chapter 1

You smell the nice and rich perfume of pancakes coming from the kitchen and you open your eyes while drooling. You feel confused and lost while staring at the familiar ceiling above you and a drop of sweat manages to travel down your eyebrows to your plump cheeks. Trying to remember last night seems to be a challenge, but you manage to recollect some pieces. You recall the machine, the pain and the first time you fainted. Then you remember waking up a couple times staring at the increasing numbers on the display and maybe Master cumming on your expanding belly, but you can’t be 100% sure about last part. Switching your attention to your body helps you out, as you can see a large, crusty stain of cum coming down from your… oh God. Is that really you? The gelatinous mountain of lard that many moons ago was your body towers triumphant just below your moobs and completely obstructs the sight of everything else. With some effort You place one of your mittens on top of your gut, staring in awe. You wish you could feel the fat softness of your pale skin and lard rolls through the padding, and you gently try to squeeze your waist in order to create some waves of blubber. However, as you put a bit of pressure on your gut, you realize that the belly has not been emptied yet. The sensation of fullness reminds you of the situation in your anus. You can feel that there’s still something obstructing the rear entrance, but it is way more ergonomic and compact than the monstrosity of last night. Come to think about it, was it really last night? How much time did you spent being force-fattened like a goose?
You hear the footsteps of Master getting closer and you turn around just to realize that you are no longer on the carpet: the narrow metal cage that cuts into the side of our belly suggests you that Master has dragged you on the scale. He’s wearing a pair of work boots and his usual jeans, and you can smell the aroma of the pancakes he prepared for breakfast. You lean on your right side trying to roll over, but to no avail: the cage is way too small now for you to move and, in any case, your giant gut now poses a serious threat to your mobility. Without any warning, Master lifts up the bars of the cage and you topple at his feet. As you try to position yourself in the usual walking stance, you realize that the belly no longer barely touches to ground, but fully lays on it. Are you gonna be able to move from here? How long until your knees will no longer be able to make full contact with the floor?
“Come on, porker, we gotta get rid of 3 days worth of body waste”
3 days??? You’ve been abused for 3 days straight? You barely manage to reconcile your perception of time when you see Master whipping out a leash and hooking it to your collar. Wait, you have a COLLAR now? What’s going on?
Your head is spinning so fast you almost feel like you are floating above the ground, but a sudden pull from Master harshly remembers that you are firmly anchored to the ground and are barely able to move at all. With a lot of effort you push your belly onwards with a coordinated movement from both your fat thighs, but it is painfully clear that your days of mobility are counted. Every step towards the door is a challenge, and quickly you start to sweat and become short-breathed. The sloshing sound in your fat blubber constantly reminds you that you desperately need to go now, so you try not to waste any time.
Still, you are clearly too impaired for Master’s tastes, which is pulling your leash with impatience.
“Fuck, porker, move that fat ass, I must go to work in 20 minutes”, he shouts. Then he decides to take a look at the problem and inspects your dragging belly.
“mmh, I think I’ll need to buy a trolley for you to lay on when I need to take you out. You are getting too obese to walk like a proper pig anymore”.
He slaps you hard on your hams while you are about to go through the door that leads to the backyard. Usually, this kind of interaction gives you a great deal of pleasure, sending a clear message to your small pecker to pop out its fat cocoon and give a nice salute to the outside World. However, this time there’s no reaction at all, probably because you are too concentrated on the strong stimulus coming from the intestines.
You quickly scan the area. The usual unwelcoming sight of old trash, car tyres and some sparse patches of grass is overlit by the morning Sun, so it takes a couple of seconds for your eyes to adapt.
You turn at your left to head towards the usual drain manhole below the garden hose. Now the sloshing belly is brushing against the hard concrete of the curb, causing you even more discomfort as you walk.
Once you reach the usual stance for relieving yourself, Master finally unplug your anus and you get to see what kind of toy he used: a bight pink curly pig tail.
You can feel a cool breeze slipping inside your overly stretched anus and briefly refreshing your rectum before, finally, your bowels are allowed to serve their function. You manage not to make a mess as your belly deflates in waves of painful spasms. Slowly the tense balloon recedes into a round, squishy blob and even your skin starts to form some shallow lines, delineating a couple of fat rolls. In some areas it almost seems like the skin of an old peach, kinda like you have cellulitis. It takes a solid minute of uninterrupted deflation before the intestine is finally finished and Master quickly washes you with the garden hose and an old bar of soap.
The travel back inside the house is much less troublesome, even with the plug back in place. The gut, while still bigger than before the torture, is less cumbersome than a couple minutes ago and easier to drag along. In fact, it feels easier even to breath. You can see, at the bottom of the kitchen stair, a big bowl of pig slop ready for you to eat. Despite the fact that you have just underwent a fattening session, your stomach has not been filled for the past 3 days and now you realize how hungry you are. In fact, you are literally starving. There is a great deal of free space inside you, now that the belly is finally empty
With a quick but very clumsy move you leap forward to dip your head inside the slop: a loud noise from your impatient gut signals the start of your breakfast, and you greedily gulp down as much as you can with every single bite.
Your head is completely empty while you sensually savor the food: something is quite different this time. It smells and taste like your Master’s penis, which gives you even more energy to eat faster and faster. He must have dipped his crotch in the formula as a kind of gift to you. Or, at least, that’s what you want to believe.
You feel good. Really good. After all that nightmare you went trough, finally being able to stuff yourself silly without any probe to pin you down and limit your movements feels like paradise. You are a fat, disgusting pig slave, constantly humiliated by your sadistic Master who is fattening you into a soon to be immobility and probably will make you die for good in a couple more years. But the bar set by the most recent forced anal fattening is so low that now you feel good.