Something The More

"But I've never done that much."

"I'm well aware of that, but you will today."

"I can't; I'll be sick!"

"You will eat all of this and then you will eat more. We begin now."

The most beautiful fat pig of a man sat in the middle of a queen sized bed surrounded by at least thirteen pink boxes filled with dozens of pastries. Kneeling before him, a woman in all black was grinning knowingly and holding an éclair. She leaned forward so that her rather smaller frame rested against his massive sloping stomach. Being closer to him now, she began to feed him an éclair. He ate it happily enough but the look in his eyes was still wary.

The truth was, he really never had eaten as much as she'd laid out for him tonight--especially not this soon after returning from dinner. They'd played this game before and he was always glad to do so, but she'd never been so pushy. He wasn't just blowing smoke when he said he'd be sick if he ate everything she'd laid out, but he also knew he wasn't going to change her mind. Nothing ever did and, normally, that didn't bother him. She fed him, he gained weight, it got them both off; it was a symbiotic relationship. It worked.

As he chewed and swallowed, though, another worry began to take hold of him. If she continued to rest against his belly as she shoved food into his mouth, he really would have a problem. He'd fill up faster than either of them would like, there'd be no way his stomach could stretch to accommodate the food she'd planned, and he might actually be sick. To stave off those creeping fears, he concentrated hard on the decadent flavor of the cream in each éclair she salaciously and forcefully presented to his lips.

He let the worries slip away on a tide of silky chocolate, rich cream, and dark sweet cherries. She pressed pastry after pastry upon him until he'd devoured at least one of each kind she'd brought and five of the éclairs alone. He ate heartily. His stomach was filling and they both knew it. He could feel it inside, just now starting to brim with the contentment that rich food brings. And she could feel it externally, his belly was firmer; the muscles starting to work on digestion. She smiled widely and pushed more firmly against him. He groaned, uncomfortably but not unpleasantly.

He wasn't anywhere close to full, but she was leaving him so much less room by pressing on him like this. Something had to be done; she had to relent if she wanted to stuff him with the remaining goodies.

He thought the situation over carefully, knowing she'd never acquiesce just because he was worried. Before a plan could form in is mind completely, however, she pressed against him even more firmly. She had a look on her face like a child squeezing a balloon--half terribly excited that it is going to pop, half afraid that it might. She pressed a fourth cherry turnover to his mouth as she pushed her body against his.

He gladly took a large bite and began chewing. Impatiently, it would seem, she pushed the turnover harder--filling his mouth and smearing cherries all over his fat cheeks and his flabby chins.

She giggled, planted herself on his already tightening belly, and began to lick clean the sweet fruit filling smeared on his fat form. It felt good, but terrified him and she knew it. She wasn't letting on just yet; she wanted to see how much he would take before he spoke up. She used her hips to grind down harder against his belly, his face reddened, and she smiled.

Without leaving her thick, fleshy perch, she reached for a box of crullers. The motion against his filling stomach made him light headed. First one cruller and then another was presented to him and he ate, feeling her weight pushing down on his stomach as it already worked hard to digest first dinner and now boxes and boxes of sweets.

He started to speak, to finally ask her for some relief, but knowing what was coming, she shoved another cruller into his sticky, piggy face.

"You're such a good piggy. You're my piggy." she cooed.

He chewed and swallowed the gooey treat and let the word "piggy" surge through him like hot love. He wanted everything he was getting, but he couldn't suppress the dread that he'd not be able to finish, that he'd let her down, that he wouldn't be the fat piggy she so adored. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she took mercy on him.

"I imagine my added weight is making these baked goods tough to swallow, piggy."

"Yes; I'm not sure I can do it...I want to. Really, I want to be your fattest piggy ever"

"I know. I know. So I have a deal for you. I'm going to strap you down. Your hands will be strapped down at your side, your feet to the end of the bed. Your head, pulled back, will be strapped to the headboard behind you. In this way, you will let me fill you up. You will let me overfill you. In return, I'll remove my weight from your belly and make sure you ingest every last one of these calories. Is that acceptable, piggy?"

"I think so."

"Soon, you'll know so. I have faith in that, piggy."

He agreed, just as she knew he would when she'd planned this evening.

She lifted herself from his massive belly, allowing him to breathe deeply for the first time in minutes. His stomach relaxed some as the rich fare he'd consumed was able to spread out. She stood over him now, looking down at his fat frame. His stomach sagged before him, spreading his legs apart. His thighs were massive and flattened against the mattress under the pressure of gravity. His chest was huge and flabby and sagged against his stomach. She counted his rolls of flesh and smiled, recalling each time she'd stuffed him and feeling pride that she'd helped to build each sexy, fleshy one.

As she began to restrain him according to her plan, he made mental note of the baked goods still left on the bed. There were two full boxes of doughnuts, another box each of crullers and turnovers, and two boxes of éclairs, in addition to the few loose pastries in the other boxes. He quickly figured that he'd managed to consume around 70 pastries so far, which meant roughly 18,000 calories.

Thinking about how those calories were going to look and feel on his frame, he grew rock hard--though his erection was hidden under the pressure of his massive growing belly. He knew, rather suddenly, that he could make room for the rest of the treats spread out before him, which he reckoned to be about 80 pieces roughly. He couldn't wait.

She had him fully restrained now, with his head leaned back giving her free reign over what she stuffed into his face, but not making it too uncomfortable for him to swallow. She stood on the bed over him, careful to heed the terms of their deal by not leaning on him.

In one hand, she held a box of iced chocolate doughnuts. In the other hand, she held his doughy face. She kissed him once on the lips and then quickly replaced her lips with a doughnut. He ate most of it in one bite, ravenous for more. He moaned deeply through the sweet sticky bite.

She grinned at him and forced the rest of the doughnut into is warm, wanting mouth.

On and on she pressed, emptying the first box of doughnuts in mere minutes. After that, she helped him to put away a dozen éclairs and six each of the crullers and doughnuts. He groaned contentedly and she tried to imagine how he felt being stuffed like this. Though his eyes were glassy, his gaze was keen. All at once, she was hit by his sheer mass. She wanted to grab handfuls of his fat and feel her fingers sink into him.

Unable to resist, she grabbed his stomach: enjoying both the soft fatty lower part and the much much firmer, nearly distended, upper part. She could feel his body digesting; she knew he must feel stuffed to near or beyond capacity. This only made her want to stuff him more.

To his credit, he was taking it well. His stomach hurt, but he'd always loved that and tonight was no different. Still, he was light headed and a little dizzy--the sugar rush from all of the baked goods was kicking in on a massive scale and so was the strain his body felt from trying to consume and digest such large quantities of carbs.

Frankly, he felt as if he were only minutes from passing out, but there was also the intense rush he got from stuffing, from pushing his body, from the absolute joy he felt as he imagined his stomach growing and rolls forming and his thighs mashed more and more closely together. He could feel the tight stretching, spasming feeling of his stomach working so hard to make room for all of the sweets. It ached, it even burned a bit, and his breathing grew labored. He smiled.

He was determined, though--determined--to see how far she would push him and determined to see how far his body could be pushed. He took the deepest breath he could and begged her for a belly rub.

He needed to burp so badly to make some room but he knew he needed her help to accomplish that. And anyway, he wanted her hands on his mountain of a belly again, they felt good—soft, firm, and completely self assured. The pressure would help him to release the excess gas and doing so would make more room.

Thankfully, she was amenable. At least she seemed so.

She knelt the best she could between his flabby thighs and stretched both of her arms out toward him. Her hands hovered inches above his over-stuffed stomach. A wicked grin crossed her face, but only for a second.

He didn't even have time to wonder before she had moved her hands, not to his belly, but to his sides. Mercilessly, she began to tickle him. This jarred his great fat body so much that it sent searing pain through his already over-taxed stomach. It lurched and he feared he'd be sick.

Instead, he burped enormously and richly. Without thought or hesitation, as if by pure instinct, she rushed in to kiss him as his huge burp trailed off to a faint whisper. He tasted of chocolate and cherries.

She grinned, realizing that in her rush to kiss him, she'd leaned into him again. Her pelvis was sunk into the deep fat of his belly. Her grin widened as she pulled herself out. All at once it hit her how fat she'd made him over the months--fat enough that his body could absorb hers easily. And tonight, tonight she'd stuffed him fuller than he'd ever been in his life.

The feeling was heady and the time for games was over. She took the last of the pastries and put them into one box. All told, there were about 30 pieces left. She didn't ask him, she didn't consult him, she didn't say a single word; she just began to shove them into his gaping maw. The red of the cherries made the pink of his mouth deeper and all she could think about was flesh: his flesh, growing, expanding, exploding in size.

The idea of his massive explosion in size filled her with a hunger completely different than anything he'd felt tonight or any other night. She was relentless. He barely had time to breathe between each unwieldy mouthful. In minutes, she'd forced him to eat the last of the pastries. His face and chest were sticky with fruit and chocolate and cream and it bore a dazed, almost mindless, look.

She knew he was too full to breathe properly or, even, to think clearly. He was obviously pained but he also seemed content. It wasn't enough for her. She wanted more, something, anything more. She straddled his great fat belly, barely able to maintain her balance he was so wide. She steadied herself by grabbing his piggy face.

"You are full, yes?"

"Yes," he said blearily, almost incomprehensibly.

"But you are not finished eating."

He met her words with only silence and a look of complete disbelief. His unthinking eyes watched as she raised her black skirt, sliding it over her milky thighs and above her solid curvy hips. Instantly, he knew why she'd restrained him with his head leaned back, he knew his next meal was to be her. She straddled his face, feeling his flabby cheeks between her thighs. It was all she could do to not squeeze them with all of her strength.

"Make me cum with that sweet sticky tongue, pig!"

He could hardly breathe, but he met her wet pussy with his mouth. He lapped as hungrily at her clit as he had at the filling in any of the pastries tonight. He gasped, wheezed, swallowed her juices, and lapped some more.

For her part, she didn't seem to care that he couldn't breathe. She rode his face hard and concentrated on how good his fat face felt pressed into her.

She could hear him struggle for breath and she imagined all the times she'd heard him struggle for breath before--as his fat ass climbed the stairs or even walked a few yards. The thought of it sent a surge of heat through her and she began to cum. Grabbing the headboard, she pressed down harder against his face and let the spasms of her pussy and her thighs trap him.

The last spasms of her orgasm passed just as he began to lose consciousness from lack of oxygen. She pulled herself off of his face and began to undo the restraints. His wet piggy face hung limp against a chest that rivaled her own in size.

When she undid the restraints on his arms, he slumped heavily onto his side. She stripped off the rest of her clothes and tucked herself in next to him--her lithe body curled right around his monstrous belly. Her face was as close to his as she could get it in this position. She looked at him, sleeping contently and wondered at how the calories she'd just crammed into him would have no choice but to become fat. She smiled as contentedly as he looked. He burped once in his sleep; this time he smelled of chocolate, cherries, and her. This was her last waking thought before drifting into comfortable sleep that night.