Chapter 2 - day

I wake up when you kneel beside me. You kiss me and your hands knead my belly assessing its readiness for another round. “Get up, sweetheart. We have errands to run.” You untie my hands, unclasp the leash from the collar, and help me stand up. I start to zip my shorts, but you stop me. “No. You need to put this in place first.” You hand me some new lace panties. As I take them I notice they have a vibrator attached. I blush a little and wiggle out of my shorts. I pull on the panties even though they are really tight and stretched to their utmost capacity trying to encompass my rump. The micro shorts aren’t any easier to dress. I barely get them buttoned, and my stomach rolls flow freely out and over them, once I manage to clasp them shut. You hand me a jacket and high heeled boots. I’m mortified when I realise that you plan to take me to some public place like this - dressed in a skimpy crop top and micro shorts that aren’t even visible under my fat rolls. The jacket does very little to hide my body when I try to yank it closed. You hand me a large water bottle filled with chocolate milk shake. “You’ll need to finish this before we arrive, so slurp fast, luv.”

We get in the car and I start to work my way through the milkshake. As I take my first gulps, the vibrator buzzes to life in my pants. You show me the remote and grin. “I want you to enjoy our trip to the fullest.” I’m blushing and slightly panting. I might worry about the sound, but I realise that the fat in my lap insulates that quite well. You regulate the vibrations to the rhythm of my gulping, keeping me on the edge. By the time we pull up into the parking lot of the mall I’ve managed to finish my task. I’m again nearly full and panting heavily. My belly pushes the crop top upward and I feel like I’ll burst my shorts if I try to bend at all.

We walk through the mall and down to the food court. I notice people throwing glances at me, some even openly staring. And, well, I’m a sight to behold. At 5’11” and 312 lbs, and with my bright red, long, and curly hair I’m amazonian enough, but now in my high heels, protruding gut, and provocative revealing outfit I hulk over most of the more mundane mall goers. You find me a seat and tell me to wait. Then you start browsing the different kitchens, placing orders. You finish your rounds and come sit in front of me at the table. In a few moments the first dish arrives: cheeseburger and large fries. You watch intently as I start making my way through a procession of fast food. I’m dead sure that everyone around me hears the silent buzz every time you use your remote control, but nobody seems to pay any mind to that especially. I do get pretty long looks just for the sheer amount of food that gets brought to the table and the way I look eating it, my tummy rolls pressing to the table and resting on top of it. It gets harder by the minute to concentrate on staying presentable. Small moans escape my chewing mouth and I can’t help but sway my hips ever so slightly. I stuff myself with spring rolls, tacos, and chicken wings, and wash it all down with soda. Finally I crumble the last napkin on a tray, nearly delirious, and hardly aware of my surroundings. You come sit next to me and say in a low, thick voice: “I cannot ease your strain here, people would notice. But if you want to cum, you need just ask me. If you think you’ll be able to maintain proper manner here in public.” I’m so horny and beyond any control that I cannot bring myself to ask you for release, I know I would just lose myself in the cumulating wave. So I sit there and try to breathe under the weight of the giant, strained drum that is my stomach. “Alright, so be it,” you say. “Gather yourself, we have shopping to do.”

After awhile I manage to heave myself upright. We make our way up the escalator to a clothing store. You show me to the fitting room, and go choose a dress for me. You come back with a beautiful and delicate piece with lace, embroidery, and an open back. I can see right away that it will not survive me. You hand it to me and tell me to put it on, and then come show you how it fits. I’m still stuffed to bursting from the enormous amount of food I’ve consumed today, and it’s hard to bend to take off my clothes. Somehow I manage to get the dress down over my breasts, but as I start to foist it down over my belly, I feel the seams constrict and then slowly give way with a silent, warning rrrip. I know I must fulfill the task you’ve given me, so I continue pulling the dress down. I feel it ripping from the seams, the lace giving up next.

I manage to cover my huge form somewhat, and deem it good enough. I try to sneak as inconspicuously out of the fitting room as l can to show myself to you, but there still are some customers there to stare at my hulking mass covered in the shredded dress. You are sitting in the far corner of the store, forcing me to parade through the entirety of the premises to present myself to you. You make me turn around a few times and you visibly enjoy my humiliation and the pure evidence of your handiwork as I swirl for you there like a runway model gone wrong. “Honey, it seems that you’ve managed to damage the product. You’ll have to go pay for it and confess to the shop assistant. There you go, this should cover it.” You seem to be very pleased with your invention, and you sit back to enjoy the scene. I walk red-faced to the fitting room to change back into my clothes. It takes a long time, and I have to tear some more of the dress taking it off. As I walk to the counter and put the dress on top of it, the vibrations start again. I feel a jolt of intense electricity and my knees buckle a bit. I take a hold of the side of the counter, and force myself to speak as normally as I can. I sound out of breath and I hope that the clerk thinks it’s just because I’m so fat and out of shape. “Excuse me. I seem to have torn this piece as I tried it on. I'd like to purchase it.” The shop assistant looks at my belly hovering over the counter, and nods. They charge me for the dress, and pack it in a small bag.

On our way out of the mall we stop by a confectionary, and you allow me to choose an assortment of chocolates and baked goods. After I’m done you add a strawberry filled cream cake to the bundle. I get to carry them out, resting the boxes on top of my belly for balance. I feel tremors of fear and excitement. How can I survive the rest of the evening, when I’m already feeling totally and utterly stuffed?