Chapter 2

Jace joins in on Nick’s teasing then, “and like the pig you are, you let them.” Their words bewitch you, trapping you in their truth. Jace trails his hands over your soft jowls, multiple chins, and plump chest... before he diverts his hands quickly to your arms, where the shirt is tight and causing the supple flab on your arms to puff out. Jace presses his hands into the squishy fat, gently maneuvering your blubbery body as you respond.

“Yeah. I was too full to move! My belly was too big! Too heavy... too fat and bloated.” You pant heavily, watching your fat wobble and ripple with the movement, fabric shifting as your clothes strain with the weight of your new position. And to your embarrassment, your stomach sloshes and jiggles ridiculously at the movement, the bed creaking and dipping as well. Your love handles seem to spread out with the new position, sagging from where they protruded gently. The movement dislodges a monstrous belch, low and bassy and gross.

While Jace’s face remains smug as ever, he is struggling to get your fat*ss to sit up. 350+ pounds of oversized lard is nothing to scoff at.

Finally, Jace places you between Nick’s legs and up against his torso; soft back rolls squishing into his strong chest… and plump ass aligned with his sharp hip bones. Jace squishes against your front between thick thighs and against your belly and fupa. As they all settle together, you watch with bitten lips as your belly quakes and wobbles before plopping unattractively onto your lap with a fleshy thump. You moan quietly as you feel your pants press deeper into your stuffed stomach, muffin top protruding hugely over the waistband; tight shirt accentuating the blubbery overflow. You know your spare tire has left you with a nasty plumber’s crack, can feel the supple skin burst over your tight waistband. God, you're such a fat slob.

Looking down at yourself, at how fat you are, you are overwhelmed with red-hot shame. You fiercely cup either side of your round dome of a gut, kneading into the firm bloat before harshly hitting it with a resounding slap, the fat rippling grossly. “Fuck! I felt so fucking fat,” you moan hotly, legs spreading as your midsection wobbles back into place, pants button shifting. You whimper when Jace says,

“You say that like you already aren’t.”

And suddenly, Jace and Nick’s cold fingers are faintly tracing over the bloated dome of your belly again, causing it to quiver and slosh with your nerves. You're keening and writhing in… arousal.

As Jace’s fingers snake their way to the edge of your shirt, they stop, tracing the thin edge where cotton meets soft fat. Your hands have fisted into the sheets as you take in big and heady breaths, your cramped stomach hindering your breathing.

“Your stomach really is huge. no wonder they made fun of you; you’re fucking fat,” Nick growls. He must be seeing your belly from your view. Nick laughs. Probably at how ridiculously big it is; sticking out hugely from your torso, shirt unable to cover it and pants barely holding on.

You are fucking massive.

A moment passes in which the twins look at each other, Nick can tell from the way Jace is looking beside you, eyes intense. A sadistic smile tugging at his lips, Jace grips the soft blubber of your muffin top… and shakes.

“Jace! What are you-“ You are quickly interrupted by another bassy belch. It feels like it rattles the walls with how powerful it is. All the jiggling is making your gut slosh loudly, the contents inside churning louder and louder, clearly upset with being treated so roughly. You gag, the mountain of food and drink inside you threatening to come up with your next burp. And another after that. “Fuck I can’t,” another burp, “stop!” You finish with a long, airy belch this time.

Nick smacks your oversized muffin top, feeling how firm and distended it is. You massage into the doughy fat, and your belly lets out a hollow-sounding gurgle in response, forcing out a strained burp. “Shit, you’re such a slob, Nicholas. Can’t even get through a sentence without burping, hm?”

You whimper in response. You do your best to hold more in, but all the shaking, even though Jace isn’t doing it anymore, has dislodged so much gas. And so you can only belch nastily in response.

Subsequently, Jace faintly pulls your shirt up and over the thick crest of your full belly and tucks it under your tits, setting the engorged flesh free with a dramatic jiggle, plump fat rippling fluidly. You stop for a moment, looking at the swollen flesh pouring over the sides of your jeans. You're dripping in soft, supple fat.

“Nick’s right. You’re a fat slob! So soft… and no manners at all!” Jace chimes in, kneading into the flesh like a cat.

Sucking your teeth, you hedge, “I'm just a little bloated, right? And I have manners! I just ate too much. It’s... I can't really be… that fat, right?” You look to Jace, who just smiles faintly and shakes his head. He places his hands on the bloated underside of your gut, pressing out a low, long fart. You look humiliated.

Nick rubs the top of your sick belly firmly, intensifying the horrifying noises your bulging gut is making. You wail softly, gingerly cradling the sides of your swollen belly. “oh, God...” Jace raises his brow, rubbing more gently at a painful-sounding blast of gas, carefully caressing your inflated midsection.

“It's so big! And it hurts so badly. Ooh, I'm gonna get so fat...”

Looking at Nick, they exchange a bemused look. “You already are, though,” Nick muses, pressing down harshly and forcing out a watery burp from you. “This past year, you’ve blown up like a balloon,” Nick states matter-of-factly.

“It’s not like I gained much weight... maybe a couple of pounds...” You mewl, wincing as your stomach emits a burbled, high-pitched moan, tensing over the mountain of food forced inside. You burps and hiccups unattractively as a result, moaning pathetically.

“These pants are way too small for you! Look how they dig into your big belly.” Jace argues, slapping it and listening to the tight smack and repulsively loud gurgle. You gasp in pain, mouth wet and open as you look down at your quivering gut. “It’s not that big...” You blush as Jace laughs, hitting it again, “right, which is why it looks like your fat stomach will pop the button off these pants at any moment.”

You huff, “I’m not that fat!”

The twins chuckle when suddenly, they hear a deafening, wet whine, louder than before. They look down, where all anyone can see is your belly. The top of your gut is bloated beyond belief, taut and packed, swelling with the consequences of your overindulgence. The underside faring much the same. It's thick and rumbling, still bloating slowly, forcing your jeans to their limits and your shirt closer to your wobbling breasts. You feel overfull, debouched; a greedy pig pinned down by your own weight and gluttony. So humiliating, so disgustingly fat.

Yet you remain in willful denial of your current state and how they fulfill your deepest, darkest fantasies.

The twins will just have to show you just how fat you have gotten, and what a pig you are... but they also want you to feel better. They just can’t stand to watch their fattened boyfriend steep in denial any longer.

Kneading their hands into their boyfriend's bloated tummy, they rub quietly for a bit, listening to the gross, unhappy roars it emits, smothered beneath layers of thick, doughy fat. Jace takes a moment to think before, sharing a look with Nick and saying, “how about I get you something to drink; to soothe your angry belly.” He looks so innocent. Little does you know, they’re about to ruin you.

Settled between sausage-like thighs, Jace presses out one last fart from you before saying, “okay, I’ll be right back. Promise.” Jace pats your gut like a pet and leaves. You jiggle on the bed, stranded like a beached whale. Nick is slowly massaging the entirety of your belly now, hands skilled and strong. All you can hear is the disgusting, embarrassing gurgles of your swollen belly. And all you can feel is the bloating of your gut, swelling over the waistband of your jeans. How shameful.

Jace returns in a hurry, hands hidden behind his back. You have barely even noticed you entering the room. You're too engrossed in sloshing and touching your stuffed gut, smacking and jiggling it around despite the heady, pained moans he, and your belly, are making. Jace sets something down, hidden between the night table and bed. Nick smiles at you; an evil, sadistic thing.

Jace smirks, smacking the bloated crest of your stomach, listening to the resounding squelch as your gut lurches, cramping in agony. You hiccup a short burp before you mewl. Jace teases, "can't get enough of your own stuffed gut, can you?"

You blush hotly, shivering as both twins press in, belly rumbling a deep, monstrous gurgle. Your limbs flail uselessly, held down by your heavy blimp of a belly.

Jace's smirk sharpens into something mischievous. “Here, sit up properly.” Jace commands. The twins lift you so you're sitting up straight rather than half lying down, the new position forcing out a little toot. You blush even more as your boyfriends simply smile at you.

Now sitting up, you watch Jace warily. The twins are up to something. And watching as Jace pulls up a gallon of whole milk, you realize your gut is in for a nasty surprise. Although slightly intolerant, you can’t help yourself around dairy. It makes you a repulsive, gassy mess, but you can’t help but eat and drink it. With a belly as full as it is now, you know most people would turn their nose at this… but you aren’t most people. You are greedy, a glutton at heart with no self-control. And so instead of turning away, instead of refusing the drink like you should, you lick your lips. Your belly groans in fear.

“Maybe this will help settle your tummy down,” Jace croons, all faux sympathy and mischief. You get a piggish grunt in response. You try your best to sit up a little straighter, hands reaching out for the gallon, but Jace holds it just out of reach. All the shifting causes a thick blast of gas to come out of your ass, to which you groan in embarrassment. The twins simply laugh. Nick, the devil he is, moves his hands to your lower belly and presses, causing more, comically loud farts to come out. But even so, you continue to struggle for the milk. You just can’t help it.

“C’mon, big guy, you can do it,” Jace encourages sweetly. Your hands are shaking, struggling to hold the gallon up as high as he is. But clearly, the prospect of teasing you outweighs the discomfort.

Another minute of struggling, another minute of grunting, burping, and farting before you gives up, plopping back against Nick’s muscular chest; groaning as Nick massages out a long, deep bit of gas. You feel like such a nasty slob.

Cheeks red with embarrassment, you pant, hands going to your rumbling belly and forcing a burp out. “I can’t reach,” you groan.

“And why is that?” Jace asks, innocent. He places the milk on top of your gut, delighting as the pressure dislodges a belch.

You mumbles quietly in response.

“What was that?” Nick asks, still massaging the bloat of your gut.

The situation is so… humiliating. You literally can’t sit up because you ate so much. And yet here you are, trying to drink something calorie-dense and thick. As if you aren’t full enough. But you're just so hungry, a deep ache in you that is always longing for more.
In the spirit of wanting to consume, of wanting to glut yourself further, you perk your voice louder and admit, “my belly’s too big, can’t reach. ‘m too gassy.” As if to prove your point, Nick presses out a hot fart from you.

Jace seems to think for a moment, pulling back as he says, “that’s one reason. Why else is it hard for you to sit up, hm?” At the hesitation he receives in turn, he shakes the gallon on your belly. “Come on. We all know the answer.”

You do. You know they know it too. Everyone who was at your little get-together is well aware of the fact as well. You, face red and blubber jiggling, say, “I’m too fat.” The twins let the answer hang in the air, let it sink into your lard-shrouded ears.

“That you are, piggy,” Nick rumbles, voice low and possessive. He keeps massaging fart after fart and burp after burp out of you. You're a balloon of rancid gas and calories and fat.
The twins look at each other and Jace nods. “Good boy,” he croons, pulling the jug to his own lap in order to uncap it. A quick twist and crack and the lid is off. With a dexterity few can hold a candle to, Jace throws it into the trash. “We won’t be needing that,” he says. You gulp, your gut churning at the implication.

Nick continues rubbing your belly as Jace settles between your chunky thighs. Uncapping the bottle, he holds it tight and leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your gut. You lean back again as it grumbles violently, a teeth-rattling belch following afterward from you. You look at him, mortified. God, could your gut just calm down?

“God, you’re gross,” Jace sighs. “Ready, fatty?” Jace places the bottle near your face, waiting for the go-ahead to feed you. You hesitate a moment, tensing up and grunting. You can feel gas building in your lower belly. Nick presses just right and a long, deep fart comes from you. You sigh and find yourself clenching afterward, making sure nothing… else comes out. You really want to drink this milk, and don't want to do anything else in the interim. And so you nod, feeling your double chins wobble with the movement.

“Good boy.”

Jace presses the milk to your rosy lips and tilts, the bottle at a very steep incline. Your eyes widen, not expecting the absolute flood of milk. Quickly, you busy yourself by gulping it all down as fast as possible. You wait for your cheeks to fill before gulping the huge mouthful. On each swallow, you can feel your belly bloat, swelling out inch by greedy inch. Your tummy groans and churns loudly, upset with the contents being quite literally poured into it.

You hear yourself groan nauseously, your belly feeling sick all of a sudden. So overfull and getting bigger, filling up with milk and gas. Nick is quick to try and help, whispering, “I got you,” as he rubs at the painful cramps riddling your poor stomach. It helps for a bit. The deep rubs work out every tight cramp, allowing for the pleasure of slowly bloating bigger and bigger to take hold. Your insides are stretching slowly, getting tight and full, weighing on you heavily. You feel like a balloon being inflated with every swallow, each second leading to your insides aching wonderfully. You find it hard to breathe, the weight of what’s inside your tummy restricting you in every way.

But after drinking about a quarter, you raise your chubby hands and place them on the bottle, feeling sick all of a sudden. The feeling of slowly blowing up leaves you nauseated, your belly aching and bubbling terribly. Your belly is overfull, and being topped off with whole milk, of all things, isn’t helping. Even if you really like it. Jace is quick to listen, pulling away and cooing sweetly at you.

“Feel sick, ulp,” you whisper, both hands placed gingerly on your gut. You lets out a wet burp, gagging violently after. Your tummy jumps at the wretched noise and tensing, wobbling to and fro. And suddenly, the kindness the twins were showing disappears. Nick swiftly covers your mouth and pulls your head back a little.

Jace is quick to sneer at you, “don’t. We’ll make you drink what you throw up, too.” You whimper in response, gulping something down as you shake your head. You take deep, steadying breaths, moaning nauseously. Your gut is churning loudly again, akin to a heating kettle. Airy burbles fill the area as your belly bloats with gas and rebels against all the dairy and grease and sugar inside it. You whimper and whine, feeling something building. You lift a leg slightly in anticipation. Lo and behold, a moment later, a huge, rattling fart leaves you. It’s long and bubbling and so fucking embarrassing. You moan in relief afterward, lowering your leg and leaning against Nick. Said man just sucks his teeth and smacks your belly, shaking it like a toy; its contents slosh loudly.

“Dirty slob,” Nick reprimands. You let out a hot belch against his palms as a response. Nick is quick to pull his hands away, admonishment on his tongue. He wipes his hand on your shirt. He seems to avoid the grease and sweat stains. “Don’t you feel even the slightest bit of shame, fat*ss?” Nick gets another burp in reply, this one airy and topped off with a relieved moan. you literally cannot stop burping or farting, just a gross, gassy bum. You're grateful, too. Sometimes, when you get too full, especially on something heavy like this, the gas gets stuck and bloats you terribly.

The twins cringe at you. Nick continues rubbing your belly with both hands while Jace sways the bottle and teases you with what you have yet to consume. Another sick groan, an airy belch, before you feel less like you're going to be sick and explode, and more like you can finish the task set out for you. The belly rubs help, mostly. Nick’s skilled fingers and palms relieve each cramping ache.

“I’m, mh, ready… More,” you groan. Your voice has changed since you're… gotten softer, you're noticed. A lot deeper and more muffled, less sensual than it used to be. You're so shy about it, wishing you could, well… be hot again. But with the way you eats, and the way you're being fed, you doubt you ever will be again, try as you might to deny it. You feel yourself grow warm at the thought.

Jace gives you a look, silently asking if you're sure. As mean as the twins can be, they care for your comfort above all else. You nod and open your mouth, jaw falling into your cushioning triple chins. They prevent your mouth from opening very wide, and you can feel the soft resistance with every mouth movement. Your face really has ballooned. Hell, you even have stretch marks underneath your chins. You remember them appearing after your obsession with deep-fried butter began. The marks on your belly and fupa had doubled that month, too.

With a toothy, predatory grin, Jace begins feeding the milk into your mouth again. He starts slowly this time, easing you into the quick pace he was going at before. “There’s a good piggy, drinking what you’re told,” he hums. The milk settles heavily in your mouth and in your belly, thick and delicious in every way. Each swallow pains you, however, leaving your brows furrowed and a little moan trailing after each loud gulp.

The jug tilts at a steeper incline, increasing the flow of milk to something quite a bit faster. Your eyes widen, milk spilling out the sides of your mouth and down your chin. Nick stops the tender rubbing of your belly to smack it. The harshness leaves a red mark and you whimper, gagging around a mouthful. “Messy bitch,” Nick says, low. “We want every drop inside of your greedy gut, not outside.”

You can only nod frantically, praying that he doesn’t jostle your belly like that again. Your wish is headed, as you take extra care to not waste a single drop of milk.
“Good pig,” Jace says, and you want to guffaw. You want to spit and snarl that you're not a pig, you're not fat, nor are you greedy. But with the way you're gulping down the milk, the way you've been eating recently, you know it’s futile. And you like that. You shouldn’t, but you do. And for some reason, that just makes it all the better.

“All these calories, sloshing around in this big gut of yours, “ Nick laughs quietly, shaking your belly, listening to the milk ruin your insides even more. It jostles out a deep fart, another tiny one following after. “Making you into an even fatter slob.” Your pants creak dangerously.