#Mouse's Tank | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beefrobeefcal · 3 months

Note

Some angst??? Idk. Maybe there’s something here. You decide.

This is after Frankie tells mouse that he is as big as he wants to get. Mouse, being the wonderful partner she is, listens to his request and stops encouraging any extra ~indulging~ to help him maintain/lose weight.

BUT each time they pass a gelato shop without going in or mouse says no to a dessert menu, it stings. It’s as if he’s been left hanging for a kiss or like he’s been left on read.

Food has become an avenue of affection, and now that it’s closed he’s realizing how much it means to him. And even though he’s the one that asked for this, he feels like he’s going crazy being denied in this way.

To Nonnie, Love Beefro

The bitch is back. Need we say more?

--------<3---------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: All Pent Up & Nowhere to Go

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Summary: A communication breakdown causes a lot of angst.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,546

Content Warning: weight talk, angsty angsty, self esteem issues, communication breakdown, allusions to oral (f-receiving), feederism talk, car smut, masturbation, p in the v, established relationship

Author's Notes: I know this deviated from the original ask, but I hope this suffices, Nonnie. It's not as sweet or innocent as I think you were looking for. Thank you @xdaddysprincessxx for beta'ing & offering ideas! Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for also beta'ing & being their every awesome supportive self.

Things were rough, that much was true. After the night that Frankie had confided in you that he felt he was big enough then thinking out loud about how maybe he was getting too big, you’d done your best to keep his meals at standard portions and not offered anything indulgent to him.

On a Saturday, Benny had stopped by to return the snow shovel he’d borrowed from Frankie. Having not seen him in a while, you stepped back into the house to let the guys catch up. But you heard everything through the kitchen window as the guys chatted in the backyard.

“Fish! Holy shit! You losing weight? Last I saw you, you looked... you were bigger!”, Benny chirped with a huge smile on his face, patting Frankie on the shoulder.

“Yeah... well, you know... was getting pretty big... wanna keep the Mrs. Happy...”

You almost dropped the knife while you were chopping vegetables.

You peaked out the window and saw Benny’s face twist in confusion as he looked at Frankie. “I... dude, I thought... I mean, if you’re serious about it, I could always use your help. Trying to become a personal trainer... you know, I need to personally train someone...?”

It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t specifically said to you that he might be too big, but the way you jumped at his words and completely changed how you fed him – how you cared for him – was jarring. To see his portion sizes shrink so quickly and not be offered a dessert was disappointing for him. At the rate you changed everything, he couldn’t help but feel that you had wanted him to lose weight. Were you embarrassed to be seen with him like that? Were you glad to have a smaller partner? Did his body disgust you and were you doing a good job being supportive?

Frankie’s mind would churn and whirl through every insecurity almost nightly as you slept peacefully next to him. When Benny offered to help him slim down further, he thought you would be happier, but it only made him feel worse about himself, and he didn’t know how to tell you. He didn’t want to disappoint you.

Almost four months since Benny offered, Frankie had shrunk. Not by mass proportions, but enough that his silhouette was definitely smaller. It could have been because he wasn’t constantly heaving around a big, full belly anymore, but his clothing was no longer pulled tight across his middle. You did your best not to say anything about his body or comment on his eating, and despite your disappointment at his changing physique, you kept up a supportive and positive attitude. You had no idea that withholding that was eating Frankie up inside.

The positive side of this was that Frankie’s broad shoulders were definitely broader and his arms were thicker and more muscular. But Frankie was miserable; he missed how you looked at him adoringly as he ate, or how you would squirm under his weight. He’d pulled away and was irritated almost all the time when he was home. He'd barely touched you in the past two months, and it left you wondering why he had become so removed. You’d tried talking to him, crawling onto his lap in nothing but a smile, but he’d declined, saying something along the line of being tired. Needless to say, the dejection had caused your vibrator and dildo collection to increase.

Frankie texted you on a Friday evening and said he was going to the gym with Benny, and you could eat without him. Your heart sank when you read the message and you ate your pathetic peanut butter and jam sandwich alone at the table. Your sadness quickly turned to anger with a smack of horniness; he’d gone from needing to make you scream his name and come on his hands, mouth and cock almost daily to barely looking at you, and you had only done what you thought he wanted you to. Not bothering to clear the table, you stomped off to your bedroom and grabbed one of your toys from the drawer. It was a newer one that was specifically used on your clit, and it was the closest thing to his mouth you could get. Not bothering to look at the time, you got to work, making yourself whine and pant, starting the ritual you’d created every time you missed his touch.

You were so engrossed and close to climax that you didn’t hear Frankie’s truck pull up or the door open. You didn’t hear him come down the hallway because he no longer called out your name; he had stopped doing that a month ago. You didn’t hear him standing in the hallway, rocking between his feet anxiously, listening to you pulling those sounds that he used to out of your mouth. You didn’t hear the hurt that was boiling over into frustration and anger in his mind.

You did, however, hear the bedroom door open as you came, and when your eyes met his, you barely recognized the broad, angry man standing in your doorway.

“What. The. Fuck.”, he snarled through gritted teeth. In his heightened state, he couldn’t differentiate whether his anger was at you for what you were doing or at him for not willing to do it to you himself.

“Frankie... baby... hi...”, you said softly, reaching your hand out to him, beckoning him to join you.

“What the FUCK is that?”, he barked, clearly hurt, and pointing to the vibrator in your hand.

You jumped at his harsh, loud tone, then closed your legs and pulled your knees to your body. Swallowing hard, you tried to find your voice, “Honey... I just... I needed...”

He stepped into your room, his hulking form at the end of the bed. His eyes darted between your face and the vibrator. For the first time ever in your relationship, he felt unneeded and replaced. Betrayal broke out on his face, and he yelled, “You needed what? To replace me? Let me know I can’t keep you happy, so you put of a fucking show for me to come home to?”

This was not your Frankie. Why was he mad? He’d never been angry before when he’d walk in on you masturbating in the past. He used to take it as the warm up act before he got to the main event, even telling you to finish for him before he got involved.

“Baby... honey, no! I could never replace you! I just... I wanted a release... I didn’t think it was a big deal!”

“That’s why you had to hide it then, huh?”, he yelled again, this time, sadness and hurt clearly in his voice. He didn’t know how to tell you the deep hurt he felt, thinking you were hiding this from him; thinking you didn't want him anymore, “Wait till I’m not home and then fuck yourself? Don’t need me anymore?”

You saw his body language show more than his words could say. He was hurting and had been hurting for a while. You had no clue that he was making this whole big change for you, and now you’d basically told him that after all that hard work, you’d replaced him. No, you had no idea what was running through his head. All you knew was that you were tired of being rebuffed and ignored and wanted to give yourself some much needed pleasure and release and he was mad at you for it.

“How fucking dare you! You barely even look at me anymore – let alone touch me – and you want to give me shit for wanting to-to feel good?”, you yelled back, standing up from the bed. His face fell and his big brown eyes widened. Your emotions were getting the better of you, and you could feel the hot tears begin to flood your eyes. Your voice cracked. “What is happening, Frankie? Talk to me!”

He said nothing. He just turned and hurried out of the room, and you heard the back door slam shut and the garage door open. You waited to hear the truck start, but nothing came. You grabbed your things from the bathroom and bedroom and settled into the guest room.

After having a shower in the guest bathroom, you’d crawled into the guest bed and tried to sooth yourself by scrolling through your phone. It was only once you heard Frankie come back into the house that you put your phone down. You saw his shadow pass the guestroom door, heading to your room, and then come back out and hover in front of the door. You wanted to call out to him, but it seemed fruitless. He’s turned down so many of your advances and chances to open up, you figured this was it. If he wanted it, he had to make the move.

Your heart broke for a second time that night as the shadow retreated back down the hallway, and you heard your bedroom door close.

Your night was restless; you tossed and turned, never able to find a spot that was comfortable. By the time morning light was pouring in through the window, you’d resigned to the fact that you were not going to get more than a few hours of sleep.

As you laid in bed, trying to decide how to tackle the awkwardness that was sure to come from your next interaction with Frankie, your phone buzzed and your heard his buzz, too, from the next room.

Calendar Reminder! - 12:00 pm – Taste of the Town! Food Truck Festival

You groaned quietly, turning off the reminder. You’d bought tickets months ago for this, before Frankie’s health kick, at his request. You’d already made up your mind that he wouldn’t want to go – you weren’t going to make him – and opened up your messages to ask the group chat if anyone wanted the tickets.

As you typed, a notification popped up from Frankie.

You still wanna go?

You were stunned. You knew he knew you’d read the message, and you wanted to answer, desperately clawing at any shred of attention he was willing to give you, but he was still on your shit list.

Was gonna ask the guys and Hannah if they wanted the tickets. Assumed you wouldn’t want to.

Through the walls, you heard him get out of bed and rip open the bedroom door. You got out of bed and waited for him to come bursting through the guestroom door, but instead he knocked.

“Mouse? I-I think... I want to go with you. Might be fun, baby...”

His voice was soft and pleading, and it made you melt. But you wanted an apology, an explanation!

“It’s okay... I know it’s not your thing anymore...”

The door opened up and Frankie stood in front of you with an adorable pout on his face.

“No. I want to go. With you. I want to go with you.”

You’d conceded and now that you were standing outside in the sunshine with Frankie as he ate a hot dog, you were glad you did. While the conversation was a bit awkward and stilted, he was at least talking to you.

You mind wandered, watching the other happy couples walking hand in hand, when Frankie’s voice pulled you back.

“Mouse? You gonna eat that?”

You turned to him, then looked where he was pointing – at your hot dog.

“Oh... no. Go ahead.”, you said quickly. Then as he grabbed it and was about to take a bite, you blurted out, “Are you sure you want another one?”

You knew it was wrong as you watched Frankie’s eyes fall. He closed his mouth and put the hot dog down onto the picnic table, and sulked. You felt horrible.

“Honey... I didn’t mean to stop you. I just thought...”

“Thought what?”, he interjected in a cold, quiet tone. “Thought if I ate that you’d have a fat boyfriend again?”

You froze, feeling the lump in your throat start. Is that what you had become? That girlfriend? “No... No, I thought it’s what you... I - never mind. You enjoy it, okay?”

He didn’t look up at you. You did your best to keep the tears at bay, but it was quickly going to be a fruitless endevour. You got up from the table, trying and failing to keep your voice from breaking, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?”

If he tried to stop you or say something, you didn’t know; you were already moving away from him, discreetly wiping your eyes.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and somber. Frankie had eaten your hot dog, but avoided anything else except the lemonade you brought him. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you didn’t want this to go on any longer.

“Frankie?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what I did to fuck this up, but I want to make it better.”

He stopped and looked at you. You felt his eyes look over your face, examining you. And he was. He was looking for his Mouse; his sassy, hot tempered, spitfire Mouse. Instead, he saw you looking the way you had for months, and he’d ignored it – sad and scared. He pulled you into a hug and it felt different; not just from the bit of weight he’d lost, but the emotion behind it, and you couldn't place what it was be it felt final.

“I’m sorry, too, baby.”

The ride home was quiet; the only sound was the radio on a low volume. You noticed up ahead that traffic was backing up on the highway, and as Frankie slowed the truck to a stop, he swore under his breath.

Then you heard it. His tummy grumbled. Frankie was hungry.

“Do you still keep snacks in your truck?”

Your quiet question broke through the silence and was met with an irritated sigh from Frankie.

“No. Benny helped me clean it all out.”

“I have a granola bar in my purse.”

You pulled out the little, wrapped bar and held it out for him. After a brief hesitation, he took it and ate it.

Silence.

“You... you got any more?”

You smiled to yourself and pulled another one out of your bag, handing it to him, and just as with the first, it disappeared quickly.

“Can we talk? I feel like we haven’t had a real conversation lately... and I just wanna know how you're doing.”, you pleaded softly. You took a risk and placed your hand on his shoulder.

He let out a huff. “I hate this.”

You pulled your hand back and faced forward, and he quickly turned, grabbing your hand.

“No! No no no! Mouse, no, honey! That’s not what I meant! I mean... I hate this diet!”

“This diet?”

He turned back, hand returning to the steering wheel. “Yeah... I hate it. I’m always hungry and I just feel like shit, and I don’t feel like myself and I know this is what you want, but - “

“Whoa! Wait... what I want?”, you interjected, sounding almost offended.

“Yeah. You want this. “, Frankie eyed you before finishing, “... don’t you?”

“I... no! I thought you wanted this!”

“Why would you think that?!”, he snapped.

“Be-because you said you thought you were getting too big so I asked if you wanted to make a change and you said yes! I was trying to be supportive!”

You didn’t mean to yell that at him, but you were so wound up and just as confused as he was.

You stared at each other until a horn honking broke the silence. Frankie quickly turned and got the truck moving again.

“You did this for me? Not because... not because you hated how I looked?”

You stared at him aghast. “How are you even asking that?!”

“You made me do it so quickly! Like all of sudden you... you just stopped. Stopped everything! It’s like you wanted it and as soon as I said it, you were elated!”

“Oh my god, no! Frankie, no! I always felt selfish giving you all this food, and then you said you might not be happy with it... I love how happy I can make you with food and I never stopped! I put the same energy I would have into feeding you into... into not doing it as much!”, you said frantically. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is this why you’ve ignored me? Why you’ve-you’ve cut me out? Is this why you don’t like me anymore? Don’t want to be around me?”

Frankie slammed on the brakes and the whole truck lurched. He looked at you with wide eyed, his mouth open in shock.

The horn behind you sounded again, and if not for the moving traffic, you were sure that that Frankie was ready to jump out and punch the guy behind you’s lights out.

As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Frankie exited the highway and pulled into a parking lot. He threw the truck into park and ripped his seat belt off, then jumped out of the truck. You stayed put, watching him stalk around to the passenger side and rip the door open.

“What?!”, he barked, breathing heavily with a panicked face.

“What??”, you asked back, just as panicked as he was.

“You think I don’t like you?! That I don’t want to be around you?”

“Yes!”, you cried out softly, grabbing his face. “You keep pushing me away and I don’t know why!”

His eyes searched yours before he spoke.

“Tell me you want me to enjoy eating again.”

“I... what? Frankie, I’m trying to be serious here!”

“So am I! Say it! If you mean it, say it!”

“I...”

“Tell me you want me to eat everything on my plate.”, he growled, reaching around and unbuckling your seat belt. “Tell me you want me to hit my fucking limit every day at dinner.”

You felt heat pooling in your core. This was the most animated and hottest you’d seen him in so long.

“I want -”

“Tell me you wanna watch my clothes get too small again.”

He pushed you back and crawled up on the bench and shoved his knee right up to your cunt as he hovered over you.

“Tell me you want a fat guy to fuck you.”

“I want you to get fat again and fuck me.”

From the outside, it was clear what was happening in the truck. The door was wide open and your only saving grace was that you were in a parking lot for a nightclub, and it was 2:30 pm. Regardless, Frankie ate you out in the front seat of the car and you finally made it home around 5:00pm – just in time for dinner.

You made sure he finished everything you made – lasagna of course! Then, instead of Frankie hoisting himself to the couch, he backed you down the hallway to your bedroom.

“Never wanna go that long again without your pussy on my mouth, princess...”

You whined as you gripped his full – albeit smaller – belly. He grunted and one of your hands slid down to his hard cock in his jeans.

“I don’t want these jeans to fit you anymore, Frankie...”, you cooed as you palmed his cock. “Wanna watch you struggle getting them up... got too skinny for me...”

Frankie made a groaning sound as his eyes rolled and he shoved you onto the bed. You got your clothes off and frantically helped him remove his and you pulled him down on top of you.

“Fuck! I missed this!”, you growled, biting his ear lobe.

He shifted and laid on his side and pulled you into a feverish kiss. As your mouths danced, his hand slid between your legs. He groaned again with how wet you were.

“Can’t wait... need to fuck this pussy... need to feel it, princess.”

You nodded dumbly, shoving him to his back and crawling onto him. You spat in your hand, gave his cock a few pumps, then positioned yourself over him and sank down.

You both let out long, low moans, finally feeling like the missing puzzle piece was found. You started moving and his hands gripped your hips, keeping pace.

“Say it, princess... say it”

“I’m gonna make you so fat, Frankie...”

Benny pulled up to your house, determined to find out why Frankie had started coming up with excuses to avoid work outs. It had been almost two months since the last time he showed up and he’d looked like he’d put on a little weight then.

“Fish? Mouse? Anyone home?”, he yelled, banging on the door.

Frankie was sitting on the couch, letting dinner settle, and smiled at you then motioned for you to stay seated.

“I’ll get it.”

As soon as the door opened, Benny knew exactly why he wasn’t coming to work outs. Frankie’s stuffed belly was almost nearing where it was when Benny started working with him, and the shirt he was wearing looked to be at its maximum tension.

He grinned and gently elbowed Frankie’s belly. “See you’re putting in a different kind of work, huh, Fish?”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz

73 notes · View notes

beefrobeefcal · 6 months

Note

BB, I am on death's doorstep over this man's tummy in that visibly too-small tac vest. Look at it. LOOK AT THAT SQUISHY BELLY! 😭💀

So this got me thinking...what if Mouse comes across the tac vest one day while she and Frankie are in the middle of a decluttering weekend? She stashes it away for safekeeping with a mischievous smirk.

Later that night, after Frankie's had his fill of their favorite takeout, Mouse brings out the vest and asks him to try it on. "Please, Frankie Baby? I wanna see how it looks on you. 🥺"

Frankie looks reluctant...the vest was already on the snug side the last time he wore it in Colombia, and he's grown in more ways than one since that dark time. And Mouse? Well, Mouse KNOWS the vest isn't gonna fit. She's not even sure it's gonna close over his round belly...especially with all the indulging he did at dinner.

But sweet baby Frankie is not one to deny his Mouse anything. Right, BB??

Lovey - you know I got you!

HELL YEAH. YES. WE NEED TO SEE IT ON HIM. and we get out wish.

Smuttiest regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

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Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Frankie Takes a Trip Down Memory Lane

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary: Mouse finds some old relics and Frankie puts on a show.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 3,722

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, weight talk, food talk, belly worship, bely rubs, size kink, unprotected p in the v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy, kids!), v-fingering, dirty talk, the usual Frankie & Mouse shenanigans

Author's Notes: Thank you @thehalflifeofloveisforever - not only did you gift the amazing art of Frankie, you also stuck it out at the first beefro @ the Movies and listened to my unhinged thirsting for Frankie on screen. Thank you for being a Friendo and this one is for you!

And thanks to my lovely Beta Fish @neverwheremoonchild for doing what they do best 💜

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When you and Frankie moved in together, you’d rented a storage locker for all you stuff that didn’t quite fit in your first apartment. But even after moving into your house, neither of you really gave that storage locker much thought outside of grabbing the Christmas decorations each late fall and retiring them in January.

But you’d had enough of that monthly charge on your credit card getting a little higher over time and that was why you were now sitting on a box, sorting through your and Frankie’s separate histories. Frankie was at work, and you’d agreed to not dispose of his stuff – just to bring it home and let him deal with it - you’d managed to sift and sort through all of your boxes, filling up the back of the rented cube van. There was one thing left in the locker and it was a large, metal chest containing Frankie’s military gear.

He hadn’t hidden his past from you and had even shown you what he had in the chest when it was being stored. You opened it and pulled some of the clothing and gear out, smiling at how small it looked. The clothing and gear were from when Frankie was a much, much thinner man, easily less than half his current size. You then pulled an envelope out and opened it, revealing some pictures of Frankie with Santi, Will and Benny. Even though you knew it was him, it still didn’t feel real that the lanky, broad shouldered, baby face smiling in the photographs was now the big bellied, sweet, chubby Frankie that you loved so much.

A devious grin crossed your face as a thought entered your mind. The clothing and gear in the chest would have been bigger on you, but you were absolutely certain that Frankie would be hard pressed to even get the vest around his chest, let alone his belly…

*****

Frankie stood up from the table after devouring his dinner. His stomach was big and round, projecting out and side to side and he huffed as he stood to his full height with his back arched to accommodate the weight he’d packed into himself.

“You ate well…”, you cooed, patting his belly.

He’d been eating really well as of late, his tummy becoming more prominent. He also now needed bigger portions to get full, and you had been more than happy to oblige him. He’d told you last week that he’d had to size up his coveralls again, and when you asked him to bring home his old ones and show you, the sight of him standing before you with his empty belly and chubby love handles stopping the zipper from closing left you a whining mess, begging him to fuck you.

“Yeah… getting pretty big.”, he smiled back, slapping his belly. The dull thud noise it made from being so full was music to your ears. But it did give you pause.

He’d mentioned a few times how big he felt, how big he was getting, and you weren’t sure if this was still what he wanted. He never expressed frustration or discomfort, but there was an air of something in his comments.

“You still happy?”, you asked softly, your hand sliding down and rubbing his underbelly, feeling how heavy his tummy was. “Still happy with this belly?”

He looked at you, his hand finding yours, and nodded with a little bit of nervousness. “Yeah… think I’m where I wanna be… here… not any bigger though; it’s getting kinda hard working on big rigs when I’m just as… big.”, he chuckled at his last statement, then his voice went quiet. “Is that… okay?”

“Yeah, honey… totally fine.”, you smiled, standing on your tip toes and kissing him. “I love you and want you to be happy… and if that means this – “, you said giving his belly a squeeze. “- stays like this? I’m happy.”

He kissed you back sweetly and moved to the couch while you cleaned up after dinner.

*****

After the final pan was washed, dried and put away, you walked into the den to find Frankie laid back and snacking on some snack cakes that you didn’t even realize he’d grabbed enroute to the couch.

His eyes turned to you, and a bashful grin appeared on his face as he swallowed.

“Hey princess… just having a snack.”

You huffed a laugh and walked up to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and rubbing his belly. Even as he was laid down, his tummy felt firm and full under a layer of softness, and it protruded up from his body.

He hummed in contentment as his hand interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your hand to his mouth and kissing it.

He looked up at you and smiled. “I meant to ask: how’d you fare with the storage locker?“

“Oh, it’s done. I conquered that shit like a pro.” You gave him your best Rosie the Riveter pose.

“Hey! Good girl!” Frankie beamed up at you. “And my stuff?”

“All your stuff remained intact and it’s in the garage…”, you stated, then your voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as your fingers walked up his hefty tummy. “… except a few things I brought inside… for you to try… on.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raised and he lowered the footrest. He huffed as he sat up and his belly pushed his thighs open, and he leaned forward, hands on his knees.

“What you got for me, princess?”

“Just stay there… I’ll be right back.”, you chirped as you skipped down the hallway to your bedroom.

When you emerged back in the den, Frankie looked up and his jaw dropped. There you were, in the black bra and pantie lingerie set he’d picked up for your last birthday, your platform heeled combat boots and his tactical vest.

“Oh fuck…”, Frankie groaned, reaching under his belly and palming his crotch. “You know what you’re doing, princess?”

“You like it?”, you tried your hand a pin up pose.

He held his hand out to you. “Come here, princess.”

You grinned wryly at him and took a step back.

He shook his head, keeping firm eye contact, and he growled, “No… don’t you dare. You wanna dress like a soldier, princess, you take orders like one.”

You eyed him again, gauging if it would be worth it for you to make him chase you. He narrowed his eyes at you, and leaned forward a bit further, like he was readying himself to get up.

“Don’t do it, princess. Get over here and fall in fucking line. Now.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”, you purred as you walked towards him, swaying your hips, and took his hand.

Frankie smugly grinned and tugged you on him; you squeaked and hitched your knee on the arm rest and stood, straddling his thigh.

“Good girl…”, he crooned as his hand not holding yours reached between your legs and stroked your clothed folds, and you sucked in a breath.

“You look good in my vest, princess… it’s a little big on you, but you look fucking hot…”

“Want you to put it on… wanna see it on you… please Frankie…”, you whined, rocking your hips against his hand.

He huffed a chuckle and smiled. “Mouse baby, you’ve ensured I can’t fit into anything I wore last year, let alone shit I wore in the military.”

“I know… that’s the point.”, you panted, wrapping your hand around the wrist of the hand between your thighs. “Wanna see you try… wanna see all my hard work… please, Frankie baby.”

Frankie’s face slacked and he let out soft groan at your words and your palm coming down to the front of his full belly and firmly patting and caressing him.

“There were pictures in with your tac vest, Frankie… you were so skinny… but look at you now… you got big, baby… twice the man you used to be… eating well… getting big… getting round… making your belly heavy and full… look so good like this… but I gotta see it, baby… gotta see you get this vest on you…”

His hazy eyes looked at you as he panted slightly. He nodded dumbly, licked his lips, and hoarsely replied, “Yeah, princess… that what you want?”

You nod and grin mischievously. “Yeah, baby… wanna see you in this – “, you shimmied your chest to highlight the vest, “- so we can have a comparison.”

A smile crept across Frankie’s face; he gently pushed you back and hoisted himself off the couch and stood up. Even with the platform combat boots, he stood a head above you.

He hooked his fingers in the arm holes of the vest and pulled you towards him slowly.

“Looks like it might be a little small, princess.”, he grinned. “Anything you want me to try and get on with it?”

Your hand snakes down his front and you gently gripped his almost-hard cock through his jeans. “It’s laid out in the bedroom for you…”

You tugged his cock and he grunted. “Don’t tease… Gimme the vest, Mouse…”

You let go of him and undid the vest, removed it and handed it to him. He watched your every move and made a low whistle at you standing before him in nothing but your lace lingerie and boots.

He took one last look then walked down the hall to your bedroom.

*****

You sat on the couch, curled up in the corner where Frankie previously sat, playing on your phone while you waited for Frankie. You heard some grunting and swearing coming from your bedroom, and you looked up, trying to see down the hallway.

“You need help, honey?”, you called out.

“Close your eyes, princess!”, he called back.

You did as requested, and you heard the bedroom door open, then heard Frankie lumber down the hallway towards you.

You knew he stood in front of you, not only from his footsteps creaking the floor, but you also could hear the fabric he was wearing creaking and stretching over his body.

He was breathing heavier, like getting the clothing on was strenuous but you could hear his smile when he spoke next, his voice deep.

“Open your eyes, princess.”

The sight before you was everything you had hoped it would be. Frankie stood with his legs wide, as if standing at ease, his cargo khaki pants pulled up but tight on his thighs and undone, and his faded red t-shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders and unable to go down any further than that. His round, fully belly prominently sticking out, preventing both the shirt and pants from being able to meet and sit where intended. His old Standard Oil trucker hat was on his head with his aviator sunglasses on his face.

You noted the tac vest was not on him but hanging at his side. He saw you look at it and he sucked in a breath and held it up in one hand as his other slapped his belly.

“The vest ain’t gonna fit, princess… sorry baby… you fed me way too good.”, he chuckled as you got up from the couch and walked towards him.

“I’ll help.”, you cooed, taking the vest from him as you both had stupid grins on your faces.

You helped him get the over his head and one arm through, but getting the side done up was a struggle.

“Frankie… did this ever fit you?”, you giggled as you tried to tug the sides together.

“Well… ooof! … yeah… but the last time I tried when we moved in together, it was – hmph! – getting a bit tight…”, he grunted as he tried to suck in his belly to to avail, then he laughed, and his tummy bounced. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

Your giggles continued as you finally got one of the clips to close, right under his armpit.

“Hey! We got one!”, you chirped, and Frankie laughed.

“Jesus, it’s tight!”, he huffed out with a smile.

You stood back and took in all that was Frankie. “God dammit…”, you breathed as you looked over his big form. “Look fucking good, Morales…”

“I look like an overstuffed sausage shoved in a shrunken leather glove – “

“Don’t… baby, don’t do that…”, your hand cupped his cheek and turned his face to yours, and the other caressed his chubby waist. “You look like a man who’s served his country and is now enjoying life with a woman who loves every pound, every ounce of you.”

“Fuck, you’re good.”, he said with a lopsided grin. “I love you so much… I’m a lucky bastard.”

“I love you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed you, then pulled away with his eyes and smile wide.

“Take a picture! Mouse! Get your phone and take a picture!”, he excitedly said.

You giggled, grabbing your phone. Frankie posed as though nothing was amiss with his outfit and then you got an idea. You grabbed o w of the photograph of Frankie wearing the exact outfit he was in and gave it to him, giggling.

“Hold it up. I’ll get a ‘before and after’ picture!”

He looked at the photo then smiled and held it up, and you got a shot of him, twin smiles almost a decade apart.

The size difference shot a hot spike in your core, and you clenched your thighs. It didn’t go unnoticed by Frankie, and his smile slid into a devilish grin. He took your phone to have a look; you thought he was texting the photo to himself.

“You like what you see, princess?” He began moving towards you. “Like seeing how big you got me?”

“Yeah… baby, yeah, I do.”, you almost panted, nodding as he stood less than a foot from you.

“Tell me how it makes you feel to see me like this- “, he grabs your hand pushes it against his belly, shaking it and making you feel the weight of him, “- to know this is all your handiwork.”

You let out a breathy whimper from your parted, pouted lips.

“Tell me, princess, how it feels to know you’re making me outgrow all my clothes so fast.”

“Frankie…”, you whimpered in a whisper, realizing he was backing you slowly towards the couch.

“Yeah, princess? You wanna tell me how much you like knowing how much bigger I am than you? That why you keep me well fed?”

The back of your knees hit the couch and you fell back with a squeak and Frankie stood over you between your parted knees. He reached under his arm and undid the vest, pulling it off and tossing it to the side.

He bent down and slid his hand between your thighs, pushing your lace thing to the side and feeling how slick you were.

“So fucking wet for me… my kinky baby… my princess gets wet from getting me fat.”, he smugly cooed. He kept eye contact with you as you breathed in and opened your mouth, eyes trying not to roll back. You could feel your cunt gushing again with the way he spoke to and looked at you.

“And my princess likes being called out for making me big… I can feel you getting wetter… pretty little pussy’s just fluttering and clenching on nothing but the hope this fat guy’s gonna fuck you stupid, huh?”

Your eyes widened and before you could respond, he pushed two thick fingers into your core. You gasped and grabbed his arm as his other hand played on the headrest of the couch beside your head.

“Fuck, Mouse… so fucking wet… baby, so tight… love this pussy… love my pussy… so fucking warm and wet…”, he murmured as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. The sounds coming from your mouth and count were like music to him; your whimpers, gasps and cries juxtaposed to the wet, slick and obscene sounds he was pulling from your core.

“Frankie! … please… please baby… please I need… I want you on me… wanna – fuck! – wanna feel how heavy you are… please… please fuck me!”

He smiled and kept fucking you with his fingers. “Princess, you're so sneaky. You've got everybody fooled."

You looked up at him, panting and confused. "What...what do you mean, Frankie?"

“People take one look at me and assume I'm a greedy, fat guy. But YOU'RE the greedy one, baby.”, he growled, circling his thumb on your clit, increasing the speed of his fingers. “You can't get enough of this belly, can you? Never gonna get your fill? You fucking love it when people ask you what you're feeding me. You think you do a good job of hiding it, but I know, Princess. I know."

Words failed you as the coil in your lower belly snapped and you came hard on his fingers, a wet patch now on the couch under you.

“Good girl…”, he groaned as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “I could tell everyone I got fat on your sweet pussy, and they’d believe me.”

He grinned and leaned down, catching your lips in a fevered kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and your arms wrapped around his neck, and moaned into his mouth, “Please, Frankie…”

He pulled back and you both tugged and pulled at the too-tight khakis and his boxers to free his aching cock. You then removed your panties, and he pushed you to lay across the couch as you frantically kissed one another. He sat up on his knees and gripped your knee, pulling your hips towards him, and he lined himself up with you and pushed in, leaning over you. Both of you let out a gasp as his hand found yours and interlaced, and you assumed Frankie was going to make love to you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. What you didn’t realize was how riled up Frankie really was at your confirmation that you loved what you’d done to him. You’d made him bigger, softer, heavier, bulkier – and you loved him even more for it. The idea that he, at his size and in too small clothing, made you that wet and needy… it flipped a switch in his brain and put him on auto pilot; set him on a dangerous crash trajectory to fucking you hard and fast into the couch.

He let go of your hand and when you tried to sit up to catch his mouth in a kiss, he pulled your hips towards him harshly. You fell back and he snapped his hips into yours, forcing low grunts from him and panting whines from you. He put his whole weight into his harsh thrusts, making each time his cock impaled you sting – but you didn’t care right now, he felt so good.

“Can’t even see where I’m fucking you… made me so big… can’t see your tight pussy sucking me in… but fuck… I can feel it…you like having a fat guy fuck you, princess?... that’s why you’re so fucking wet…”

You cried out as he picked up the pace and intensity. He planted a foot on the floor, giving him more power to his already heavy thrusts and causing your body to rub into the coarse fabric of the couch. You could feel the friction making your back warm, and you knew you’d feel it afterwards – but you didn’t care right now; he felt so good.

“Fr-Frankie!... baby… keep – fuck!... keep going… don’t stop… look s-so good… so big… so fucking big!”

“Yeah?... that’s why your pussy’s holding on so hard… fuck… feels so good, Mouse… look so beautiful, baby… fucking small under me…”, he grunted, feeling your cunt start to spasm, knowing you were close. He released one of your knees, brought his thumb to his mouth and coated it in his spit, then brought it to your swollen clit and rubbed circles. “Come on, princess… come for me… come on… lemme feel it…”

Your body reacted quickly, and you came hard, back arched, his name peeling from your throat.

“That’s it… good girl… good…fucking…girl!”, Frankie groaned, his own release building quickly. His thrusts fell out of rhythm and as your body started to come down, he found his end. Pounding into you in a few quick thrusts, he came, and you could feel his hot spend filling you up and seeping out of you on to the couch.

Normally, you would have stay connected for a little while longer, but Frankie’s exertion in combination with the added weight he carried with his big dinner left him needing to sit down. When he pulled out of you, you let out a soft whimper and reached for him.

“I know, princess… I know… I’m sorry… I gotta sit down…”, he panted, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it before sitting back heavily in his spot at the end of the couch. He placed his hand on your ankle and rubbed gently.

You sat up, now keenly aware of the mess under you, and crawled to his side, snuggling in. You rubbed his belly gently; he was still feeling quite full, and you knew he needed to let it settle.

The faded red t-shirt was still pulled tight across his chest, and you slipped your finger under the rolled up hem, feeling almost no give.

“How did you manage to get this on?”, you asked quietly with a smile.

Frankie wiped his forehead and chuckled. “It wasn’t easy… and I can’t imagine getting it off will be either.”

Your phone vibrated, alerting you to a text, and then a few more in rapid succession. You sat up, scanning the room and finally found your phone on the floor next to the couch. Picking it up, you unlocked it and saw your group chat with Benny, Santi, Frankie, Hannah and Will was busy reacting to something. You scrolled up in the chat and saw that Frankie had sent the comparison picture of him holding his old photo to the group from your phone.

“Frankie!”, you gasped, and he laughed beside you, reading the comments.

“Holy fuck Fish!😲😂” - Santi “Yeah… I guess Mouse is a good cook 🤣 ” - Hannah "Breaking news! Relationship weight gain is not a myth!” - Benny “MOUSE. WFT.” - Will

--------<3---------

Image drawn by @yahtiwakitakos

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