Chapter Text
Hmm. Should he?
Gallagher’s fingers rubbed his strained shirt over his stomach. Sunday demanded he come to him already full, though with enough room to let Sunday feed him more. He’d already eaten a lot, but. . . Filling up on the soda would fill up all the cracks, and the fizziness would leave room for later. . . and give Sunday a suprise. He smiled. Gallagher loved cracking the uptight man’s prim facade.
He pulled the pump off of the most full and fizziest one. Taste didn’t matter, only quantity. The sugary drink poured down his gullet, hitting his already full stomach.
This was the dreamscape, though- no point in letting physical limits hold you down in a dream. He allowed his stomach to expand, feelig the sudden jolt outwards and then the slow expansion. The lowest button burst on his shirt; Gallagher didnt look for it, only pushing the pants to rest under his gut and the shirt farther up, exposing a section of plump, hairy belly. Sunday would berate him for gluttony and sloth, telling him what a disgrace he was letting his sins show so blatantly- and then feed him until the rest of the buttons broke as well, leaving him hard and panting.
Gulping one mouthful after another was starting to strain him. His shirt and stomach were as taut and round as a balloon, but it was getting harder to hold back the fizziness. He needed to save every burp for Sunday, after all.
Windows of hairy skin exposed between the buttons, fat belly jutting in front of him, Gallagher put the pump back on the rack and examined himself. Red marks were beginning to appear on his belly, in the section exposed below the belly button. His stomach was fuller and rounder than Sunday had ever seen him- even after their stuffings- and he knew it would drive Sunday insane. He licked his lips, setting off down the street with a waddle.
The rocking motion of walking was addicting- feeling his stomach sway from side to side, too taut to move much but the soda inside could be heard sloshing around.
The noises his stomach was making were impressive, a constant stream of murmurs and grumbles as he felt a burp make its way to the top. He swallowed them down, determined to keep as much of it for Sunday as possible. Trying to keep his stomach from swaying was difficult- he couldn’t reach all the way to the middle, only able to grasp his wide sides to try and keep it steady.
Halfway there, he needed a break. He flopped down on a bench, feeling his fat gut flop on top of his thighs and his moobs spread to the side over the crest of the belly. Heaving several deep breaths, he massaged his aching stomach, leaning back to give his lungs more room from the press of his belly. The shirt had ridden completely up his stomach while sitting, and he was occasionally getting stares as his fat, hairy orb of a gut hanging out drew several eyes. Some hurried away in disgust, giving Gallagher a jolt of arousal, and some looked on with jealousy or desire. He made sure to give his gut a few slaps, just for them.
Nearly there- Gallagher finally heaved himself up from the bench. Hopefully, he wasn’t late. . . . though, he wondered what Sunday would do to him if he was.