chapter 4 - hers

You can see into the kitchen from your bed, which has been in the living room ever since stairs became an impossibility. That seems like eons ago, but if you cast your mind back you realise that in the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t taken you long to go from svelte and fit to the voracious behemoth that you have become. Perhaps you had given up on the stairs sooner than a less willing pig might have, but this pampered existence has always been your goal. Laying back in bed with your absurdly swollen abdomen stretching out ahead of you, being fed by your little drones like some enormous royal bee, you know your only purpose in life is to feed and expand. You continue to guzzle milkshake, feeling the cold pressure of it filling you up. This amount of ice cream is making your stomach ache, but you daren’t call Mummy to come and rub it better - it might slow down her cooking. You watch as she pours homemade fries into the deep fryer. The sound of it sizzling causes your mouth to water uncontrollably, and you suck harder at the straw, trying to stay one step ahead of your greed. The harsh noise of the last few drops of shake being sucked up greets you, and you hear Mummy laugh with disbelief in the kitchen.

“You can’t possibly have finished that already,” she calls, a twinge of pride in her voice.

“Hurry up, Mummy, I’m *hic* STARVING,” you shout back, a little winded from the amount of milkshake that is now pressing into your chest.

To her credit, she doesn’t keep you waiting for too much longer. She returns pushing a little trolley with three huge trays of food on it. One platter towers with fries, another with fried cheese, and a final one houses a chocolate cake which you imagine she must have spent a few hours baking before she came to visit today. The thought of her doing that fills you with fervent adoration, but you will have to wait to tell her this, you cannot delay your feeding any longer. You recline the bed back so that you are laying down. All you can see when you are like this is your gut, and as the day goes on it takes up more and more of your field of vision. Mummy places the first tray on you and starts to feed you, commenting excitedly about how ravenous you still seem to be. It quickly becomes clear to you that she has no idea of exactly how pressing your need is, however, and after enduring a few mouthfuls at what seems like a snail’s pace to you, you throw manners out of the window and reach up to the plate with both hands. You use them to scoop the chips from the plate, pushing them down the slope of your chest up and over your chins and into your mouth, smearing grease and sauce as you do. The noises you are making seem barely human, moaning and snaffling and grunting, and Mummy watches you with wide eyed wonderment. The look of open-mouthed delight on her face lights a fire in you, and you continue to gorge like this until the plate is empty and your belly is twitching tightly with hiccups.

“Uuuugh…” you moan, “Mumma, it hurts…”

Her hands are on you at once, rubbing your gut firmly, sinking into your fat almost all the way up to the wrist. It doesn’t take long for her to burp you, and the feeling of all that pressure dissipating is blissful.

“Good boy,” she beams down at you, “All better? Did we make some room for more?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before beginning to pile the second plate down your throat. You’re exceedingly full now, and now that the desperate cravings have gone, you find that you can appreciate her presence much more. Her breasts plunging close to your face each time she leans in to give you another bite. Her long fingers tracing your pudgy lips to wipe them clean, slipping into your mouth to make sure you take in every last crumb. Her soft skin brushing yours and making you tingle with a desire that is a long way from hunger now. You can feel yourself stirring somewhere buried deep beneath rolls and folds. She can see it in your eyes too, that hunger which, for some time now, she alone can sate. You realise that you’ve been grinding your hips slightly, rubbing your buried cock against the underside of your gut, and wonder how long you’ve been doing it for. Maybe the whole time you’ve been eating. The need for release is suddenly overwhelming.

“Is there something I can help you with, darling?” Mummy asks in a low voice, gently kissing one of your huge tits and making you shudder with delight.

“Touch me,” you whimper, “You have to touch me, Mumma, I can’t do it by myself, I’m too... *hic*... Too fat.”

There is a hoist by the bed, and, with some effort, Mummy manages to tuck a sling under just your belly and lift it a little way off the bed. Too high and you find yourself panting for breath and uncomfortable, but she knows the sweet spot by now. You can’t see anything now, but you can feel her sliding underneath you, and you gasp as her hands reach the sensitive skin of the enormous pad beneath your gut and push it back. Only the very tip of your cock is accessible, and it takes all her strength and both hands to fight your fat out of the way, but you cry out a little in pleasure as you feel her mouth slip deliciously over that poor, neglected part of you.

The movement of her head is disturbing your gut, and you can see the shockwaves rippling across your blubber like an earthquake. You know that if anything should happen, if your belly should fall from the sling, neither of you would have the strength to lift it off her again. You’d crush her, all in the pursuit of ever more physical pleasure. Those concerns mean very little to you right now though - your mind is focussed on one thing only. The excitement, the ecstasy, are causing your heart to pound in your chest like a gatling gun, and you can hear yourself taking shuddering, grunting, snorting breaths until all of a sudden you’re squealing like the hog you are. You hear a little muffled gasp somewhere under all that fat as your cock spurts into her mouth, and then, slowly, she pulls herself out, breathing deeply, her cheeks flushed prettily and her pink tongue darting over her full lips with apparent relish. As Mummy takes the time to clean you up, the cumulative effects of being so deliciously full and satisfied take their toll, and you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. It is exhausting being this huge, and you often find yourself passing out in pleasure. It is only later, when she has fully washed you and tidied the bed, that you awaken to Mummy climbing onto your belly once more.

“You didn’t eat your cake, little Prince,” she says as you open your eyes blearily, and once you realise fully what is happening you are suddenly wide awake.

She is completely nude as she mounts you, her slender, feminine figure in stark contrast to the mountain of blubber she is squeezing tight between her thighs. She brings the first slice of cake to your lips and you take it eagerly. You’re still so stuffed, and each bite is a challenge now, but it’s a challenge that the two of you are rising to with great determination. Mummy grinds on your belly as she feeds you, and you can feel it growing warm and wet between her legs. Her eyes are sparkling with longing for you. With great effort you place your chubby hands on her hips and try to rock her back and forth, and though you’re barely able to keep this up for more than a few seconds, the touch of your hands causes frission all over her soft skin. You watch with no uncertain pride as her nipples stiffen with desire. She has forgotten your plate now, so you feed yourself and watch her take her pleasure from you, her hands running over her body, tracing her breasts and slipping between her legs whilst her delectation runs in hot rivers down your creases and onto the bed sheets. By the time you have polished off the last slice, crumbs and ganache smeared on your face and fingers and pillows, she is crying out and soaking you, trembling and spent. She slides off you slowly and joins you in the bed, squashing up against you with one of your fat arms slung heavily over her.

Your weakness, your gluttony, your immobility, none of these matter in moments such as these. You are everything you were born to be.

You are hers.