chapter 2

I was developing a brand new definition of "bloated". One large heavy meal after another put me in a perpetual state of utter repletion. There was no more sucking in my expanding stomach anymore, it bulged out constantly. I was increasing in pants size at a dangerous pace as Kelly made sure each meal ended with me puffing for breath and literally too full to stand.

Every morning I woke up feeling a bit fatter than the previous day. My reflection in the mirror certainly confirmed that as well, I was almost unrecognizable. I wore just boxer-briefs and an undershirt, neither were old but both were thoroughly outgrown. The shirt rode up quite a bit, almost to my navel, letting a good bit of my swollen gut hang out for all to see. It also clung very tightly around my chest, my fattened, jiggling pecs outlined quite clearly.

"Ready for breakfast?" Kelly asked from the doorway.

"I'm still full from last night," I grunted.

It was true, she had fed me a bucket of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. Then an entire blueberry pie to completely finish me off before bed.

"Too bad, chubbo," she giggled. "Got a nice big breakfast waiting to fill you right up. Pretty soon that shirt is going to look like a sports bra on you."

I hitched it up over the swollen curve of my stomach. "Almost looking like it already."

"Mmm, that's what I'm talking about," she leered. "You're starting to seriously blimp out."

I slapped the side of my paunch and watched it bounce. She wasn't wrong. As I followed her downstairs for breakfast I was incredibly aware of each new pound. My center of gravity shifted as I became more front heavy, causing me to always lean back a little. My pecs (I was loathe to call them moobs, even if that was more accurate) jiggled with each footfall, as did most of my body at this point.

By the time I got to the kitchen I was extremely cognizant of my growth, yet felt a certain stirring down below in anticipation of being fattened up even more.

Kelly wasn't messing around, making cinnamon rolls the size of my fist, along with all the other breakfast classics. I was puffing by the halfway mark, which caused her to look quite pleased indeed.

"Slowing down already?" she asked with a smirk.

I leaned back in my chair and spread my legs as I tried to catch my breath a bit. The weight of my overloaded stomach pulled it down, I rubbed the taut upper section of my gut to try and help the digestion process.

"Just a *brrp* little break," I grunted.

"Good, wouldn't want to think you stuffing yourself too full to move," she taunted. "Maybe after breakfast we can go for a run together."

She patted her flat, firm stomach, always relishing an opportunity to draw attention to the increasing discrepancy between our sizes. I felt like a bloated hippo, she looked like she belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine.

"Remember when we used to do all those 5Ks together?" she asked rhetorically as I loaded my plate up with more bacon and yet another gut-busting cinnamon roll. "I'm sure your remember all the times you bragged about finishing before me. How do you think that would work out now?"

I had a pretty good idea exactly how that would go, and it definitely wasn't pretty. I was much more qualified for an eating contest than any sort of race now.

"I think I know what would happen," Kelly continued. "I'd start off at a nice pace like normal and you'd be there waddling along, your fat gut sticking out like you're pregnant, just watching this nice, tight ass disappear into the distance."

She turned and showed her yoga pants-clad rear, and I had to admit it was quite nice as well. Many hours at the gym had sculpted into a rather drool-worthy ass, especially when she wore snug yoga pants like today.

"Is that what you think would happen?" she asked, leaning over me and patting my glutted stomach while giving me a very nice eyeful down her top.

I tried to summon some sort of answer, but all I could concentrate on was her full, hanging breasts and the way her fingers trailed down the front of my bulging middle and then down farther where they slid inside my underwear and grabbed me firmly.

"Tell you what, maybe I'll do a little warmup in the bedroom before I go out for a run. But first . . . you need to finish your breakfast."

I was packed full, but still three huge cinnamon rolls remained.

"Oof, too full," I groaned, feeling myself twitch in her hand as she grinned widely.

"I'm sure you have a little room," she insisted, one hand slowly pumping up and down while she grabbed a roll with her other hand.

I let her feed me by hand as she stimulated me, alternately panting and groaning as I rode the waves of pleasure and discomfort. Soon she was moaning along with me, becoming more and more aroused as my poor gut blew out further and further.

"Uck, ugh *brrrp* enough," I finally gasped, on the verge of exploding in every possible way.

"You did a good job," she chuckled, wiping frosting from my lip. "C'mon now, I'll race you to the bedroom!"

"Ooof, can't move," I groaned. "Too . . . full. Too . . . fat."

Kelly's eyes flashed with excitement like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Oh my, is my big strong husband so stuffed that he can't even get up? Did someone eat so much that he just . . . can't . . . move? Is that big, fat, swollen, bloated gut so heavy and full that you're stuck there?"

I didn't respond. How could I? Everything she said was disturbingly accurate. I had just eaten myself into temporary immobility, so disgustingly full and fat that I couldn't stand.

She covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed at me, obviously enjoying my predicament to the fullest.

"Okay, I'll give you a chance to recover," she said, still giggling a bit. "I'm going to go to the gym and run a couple errands. When you can move again, hehe, I want you to go up to the bedroom, take off all your clothes, and lay down on the bed. When I'm back, I'll take a shower and join you. Sound good?"

I nodded, stifling a massive belch.