Chapter 10

3 MONTHS LATER

Summer had finally arrived, which, blessedly, meant no school, meaning our penultimate year of American education had finally come to a close. God, spring quarter always felt like it was going to last forever, but it didn’t, and we made it to the other side, some a bit slower than others–particularly for my girlfriend.

Louisa’s had become a weekly event. We knew Natalia worked every Thursday night, and so every Thursday evening we arrived, Rylee dressed in more and more revealing clothes. She’d whispered to me one night to not let her buy anything new to wear, and despite my initial hesitation, she pushed further, confirming her need.

Every time I saw her on campus, be it for a meal or anything in between, her belly was on full display. Unabashedly she walked through hallways and classrooms, the added weight painfully obvious to her classmates and professors. I couldn’t imagine being in one of those classes, seeing her noticeably fatter each week, filling more of her seat, belly spilling further into her lap. I didn’t have to.

I saw her every day, I’d get up before she did, and the time when she used to go to the gym, well, that was…almost comical now. The night after the first Louisa’s trip words that have stuck with me, giving me the power to wake up in the morning and cook and cook: “I don’t want to be awake and not be full. Please.”

It was the way she said “please” that did it for me. Eyes wide, begging to be more, begging to be bigger.

So breakfasts were feasts of cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs, and pastries, whole-fat cream in her coffee, extra sugar. She said less and less over the course of the weeks, dedicating herself to eating as much as she could, which was steadily more and more. I always cooked too much, in case she wanted more that morning, quietly finishing whatever she didn’t.

Gone were basic milkshakes, I procured a blender, a nice, high-quality one that whipped together ice cream, milk, cream, peanut butter, and some weight gain powder I found online. Quickly, it became a part of breakfast and I’d fill an extra water bottle with one so she could take it with her to class. It was working wonders, so the instant she was even slightly hungry, she had something to fill herself up.

We notched her starting weight at 141, the night after Louisa’s, but she told me before she was 122.. She wasn’t nearly that any more.

Such a rapid gain led to a lot of mornings like this one. She’d stuffed herself, struggling back to her room in her robe to get dressed. I heard sounds of struggle, so I tucked my third cinnamon roll back onto the plate, bringing the extra I’d made (just in case,) and walked towards our room.

Thank God her mom was so rich. She paid for all our food expenditures and put us both up in this gorgeous studio just off campus, a spacious bedroom complete with a wonderful shower and walk-in closet. I found my auburn-haired roommate inside, pulling at a dress stuck on her back.

“A little help, please?” Ry called, her now-flabbier arms struggling behind her head.

I remembered this dress, it was a cute, flowy sundress, a warm yellow with flowers embroidered across it. It…didn’t look flowy anymore.

I quickly paced across the room, setting the remainder of the cinnamon rolls down on the first cabinet just inside the walk-in. I stepped right behind her, my fingernails slowly tracing the newfound softness on her back before sinking into the excess flesh that was her new belly. God, it was heaven to wrap my arms around her, fingernails digging deep into the exposed, doughy flesh that was ever present in her middle, even when she was beyond stuffed.

A lightness filled my voice, not like her coy innocent one, no…this carried a touch of cruelty, the light touch of a bully. “Aww…this poor, growing girl can’t fit into her dress, can she?”

I looked around her to the floor-to-ceiling mirror that sat opposite us. I flicked the light on so we could both see her in her full splendor, every inch of new flesh, the tracings of the first light pink, small stretch marks that she now wore on her sides. It was becoming harder and harder to remember that the belly I dug my nails into was a 6-pack not too long ago. I shuddered at the thought.

“I’m…getting so much…fatter,” she said, an almost solemn curiosity to her voice. When I looked at her in the mirror, I saw her blushing, embarrassed, but also a little flushed. Her eyes deceived her appearance: she was already turned on. I didn’t have to check down south. She grasped onto my hand, the one that had dug into her flesh, pressing it deeper. “I just feel…so heavy today.”

I smiled, digging deeper into her flesh, eliciting a small moan from my growing girlfriend. “I still remember the day I met you, Ry. Over a year we were dating, over a year you were perfect, you were still thin, especially compared to now…and where you’re going.”

“You remember our gym workouts?” she asked, eyes losing their focus for a minute.

“Of course.” The image of her legs, long and muscled and toned, working on a stairmaster, or at the squat rack––that would never disappear from my head.

“I used to––”

“What?” I interrupted her. “You used to workout? You used to have a six pack? Oh, I know, Ry, I take pleasure in that every day. You used to do a lot of things––not stuff yourself constantly, huh? Used to not get out of breath just walking from place to place?”

Her cheeks flushed, embarrassment, sure, but horniness reigned supreme.

“Yes. I used to do all of those things.” She turned around, pulling away from my hand, her newfound width inadvertently running into her rack of shoes.

I laughed, the teasing cruelty still ripe. “Careful now, Ry, your new curves too much for you?”

She slipped a finger beneath the hang that was her belly now. “I like to think I’m well aware of my…softness.” She seemed to trip over the word, as if it was somehow difficult to actualize the concept. “The dress, Princess?”

Oh, she was getting bratty. Wonderful.

“Sure, turn around,” I said, straight-faced. I did feel a little bit sorry, our clothes had been shrinking in the wash, some of my favorites were getting tighter and tighter on me, a few even being retired. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she turned back around, facing the mirror. Foolish, foolish girl.

My left hand traced lightly under her belly, a distraction. The moment her eyes fell to my left hand, my right plowed a warm, still-gooey cinnamon roll straight into her mouth. I pulled my lips to her ear and whispered, “I don’t care how full you are, Ry. You’re going to chew, constantly. Your mouth should never be empty. No words, just growing. Understood?”

She only moans and nods, her eyes closing in ecstasy as she doggedly chewed away.

Another bite. "You want to be ready for your day, don’t you?"
Another bite. Bigger this time. "And you want your belly to be nice and full, don't you?" Another bite, this time two chocolate croissants stacked on top of each other. I pushed so much of them into her mouth it's almost like she couldn’t breathe. "And we want it bursting out of this dress, don't we?"

She couldn’t say anything, but her actions spoke louder than any words she could’ve said. I could tell what she was trying to say by the way she inhaled each bite, each one disappearing beneath her gullet.
*I need to grow...I need to get fatter...heavier...softer...more Callie...please stuff me more!*

Another bite. "And we want to make sure it is so full, the whole day, just so you can keep growing, don't you?"

*So many calories..... I need more!*
*I need more food in my stomach...I want my stomach to stretch, so I can eat even more!* *How did I become such a piggy...Yes Princess, more please!*

Another bite. "You know what I think? It's not just for me anymore."
Another bite. Rylee hadn't come close to finishing the one before as more was stuffed into her mouth. "So greedy, that's what I want to see, my little girlfriend." My nails dug into the exposed flesh behind the overstretched pantie bottom.

Anger flashed in her eyes at that last one, she began chewing even more vigorously.

Another bite. "Oh, she doesn't like being called little, she wants to be so big, so wide, so soft. Then eat, Ry, eat as much as you can.”
Another bite. In a matter of seconds she’d finished the three cinnamon rolls, their cinnamony, buttery sugar disappearing into her belly. "You know what I think?"

I could see how much she was struggling. She was already stuffed from breakfast, but I was developing a theory. Full, to my growing girlfriend, meant satisfied, stuffed meant she wasn’t hungry anymore, painfully stuffed is perfect, and absolutely at her limit meant she was just really fucking horny, which meant she got hungrier, which made her hornier. It was the most wonderful feedback loop of all time.

The chewing alone was a workout.

I watched her with an attempted disinterested mask on my face, but it was hard to hide just how fucking horny this made me. My hand dug underneath her bottom’s straps, allowing her a brief moment of respite as my other hand helped them down, stretching them out as they are forced over my girlfriend’s hips and rear.

I reached for the cinnamon roll plate to find it empty. “Fuck,” I muttered, my momentum sputtering.

Still finishing the enormous amount of food in her mouth, she pointed, almost desperately, toward one of the cabinets. I pulled open the top drawer to find a box of fresh doughnuts, maybe picked up the previous night. A wicked smile grew across my face.

"Here’s what I think. I think…” I pulled up something new around her hips, a black, sexy, lacy garter, its straps connecting to a pair of tights I slid up her legs. The tights themselves were fit to be tight and snug, worn once or twice to fit and more later to be hilariously tight and too small. “No need to be dressed for anyone but me today.”

Another bite. It was a maple bar with bacon on its top––had to fulfill my end of the bargain in not letting her mouth run empty. The thought struck me––she was a machine, when it came to food. Efficient, powerful, all-consuming and awe-inspiring.

Another bite. I unstrapped her top, replacing it deftly with a semi-transparent bra, one that supported the bottom of her chest, pushing her growing chest upwards, together, into gorgeous rounded shapes that made me slightly weak in the knees.

Another bite, so much food at one time. So much food had disappeared into her, nothing but a few crumbs on the floor, but so many donuts still sat in the box.
Another bite, her cheeks were stuffed, almost aggressively. Still I watched her in the mirror, her haven exposed, each new inch and pound put on marvelous display.
"Think about how everyone will react when he sees you in this." One hand dug into her belly, shaking it lightly. "Not full enough, my little fox."
Another bite, and I pulled her by the garter out of the walk-in, throwing her on the bed, stepping back to grab the donuts.
Another bite, and with it, sensation. My vibrator teased as harshly between your legs, seeming to dance in between her noticeably thicker thighs. "I want you..." Another bite, a big one. It's not just a bite. It's an entire donut, shoved into her mouth, pinched in half to fit. "To hold it."

I shook her belly, sending ripples cascading up and down its exterior, her chest, her thighs.

"Do you think you can do that for me, little fox?"

She nodded, moaning as she tried to finish the donut so dignifiedly stuffed into her gullet. Her eyes pleaded for more.

As she built her own pleasure, I fed her more and more, whispering into her ear. “Here's what I think, Ry. You started because you thought I'd like it. But that's not the story anymore, is it? I see a greedy little girl, eager to please, but also eager to grow because you've begun to love it. Not just because he wants you to anymore, no, my fox, you want so much more than that. You crave being so full you can hardly breathe, you love the feeling of your thighs and rear and belly brushing against doorways and cabinets, you love growing out of dresses and jeans, you need to be full, you need to be fatter because you imagine yourself bigger and think it's hot. I certainly do. Am I wrong, my little fox?”

I let her finish the donut. She’d nearly killed three already, somehow.

“Princess,” she managed, huffing as if she’d run a marathon, as if she could barely even run now. "You...are my everything. So all this soft jiggling lard...it's yours.” I looked down as she blushed even an ever deeper shade of red. "But you are not wrong...the feeling and pleasure of being painfully stuffed...it's addicting. The taste of food has only gotten better. And I've grown so much, so quickly,” she looked up and bit her lip, before pulling me closer, whispering in my ear. “I hit 171 today–but I want to grow so much more-- destroying clothes, even furniture. I don't want to be fat...I need to be fat, no, I need to be really, really fat! And when I eat...I already dream what that is going to look like."