And We're Live
"--live. Chat, how are my levels? Can you guys hear me?"
Ash leaned in close to the monitor, brushing a lock of candy-pink hair out of their eye to read the chat feed as viewers trickled in. Their slender arm filled the stream window as they reached above their monitor to adjust a standing lamp, illuminating their face from a more favorable angle. The webcam adjusted to the direct lamp-light, revealing irridescent blue eyeshadow, freckles painted on rosy cheeks, and pursed burgundy lips.
Ash brushed the lock out of their eye again, face looming close to the monitor. "Okay, looks like we're... loud and clear, how's the framerate?" Their voice took on more of a conscious affectation as they spoke — a higher inflection at the end of sentences, a little sing-song lilt, not a trace of huskiness. By the time they had finished setting up the tech, Ash was in-character. They scooted back from the camera into the pile of colorful pillows and plush toys at the head of the bed. They made sure their legs were in the frame — as well as their pair of pastel-striped thigh socks — and tapped a nearby keyboard to start a bubbly chiptune jingle.
"Good evening folks! It's ya toy Ash Wednesday, and you know what day it is?"
braingenious: Its Wednesday My Dudes
docfartens: :ashItsWeds: :ashItsWeds:
goku2: i dont know what day it si
"That's right!" Ash bubbled, "and that means this week's exciting installment of 'AshW Plays' begins... now!" They threw up a double peace-sign, winked and stuck their tongue out to the side, matching the sparkly-eyed caricature that appeared on both the screen and their tight white tank-top. They breathed a secret sigh of relief that OBS had displayed it correctly.
"For those of you joining us for the first time, we're playing through Curse Pit from 2006. And thanks to you lovely bastards who've subscribed to my Donatreon, we're doing the infamous port released for the Bemby Motionboy! That's right: motion controls!" They threw in jazz hands for emphasis. "And seriously, folks, you guys are the fucking bomb, thank you for all of your support... even if it is just because you want to watch me suffer."
Under the candy-coated performance, Ash really meant that last bit. Their life after graduation had been a purgatory of inconsistent work hours, late rent checks, dysphoria and instant ramen, until they discovered streaming. Erotic streaming, specifically. The first couple years of slumming it on camgirl sites had been tough — if it was as easy as waving your junk in front of a webcam, everybody would do it. The real challenge had been forming a brand and a character; finding and cultivating an audience willing to put their money where their kink is; navigating the dangers of chasers and over-enthusiastic fans that didn’t understand privacy. Now? Ash had a follower count in the low thousands, they were contemplating quitting their day job, they hadn’t run out of pills in months, and they only had to eat instant ramen twice a week.
“And on that note,” they continued, “I wanna shout out a few of you who’ve been extra generous. Nothing makes ya toy feel special like getting toys of my own, ya know?” As they reached off-camera to grab the goodie-bag, they glanced back at the feed to make sure nothing was visible between the pleats of their skirt. They had recently started streaming on more mainstream platforms like Spasm, but drawing a new audience while titillating the old one meant skirting the arbitrary limits of Spasm’s Terms of Service. As an adult performer, Ash was already on their shitlist, and had already received a warning for streaming in a pair of bulge-accentuating spats.
“Goodie bag time! First up, we’ve got… a new cat-eared hoodie from YungMarzipan! Cute as heck!!” They clutched it close to their chest. “I would’ve worn it on stream, but it’s way too hot out. T-Y! Next up, we’ve got…” They paused, a sly grin spreading across their face, hands still concealed in the bag, as a telltale buzzing sound emanated from within. “...something very large, and very long, and very purple, that would make our friends at Spasm very cross if we showed it on stream.” Chat responded with a chorus of :eggplant: emotes. “Thanks, dongslayer420.”
After a few more gifts, Ash drew a tall glass bottle from the bag, emblazoned with a gold foil label and filled with cloudy pink liquid. “An anonymous fan was nice enough to buy this gourmet hard pink lemonade! It wasn’t on my list, but ‘pink’ anything is my favorite flavour, so thanks a bunch! I can’t wait to see how it tastes,” they said, licking their pursed lips as they drew a bottle opener.
“A cork? Damn, this shit fancy,” Ash continued, turning the corkscrew into the gold foil cap before bracing the bottle between their supple thighs. They puffed out their cheeks with exertion as they pulled upwards. “Fancy and — hn — hard to open--”
With a resounding pop, the cork flew out, bringing with it Ash’s arms, a surprised yelp, and a frothy pink jet of carbonation. Ash slumped back, face and top drenched in soda, bottle still oozing foam into their crotch, and looked square at the camera with a grimace before breaking out laughing.
braingenious: Thats money babeeeee
MontyGolfer: now THIS is my kind of content :confetti:
gomen: looks like that trap got… trapped
BenFlex (Mod): @gomen don’t do that. first warning
“Well, I can confirm it tastes good, at least. Like, fucking great, for real! Better, uh, drink it before the other half pours out. Bottoms up!” Ash tipped the bottle back and began chugging the remainder, their mic picking up each deep gulp. They finished the last swig with a contented “pahhh”.
“Wooh, yeah, okay. Fucking great, don’t get me wrong, but… drinking it all at once might have been--” they said, stifling a burp with their whole upper body, “--a bad idea. Thank you again, anon! And guys, give me just a few minutes while I, uh, change into something dry. B-R-B!” A few keystrokes brought up a screen reading “TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES - PLEASE STAND BY”, accompanied by a shrugging chibi-Ash and the dulcet tones of lofi hiphop beats.
Ash double-checked that their mic was muted before releasing a much-needed belch. That hard lemonade really had been good — not obnoxiously sweet, and almost creamy with carbonation — but there was no way they were playing motion games while sticky. In the bathroom, they squirmed out of their tank-top and wiped down their torso. They briefly cupped a breast in one hand, taking unsubtle pleasure in their hormones’ handiwork. They slipped on an identical top from a cardboard box filled with them — the shirts hadn’t sold very well — and struggled for a moment to button their replacement skirt. Definitely shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing.
When the stream resumed, its 103 viewers were greeted by Ash sitting cross-legged on their bed, MotionBoy controller in each hand, and the booming symphonic chords of Curse Pit’s title screen. “Alright y’all, enough fooling around. Time to die over and over.” Ash’s character appeared in the game window, clad in stained rags and standing in filthy waist-deep water that contrasted with her neon pink hair. Ash gripped their controllers tightly, and girded themself for another dozen deaths against Gogu, Worm-Knight of Silt.
As they frantically waved their hands to cut down wave after wave of walking skeletons and giant slugs, Ash became increasingly aware of a fullness starting in their abdomen, and creeping upwards into their ribcage. It had obviously started when they chugged that bottle, and had only become more insistent after sprinting back to bed. The words “ANOTHER DEATH” filled the screen with an ominous gong, and Ash took the brief reprieve to adjust the elastic waistband digging into their side. They stifled another burp.
DatsDark: midriff get
MontyGolfer: is that a b e l l y i spy
Islandofpen: when they cast the curse magic u have to use a Dark Parry to block it, not a Shadow Parry
hunkchunch: every time ash dies that shirt gets smaller
Islandofpen: its kind of bullshit but once you get the timing down :UGotIt:
“Okay--” said Ash, pausing to smother another burp, “--let this be a lesson to any aspiring streamers out there: don’t chug a bottle of anything carbonated before playing a fucking MotionBoy game.” That full feeling turned into full-on discomfort if they tried to lean forward, and chat wasn’t letting them ignore the sensation of their tank-top riding up higher and higher.
Their onscreen avatar turned another corner, and a skeleton wielding a trident leapt forth. Thrust, dudge, thrust, parry, overhead sweep… The attack connected, and their avatar slumped to the ground for the 15th time that night.
“Come on, you saw that hitbox, that’s some--”
An uncharacteristically loud belch cut through Ash’s tirade like a buzzsaw. Their hands shot to their mouth, eyes wide. “E-excuse me!”, they implored the chat.
gamermale: “better in then out i always say” -shrek, shrek the movie 2
Ash quickly picked their controllers back up, eager to put that embarrassment behind them. As mortifying as it had been, that insistent feeling of pressure had diminished, and there was no longer a strip of pale skin peeking out above their skirt. Relieved, they returned to the task at hand: swinging a pair of plastic controllers while monsters killed them in a sewer.
As the minutes rolled on, however, that relief proved to be short-lived. Again, that pressure in Ash’s gut would return; again, they would burp as discreetly as possible to relieve it. Every repetition was shorter than the last, and every burp brought less relief. A few minutes in, and it was joined by a new sensation — an effervescent tingle, like butterflies in Ash’s stomach. At first, they paid it no mind.
It was about half an hour into the stream when Ash’s predicament became impossible to ignore. They reached down to adjust the waist of their skirt, which was now digging painfully into their midsection, only to find their fingers digging into a substantial potbelly. On the stream, their immobile character was cut down by zombies while they probed their new gut with visible alarm.
“Okay, uh, what the fuck? You guys are seeing this, right?”
DatsDark: oh NOW they check the chat
MontyGolfer: this is kinda hot ngl but please go to a hospital
gamermale: i rememeber this scene from charlie chocolate lol
“Yeah, I feel, uh--” how did they feel? “--funny. Not sick or anything, just, really fucking weird.” Equal parts mortified and bewildered, they reached as far as their ballooning midsection would let them to grab their keyboard. “Hey yeah sorry folks but uh, stream over for obvious reasons!” They tapped the shortcut to take them to their “THANKS FOR WATCHING” screen. “I’ll… deal with this? And make a post on the Bedlam channel to let you guys know what’s up. Buh-bye!”
As soon as they were off-air, Ash flopped backwards onto their pillow pile and arched their back. Being a person of slender build and sensitive stomach, they were no stranger to the concept of a “food baby”, but this protuberance was creeping into “actual baby” territory. They pulled back their top and subjected their stomach to a series of experimental finger-pokes; rapid breathing interrupted by the occasional hiccup or breathy what-the-fuck.
Each poke and stroke and squeeze yielded new results. There was that tingle again — not unpleasant, but definitely alien, like tickling a patch of skin you didn’t know you had. Deeper pokes met resistance; that insistent pressure, which ebbed with every burp before redoubling its efforts. But, Ash thought, there was something else; a sensation stimulating their nerve endings from the inside out; a scattered series of prickles and pops, muffled by the skin of their belly, that they could feel in the palms of their hands--
“--bubbles. I’m full of bubbles? I’m full of bubbles.” The whole thing was surreal enough that this revelation barely strained their disbelief. Was it the-- the fuck am I asking, of course it was the-- BWUUOOORP!
The taste of pink lemonade that filled their mouth after that last belch confirmed what few suspicions they had left. They felt their swollen gut shrink in their palms just a bit with that expulsion of gas… only to feel it return to its original size, and then some, in a matter of seconds. Chin to their chest, they watched with a mixture of horror, bewilderment and entranced fascination as their belly grew upward and outward, eclipsing the computer monitor, fingertips stretched further and further apart. The glowing display lit goosebumps on the surface of the moon.
Another staccato burp brought them out of their trance. Realizing that whatever was going on was probably an emergency, Ash rolled over and started scrounging in the sheets for their phone. Normally. they would have have a good foot of clearance below them when on their hands and knees; now, it felt like someone was inflating a yoga ball under them, pushing their butt into the air. As they scrambled around, tossing pillows and plush dolls left and right, the sensation of their bloated gut brushing across the soft blanket started to pull their attention… downward. Each brush skittered across unfamiliar nerve endings, and they all seemed to end up in the same place.
First the burping; then the aborted stream; now, Ash had a third reason to blush. Oh god damn it this feels good. Like a phantom limb getting a massage. Like you had a secret dick that you never noticed, and you were touching it for the first time, and you were getting really into it and also it was getting bigger, bigger than you--
Ash let their legs go slack underneath them, and their full body weight sunk into the growing orb beneath them, taut belly-flesh spilling out to either side. A feeling like a tidal wave of radio static washed over their brain, washing away their worries. Their hand was already in their panties, feeling the head of a burgeoning erection pressed against the underside of their gut. The button on their skirt snapped with a dull thump, and the garment hung limp around their shaking wrist.They began rocking back and forth on top of their belly, panting and burping, jostling their stomach’s carbonated contents even further.
Ash wasn’t aware of that feeling of fullness; they experienced it as a truth of their little universe. It barely even registered as their thighs joined in the swelling, half-removed panties digging tighter and tighter into marshmallowy flesh. They reached up to cup a breast, and didn’t bat an eye when what once a petite bud now spilled out between their fingers. Nothing existed outside the gravitational pull of the fleshy orb that lifted them higher and higher off the bed; nothing, not even the passage of time--
“FOLLOW GET!” chirped the .wav file.
DatsDark: i didnt know this was going to be one of THOSE streams but okay
DatsDark: that’s an exercise ball right? right
gamermale: STREAM SHUTDOWN IN 3… 2…
MontyGolfer: idk wtf im watching but *unzips dick*
hunkchunch: GET IN HERE LADS
RIPdiembag: hi yes im 5 whats this
Islandofpen: oh fuck that view count Ash ABORT ABORT
Chimes: does he know the stream is still on? Lol?
Islandofpen: they/them yo
hunkchunch: @Chimes *they
goku2: wahats going on
The stream hadn’t shut off. The shortcut… fucking bluetooth keyboards. If Ash’s face had been pointing at the camera, the stream would have been treated to the sight of their already pink face flushing a deep beet red. Instead, however, they had received a show normally reserved for Ash’s most generous Donatrons: the androgynous young streamer frantically pawing at their body and stroking their dick, ballooning ass in the air, curling toes barely reaching the bed as their belly outgrew its owner. Snapped out of their horny reverie, Ash’s mind returned to racing: What the fuck am I doing? How long have I been doing this? How… how big have I gotten? Attempts to verbalize these concerns left their lips as a daisy-chain of burps.
Ears ringing with shame and pressure, Ash could barely make out the sound of their phone’s muted buzzing in some forgotten corner. They strained their limbs to right their self and call for help, stop the stream, anything, but doing so had already gone from difficult to impossible. Even the ability to bend their limbs was escaping them: that pneumatic pressure held them straight like overstuffed sausages. Ash’s once slender legs were now wider than they were long, striped thigh-socks bunched around their ankles.
It wasn’t right to describe it as their swelling belly anymore; rather, a roundness had started in Ash’s belly, and was spreading outward to encompass their entire body. Their eyes scanned frantically across their chest as it rose into their field of vision, a moonscape of pale flesh interrupted by breast-flesh stretched almost flat across its surface. The chat was treated to the sight of their conical legs rising up and out of frame in opposite directions, leaving their dribbling dick and puckered anus alone and comically small against a vast expanse of smooth skin.
And god damn it, it still felt good. Under normal circumstances, the shame and physical pressure Ash was under would be unbearable — painful, even — but instead, they just magnified the electric tingles arcing across Ash’s overstretched skin. The part of their brain concerned with petty things like “danger” and “turning back to normal” was drowned out by something base, insatiable, inevitable. Their massive body was sending them signals that would take three brains to process: their massive buttcheeks pressing flat against the cold ceiling, the millions of bubbles popping against their insides like a hailstorm of tiny kisses; their prostate, stimulated by an unfathomable inner pressure in a way that no vibrator ever could. Sweat stung their eyes as it dripped down a pink lock plastered to their forehead. They wanted to grope frantically at every overstimulated square inch, tug at their unbearably-distant dick, jam something up their ass. They wanted to come, or to explode, or maybe they’d forgotten which was which--
--An ominous, bassy groan indicated that they might just get their wish. Their encroaching girth knocked over the lamp and crept ever closer to the webcam. The feed was filled with a wall of flesh, blushing pink in the light of the monitor, and chorus of muffled creaks and gurgles filled the mic.
roadrollerda: Um Chimes: I didnt realize i was watching LiveLeak
Islandofpen: this got too weird for me a while ago, gn and gl y’all
TrotskyHaruhi: if i had a dollar for every spasm streamer i watched inflate like a balloon and explode
MontyGolfer: wheres that :shameboner: emote
gomen: [Message deleted]
TrotskyHaruhi: id have a dollar
BenFlex (Mod): @gomen okay, you’re out of here
DatsDark: congrats on finally blowing up on spasm @AshWednesday :kazoo:
goku2: there getting bigger
Giving up on any pretense of shame, Ash let out a brassy burp with every exhalation, the escaping pressure barely letting them catch their breath. Their limbs had long since joined the tight sphere of their body; their hands and feet sunk into it like divots in a throw-pillow. Their head was starting to follow suit, sweaty flesh rising around their chin like quicksand, filling their ears with the drum of their heartbeat. That radio-static was starting to creep up on the edges of their vision, as both mind and body reached maximum capacity.
A high-pitched whine rang out as trapped gas escaped through the only other available opening. Ash’s eyes rolled upwards as they bit their lip hard enough to draw blood. The edge they had been riding was getting so close — they were about to pass their limit, to pass ten feet, to pass ten-thousand followers, here it comes here it fucking comes--
A streak of white spurted down the length of the screen, followed by a squeal of contentment that rose to a scream, before settling into a husky groan. The creaking orb that had once been a petite young streamer was rocked by a seismic tremor, followed by a cool gush of relief.
Ash opened their eyes as every impossibly overstretched muscle in their body relaxed. That had been something. Their situation wasn’t any less dire, but the afterglow of what felt like the Ultimate Nut smoothed over little worries like that. Maybe that’s what they had to do all along! Ash’s lips spread into a dazed grin, as they took a deep bre
The sound that rang through the Spasm stream was only intelligible for a fraction of a second. The webcam only picked up a few blurred frames of pink before it was ripped loose and embedded in the drywall. The feed went black, then automatically cut to a screen reading “SEE YOU NEXT WEDNESDAY!” Ash’s cartoon facsimile waved goodbye on a three-second loop.
docfartens: pay your respects lads
MontyGolfer: i just learned something about myself that i need to forget immediately
roadrollerda: is this an ARG or somethign
braingenious: :bigbossSalute: :bigbossSalute: :bigbossSalute:
goku2: ty for strem