chapter 1

Dressing Room Antics

Summer has rolled around, and *Gasp!* nothing fits you. We head to the mall and I slip into one of the dressing rooms with you, a stack of clothes in my arms.

"Try these pants on, babe. I bet they will look great on you."

"Okay," you say, sounding doubtful. You struggle to pull them on. "Wow, I can't even get them to close!"

"What? You used to wear that size..." I spin you around so I can get a better look at your belly pooching out of the front. "Oh, too bad. It looks like you've gotten too FAT to wear it now!" I say, poking you in your soft belly. "Well, try this shirt on."

You pull on the t-shirt, and it's at least 2 sizes too small, and your belly is hanging out of the bottom. "Ummmm...."

"Oh my god it fits you perfectly!" I say, grabbing your exposed belly as I push you against the wall and start to kiss you. "Jake, you're turning into such a ***ing blimp," I whisper in your ear.

"What?!" you sputter. You shake me off. "I need some new clothes! Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course! I'm sorry. Well, these are obviously too small. I got you some other sizes." I hand you a nice-looking button down and some khaki shorts, but you quickly realize...

"What the hell? These are enormous!" And it's true--the shirt and shorts are probably 3 or 4 sizes too big, and you look like you're drowning in them.

I start to laugh. "Well, if I have anything to say about it, honey, you're going to need those sizes soon." I kiss you then push you down on the bench and unbutton your shirt and pull off the shorts, then I grab my purse. I pull out a few candy bars and a couple packages of those little donuts.

"What are you DOING?" you whisper.

"You know exactly what I'm doing, Jake!" I hiss. "I'm going to stuff your fat face, and then I'm going to *** you in this dressing room."

"Are you crazy? They're going to catch us!"

"Not if you're a good, quiet pig and eat everything I shove in your face." I unwrap a candy bar and push a bite in your mouth. Then another, and another. I hike up my dress and start to grind against your bloated belly and stiffening cock. I pull out the donuts, and shove one in your mouth. You pull off my panties and feel my slick, wet pussy.

"That's right," I moan. "I love seeing you turn into a huge ***ing balloon, Jake." I puff out my cheeks at you and point at you. "I'm going to turn you into my blimp-boy." I pull down your boxers, and guide your big, hard cock inside of me. I shove two more donuts in your mouth as I start to ride you. You try to protest, but you can't resist, can't get away from me. I give you two more bites of another candy bar, then another donut, alternating between the two.

"Do you remember when you were skinny, Jake? When you could walk on the beach and not worry about your fat gut hanging over your trunks? When you could walk up a flight of stairs and not be out of breath? When did you get to be such a glutton? Eating so much that you keep growing out of your clothes--so fat that none of last year's summer clothes fit you! What have you been eating? You're such a ***ing pig! You're going to get what you deserve--be so blown-up that girls are going to stop you on the street to poke you in the belly, point and laugh at you as you walk by. I want you to be so ***ing huge that I can just push you down on our bed and roll you around, so helpless from your overindulgence that you can't even begin to stop me." I shove two more donuts in your mouth and ride you harder and faster, your fat belly slapping against me. All you can do is moan around the mouthfuls of food.

"Do you want that, Jake? Are you going to be my big ***ing blimp?" I grab and squeeze your belly as I blow up my cheeks for you. "Yes, you are, aren't you? You're going to get ***ing HUGE for me." I ride you, and feel you start to come inside of me, and you're doing your very best to not yell out and alert the salespeople to our activities. I kiss you (you taste like donuts and chocolate, surprise, surprise) and climb off, then pull on my panties and throw your boxers to you. You catch your breath while you put them on.

Once you're done, I straddle your lap and start shoving another candy bar in your mouth.

"But...!" you protest.

"Jake, I told you, I'm going to make you my ***ing blimp. Right here, right now." And I shove another bite in your mouth. You're starting to look scared. You can tell that I mean business, that I really do intend to fatten you up right there in the dressing room. You'd wondered why I grabbed my big purse today, and now you know. It's chock-full of all sorts of goodies--every kind of candy you can imagine, packages of cookies and pastries and more donuts. I start to unwrap a package of cookies and push two in your mouth at once. Another donut. More candy. More cookies. On and on I shove more treats into your face until everything is gone. Your belly is blowing up before my eyes. Your face is filling out, creating a triple chin. Your neck has disappeared. Your arms are getting fatter. Your thighs are inflating, your butt is spreading out beneath you. You're looking a bit terrified at this point....

"Hmmm, let's see if these clothes fit you now, Porky..." I help you to your feet and try to squeeze you in the shirt and shorts that were 3 or 4 sizes too big. No dice. They don't even come close to covering you now. Your arms are squeezed into the sleeves like sausages, and I can barely get the top two buttons of the shirt fastened over your fat chest, but the belly just isn't cooperating. And the shorts--well, we only managed to get them halfway up your thighs. But we've got to get you out of the dressing room, so it's the best we've got. You're looking pretty helpless, your chubby arms hanging uselessly at your fat sides, your tree-trunk legs barely able to support your bulk, your ENORMOUS belly completely exposed. I gather up the wrappers and your old clothes and stuff them in my purse. I open the door to the dressing room and walk out, you slowly waddling behind me. And then:

"Oh, ***." Somewhere between your huge belly and love handles and fat thighs, you've gotten yourself wedged into the dressing room doorway.

I burst out laughing. "Jake, oh my god! You're such a ***ing blimp! You ate so much you got yourself stuck in the doorway!"

You're looking pretty pitiful. "Will you just go get some help, please?"

"Sure, baby," I coo. "Miss," I say, signaling over the dressing room attendant. "Could you help us? It seems that my boyfriend is, well..." And I gesture to you, stuck as you are in your state of semi-undress.

She giggles and then covers her mouth. "Oh my goodness--ummm...let me get some help..." And she goes and calls for backup. Within just a few minutes, 5 more girls come to the dressing room, all carrying food with them--more packages of donuts, a couple of milkshakes, one of them holding a whole chocolate layer cake.

The look on your fat piggy face is priceless. It's the "Oh shit I'm so screwed" look.

We all take turns feeding you--the cute dressing room attendant, the tall redhead at the front of the store, the two adorable blondes we saw working in the back, and the beautiful dark-haired woman straightening the racks in the men's section. "He's such a ***ing blimp!" one says. "Where did you find this guy?" another one asks me. "God, look at him! He's blowing up like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day float!" "Right, like a big huge whale on parade, right?" We all giggle and poke you in your huge balloon belly, pinch your double chin, and then puff up our cheeks at you. One even mimics you--her cheeks blown up and her arms wide at her sides, like she's too fat to move. "He reminds me of that huge guy that came in here and ripped all of those clothes he was trying on? Do you remember him?" "Oh, that's right! That guy was such an enormous hog!"

"That's right, baby--my big fat ***ing blimp." I kiss you and shove another donut in your mouth as you protest. "We're going to be here a while...."