attention to my groin, pushing back my fatpad. “I know just what my kiddo needs.”

The sudden pressure of your left paw entering my tailhole makes me gasp. You hold it there a moment, chuckling as you keep stroking my little dick, until you switch paws — smearing fresh cum-filled shit over my crotch and jerking me off with it. I cry out as your other paw works my hole, punching in and out till my own shots of cum splatter across my open diaper.

You pull out and let my fatpad slide back over my cock, wiping your filthy paws over the entrance to its tunnel. “I’ll have you trained out of your shit-shyness soon. But for now…”

Messy padding presses against my rump and I squirm as you refasten the used diaper. It didn’t catch everything — wet scat still squelches under my thighs as I lower my legs.

“You get to stew in this while Daddy puts your bedtime meal together. I’ll change you when it’s ready.”

“Daddy…!”

You toss me a family-size sack of chips from the bedside snack bin. “Keep yourself stuffed like a good cub while Daddy cooks.”

The bag has a big smear across it from your unwashed paws.

“Daddy…”

“Oh, you’re such a big baby.” You lean over and slurp the filth off the bag with one swipe of your tongue.

My eyes widen. “Daddy!”

“You’re such a big baby, and that’s why I wuv you so much.” The words are slurred a bit, partly from baby talk, partly from still keeping that mess in your muzzle.

I see it coming, but I’m too loaded down with food to even think of rolling away.

You lean in to kiss me, pressing that filthy tongue between my lips.

“DADDY!”

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