A Good Stuffing

“Alright, time to get started with the day. Get off Trist, let’s go.”

Simple words for a simple situation, in the lynx’s head at least. When the two of them woke up in one another’s arms after a particularly long night of drinking things that were either expired, far too high in alcohol content or both, they figured the best course of action was to make good of the fact they were already there in bed with one another; it’d be downright criminal to waste an opportunity like that, especially when Trist was already practically begging for the feline to shove their cock into him at the first opportunity, wielding such enthusiasm that even Tim was left slightly flabbergasted at how upfront they were being. Obviously though, the bun once again seriously underestimated just how much he could take before begging for mercy; it was still a surprising amount of cum he managed to pack into him, enough that his tits actually looked tiny compared to that colossal gut he was sporting, but the lynx still had to push him off themselves in order to let some of their release vent onto the bed and floor. A right mess that was, but at least it ensured Trist was properly filled up.

It did not, however, ensure he remained like that; in fact, the force of impact of that rotund belly of his hitting the ground was enough to make a large chunk of the cat’s spunk spurt out from between the rabbit’s cheeks, leading to Trist moaning even louder than he was already. This posed a significant issue, because now that Tim saw how good their roommate looked when most of his body weight was lynx cum, they didn’t want to just get rid of such a marvelous spectacle of debauchery. No, something else had to be done, something that would keep Trist exactly the way he was… and Tim had just the solution, not-so-hidden away inside one of their drawers: a butt plug! Not the most refined of ideas, but at least it did what it was meant to; all it took was Tim climbing onto Trist’s body while shoving that thing firmly between the bun’s buttocks, all the while hearing the bustyboy’s protestations beneath them, for the lynx to know that there wouldn’t be a single drop spilled… for the moment. Even with the cat’s full weight on top of that enormous cum dumpster, the plug held strongly, even if Trist himself didn’t.

Even though the both of them were quite spent, this didn’t stop the rabbit from still needing his own release. He was quite excitable in that regard, able to completely ignore his own refractory period if it meant it could prolong his pleasurable self-indulgence. Given that he was adoring the sensation of having a belly larger than him being so stuffed with his partner’s seed that he could hear it groan from the strain, it was therefore no surprise at all that his own shaft was permanently erupting with thick strands of his own fluids, making a right mess of the outside of his underbelly and the carpet he was laying on. Tim had a solution for this too, one that brought them significantly more joy and enjoyment than it brought Trist; without the bun realizing it, the feline had brought a cockring to bear, one that fit snugly around the bunnyboy’s turgid rod, keeping all but the tiniest trickle of pre from getting through it. The results were practically immediate: the tightness led to a climax, the climax led to a release, and with the exit gone… well, there was no other way to go but back. Tim licked their lips when they saw those tennis-ball-sized nuts start to swell up, knowing it was only going to get worse as the day went on.

Trist tried to beg for some release, but to no avail; the more he asked his partner to take the plug out, the further it was driven in, and when the bun was reduced to pathetic, moaned whimpering, he was simply told to go wash up, or else the two of them would be late for class. A full half an hour of loud complaining, moaning, sloshing and highly undignified noises later, Trist was dragging himself out of the bathroom, needing several stops to catch his breath, mumbling something about how much his back was killing him already. He had attempted to stretch a shirt over his body, only to fail to cover anything but his own bosom, while the shorts he usually picked for hotter days of the year had a very noticeable bulge coming out the back. He looked about ready to blow, which wasn’t helped by Tim slapping the bun’s belly so hard that it quite literally bounced, with Trist having to quickly bring a hand to his mouth to stop the worst… though not quickly enough that he could avoid coughing up a mouthful of cum onto his shirt, looking about ready to curl up in a corner and forget that day ever happened.

Getting out of the dorms was a chore and a half as well, given the doors that led out into the hallways were just smaller enough compared to the internal ones that Trist couldn’t just walk through them. And of course, Tim had to hang back and wait until the bun got stuck, just so they could then press their own bosom against the back of their roomies’ head, their own cock against his back, and moan indiscriminately loudly into Trist’s ear. It was so bad that the bunnyboy hit his limit and came again, only for the cockring to stop the release yet again and cause his nuts to inflate to even greater sizes. He just barely avoided falling onto the ground as well, given the speed he had after popping free from the doorframe; the amount of noise generated by his belly was enough that the whole building was probably hearing it, and all the people in the corridors next to the two certainly didn’t mind unashamedly staring at the bun’s body. Plenty even walked into one another or against walls because they were so distracted, Trist’s cheeks a shade of red so bright that it could almost glow in the dark. This didn’t get any better once they were outside; if anything, they just had a bigger crowd to draw from in order to further embarrass the poor bunboy.

At least, Trist thought to himself, things would be better during class, as at least there he had a reason to expect people would be quiet. It was odd how he thought this was the case, seeing as the seats were absolutely not wide or spaced out enough that he could use them, forcing him to go all the way down to the front row, sloshing wildly with each step taken down the auditorium. That he was in plain sight of everyone was itself plainly obvious; even the lecturer had to stop and stare at him every few seconds just to make sure that he was real. That wasn’t the worst part though; no, the worst part was when he sat down and suddenly the plug found itself challenged. Far from the relief he thought he was going to get, Trist instead found that spreading his asscheeks like that, even if it was a relatively insignificant amount, allowed the buttplug to move around just enough that it gave passage to some of the spunk he had inside of him. This resulted in a very loud, very noticeable spurt that not only made a mess of his shorts, but oozed out of them and onto the floor around his seat. What’s worse, the warmth of it all, combined with the feeling of pressure he had from suddenly having his clothing stuffed with Tim’s spunk, led to the bun rapidly approaching and then surpassing his stamina threshold yet again, with the cockring practically vibrating from how much it was being forced to hold down. The only thing stopping Trist from being in constant pain was how his seating position at least allowed his nuts to not be anywhere underneath him; the last thing he wanted was for those grapefruit-sized orbs to be within pinching or sitting range.

Things carried on like this throughout the whole morning, with the bunboy leaving a trail of cum wherever he went, far too ashamed to bring a hand even remotely close to his ass in order to readjust the plug stuck inside of it. He had hoped that maybe the sudden venting would alleviate how much heat he felt inside of himself, maybe stop him from occasionally burping and accidentally coughing up a glob of cum. Maybe, he thought to himself in his greatest, most fantastical moments of delirious fantasy, it would even allow him to start shrinking so much that he’d be empty by the end of the day, an acceptable choice even if it meant leaving an oozing trail.

It didn’t though.

If anything, the constant sensation of stressful stuffiness only got worse as the hours ticked by, leaving him feeling like he was going to explode by lunchtime. Certainly didn’t help that the lynx took that opportunity to further humiliate him in front of everyone, either. With the bun unable to sit down properly, he had to excuse himself as he took a couple of chairs off to his side, having to twist his back just to be able to eat off the table; he briefly considered putting his tupperware atop his belly, but not only was it uncomfortably hot from being inside the microwave for too long (thanks to said cumgut dragging him down, funnily enough), but the sheer thought was enough to make his cheeks burn again. Of course, this merely gave the lynx an opportunity to sit directly in front of him, smiling that lunatic’s smile that they always carried whenever they had a terribly lewd idea boiling inside that head of theirs. In that particular case, it was taking their shoes off and, against all of Tristan’s protestation, starting to rub that belly of his underneath the table.

Now, Trist knew that he had to keep quiet; his balloon belly was already loud enough on its own, so much so that the whole cafeteria heard him coming from the other side of the hallway, despite the infernal racket within the room itself. He had dozens upon dozens of eyes on him, whole tables staring him down as if he was the most interesting thing in the whole world. He knew that the moment he opened his mouth, then he’d never hear the end of it; for the rest of the school year and beyond, he’d always be known as the guy that showed up with more cum inside of him than bun and then moaned like a slut in front of everyone in campus. And to his credit, Trist held out for a surprisingly long amount of time, enough that, for a brief moment, he genuinely believed that he’d make it… right before the lynx poked his cock with one of their toes and everything came crashing down. The bun came, his nuts inflated with their backed-up fluids, his gut gurgled when he flinched, and his mouth opened. Trist still tried to bring his hands up to stop any noise from coming out, but it was to no avail; in the next half-second he was already exhaling with all his might, vocal cords strained and vibrating as his grunt turned into a throaty, whorish moan, produced and released at full volume for everyone to hear. There wasn’t a single soul in that university that didn’t hear the bun when he finally let loose, and there were very few cheeks that weren’t at the very least a little pinkish as a result.

Except for Tim. That bastard was still just as impassive as always, looking at their project like it was a minor curiosity.

The situation continued to deteriorate over the course of the afternoon, with the snailing trail of cum following Trist wherever he went. His own juices were joining it now, though never to the degree they should be; the cockring was working its magic on him and holding back everything but a thin trickle of pre, and only occasionally some proper spunk, from leaking from his tip. Most of the mess was just the stuffing inside of his belly constantly spurting out from between his cheeks, the lynx occasionally giving the plugg a firm readjustment just to make sure it didn’t fall off from pressure alone. It didn’t quite work, given that there was a constant dripping wherever Trist went, but it was enough that the overbearing sensation of fullness never quite left the bun, even when he could tell his belly was starting to very slightly deflate from sheer attrition. Still, it wasn’t anything compared to what he’d had in mind before; he was still absurdly stuffed by the time classes were over, with the constant shuffling back and forth, up and down stairs leaving him so thoroughly spent and exhausted that it was a wonder he could walk at all.

The exposure to… well, everything had also taken its toll on the size of the nuts he had hanging underneath him. His pants were long past the point where they did anything to hide it, having very much been ruined by the girth and weight of those cumtanks and exposing him for all the world to see. Wasn’t that much of a change of pace, given the kind of cumgut he’d been carrying around all day, plus that whole trail of jizz he left behind him; most people were content to simply chalk it up as another one of the happy couple’s sexual deviances, and even the few who bothered to say anything soon learned it was best to just keep quiet and hope the blush went away. Trist, for his part, couldn’t wait to get home; walking with those two tanks swinging underneath him made every step take all of his remaining power, and how exactly he even got through the door in his dorm was nothing short of an engineering miracle. Even so, he couldn’t take it anymore; the moment he stepped inside his legs gave in and his entire body came careening downwards onto the floor, the pressure wave from the impact enough to nearly dislodge his buttplug… if not for the shorts being in the way.

The lynx wasn’t too far behind, being the one who closed the door behind them to provide for some privacy. They said nothing, instead throwing their bags onto the couch and splaying themselves all over the bun, much like they had earlier that morning. With a single motion, they ripped those barely-there shorts off and threw them into a corner, giving Trist just enough room to think that maybe, just maybe, they would finally get some rest from their day-long torture. And yet, the lynx instead began to slide down, off the side, bringing their muzzle to the pair of overinflated nuts that the bun was sporting; deep breaths and deeper nuzzles, their hands sinking into those orbs as far as they could go, the pleasure centers of Trist’s brains going haywire with what they were receiving. Climax after climax, denied in sequence and made to fill him even harder, until each orb was about the size of a large yoga ball, stuffed to the brim with the bun’s spunk. It was no longer a case of wanting release, but needing it; any more and those things would be dragging along the floor, and even as he thought that, Trist could feel them rising to the occasion.

He tried to beg. Tried to come up with the right words that would make the lynx open the cockring and take the plug out, anything that could provide any kind of relief, even if for a singular moment… but every time they tried to come up with anything, whenever the right expression came to mind, all that came out was a whimper, a moan and a mindless series of sounds that barely even resembled words. Not that the lynx wasn’t fully aware of what their partner was trying to say; they weren’t an idiot, much less blind to the discomfort the bunboy was in. However, that mattered very little when compared to what they had planned for him, and for that, a closer, more intimate touch was needed.

Trist was given a final chance to delude himself into thinking that salvation was coming when Tim laid on top of him and allowed gravity to push the plug out just a bit more, spurts of cum erupting all around it. The feline brought their hand onto the plastic piece, teasing the bun by twisting it from side to side, giving Tristan hope that it was all going to be over, that he would drain out and then all they’d have to worry about was cleaning up after all the cum dried up. Instead of sweet relief, however, what the bun felt was something that made every hair he had stand on end: the plug being pushed in deeper, so deep that he didn’t even know it went that far, until finally it was hilted, his ass was firmly sealed, and even a thwap from the lynx didn’t allow a single drop to fall out in the middle of all the bouncing.

There were a few choice words spoken, enough to drive the bun to yet another climax just from thought alone, quickly followed by two hands grabbing hold of his shaft and pumping it for all it was worth. Trist’s eyes rolled upwards into his skull just as he felt another orgasm knocking at the door, his nuts bloating outwards at an ever-escalating pace, his mind blanking out, the promise of a further filling not far on the horizon.

It was going to be a long night.