chapter 4

Mac-and-cheese. Not really your favorite but in your current state even that is sending sparkles all over your gorged body. Not being able to make noises you feel such pressure building in the depths of your lower belly you only feel with your toy firmly lodged between your thighs. You put the fork down and let it cool for a moment and lean back the few inches you can. Half of the meal in there already and apart from your upper belly steadily swelling past all previous records, there's no discomfort. To ask if you're full would be pointless. You've been full most of the day. The only thing you're interested in is the amount you can still gorge before it starts to hurt too much. And right now you feel like there is no such amount.

Carbonara. Ooh so good! Seething with calories and flavors. Another forkful. Third. Fourth. You lose count. The corner of the table is starting to really dig into your swelling belly now. It wouldn't matter, only it presses on your upper belly that is getting very tight trying to hold all the food. You bare the pain until you reach the bottom of the third plate.

Lean back. Ohh, so much better. You quickly rub the sides of your belly. Beth notices, but only smiles approvingly. Full now. Ridiculously full in fact. Beyond stuffed, but somehow so far beyond there are no limits here. Unknown waters. You feel so sexed up now its crazy. Your thighs are trembling. More, please.

You pick up the last plate and bring it up. It must be so obvious what a glutton you are. So fat you can't bend towards the table, but still want to keep eating like a pig. Beth says something, but you have no idea what, you're too busy biting your lip and keeping from making obscene noises. You nod.

Carmela's chicken. You saved the best for last, this pasta is something you could never turn down. Dripping with cream, chicken, parmesan cheese, garlic, honey, ginger. The calorie count must be ridiculous, anyone watching her weight would not touch the pasta. Not you though. You want the calories and later feel them stored in your thighs or belly or side rolls. You collect calories and keep them on display.

Mouthful. Another. More. Your cheeks bulge. You start to sweat just a bit, feeling your forehead and thighs coated in sweat. Your belly is so stuffed beyond its limits it doesn't know what to do. So it expands. Not a trace of pain or discomfort. Only utter fullness. And deeper down you feel the pressure rising. Ridiculous, nobody gets off without touching herself anywhere, you think. Then you realize that's not true. You're touching your mouth with food. And your stomach is touching you in places nobody can, stretching and pressing nerve endings that are apparently hard wired to your pleasure center. You wish you had known this earlier. Or maybe your belly is only now big enough to achieve this.

Gone. All the food gone. You set down the plate and pant. You try to burp then hiccup, but fail to do either. Too full. You bless the designer who picked the stretchy fabric for the dress. Sadly your own skin isn't as stretchy. Its so tight around your belly it feels itchy and you swear you can feel new rips in your skin and old ones reopened.

But you didn't cum. So close to the edge now, but its not quite enough to bring you all the way. All you can think of is: "More! I need more, god help me! I'm going to burst but I want it so bad. More. More...MORE!"

"Are you ok? Was there something wrong with the food?" Beth asks looking at you, amazingly oblivious to what's going on right in front of her.

"*pant* Oh the food is *pant* amazing, don't *pant* worry. I was just *pant* hungrier than *pant* I thought." you manage.

"Yeah this is really good. I'm afraid I'm done though. I'm stuffed!" Beth declares and pushes her tray away.

You'd like to say she has no idea what being stuffed means, but you don't want to draw any more attention to your obvious condition than your panting and beach ball sized upper belly already cause. Your lithe friend managed two of the four pastas. And she even left the best one untouched. You can't help but take long, lustful looks at the two rich, sinful servings of pasta.

Beth lifts herself up nimbly and switches the trays neatly.

"You looked at my leftovers so longingly it breaks my heart. I need to go and call my boyfriend, we're going to a movie in half an hour. Please, eat my servings too. I'd hate to waste food this good. And I hate to see a big girl like you go hungry." Beth tells you and excuses herself.

God! So turned on. So stuffed. So hungry. Lifting yourself to pick up the fifth pasta dish takes a lot of effort. Your belly is almost touching the table now even when you're leaning back and having to lean just a bit forward to claim the prize is very uncomfortable. It's 8:10pm.

Ten minutes later there are eight empty pasta dishes on the table and you have the contents of six of them inside you. Barely. The last forkfuls were agony, but you forced them down fast. Then some nerve endings got connected as finally some hard physical limit was reached and for the next few minutes all you could do was to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. You are so glad Beth is still having her call so she doesn't see you trembling and shaking.

When Beth finally returns she apologizes, looks at the table, looks at you and smiles. A few strands of hair have settled on your cheeks and your forehead is a little sweaty. That's all Beth sees. How can she not notice that your belly is pushing against the table even when you're as far from it as you can? That its easily few inches bigger than when you arrived? That you're so stuffed you're panting? That you can't get up from the table without help?

"Wow you really were hungry! I'm amazed that you could eat all that. Are you ready to leave?" Beth says.

You catch breath for a moment. Try to move, but fail.

"Beth, this is so embarrassing, but I can't get up. You need to pull the table away and help me up. And you need to help me to my car too. I ate too much." you groan.

No sermon, no suggestions to diet. No remarks about your size. Beth just nods and with surprising force pulls away the table. You breath out with relief as your belly is able to extend all out again. Beth only takes one slightly longer look at your helplessly gorged body and extends her arms. Again with surprising strength she pulls and with her help you get on your feet. Barely. You almost fall back on the couch as you overbalance the weight of the food sitting in your belly.

People stare mouths open. Most have never seen such an otherwise cute young woman that is so fat. And so obviously overstuffed with too much food. You look twelve months pregnant with twins and fat. Walking is so difficult. It would be a miracle if you hadn't broken the 470 pound mark. You feel so fat and magnificent you want to giggle with delight, but bite your lip and decide its best not to.

Somehow Beth manages to stuff you in your car, first pulling the driver's chair back all the way and then just sort of crashing you in. It feels really nice to feel her small hands sink inches in your fat as she gives you the final push. Then she says bye and rushes to meet her boyfriend.

Driving is almost impossible. If you pull the seat back far enough for the steering wheel not to press into your sore belly, you can't reach the pedals. Finally you reach a position where you barely reach the pedals and your belly doesn't hurt.

8:45pm. In bed. Naked. Familiar muffled purring coming from somewhere between your folds. Three times? Four? Loud ones. You've lost count. After a while you get tired of holding your thigh open and just lay there and running your hand over the aching mound. Soon after you doze off.