Chapter 14 - the weekend - part 4 - dinner and dessert

He checked his phone, and there was a recipe for a Ceaser salad, from scratch chicken parmesan with peppers and mushrooms, and a yellow sheet cake with chocolate frosting. “Going hard on the Italian theme,” he thought to himself and got to work. Her text asked him to double the recipe for the parm and make 2 cakes and mentioned that they should have everything he’d need. He figured dinner should be ready in about an hour and a half, and he’d be icing the cakes an hour after that. Thank goodness she made them splurge on a double oven when they built the house.

He timed it, so he brought her a large portion of salad (with double the dressing) right after she got to the end of the chips. Since she was stacking food on top of a constantly full belly, her pace would work through it slowly enough for the parm (with considerably more butter and oil, per her instructions) to slide into rotation perfectly.

The timing was, in fact, perfect, replacing an empty salad plate with a warm plate piled high with pasta and cheese (with some meat and veggies taking a back seat to the abundant carbs and fats). Her eyes were partially glazed over the entire time. She looked distracted, like she was trying to pay attention to the world with a vibrator constantly purring against her g-spot. The TV was on, but he doubted she even saw it. Just flashing lights as a distraction to keep her stuffing another bite in every minute or so. Her pacing never faltering but never increasing. She was done with the full plate in about an hour. The cakes were cooling. He brought her another plate piled just as high as the first. She took it without batting an eye, and, again, it was gone in an hour.

He brought her a bottle of water and let her sip on that for a while. She had to be dehydrated at this point. He figured it would also help move the food through her, making way for the continuous river of calories she wanted him to pour into her.

Putting the bottle down, she pointed to the bathroom, and he helped her up. Once up, she took care of the rest and slowly got herself back onto the bed. Then looked at him and groggily said, “Cake?”

He just nodded and left to get it.

He put 4 massive pieces on a serving tray. It was half of the first cake.

He came into the room and found her on all fours, facing the TV, in the middle of the bed. Seeing the cake, she licked her lips and patted the bed in front of her, gesturing for him to put the cake there. His heart started pounding. It looked like she was already expanding from the day's consumption. He could be imagining it, still not used to how much bigger she’d already gotten. She could just be bloated from all of the salt and dairy. But the angry stretch marks hinted that she was fattening in front of him.

“Don’t just stand there. F@%k me while I eat this.”

Not wanting to delay the opportunity to get a hands-on inspection of her expansion, he was undressed and behind her in seconds.

Just before he was inside of her, she looked back at him and said, “Don’t thrust until I tell you. I want you inside me, but I need it at my own pace, so I don’t get sick. Do you think you can resist, for the sake of keeping me filled?” waggling her ass before him. Fat rippling and colliding before him.

He nodded, resting the tip up against her wetness.

She said, “Good,” and pushed against him, taking just the tip into her and letting out a grunt. She moved her hip forward, away from his, but he followed, keeping himself just inside her. She grabbed a piece of cake, and when she was shoving it in her mouth, she slowly slid herself back against him. Taking all of his c@%k in by the micron until her ass was resting against his pelvis. She very delicately moved against him as she ate, breathing heavily in between bites and swallows. He could feel her clamping and spasming against his girth, just lightly caressing everything that he could reach instead of funding into her. He just tried to pay attention to the TV and let her do her thing against him. He entered a meditative state as her panting and grunting coincided with the internal spasming he felt against him. He wanted to maintain this for her and was also relishing the sensation and the situation.

They were both in bliss. Just having his thickness buried in her was sending her overstuffed a$$ over the edge as she slowly worked through the pile of cake before her. Until she reached down and saw it was empty. They both let out a pleasured breath of exasperation as she slowly pulled herself off of his shaft. Pulled out of his coital meditation, he looked down to find her drunkenly looking back at him, frosting on her mouth and cheeks. Catching his eye, she just said, “get the rest.”

“The rest of that cake, or all of the cake?” He asked while climbing off of the bed.

She looked dazed in a way that he wasn’t sure she fully knew what she was saying, but he felt compelled to comply. Holding her breast in her hand and squeezing the nipple while rocking against where he should be, her eyes clutched in rapture, she said, “All of it. I want all of it.”

He hurriedly took the tray with him to the kitchen. He just scooped out irregular chunks and stacked all of the one and a half cakes that were left onto the tray, and rushed back into the bedroom.

She was collapsed on her elbows. Her massive butt still in the air. He put the tray in front of her face. She opened her eyes enough to notice it and propped herself back up. He immediately moved to resume his place behind her, presenting himself up against her as he did before. And just like before, she slowly pushed until all of him was inside her. Her hip flinching slightly as her ass and leg muscles twitched and spasmed with her continuous climax. Bit by bit, bite by bite, dipping her maw back into the caloric river and being rewarded with an ocean of pleasure washing through every available nerve ending.

It was getting harder and harder to resist pumping into her as hard as he wanted, or just outright cumming inside her while she perpetually got off by being filled at both ends. He returned to his meditative concentration of the television and tried not to think too hard about her belly and hips actively widening in his hands.

While he worked to stave off his orgasm, she couldn’t stop hers. With every bite and swallow, another wave washed over her. Whenever she thought about how much bigger she’s already gotten, how much bigger she is going to be, how much food she put inside her, how much was still to come, how much more her husband wanted to f%#k her with every pound that stuck to her, she was met with wave after wave of carnal pleasure.

An hour and a half later, he was pulled from his trance as he felt her start to buck against his c#%k. He looked down and realized it was because she was moving her mouth, sliding her tongue up and down the tray to lick up all of the leftover frosting and crumbs. She had gotten so used to just having him in her that she had forgotten about it herself until she started leaning forward to clean the plate. She forgot how good it felt to have him slipping in and out of her. Her pleasure baseline was ramping up as she cleaned the plate and rode his c#%k. He was struggling to keep it together as she slid him in and out of her, grunting loudly against the tray on each thrust.

She felt so good and wanted nothing more than to have him pound into her, but the sudden urge to use the bathroom caught her by surprise, and she knew that she needed him to get off so she could run, well, hobble, to the toilet.

She just looked back at him and said, “Now cum in me. Reward this fattie for finishing her dessert.”

He immediately pulled her hips against his, then felt a massive load of his repressed pleasure pulsing out of his c@%k and flowing into her. She pulled off of him, gently lowered herself off of the bed, and shuffled to the bathroom. The urgency of the situation snapped her out of it, but the relief brought her back to calm.

She was standing in from of the sink, splashing water on her face, and was coming to understand what the hardest part of this whole thing was. Her goal for these 5 days was to keep herself overly stuffed constantly, but once she got to that state, she started to lose control and, sometimes, her connection to reality. Perhaps this was turning into a multi-test experiment. Whereas she was curious how much she could gain if she really pushed herself, and this was primarily just an excuse to spend 100 plus hours straight in an orgasmic state, it was also presenting as an opportunity to learn how to rally through the euphoria and occasionally function if she had to. She figured she had at least another 24 hours that she could relax and have him take care of her, but after that, she was going to work on keeping herself in this state while also maintaining the appearance that everything was normal.

She was beginning to plan what her routine would look like for the 3 days he was at work while fighting with her arousal every time she saw her reflection, noting how much she had and is still blowing up. Years before, she would get off by picturing herself this fat, and now her arousal was lighting up to a far expanded fantasy. If he asked, she would say her goal was 400, but she really wanted 500, like she just constantly wanted his meaty—

She shook off that line of thinking. There was plenty of time for that. For now, she needed to concentrate on the plan and then drink a ton of water, as she was super dehydrated. Right after another quick shower, though.