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"description": "Summary:\nCW: Eating/Weight gain, First person writing\n(Incomplete)\nRocket Raccoon lets a bar worker play with his belly to get free food and drinks.\n\nCharacters:\nRocket Raccoon (Male, enhanced raccoon, adult)\nReader (Male (or masc), Humanoid, adult)\n",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Summary:
CW: Eating/Weight gain, First person writing
(Incomplete)
Rocket Raccoon lets a bar worker play with his belly to get free food and drinks.
Characters:
Rocket Raccoon (Male, enhanced raccoon, adult)
Reader (Male (or masc), Humanoid, adult)
",
"writing": "The bar in the middle of nowhere space was raucous and loud, while I sat belly-to-belly with a fat space-hero raccoon.\n\nRocket had noticed me watching him as he ate... Specifically, staring at his ample rump and chubby gut, struggling to take my eyes off the diminutive and heavy male. I'd heard of him, of course, and seen pics on the space-faring equivalent of the internet, but I certainly hadn't seen any recent ones; he'd put on a GREAT deal of weight, his dark brown fur coating his thickly-padded frame; thick hips, plump arms, girthy thighs and butt...\n\nAnd, of course, the gruff, raucous, half-drunk raccoon male had noticed me staring at him. Had flashed an expression halfway between taunting sneer and cocky grin, and teased: ``If you want, humie, you can play with my gut! Just gotta pay half my bill, hehe.''\n\nHe'd laughed at what I'm sure he thought was a very funny joke. Of course, he'd gone flush and flustered when I hesitantly agreed, my cheeks warm with blush as I agreed to his joking deal.\n\nMinutes later, we'd both sequestered off into one of the booth seats off to the side, a bit out of view. And, somehow, I'd goaded him to sit in my lap, his plump thighs straddling my own, his pudgy abdomen, straining his shirt and making it ride up a good few inches to expose the soft furry-pink of his belly, pressing against my own front.\n\nRocket seemed flustered, like he probably had his own matching blush on his plump, furry cheeks. He tried to ignore me, even as I sat there patiently with both my hands on his hips, unmoving and unsqueezing, but feeling his heat and softness against my fingers.\n\nAlmost pointedly, he worked on finishing off his last tray of food. Twisting in my lap, tail swaying under the table and scarfing it down.\n\nOf course, that was its own show. If a short, fat raccoon boy was enticing, so was his maw, and I found myself fixatedly watching him eat. The way his nimble little tongue slurped at the edges of his lips, exposing some glinting white fangs as he worked some of the oil and grease gathered on his furry face off his muzzle. Working at the strange little tentacled `space-sushi' that he'd ordered, greasy and firm and probably not alive, but it was hard to tell.\n\nHis narrow fingers, wrists plump with fat, grasped the last piece, a little cluster with a few thick, meaty tentacles dripping with some kind of oil. He licked his lips again, and I tried not to bite my own bottom lip at the sight, my face hot with interest and my heart thumping eagerly.\n\n``Aah...'' the fat little raccoon murred, bringing the morsel to his mouth. His lips curled back, snout scrunching slihgtly as he bared his fangs, clamping those sharp little canine teeth onto the thickest of the space-foods tentacles. The flesh yielded against his teeth, a soft murr leaving his throat reflexively as it spurted messily, dripping down his furry chin. He twisted, a slight growl making his curled lips vibrate, before he tugged hard, ripping it free. ``Mmf... That's good,'' Rocket hummed to himself, messily chewing with his mouth open, almost as if giving me a show of him chomping up the food. More dribblings of oil dripped passed his lips, joining the hot, greasy mess around his muzzle.\n\nHe stopped chewing, eyes closing as he gulped, and gave a hot-tongued sigh of pleasure.\n\n``G- God...'' I reflxively stammered, eyes locked on him eating. My fingers curled against his pudgy middle, and he flinched at the feeling, but didn't pull away.\n\n``Hmf,'' he grunted, giving me a side-eyed glance as I watched him eat. ``... Enjoyin' the show, perv?''\n\n``... Y- Yeah.'' \n\nMaybe admitting as such was the wrong answer; his round ears flicked, and he gave a scoffing huff of amusement. Or maybe it wasn't wrong, as he turned to face me again, still holding the rest of the tentacled food, dripping with grease, between two fingers. Teasingly, eyes twinkling mischieviously, he taunted, ``Then get a load of this, humie.''\n\nHe tilted his head back, and I watched intensely, heart pounding and breath hitching as he lifted the morsel above his snout. Rocket opened his maw wide, tongue lolling forward, fangs dripping with a bit of saliva as he gave a soft, hot-breathed, ``Aaah...''\n\nI could smell his breath, littered with all the greasy alien foods he'd been consuming, as well as the spicy alcohol he'd been guzzling half the night. It made me flinch, slightly, even the smell of it burning in my nostrils and throat a bit, but... definitely in a good way, like smelling barbecue smoke. I swallowed hard and leaned forward a bit in my seat, feeling my belly pressing into his own, soft and warm.\n\nHe didn't drop the food; instead, Rocket lowered it ever so slightly, the greasy tentacled morsel sagging against his extended tongue. I watched as his fingers held it a moment, that slick pink appendage curling up against it, starting to pull it back into his mouth. Then, releasing his fingers' grip, he clamped his maw shut, fangs clamping, teeth bared and dripping with saliva and grease as he closed down on the food.\n\n``Mmmm...'' Rocket murred, eyes closed contently as, showing off for me and me alone, he gave it a few eager chomps, bits of ruined tentacled mess visible on his tongue and filling his long, narrow maw. Once again, a fresh dribbling of grease and saliva dripped down his face, the flood of it overfilling his mouth and dripping down the front of his chin. ``Mm-mm-mmm...''\n\nOnce again, I gulped hard, face burning and eyes watching intently. At some point, I'd started stroking at his hip, encouragingly or comfortingly or perhaps just mechanically, watching him eat of all things. \n\nHe stopped chewing, and somehow his tongue had slipped forward, protruding from his teeth as he gave a happy and heavy swallow, throat bulging a bit with the girth of the food he was gulping down. He gulped again, and then again, before finally lowering his head again, jaw dropping in a hot, satisfied, tongue-lolling:\n\n``Aaah...''\n\n``G- God...'' I uttered intensely, a shiver running up my spine. God, how did a cute little stud like him make EATING look hot? Almost hesitantly, I inquired, still stroking at his side and hoping he didn't make me stop, ``Was it that good?''\n\n``Mm, definitely,'' Rocket murred, eyes still closed contently as he licked his lips lusciously, that long, slick tongue curling up the edge of his muzzle. He sighed, then opened those red-brown eyes, gazing up at me and flashing a sharp-fanged smirk. ``Enjoy the show, humie?''\n\n``Yeah. Y- Yeah, I did,'' I admitted readily enough.\n\n``Heh. Maybe I should make you pay just for THAT, huh?'' the cocky, fat raccoon teasingly commented, winking at me. But, a moment later, he leaned back, resting one elbow on the table behind him, that ample tummy of his pressing forward against my own. ``Mm, but, a deal's a deal, and Rocket Raccoon don't go back on a deal,'' he declared, his other hand settling atop his gut. ``So, go at it, big guy.''\n\nI didn't know where to start. My eyes went from his face, cocky and teasing and confident, down to that ample, furry gut, straining in his shirt. His plump chest and the cut of the shirt gave him deep-cut cleavage, and I could see the sweat-moist fur down the cleft of his pudgy tits.\n\nWhere to start, where to...\n\nOh.\n\n``Uh,'' I began, face burning but to excited to be doing what I was doing to stop myself. ``Could you, uh, lift your shirt for me, Rocket? Like... over your tits.''\n\nThat caught the raccoon off guard, it seemed, as he blinked in shock, cocky expression dropping for a second in confusion. Then, he smirked again, huffing in amusement. ``You're a weird one, huh, humie?'' he teased, but slipped his hand down the front of his chubby belly, hooking those nimble little fingers under the hem of his straining shirt. ``Sure, go at it.''\n\nHe lifted the shirt up, wiggling it a bit to get it over the curve of his love-handles at his sides. But, with a tug, he exposed that heavy gut, plump with raccoon-fat and space bar food, jiggling a bit as the shirt caught and dropped the ample weight. Though his fur was dark, the girth of his swollen belly dispersed his underbelly fur, and so instead of being dark and thickly-furred like it might have been were he scrawnier, the thin fur gave it a pink, soft look, big and doughy and warm.\n\nVisibly sticking his tongue out a bit at the `effort', Rocket kept bringing his shirt up, both paws tugging up his clothing.\n\n",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "The bar in the middle of nowhere space was raucous and loud, while I sat belly-to-belly with a fat space-hero raccoon.
Rocket had noticed me watching him as he ate... Specifically, staring at his ample rump and chubby gut, struggling to take my eyes off the diminutive and heavy male. I'd heard of him, of course, and seen pics on the space-faring equivalent of the internet, but I certainly hadn't seen any recent ones; he'd put on a GREAT deal of weight, his dark brown fur coating his thickly-padded frame; thick hips, plump arms, girthy thighs and butt...
And, of course, the gruff, raucous, half-drunk raccoon male had noticed me staring at him. Had flashed an expression halfway between taunting sneer and cocky grin, and teased: ``If you want, humie, you can play with my gut! Just gotta pay half my bill, hehe.''
He'd laughed at what I'm sure he thought was a very funny joke. Of course, he'd gone flush and flustered when I hesitantly agreed, my cheeks warm with blush as I agreed to his joking deal.
Minutes later, we'd both sequestered off into one of the booth seats off to the side, a bit out of view. And, somehow, I'd goaded him to sit in my lap, his plump thighs straddling my own, his pudgy abdomen, straining his shirt and making it ride up a good few inches to expose the soft furry-pink of his belly, pressing against my own front.
Rocket seemed flustered, like he probably had his own matching blush on his plump, furry cheeks. He tried to ignore me, even as I sat there patiently with both my hands on his hips, unmoving and unsqueezing, but feeling his heat and softness against my fingers.
Almost pointedly, he worked on finishing off his last tray of food. Twisting in my lap, tail swaying under the table and scarfing it down.
Of course, that was its own show. If a short, fat raccoon boy was enticing, so was his maw, and I found myself fixatedly watching him eat. The way his nimble little tongue slurped at the edges of his lips, exposing some glinting white fangs as he worked some of the oil and grease gathered on his furry face off his muzzle. Working at the strange little tentacled `space-sushi' that he'd ordered, greasy and firm and probably not alive, but it was hard to tell.
His narrow fingers, wrists plump with fat, grasped the last piece, a little cluster with a few thick, meaty tentacles dripping with some kind of oil. He licked his lips again, and I tried not to bite my own bottom lip at the sight, my face hot with interest and my heart thumping eagerly.
``Aah...'' the fat little raccoon murred, bringing the morsel to his mouth. His lips curled back, snout scrunching slihgtly as he bared his fangs, clamping those sharp little canine teeth onto the thickest of the space-foods tentacles. The flesh yielded against his teeth, a soft murr leaving his throat reflexively as it spurted messily, dripping down his furry chin. He twisted, a slight growl making his curled lips vibrate, before he tugged hard, ripping it free. ``Mmf... That's good,'' Rocket hummed to himself, messily chewing with his mouth open, almost as if giving me a show of him chomping up the food. More dribblings of oil dripped passed his lips, joining the hot, greasy mess around his muzzle.
He stopped chewing, eyes closing as he gulped, and gave a hot-tongued sigh of pleasure.
``G- God...'' I reflxively stammered, eyes locked on him eating. My fingers curled against his pudgy middle, and he flinched at the feeling, but didn't pull away.
``Hmf,'' he grunted, giving me a side-eyed glance as I watched him eat. ``... Enjoyin' the show, perv?''
``... Y- Yeah.''
Maybe admitting as such was the wrong answer; his round ears flicked, and he gave a scoffing huff of amusement. Or maybe it wasn't wrong, as he turned to face me again, still holding the rest of the tentacled food, dripping with grease, between two fingers. Teasingly, eyes twinkling mischieviously, he taunted, ``Then get a load of this, humie.''
He tilted his head back, and I watched intensely, heart pounding and breath hitching as he lifted the morsel above his snout. Rocket opened his maw wide, tongue lolling forward, fangs dripping with a bit of saliva as he gave a soft, hot-breathed, ``Aaah...''
I could smell his breath, littered with all the greasy alien foods he'd been consuming, as well as the spicy alcohol he'd been guzzling half the night. It made me flinch, slightly, even the smell of it burning in my nostrils and throat a bit, but... definitely in a good way, like smelling barbecue smoke. I swallowed hard and leaned forward a bit in my seat, feeling my belly pressing into his own, soft and warm.
He didn't drop the food; instead, Rocket lowered it ever so slightly, the greasy tentacled morsel sagging against his extended tongue. I watched as his fingers held it a moment, that slick pink appendage curling up against it, starting to pull it back into his mouth. Then, releasing his fingers' grip, he clamped his maw shut, fangs clamping, teeth bared and dripping with saliva and grease as he closed down on the food.
``Mmmm...'' Rocket murred, eyes closed contently as, showing off for me and me alone, he gave it a few eager chomps, bits of ruined tentacled mess visible on his tongue and filling his long, narrow maw. Once again, a fresh dribbling of grease and saliva dripped down his face, the flood of it overfilling his mouth and dripping down the front of his chin. ``Mm-mm-mmm...''
Once again, I gulped hard, face burning and eyes watching intently. At some point, I'd started stroking at his hip, encouragingly or comfortingly or perhaps just mechanically, watching him eat of all things.
He stopped chewing, and somehow his tongue had slipped forward, protruding from his teeth as he gave a happy and heavy swallow, throat bulging a bit with the girth of the food he was gulping down. He gulped again, and then again, before finally lowering his head again, jaw dropping in a hot, satisfied, tongue-lolling:
``Aaah...''
``G- God...'' I uttered intensely, a shiver running up my spine. God, how did a cute little stud like him make EATING look hot? Almost hesitantly, I inquired, still stroking at his side and hoping he didn't make me stop, ``Was it that good?''
``Mm, definitely,'' Rocket murred, eyes still closed contently as he licked his lips lusciously, that long, slick tongue curling up the edge of his muzzle. He sighed, then opened those red-brown eyes, gazing up at me and flashing a sharp-fanged smirk. ``Enjoy the show, humie?''
``Yeah. Y- Yeah, I did,'' I admitted readily enough.
``Heh. Maybe I should make you pay just for THAT, huh?'' the cocky, fat raccoon teasingly commented, winking at me. But, a moment later, he leaned back, resting one elbow on the table behind him, that ample tummy of his pressing forward against my own. ``Mm, but, a deal's a deal, and Rocket Raccoon don't go back on a deal,'' he declared, his other hand settling atop his gut. ``So, go at it, big guy.''
I didn't know where to start. My eyes went from his face, cocky and teasing and confident, down to that ample, furry gut, straining in his shirt. His plump chest and the cut of the shirt gave him deep-cut cleavage, and I could see the sweat-moist fur down the cleft of his pudgy tits.
Where to start, where to...
Oh.
``Uh,'' I began, face burning but to excited to be doing what I was doing to stop myself. ``Could you, uh, lift your shirt for me, Rocket? Like... over your tits.''
That caught the raccoon off guard, it seemed, as he blinked in shock, cocky expression dropping for a second in confusion. Then, he smirked again, huffing in amusement. ``You're a weird one, huh, humie?'' he teased, but slipped his hand down the front of his chubby belly, hooking those nimble little fingers under the hem of his straining shirt. ``Sure, go at it.''
He lifted the shirt up, wiggling it a bit to get it over the curve of his love-handles at his sides. But, with a tug, he exposed that heavy gut, plump with raccoon-fat and space bar food, jiggling a bit as the shirt caught and dropped the ample weight. Though his fur was dark, the girth of his swollen belly dispersed his underbelly fur, and so instead of being dark and thickly-furred like it might have been were he scrawnier, the thin fur gave it a pink, soft look, big and doughy and warm.
Visibly sticking his tongue out a bit at the `effort', Rocket kept bringing his shirt up, both paws tugging up his clothing.
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