Not Our First Feeding Expedition

The plates have stacked up at our table, because she has waved away the waitstaff whenever they attempt to clear them away. She coaxes me to eat one more bite, and just one more bite, and then another, all the way until I reach the point of raw pain from eating so much. I have exceeded my previous plate count record, and I’m feeling every bite of it sitting like lead in my belly.She discreetly pops the top button of my pants, resting her hand softly on my swollen belly, reminding me to take slow, deep breaths. I find it so endearing the way she does her best to take care of me in these moments when I am nearly sick from her stuffing me. I close my eyes for a moment, breathing shallowly to try to gain some semblance of control over myself, and she slides out of her seat to go up to the counter to pay.When she returns, she helps me waddle out to the car, cheerfully saying thank you to the waitstaff as I stare at some arbitrary point on the horizon, struggling to take one semi-coordinated step after another. I’m slow and breathless, waddling painfully. She helps me collapse into the passenger seat of the car.Driving home, she’s careful not to accelerate or crest a hill too quickly. One hand gently rubs my aching belly, but every once in a while, I feel her fingers stiffen, nails digging into my belly with longing. It’s only for a fraction of a second, but this isn’t our first feeding expedition, and I have felt that momentary lapse in restraint before. I know full well where this is leading.After she helps me waddle in the front door, she kneels and helps me remove my shoes. I’m too full to bend over, still in a food daze. She takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed and snuggling up next to me. She caresses my ballooning belly and observes as my body language slowly transitions from pain into hunger–for her. I remain flat on my back, arms and legs spread wide, as she begins squeezing and probing my swollen food-filled belly with increased fervor.“I’ve turned you into my fat prize pig,” she murmurs into my ear before she straddles me, careful to avoid putting pressure on my full belly, letting her weight rest on my thighs. She reaches for my chest, one hand cupping each moob.“Remember when your chest was hard? Look at you now,” she coos as she fondles my now-soft chest. “Now you’ve got a real handful here.” Her hand moves lower to my belly. “It’s not just your chest that’s gotten soft. Look at this belly. It’s hard to believe you used to have abs here. All this eating has turned it into a fat gut.”Her hand moves even lower, and as she slides me into her, she says, “I can’t wait until you’re even bigger.”***A submission from justkeeprunning at Feabie. He wrote about 70% of it, and I edited and fleshed it out.