Chapter 9


I don't think I've gotten that much attention for finishing a meal since I was 2 years old and ate my first plateful of big people's food. Andy Sansome -- world-famous model and my date for the evening -- was feeding me the last bites of my third entree. Zake Zinn, -- chef to the stars was cutting the tender lamb into bite-sized pieces, Mara -- the beautiful, plump waitress who was Zake's wife -- was stroking my long, black hair, holding my beer and voicing encouragement with every swallow. Andy's face was filled with a restrained excitement -- a quick glance at his crotch showed there were other areas of excitement, too -- and so, as I finished the last potato, I put on a little show: I licked my lips, then rubbed my inflated belly and said, "Now that was a delicious meal! My compliments to the chef! And, I'm sure dessert will be just as wonderful!" Zake took a little bow -- as much of a bow as a 400-pound man can take -- and I stood up to go to the bathroom.

That's when I realized just how full -- and buzzed -- I really was. My stomach felt like it wasn't really part of me -- like it was some bag filled with a semi-liquid attached to my front. The tight spandex panels on my shirt couldn't keep a grip on the steep slope of my belly, so the shirt's hem had ridden up above the skirt's waistband, exposing a strip of taut pink flesh; I raised my hands above my head in an exaggerated stretch, pulling the shirt all the way free, then ran my hand over the bare flesh, under the waistband, forcing the fabric down under my bellybutton, and exposing the entire expanse of my stomach. Andy's gaze was glued to my hand's motions, so I couldn't help one more little tease: I patted my tummy a couple of times, feeling the little ripples run around to my newly freed love-handles. "I'll be back in a minute," I said, and headed for the ladies room.

The food in my stomach was sloshing around with the rhythm of my steps to such an extent that I had to walk with my hand on my belly to support its weight. I untied my skirt, pulled down my panties and pulled up my shirt, then sat down on the toilet bowl. My gut was so swollen that my legs were forced apart and seemingly half of my thighs were hidden from my view; I couldn't keep my hands from massaging my belly, and each time I stroked the taut and tender flesh, a sexual tingle started in my crotch and worked its magical way outward around my entire body. I touched my thigh, flattened out and hanging over the edge of the toilet seat and that gave me a tingle. I reached my hand under my bra and as I gently brushed by my nipple, I shuddered, realizing that the fatter I got and the more I ate, the more I became one giant, sensuous nerve ending, stimulated by even the slightest touch.

When I was finished and standing in the toilet stall, naked from the waist down, unable to see my feet, I couldn't keep my hands from massaging my belly, from running through my pubic hair, from squeezing and stroking my well-padded butt, from teasing my pussy which was hot and very wet. I thought of Jess -- wondered what she was doing, whether she was eating, remembered her beautiful belly hanging over my chest as I teased her clitoris with my tongue and kneaded her wide fat ass, felt my finger impersonating her tongue in my pussy. My knees buckled as I came suddenly and violently, each thrust of my hips and arch of my back set my swollen belly to swinging as if it were something separate from me. When I calmed down, I was sitting again, slightly sweaty and trembling.

I'd pulled up my panties and skirt and splashed some water on my face, when Mara opened the door. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You were gone a while, so Andy asked me to check on you." My face was a little pale and I was still trembling -- I must've looked a sight, because she asked me if I'd been sick. I leaned against the wall, laughed and took her hand, placing it on my belly to show her just how full it still was, then said, "Nope. I wouldn't waste a drop of Zake's food! I'm just a little drunk."

She didn't take her hand away when I let go; instead she slipped it under my shirt. I could feel the warmth of her touch burning right through me as she moved around my waist, my back, my belly button. She pressed her mouth against my ear, whispering, "You feel so good, so soft, so round." My hand found its way to her wide, plump ass and I stroked and caressed it through the silky fabric of her dress. "Are you hungry?" she asked, her hot breath tickling my ear and the nape of my neck. I moaned and pressed her against me, feeling the shape of her fat belly against my side. Her hand was making its way under my waistband, under the waistband of my panties; "Are you thinking about dessert? You have such a big belly to fill. You can't be full yet, are you?" "No," I moaned, shivering as her tongue traced its way around my ear and her finger found my clit; I lost control of all my muscles except my hand which was frantically squeezing her blubbery butt. "Are you hungry? It's fun being hungry. I'm always hungry." she whispered. "Yes. I'm so hungry. I want to eat. I want to eat everything. I want to eat until I explode." "Good," she said. "Very good."

She backed her hand away slowly, despite my sudden grip on her wrist. She blew gently in my ear, stuck her finger, tasting of me, in her mouth, then in mine. "Come on," she said. "Andy's waiting and you've got dessert to finish. I'll tell him you're okay and you'll be along in a minute." She turned away, a wicked little smile on her face and left me alone, dazed and in such a state of arousal as I hadn't ever felt before. My clothes gave me the chills as they brushed against my skin, I could feel my hair tickling my neck, the breeze from the air conditioning vent dancing over my arms. I took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, following my belly and my pussy.

The table had been cleared and Andy was sitting in an armchair next to the chaise longue; there was a small coffee table, set with two cake plates and teacups. Andy stood up as I came near, his eyes focused on my hand, which was tracing slow circles around my stomach. He moved the coffee table away from the couch to allow me to sit down. I plopped, and he poured some tea for the two of us. "Are you hungry? " he asked, hopefully. "Were you thinking about dessert?" I heard Mara's voice in my ear, and shivered a little. "Of course," I said, dreamily patting my belly, "there's always room for dessert!"

He looked very pleased, put his hand on my knee, and said, "I'm having a wonderful time tonight. Better than I imagined! How about you?" "Definitely!" I said, the touch of his hand radiating up my thigh. I put my hand on his, sliding it up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. I pulled him closer and kissed him, hard and deep, tasting his warm breath, his lips, his tongue. He was sitting next to me, and his hand moved up my thigh, around my butt, under my shirt and up my back. I moaned softly into his mouth, and pressed myself closer to him, grabbing his shoulders, then the back of his head, running my fingers through the long, wavy hair. Someone cleared their throat, and we separated guiltily, until then, unaware that Mara and Zake were standing just several feet away.

"Well," Zake said, "I'm right glad you weren't stuck together or something; I was just beginning to wonder if I'd need to turn the hose on the two of you. We've much more important things to do with our mouths than to bother tasting each other's tonsils! Dessert for instance. Mara..." She pushed the little dessert cart over next to the coffee table, saying, "We've got a few assorted things tonight: a cappuccino tart with whipped mascarpone cheese topping, a raspberry bread pudding, vanilla hokey-pokey ice cream, and of course, pavlova with whipped cream and bananas and passion fruit. Which would you like?" She looked at me and touched the tip of her index finger to her tongue -- the finger that had been exciting me only a few minutes before.

"It's so hard to decide," I said. "Maybe I should try them all?" Mara and Zake both grinned knowingly, and Andy's hand stopped it's gentle rubbing of my back. "Are you sure?" he said. "It might be too much." "Not if you help me," I said, and Zake let out a laugh that resonated from the depths of his massive gut. "This one's a danger," he said to Andy. "She's got you all figured out!" They cut slices of the pies and tarts and piled a bowl to capacity with the ice cream, then said, "Enjoy!" and made their way out, arms around each other's waists.

I picked up the first slice -- the cappuccino tart -- and dug in, gobbling forkful after forkful of the rich and slightly bitter tart and the sweet and creamy cheese topping. That was gone, along with the bread pudding in no time at all. But when I finished feeding myself the last bite, I realized that I was quite gorged. Suddenly, I was very hot; I could feel my forehead becoming slightly damp. "I think I need to put my feet up," I said. Andy sprang up from the couch, and I stretched out, supported by the couch and half-sitting up, immediately feeling some relief. Andy untied my skirt, and that helped even more. The coolness of the air in the room felt good on my bare thighs; I pulled my shirt up to just below my bra and my swollen belly felt the cool air, too. "Are you okay?" Andy asked, kneeling alongside the couch. He was genuinely concerned, but his eyes kept wandering over to the expanse of my stomach.

"Yes," I answered, my gaze following his. Reclining definitely helped -- the only pressure on my stomach now was the weight of all the food inside me. My hand seemed to have a mind of its own, resting on my stomach and making slow circles on the sensitive skin. I could see my belly was defying gravity, like a pregnant belly. My thighs were flattened out, squeezed together, with puffy little bulges where they met the tight elastic leg-holes of my bikini panties. There were little creases -- the start of a roll -- at the back of my waist. "I just started feeling very warm, but I think some ice cream would help cool me down." "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitantly and hopefully at the same time. "You don't have to..."

"Sure, I do. Mom always said you take what you can finish and you finish what you take. So... Why don't you feed me?" He picked up the bowl of ice cream which was soft and slightly melted, and I noticed his hands were trembling. My mouth was open and waiting as he brought the first spoonful near; I took it hungrily, the cold vanilla surprising my tongue and the chewy hokey-pokey bits bursting with sweetness. The second, third and fourth spoonfuls went down quickly, and I could feel the wave of cold flowing down the back of my throat and spreading into my stomach, cooling me down. He kept feeding me and I kept eating until all that was left in the bowl was a pool of melted cream; I took the bowl from his hand, brought it to my mouth and drank all the cold liquid.

As I passed the empty bowl back to him, a drop detached itself from the side of the bowl and dripped onto the hot skin of my stomach. He put down the bowl, looked me in the eye, then leaned over and licked up the single drop. The touch of his lips and the soft wetness of his tongue sent a powerful electric thrill straight through me; I pulled up my legs and arched my back, pressing my overstuffed flesh hard into his face. One of his hands ran down the back of my flabby thigh, while his other hand began to caress my breasts through my bunched-up shirt; his tongue was moving all over my distended belly, tasting every inch of the taut flesh. His fingers brushed against my pussy during his exploration of my thigh, and I gasped, my fingers grasping the material of his shirt, steering him by his shoulders until his face was near mine.

We kissed, long and hard and deep, roughly and tenderly at the same time, my cold tongue warming up in his mouth, our hands tangling in each other's hair. I felt his powerful shoulders, his strong arms, the slight roughness of his cheeks; his hands never stopped moving over my hips and love-handles, under my shirt and over my bra. The passion of the kiss flowed and flowed and then, slowly, ebbed, leaving us floating in each other's gaze, stroking each other's faces, brows, necks.

"We should go," he whispered. "Find a place..." "Not yet," I said. "I didn't finish." "You can't possibly still be hungry, can you?" "There's all kinds of hungry," I answered, "and right now, I'm starving for that pavlova. I want you to feed me every last bit." "But..." he protested, "... you can't." I put on a begging tone, playing the role so well, that I convinced myself: "Please. Please feed me." I whispered hoarsely about my hunger, and he complied, hesitantly at first, cutting a small piece of the shell with the spoon, and gingerly putting it into my waiting mouth. The crunchy meringue melted sweetly, exposing my tongue to the soft interior, the whipped cream, the pulped passion fruit, the starchy banana. I moaned when I'd swallowed. "Feed me more. Please feed me more." And he did, spoonful after spoonful; I was practically writhing in anticipation of each bite, swallowing hungrily, fitting the food god-only-knows where. I was dizzy and sweating and short of breath -- and still disappointed when the last bite was gone.

He kissed me, tasting the last bits of the dessert from my tongue. He stroked my impossible belly while my hand found its way to his crotch, feeling the heat and hardness of his dick through the loose linen fabric; I undid his button and his zipper and snaked my hand under his underwear waistband, finding my way to the prize. I thought I'd burn my hand, it was so hot... so hot and so smooth; wrapping my hand around the engorged shaft, I stroked and squeezed, cupped his scrotum, ran my nails gently up its length. I smiled inwardly as he occasionally lost his kissing concentration, his hand seemingly forgetting where it was. I rolled on my side, my packed-solid belly barely succumbing to gravity, and scooted down the couch until my mouth was pressed against the waistband of his boxers. His eyes were closed and he didn't move as I gently pulled his underwear down and blew on the tip of his cock, opened my lips around it and took it in my mouth without touching. I was breathing heavily and I knew he could feel the warm breeze of my breath as I exhaled and the cool air rushing across his sensitive skin as I inhaled. My hand was gently pressing against the small of his back, while my other hand was cupping his balls, and flirting with his rectum. I let my tongue gently roam around the head, teasing him by suddenly closing my lips around the shaft and taking him deeper into my throat.

His hands were wrapped in my hair, gently pressing my head down and his thick cock deeper into my mouth. A low moaning -- almost like a lion purring -- was coming from somewhere deep inside his chest. His hips started thrusting upward faster and faster, and I tightened my lips and flicked my tongue faster and faster. Then, I touched his rectum with the ball of my finger and he exploded in my mouth. The salty semen splashed against the back of my throat and I swallowed it greedily as if it were the best part of the enormous meal, again and again, sucking and licking until every last shudder and shiver had escaped from his body and he could no longer stand on his knees, collapsing onto the floor. He leaned his head against my chest and I smelled the warm fragrance of his dark-blonde hair, mixing with the earthy flavor of the cum still in my mouth.

After a few minutes, we both sat up and arranged ourselves. He kissed me softly, his hand gently trailing down my back, then he walked to the bathroom. I stood up, finally realizing how stuffed I was and how big my belly had grown. Tying my skirt around my inflated waistline, I was glad I'd sewn in six inches of ease -- I needed almost all of it!. Mara came in when I was deciding that it was futile to try and tuck my shirt in; she had a huge smile on her face as she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me in to a surprise kiss. "Mmm," she said, licking her lips exaggeratedly. "It tastes like you ate EVERYTHING!" She started clearing away dishes, saying, "Actually, I know you ate everything, because I watched. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

I didn't know what to say -- I was slightly insulted at the intrusion on a private moment, I was intrigued by her voyeurism, and I was turned on by her kiss. She left as Andy returned, eyes seeing only me, and this time I was the only one whose gaze followed Mara's big ass out of the room.