Chapter 9

The snap back to reality was harsh. Confusion wrapped through my head, as did…intrusive thoughts. I lost my connection with reality for a minute as I watched her stuff half an entire fried chicken breast into her mouth, her eyes originally locked with mine, now squinting in stifled ecstasy as she continued to chew.

Then I realized our agreement. I was almost painfully full as I finished my second plate. She wrapped up her fourth a moment later, sneaking my plate with an overly-sweet, “Be right back!”

I instantly forgave her––to grab my plate, she’d leaned across the table, her chest nearly falling from her top, and her cute little stomach had pressed into the table itself. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever done, and it might have been unintentional. Maybe not, then again.

I watched her go, stopping at different stations again. I changed my strategy this time. Each time one of the employees looked at her, various shades of contempt and pity and worry on their faces, she received another buzz down south. God, her jeans looked so tight, so, so very stretched, her top barely keeping her decent, and still she went, filling her plate.

She was barely holding it together when she came back, plates full, a cup filled with a milkshake I didn’t know they had here. Beneath her veiled exterior, I saw in her eyes what she was truly feeling: this wasn’t just fun for her, or silly, or exciting, no––this was intense. Intimate. Carnal. Hedonistic and horrifyingly sexy. She was so unbelievably turned on, she needed this right now. She didn’t need to say it––we both knew it.

And somehow that fire in her eyes grew brighter, as she said not a word as she set the plates down. She was hidden from most of the semi-empty restaurant in her seat, a fact I had to check when I saw her pull a hair tie from her wrist and pull her auburn hair up into a bun. It was a mess, but her hair was out of her face for the time being.

I didn’t know what she was doing, but I buzzed her down south. She moaned, eyes closing for a second, before looking back to me. They locked onto mine with a burning fiery inferno, alive and awake and almost crazed in their impulses. I felt my breath lock in my throat, all thoughts of our game, our bargain, lost for a moment.

Then she buried her face in her plate. One moment, she had leveled me with her eyes, the next, she was tearing into the side of a butter-lathered slice of cornbread, one bite, then two, her hands pressed underneath her thighs. I sat in an absolute daze as she inhaled the thing, bite after bite disappearing beneath that greedy mouth of hers. Her moans weren’t powered by any vibrations, no, each bite she moaned louder, and louder. She’d destroyed the entire thing within 60 seconds, and she desperately tried to catch her breath. Food, not oxygen, had been her body’s first need, her body’s only form of sustenance it needed in that moment.

She hiccupped, a cute little jump of sound, her body trying to slow her down. It was only then that her moaning began to slow, her hand rubbing the belly of hers that stuck out from below her top.

Both of us still catching our breath, the server who’d sat us what seemed like forever ago slid in front of our table, hands pressed behind her back. I could tell immediately she was curious, his eyes peeking towards Rylee’s belly, the crumbs that had fallen on her top and hips.

“Excuse me, misses, but…” she paused, words failing her for a minute. I could relate.

I smiled up at her. “Is there a problem?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…sorry, but, could you keep it down––”

“What?” I asked, an ice to my words.

“I beg your pardon?” she finally took her eyes from Rylee. She hiccupped again.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“I’m Natalia, miss––”

“Natalia, have you never seen a hungry girl growing before?” I asked. Rylee leaned back, hiccupping again, rubbing her belly, only further emphasizing my point. I sent a wave of pleasure down south that she struggled to hide.

“I––uhh…”

“We’ll be back sometime soon, and each time, she’s going to be a little fatter, a little wider until she’s bursting out of her clothes. Understood?”

The server turned a vibrant shade of pink, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her head, whispering a, “wow,” underneath her breath. “That’s…ummm…”

I waited for a response, a polite smile on my face. Natalia, instead, turned and left.

Rylee wasted not a single second as she tore into her plate once more, bite after bite face-first. She hardly even looked up, her head in her trough. That’s what this was––it came over me in a rush. This was my pig, in her trough, feeding herself, stuffing herself beyond comprehension, complete indulgence, absolute dedication to the need to be fatter. And the moans only grew louder, as if she was daring our server to come back, daring anyone else to say anything.

Just as she was completely absorbed by her food, I couldn’t help but slip my hands down my pants. I was already soaked, and the pleasure radiated in heaps and bounds.

She took a moment to whisper, “I’m so fucking full.”

I was trying to keep quiet, but it was hard. “But you’ll keep going.” The Princess in me was strong, daring her to disagree with me.

She nodded, eyes flashing to mine, desperate for approval. “But I’ll keep going.” Her voice was soft, the warmth to her submissiveness. Not a hint of brattiness, not this time.

And she did. She finished the plates remarkably quickly for not having hands, spilling only a little, like she’d done this before. Maybe she had.

My hand kept working circles down south as she cleaned her mouth with a napkin, picking up the partially-melted milkshake. “This is for you, Princess.”

The milkshake was in one of those classic 50’s-style glasses, tall and long, filled to the brim with chocolatey goodness. She raised the thing to her lips, pausing for a second, making sure I was watching, making sure I could see exactly what she was doing, then she began to chug, just like she had the other night.

I kept waiting for her to stop. She’d had 6 entire plates of ridiculously fattening foods, thousands and thousands of calories, but she didn’t. I thought of the feedees who stuff & chug themselves into oblivion, who would chug cream like it was water, filling their bloated bellies to their absolute maximum. She gripped at the glass like it was the only thing in the world, her eyes closed and moans fell from her lips, getting louder. Down and down the melted cream and fat poured, each gulp angry and demanding as if each drop was the most important thing in the world, and she wanted every last bit.

I saw her begin to reach for something I’d missed, the smooth silver cup––there was more––and the moment the last of the glass was emptied, she slammed it to the table, forgotten as she replaced it with the metal cup, tilting the damn thing up to the ceiling as she continued to chug, using her now-free hand to massage her belly, get any last space she had available.

She finished it, and let loose an enormous sigh, a breath of pleasure and relief and ecstasy. With the exhale, her belly pushed against her jeans, jeans that had been punishing and been punished all night. With a tremendous *pop*, the button flew from the jeans, slamming into the chair next to me.

I climaxed, trying desperately to keep the carnal moans from escaping my lips, and failing, dramatically. It rolled through me as she moaned again, this time from the newfound freedom of her belly that literally sprung into her lap, a red line from their former waistband digging deep into her belly.

A belly that now, despite being stretched to its absolute limit, still carried a softness to it. She was chubby now, it was more than official. It sat in her lap, spilling from the confines of her jeans.

“Your turn,” she managed, pointing to my untouched plate. I was shaken from ecstatic stupor, looking down at the plate she’d prepared me. God, we should do this every fucking day, if it was going to be this easy––she forgot how good my metabolism is, and I ate the thing with ease I was surprised by, considering how full I was.

We sat in a collective silence for a few minutes before I muttered, “Let’s go,” shifting out of my seat. She followed suit, though she struggled heavily. As she stood, she tried to pull at her jeans, the zipper completely undone, but there simply wasn’t any room. She pulled and pulled, a heat to her cheeks as she checked to ensure the rest of the buffet patrons and staff couldn’t see her.

It wouldn’t budge. “Princess?” she asked, pulling me closer. “I need you to walk in front of me.”

I was confused. Now she was afraid of being fat in public? After what she’d just pulled? Then it hit me––this was the final part of our game.

I noticed the tops of her underwear painfully obvious below her split-apart waistband, and I shook my head. “You can manage.”

Her eyes fluttered as they rolled back slightly, fingernails gripping into the side of her inner thigh, a deep breath falling from her lips. “As you command, Princess.”

And I let her walk a step and a half ahead of me as we exited, the whole of the restaurant watching us. God, it made me burn down below again. I made sure to wink at the server, who watched us go. I could feel her eyes on us long after the door closed behind us.

I quickly grabbed Rylee’s hand, walking towards our car, whispering in her ear softly, as lovers, as friends again, “You okay? That was a lot.”

She nodded, her other hand rubbing her stomach. “That was…” She paused, and my heart leapt in my throat. Did I push too far? “The best fucking thing of my life,” she finished, squeezing my hand tight, and in a smooth motion, pulling me close to her, face to face, slipping her hands behind mine.

“Check…am I getting fat enough for you?” she whispered, then took my hands and slid them around the newfound of her thighs to the back of her expanding bottom. My eyes couldn’t hide how much I enjoyed the sensation. I squeezed and stroked her but beneath the loosened denim of the jeans she would never wear again.

“It’s an impressive start,” I whispered back. “But I have…bigger plans.”