Chapter 1 - one more bite

(just a little stream of consciousness, a little tale. gender left neutral, some sexual content, more stuffing and some teasing then anything. Enjoy and be encouraged wink. BG)


Don't waste it sweetie, please, just a few more bites, you can do it, it's not that much. After all, you have to think of the rest of you, have to think of how sad and hollow that belly of yours will be. Its already so heavy, why not just finish this one last meal for me. I can rub that belly to make it feel better. That belly of yours deserve to be rubbed, and stuffed, and filled some more.

Theres already so much heft to it, but there can be more. It's so soft, dimpled, rippling and packed with fat. It can hardly be called a belly anymore, it's not even a stomach, it's more like a gut or some sort of bizarre sack. A sack of fat and lard that we have worked so hard to cultivate and grow. I say we because you can't take all the credit or blame.

I did provide the food and snacks. I cooed and promised sweet things if you were sweet and ate one more bite. I rubbed your tummy when it ached and begged for you to eat more, until finally you would beg for more. You had gotten so used to the food and getting fat that if I even seemed about to hold back you would feel desperate. You needed it, loved it, wanted it. You'd eat and stuff your face until you passed out. Though if it was from too much food or pleasure who knows. They are probably one and the same.

Mustn't deny that you had to your part to play. You chewed and stuffed and grunted and ate. One bite, two bites, four, nine, twenty. We started small enough, an extra helping of fries, a milkshake on top of dinner.

Please for me, one more sip, and then lets turn that sip of shake into a gulp. Cant stop now, mustn't let it go to waste.

Then it was an extra helping of everything, and larger portions to begin with. It was dipping everything healthy in butter and ordering entire pies and cakes. It was refusing to let you leave until you finished your plates, always plural.
And then surprising you with another few plates to finish.
I felt that belly get stuffed and packed hard... it doesn't get hard much anymore, that sack of a gut is just too full of fat. I have no idea what your capacity is now, but I do like trying to figure it out.
It was delicious (like this pie right here, go on, have a bite, a slice, have it all don't forget whip cream on top) to watch the fat start to spread. You were chubby to begin with but now it's all over in piles and rolls.

We've made those arms so soft pillowy and thick. I watch those heavy deposits ripple as you lift the food to that waiting mouth. Just a few more slices of pizza till we are done with this box, the first of many. Watch the rolls on your sides quiver with every little movement, with every moan you make as you eat one more bite. It's like every mouthful it a stroke or a flick or a squeeze in just the right place. Listening to that desperate sound as you rip into food, or that whimper when you feel so stuffed you can't eat more, but you do, because i ask, because you think this next bite will set you over the edge.

I marveled as your chest grew, soft and spreading draping over that growing gut with nipples soft and pillowy like those plump lips of yours which you are stuffing with food. I can still reach those to suckle on and i do when you need that extra encouragement, or when you've done a very good job and deserve a non calorie filled treat (though please, keep eating while I do. I know you can have another scoopful of that cream while I work, doesn't t feel better when you're moaning around a mouth full of food?) I do so enjoy sucking and playing with those flabby sacks, hefting them up and letting them drop on that gut of yours. The smacking sound is delightful, and frankly that stomach of yours is getting heavier and harder to lift and drop.

Have you seen your feet recently? I have. Chubby little feet under growing canckles that seem to be encouraging you not to walk to them. Those thighs that have grown massive and soft. I can sink my hand in the rolls there.

But that belly, that gut, that monument of what you have become is by far my favorite part. I have loved helping you and it grow and spread. I like to straddle your lap and marvel at this body of yours that we have made. Grind myself into that fat and listen to you beg for more food. You don't have to wait long, I can't keep you waiting, I can't keep myself from helping you grow softer. And when i really get going and you beg me to stop, i know how to get you to try just a little more. A few more cookies for me. Just try them, but you need to try them with this milk, and with this chocolate topping. Don't forget you can also have some of these cupcake with them.

It's so large, but it can be larger, I know it can be softer, bigger more of everything.
We said we'd stop at a certain weight but we passed that by pounds and entire seasons of food ago. No reason we should stop now, it's past the point of no return, just another handful of fries, maybe another box of pastries.

You mention stopping this, saying you're full enough. Im not sure if you mean of this meal or of fat, that you are large and soft enough already.
We can stop soon, I promise. Just have another bite, another drink, another mouthful, just shove it in, it will be easier if you go faster, eat eat chew chew swallow. A little more, you're almost not quite there. You can do it, for me, you can finish this, put it all in that growing belly. Your belly, yourself and I all need you to. It tastes good right? You want more? Pretty please? For me? We really mustn't waste it.

-fin-