chapter 10

Ava leaned back in her seat, stretching in a graceful and feline sort of way. She was settled in a wing-backed chair in the parlour. One of her regular visitors was kneeling before her, his soft gut pouring out of the harness that he was strapped into, separating around the leather straps and forming four hanging rolls of fat which dangled between his arms and legs, wobbling with every movement. She gently lowered her legs back down onto his back and looked up at Butler with a contented smile.

“How do you think Nate’s getting on?” she asked.

“Ah… I imagine he’s giving it an enthusiastic attempt,” Butler replied, and permitted himself a small smile as well. “But he was very well supplied from the trolley today.”

Ava chuckled. “The poor baby. You’re right though, darling, he certainly doesn’t lack enthusiasm. I haven’t had someone so eager to serve me in quite a while.”

At this, a voice piped up from between her legs. “Mistress, *I* am eager to serve…”

She glanced down coldly, her eyes meeting the ones peering up at her, and scowled. “Remind me, Butler. Do footstools talk?”

“They do not, Ma’am.”

“I thought not. Speaking without permission, Kieran? You know what that means.” Next to her chair was a tall metal stand, which housed a large metal funnel and a rubber hose. Ava picked up the hose and tapped Kieran on the nose with the mouthpiece. “You don’t get to use your mouth for speaking for a while, footstool.”

“Please, Mistress,” he pleaded in a small voice, looking at the mouthpiece uncomfortably, “Please, I’m so full already, I’ve been eating all night for you like you wanted…” He tailed off under her hard stare and opened his mouth to receive the hose.

“You get extra for answering back, piglet,” she warned him, stroking his plump cheeks as Butler heaved a huge jug of shake from the floor and began to pour it into the funnel.

Ava settled back once more, her feet digging into his soft back, listening contentedly to his moans as his stretched belly strained and strained against his harness with each forced swallow. She wondered which would give out first, the leather, or the pig.

***
Nate lay back in his chair, whimpering. The timer on the wall showed another 6 minutes to go, but there was still at least a pound of food left on his plate. His gut was tight, torrid and absolutely agonisingly full, pushing his shirt to the absolute limits of the fabric. Running his hand over it, he thought he could feel the packed food all the way up to his chest. He fancied that if he were to take his shirt off right here, his entire digestive tract would be visible under his skin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a waitress coming over, smiling encouragingly, but he felt as though he could barely focus on her. Pulled pork dripped from his chin onto the table as he reached forwards and picked up his camera. It felt like he was stretching a mile over his gut to reach the device.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” he mumbled into the lens, though he knew he would be taking Butler’s advice and never letting Ava see this footage. He belched defeatedly and sank his face onto the table. The smell of the leftover food was almost sickening.

“Ah… sorry? I didn’t catch that?” the waitress asked, and he startled back to reality, his face flaming.

“I… *hic*... did you say something?” he asked, his tone flustered, taking the napkin she was offering him and mopping his face.

“I was asking if you were done, sir?” she repeated, a slightly pitying smile on her face. The timer went off behind her, and the clock was replaced with a huge neon word - FAIL. She chuckled. “Better luck next time, I guess.”

Nate looked up into her eyes, feeling a sheen of greasy sweat on his forehead. He felt both physically and mentally beaten, and, under this woman’s gaze, utterly disgusting. He belched again, watching the corners of her mouth twist and feeling humiliation stab at him once more. He felt a need to salvage the situation, to try and at least make Ava proud in some way. “Can I have the rest in a to-go box?” he asked, trying to hold his head high and failing.

It was another half an hour before he felt capable of standing up to leave the restaurant and he felt the workers staring and giggling at him the entire time. Taking the cab back to the dungeons, feeling his bloated gut bouncing in his lap with the hum of the engine, he had a feeling it was going to be a very, very long time before his cock would be released. Still, the sight of Ava standing in the upstairs window and watching him stagger back to the front door, a cruel smile on her painted lips, made it all seem worthwhile.