Chapter 2

When we met, I was 10 pounds less than my former highest weight, 184. At 184 I was chubby and round. My belly was plump and stuck out, perfectly perky with squeezable rolls. My love handles wobbled, my face was bloated with the beginnings of a thick double chin hanging towards my chest. My weight went up and down for years until I met him and he put 100 lbs on me. Now I oink and squeal when he grabs at my piggy gut. I get on all fours and buck my fatty hips like a hog and beg him to fuck me while my udders and gut hang down. I pant and wheeze, so out of shape, sweaty and whining. Everything about me is obese, overfed, bloated, piggish, hog-like.

When I walk I waddle heavily, round chubby tummy bouncing in front of me, fat arms swinging from side to side while my thick thighs shake wildly as I slide them past each other. I can feel my bloated ass wobble behind me as I huff and pant. My hard nipples rub against my thin t-shirt, my flabby gut hangs heavily over my buckle, my deep belly button jiggling free. It takes my breath away just waddling from my door to my car and I snort and catch my breath. When I sit I spread my soft thighs wide so my hog gut can surge forward and hang low towards the ground. I finger my deep belly button and oink and whine and wheeze and grunt like a bloated, overfed hog, fanning myself, my puffy arms wobbling.

Daddy keeps his hand on my love handle while I waddle with him around the buffet. I keep trying to pull my shirt down but it keeps riding up over my fat tummy. My squished little belly button jiggles while I huff and puff around. Daddy lovingly squeezes my fat hips and sticks his finger in my exposed belly button. I squeal at his touch and feel my tummy wobble. I fill up plates and plates of greasy, fattening food and he takes them back to the booth for me. I struggle to reach the tongs over my protruding gut, my mouth hanging open, sucking in air. I waddle back out of breath and plop down heavily, squeezing into the booth. I wheeze trying to catch my breath while my gut wobbles uncontrollably. My thighs immediately spread out, my plump hog belly surging between them. The booth cuts my gut off, the bloated top roll wobbling over the table top and the flabby bottom roll hanging towards the floor. I start scarfing down food, oinking and snorting, barely breathing. My feeder slides over and rubs my gut under the table, squeezing my bloated love handles. “Wow piggy, you must be hungry” he whispers in my ear. “I’m worried you’ll get stuck in this booth, you’re so round and plump. Look at those chubby arms wobble, look at that double chin shake and bounce.” I squirm, his teasing is getting me so wet. He sticks his finger in my belly button and I moan. He squeezes a love handle tight. I gasp. “Eat faster, piggy. I want you to keep growing for me, fatter and rounder.”

I desperately shove food down my throat, grinding my pussy on the seat while my gut bloats and stretches past the edge of the table. I lean forward and squeal, feeing it fall off the edge of the seat and hang towards the floor, so heavy. I’m seriously that fat, my gut sticks that far out. I panic, whimpering and flailing my pudgy limbs and kicking my chubby legs, feeling my round tummy shaking and bouncing, pulling me forward. My enormous flabby pig udders sit on the table, so bloated, my fat pink nipples rubbing against the table. They suffocate my pudgy face in fat and I snort and squeal trying to get free, like an obese farm animal. My weak pudgy arms frantically paw at my big belly, trying to pick it up. “Squeee!! Squeeeee!” I oink in panic, feeling myself get wet from the humiliation. Did I really just oink like a dumb, obese farm animal? “Daddy, help!” I gasp. My short chunky legs are pushed apart by my massive hog gut, and my belly is too wide and fat for me to reach anywhere past my bloated love handles. “What do you need, baby? Is that piggy pot belly getting too big? Does it hurt, your hog gut hanging towards the floor?” my feeder teases. I whine and grunt, sweat pouring down my plump piggy udders, pooling in my deep belly button. I whimper and I try to flail again, my fat stubby arms jiggling and my thighs quaking, but it’s no use. My mouth hangs open, struggling to suck in air as I squeeze my bloated fat rolls, unable to pick up my heavy pig belly. I feel him insert his finger into my distended belly button and I grunt again, squealing and oinking like I know he likes. Finally my feeder gently scoops up my soft, wobbling paunch with his hands. He hefts the weight in his hands and I squirm, I feel so bloated and beached. He jiggles my fat roughly, making me squeal. “Look at this sack of lard, piggy. Aren’t you ashamed?” He pulls the table back to free me and I stuff my thick bottom roll into my skin tight stretch pants, creating the most adorable, wobbling muffin top. He lovingly pinches my nipple and I oink again, it feels so good to be daddy’s dumb hog. He pats my soft tummy making it ripple and I sigh happily and keep eating, my fat nipples hard as a rock. I feel his finger go slowly in and out, in and out of my squishy belly button. I groan and buck my hips and he leaves his firm finger in my belly button and swirls it around. I pinch my nipple with one hand and stuff chocolate cake in with the other. He stands me up and my gut sits on the table, pooling forward. He fingers my belly button and i grind my pussy. I cum over and over, feeling my bloated gut bulging over the table, his finger in my flabby belly button, all the food I ate so heavy.