Chapter 37 - 37 - fulfillment (part 4)

I come to on my hands and knees, panting and shaking in the afterglow. I'm unbound, collapsed onto the floor. Wantonly, I suckle at the last drops of cream that flow into my mouth. I can feel the weight of my enormous belly hanging beneath me with its heavy contents stretching it even rounder.

Eventually the tingling starts to fade and I notice his hands gently caressing the soft flesh around my hips. They move up and down slowly, his fingertips indenting into my doughy fat wherever they go. He holds my broad hips steady while I continue to swallow the final dregs of the liquid. After long soothing minutes he runs my hand down the broad curve of my sagging belly and gives it a gentle, resounding pat.

"Shall we see what the damage is?" he asks.

I look up at him and nod.

He helps me to my feet. Everything feels so incredibly heavy. I'm so full I can hardly stand up straight, and the skin on my middle feels firm and taut. Cradling my rounded stomach in both hands, I waddle towards the bathroom.

I have to brace myself against the countertop while he pulls out the scale. I see my huge tummy rising and falling in the mirror with each shallow breath. My face is red from exertion, and my cheeks are covered in lines of sticky cream. I'm too exhausted to wipe them off.

"Ready?"

I nod again and slowly work my way over to the scale. I feel my thick thighs squish against one another when I bring my feet together on the platform. I can't see the numbers - the exertion of leaning to see past my overfilled gut would be too much.

"Damn. 305 pounds."

I exhale, and am surprised to hear a moan come out instead.

He wraps his arms around my waist and guides me off the scale. I grab a hold of the counter again, leaning forward to try and relieve the discomforting fullness. When I lean over I feel the mass of my belly press against my thighs, sagging with all its newfound weight.

"One last thing," he whispers, kissing my neck.
His hands trace from the broad edge of my hips outwards, towards the apex of my middle. They come together over my belly button, which had deepened as the layers of fat expanded around it. He pulls, and something tightens around my girth.

"56 inches."

This time I gasp, and feel a twinge of pleasure once more. But I'm just too full to feel anything else.

"I'm too stuffed baby," I groan. "I need to lie down."

He reassuringly kisses my cheek, and slowly leads me back into the bedroom. I sit on the bed and collapse on my back. The bed creaks and sinks low beneath me, but I hardly notice. I try to keep myself from passing out as the rooms slowly spins around me.

He lies down next to me and rubs my belly soothingling. We lay there for a long while, long minutes where I can only feel the touch of his hand on my aching stomach and the slow rhythm of my shallow breaths. Eventually the uncomfortable fullness starts to wane and is instead replaced by a warm drowsiness. It's everything I could have hoped for.

"You did it," he says after a long silence. "You made it. 300 pounds."

He gives my tummy a soft pat, and my sigh turns into a soft moan.

"So...now what?"

I don't respond for a long while. I lie still, feeling his hand slowly caressing my middle, and come to realize how amazing every moment of this is.

"I'm so glad we did this," I finally say. "When I stepped on that scale, back in the real world, and saw that I weighed 200 pounds... I thought I could never do something like this again. I thought I could never feel confident in myself if I were to get any bigger. I thought being the old me - the thin me - was the only version I could be comfortable with.

"But then I noticed how excited I was to come back to the dream. How eager I was to see how much bigger I was growing. How much I yearned to see the numbers on the scale go up. I loved how you worshiped my body with every added pound. And I loved how turned on I got seeing my figure expand.

"And then, when I started gaining again in the real world, I realized it didn't bother me anymore. In fact, I loved it. I wanted to be bigger, not smaller. The curvier I got, the more sexy I felt, not the other way around. I was scared of getting fat and hating it. But instead, I got fat and loved it.

"And the best part is you were right."

"About what?" he asks.

I plant a gentle kiss on his lips, slow and sensuous, before looking deep into his eyes.

"That I can't resist getting even fatter."

"So here's what's next. You're going to go find those desserts we used to use, the ones that make me gain ten pounds at a time. You're going to shove as many into my belly as you can. We're going to see how truly enormous I can get in this dream. And then, once I've been fattened to my max, we're going to leave the dream and do it all again. But this time for real."

His cock hardens with every passing word. He rushes off the bed into the kitchen while I smirk proudly on the bed. He comes back to see my lying on my side, running my fingers up my waist seductively, smiling coyly as his eyes are drawn to my massive gut.

"What are you waiting for? Am I too big for you already?"

In moments, I'm being fed a massive pile of desserts, one after another. I swallow them gluttonously, eager to feel my body expand even more. He shoves a fourth, then a fifth, then a sixth into my mouth. They rapidly fill my already overstuffed belly.

"God, you're already so big it's hard to tell how much fatter you're getting. You're just one big tubby pig."

I moan through a mouthful of pastry, and then he feeds me another. Seven, eight desserts down. I feel massively stuffed, still full from being pumped full of heavy cream. I don't care. I yearn to feel my body expand even more. Nine, ten.

"How much bigger am I? Do I look even rounder than I did before?" I swallow dessert eleven while squeezing a thick love handle. Is it even thicker now? Everything is so flabby I can hardly tell.

"Wait, hold on. Something's not right."

I swallow the last bite and look up at him inquisitively.

"You're big, but you don't look bigger. You still look 300 pounds."

He's right. I look down at my round middle, and while it's still as huge as it was before, it isn't looking any fatter. And certainly not 110 pounds fatter.

"This is odd," he comments. "This has never happened before."

"Hmm." I sit up on the edge of the bed, perplexed. "Maybe try feeding me another chocolate and then rubbing my belly? That's worked before."

He obliges, setting another chocolate on my tongue. While I chew he places his hands on either side of my bulging gut and begins to rub and knead my doughy abdomen. He squeezes my love handles, measuring their girth, but they seem the same size as before.

"This is weird, why won't it work? We can always make this kind of stuff happen in our dreams. Has it been too long since we've tried it? Do we need to reprogram Somni?"

He glances over my shoulder.

"Unless...no..."

He rushes past me, urgently heading towards the head of the bed. I watch him brush aside clutter on the nightstand and cock my eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"No...no, it can't be, we would've known..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

He moves aside, pointing to the dream device placed at our bedside.

"Somni? Is the programming off? Do we need to wake ourselves up?"

"It's...it's not on. It's not connected."

The device sits silently, not a light to be seen or a whir to be heard. The electrodes hang lazily onto the bedroom floor.

"Wait, what? How can it not be on? We wouldn't be able to dream if it isn't on."

He's staring at me, eyes wide.

"No. We aren't dreaming at all."

I stare at him in confusion. Not dreaming? How could this not be a dream? We've been living this same dream for months. Coming here every night. Trying to gain as much as possible. If we're not dreaming now, than all of that...

My eyes widen now too. I stare at him, mouth agape. I glance at Somni - it's off, there's no doubt about it. And then a shift my gaze down to my belly. My massive, ball of a tummy that spreads onto my chunky thighs. The huge stomach, with rolls adorning its sides and two bulbous breasts resting on top, that now adorns my frame. An undeniably obese, 300-pound gut that I've grown after months overfeeding myself. I look for a long while at what I've done to myself, and then look back to him.

"This was never a dream? This is all real?"