After what's felt like a year, you've finally snapped out of the gluttonous daze you've been in as you realize your gut has firmly pressed itself into the bed.
Just moments prior you were in your usual reluctant stupor, digesting a massive stuffing as we started fucking. It was right when I maneuvered you into doggy style, something snapped. A strange force pressing up against your distended abdomen, friction that you didn't remember.
The course begins with a sharp flurry of denial.
"No no no no it's just the way...the way I'm positioned...I was just gonna gain a few pounds."
You feel me in the deepest parts of your guts as you're jostled back and forth, your massive gut smothering itself across the mattress.
"It...I can't be that big. Fuck I can't be that big."
For the appetizer, a deep sense of panic.
"No no no...that's not what this is. That's- I'm not that big- Fuck when did I get this big."
You tighten around me as you panic, pleasure dripping down your thighs.
"Fuck...FUCK....why- why didn't I stop myself."
The full meal begins with quiet sobbing, building into a crescendo of deep, chesty sobs.
By the time you let it all out, you sound like a dying creature and between gasps you mutter to yourself, to which I whisper, through gritted teeth, into your ear, demanding that you speak up.
"Fuck...you let me get so fucking fat....I told you to stop me...why didn't you stop me....please...fuck...."
A tidal wave of an unwelcome catharsis rips away any traces of denial you had left. The epistemological break, the smashing of all previous conceptions you had of yourself: reserved, intelligent, dutiful, self-aware, disciplined. The light of the sun piercing your eye as you leave the cave of your former self. Scared. This is who you are now. Fat. So fucking fat. So fucking fat and all mine.
And for dessert, one of the sloppiest and scariest orgasms you've had in your life.
Deep, guttural moans push their way out through cracks in your sobs. You're out of breath. Lightheaded. You just came all over me. An absolute, bloated mess of a person. Covered in sweat, tears, crumbs, grease, and pleasure messily dripping from your crotch, the last of your self-conception as a well put-together person fades from your mind.
A tense pause, underscored by slowly steadying breath, only broken by a beautifully pathetic, delirious giggle.
