The first light of dawn was filtering through the blinds when Sarah finally stirred. The night had been a blur of pressure, movement, and Ed's soothing voice. The frantic struggles from within had long since subsided, replaced by a deep, heavy churning. The man was gone, reduced to a thick, soupy mush that settled heavily in her core. She felt… smaller. The taut, mountainous peak of her belly had softened into a still-impossibly-large, but more malleable dome. The skin was less strained, the angry stretch marks fading to a dull pink.
With a groan, she pushed herself up. The weight was still staggering, pinning her to the couch for a moment before she managed to swing her legs over the side. She stood, a slow, waddling motion, one hand supporting the underside of her massive gut. It swayed with each step, a heavy, warm pendulum that brushed against her thighs. The hunger was back, a gnawing emptiness that coiled in the midst of the lingering fullness.
She found Ed in the kitchen, humming as he flipped pancakes at the stove. The rich, buttery smell filled the air, and for a moment, Sarah allowed herself to feel normal. But then she saw what was waiting by the back door.
Three large cages sat on the tiled floor. In one, a pig the size of a small dog snorted nervously. In another, a sheep with thick, curly wool bleated softly. The third held a goose, its large, white body crammed into the enclosure, its beak opening and closing silently.
"Morning, love," Ed said cheerfully, turning from the stove with a plate stacked high with pancakes. He set it on the kitchen table. "I thought you'd be hungry. You must have worked up quite an appetite last night." His gaze flickered from her face down to her still-swollen belly, a look of pure, unadulterated pride in his eyes.
"Ed… what is that?" Sarah whispered, her hand tightening on the curve of her stomach. She could feel the mushed remains of her last meal shifting inside her as she stood.
"That?" he said, walking over to her and wrapping an arm around her waist, his hand coming to rest possessively on her belly. "That's breakfast. Or, well, a pre-breakfast appetizer. I thought we could start the day off right." He leaned down and kissed her, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of syrup and satisfaction. "You look incredible this morning, by the way. Softer. Rounder. I love it."
He pulled her toward the table, but Sarah's feet were planted. "Ed, I can't. That's… those are animals."
"They're food, Sarah," he said, his voice losing its playful edge and taking on a firmer, more commanding tone. "And you're hungry. I can see it in your eyes. Don't lie to me. Don't lie to yourself." He guided her into a chair, the wood groaning under her considerable weight. He pushed the plate of pancakes toward her. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
She picked up her fork, her hand trembling. She managed to swallow a few bites, the fluffy pancakes feeling like air compared to the lead weight in her gut. But the sight of the cages, the sound of the animals, it was all overwhelming. The hunger inside her wasn't for pancakes. It was for something solid. Something substantial.
Ed watched her, a knowing smirk on his face. He left her side and walked over to the cages, unlocking the one with the pig. He scooped up the squealing animal with ease and brought it over, holding it out to her.
"Come on, darling. Open up. Think of how good it will feel. All that meat, all that weight. It'll make you so beautifully round."
Tears welled in Sarah's eyes, but her body was already betraying her. Her mouth watered. Her jaw ached with that familiar, phantom stretch. She looked from the terrified pig to Ed's encouraging, hungry gaze. She knew she had no choice. She didn't want a choice.
With a sob, she opened wide.
The pig went down easier than she ever could have imagined. It was a thick, warm slide of muscle and bone, and it settled into her stomach with a heavy, satisfying thump. Her belly, which had been soft, immediately began to tighten, the skin stretching over the new, solid form.
"Good girl," Ed praised, already moving to the next cage. He returned with the sheep, its wool soft against her lips. This one was a struggle, a broader, more cumbersome meal that forced her jaw to its limit. She had to stand, bracing her hands on the table, to get it down. The resulting expansion was immense. Her belly surged forward, pressing hard against the edge of the table, the skin now a taut, gleaming globe.
"One more," Ed breathed, his eyes gleaming with arousal as he watched her. He brought her the goose.
Sarah was panting, sweat beading on her forehead. She was so full it hurt to breathe. But the sight of the last waiting meal, the promise of completing the set, pushed her onward. She took the goose, its long neck sliding down her throat first. It was the final piece.
When it was over, she collapsed back into the chair, a gasping, groaning mess. Her belly was a colossal, taut sphere, a lumpy, shifting landscape that dominated her entire body. The three distinct shapes of the animals were visible through her stretched skin, a horrifying, mesmerizing menagerie trapped within her.
Sarah sat frozen, a monument to gluttony in the hard wooden chair. The initial shock of the final swallow gave way to a sensation so overwhelming it was almost religious. Her belly wasn't just a stomach anymore; it was an ecosystem, a chaotic, living world trapped within her own flesh.
The movements were wild and frantic. The pig, still panicked, kicked hard against her ribs, a sharp, insistent pressure that stole her breath. The sheep, disoriented and suffocating, thrashed in a broader, rolling motion that made the entire dome of her belly sway from side to side. And the goose, its powerful neck muscles still spasming, created a frantic, probing bulge that traveled in tight, agitated circles just below her diaphragm.
Through the thin, over-stretched skin, she could see the faint outlines of their forms—a dark, huddled mass that was the pig, the larger, woolly shape of the sheep, and the long, distinct curve of the goose's neck. It was a horrifying, mesmerizing sight. A living tapestry of her own impossible capacity.
A soft, breathless moan escaped her lips. It wasn't a sound of pain or protest, but of pure, unadulterated sensation. She brought her trembling hands up, pressing them flat against the taut, quivering surface. The heat radiating from her skin was immense, and the vibrations from the animals' struggles traveled up her arms, a constant, thrumming reminder of the life she held inside.
Ed was on his knees before her, his eyes wide with worship. He wasn't touching her yet; he was just watching, drinking in the sight of her and the life she contained. "Feel it, Sarah," he whispered, his voice thick with reverence. "Feel them. All that life, all that energy, and it's all yours. It's all making you stronger. Making you more."
Sarah's head lolled back, her eyes fluttering shut. She could feel the distinct textures of their movements. The sharp, frantic kicks of the pig's hooves. The dull, heavy thuds of the sheep's body rolling against her stomach walls. The strange, slithering pressure of the goose's neck. It was a symphony of chaos, and she was the concert hall.
She shifted in the chair, and the movement sent a fresh wave of activity through her gut. The animals tumbled over one another, their combined weight pressing down, creating a profound, soul-deep pressure that was both agonizing and blissful. A deep, guttural groan rumbled through her, a sound that was both hers and theirs.
"God, look at you," Ed breathed, finally reaching out. He placed his hands gently on her belly, his fingers splayed wide. He didn't try to still the movements; he simply rode them, his hands rising and falling with the frantic landscape. "You're so alive. So full."
He leaned forward and pressed his ear against the taut surface, his eyes closing in concentration. "I can hear them," he murmured, his voice muffled by her flesh. "I can hear their little hearts beating. So fast. They know they're yours now."
Sarah couldn't speak. She could only lie back against the chair, a captive audience to the spectacle within her own body. The guilt was still there, a faint, distant echo, but it was completely drowned out by the raw, physical reality of her fullness.
The weight was a profound anchor, the movements a thrilling, terrifying dance. She felt Ed shift beside her, his hands leaving her skin, and a moment of cold panic pierced through her haze.
"Ed?" she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper.
"Don't move, my love," he said, his voice tight with an excitement she recognized all too well. "I just had a thought. We're not done yet."
Her eyes fluttered open to see him walking toward the back door, not with the empty cages, but with purpose. He opened it and stepped out into the crisp morning air. Sarah's heart hammered against her ribs, which were already being assaulted from the inside by a particularly frantic kick from the pig. She could only sit and wait, a captive queen on her throne, listening to the sounds from the yard.
There was a squawking, indignant cluck. A soft, questioning 'baa'. Then the heavier, shuffling sound of something larger.
Ed returned a moment later, his grin wide and predatory. In his arms, he carried a crate. Inside it, a half-dozen chickens clucked and fluttered nervously. Trailing behind him, lured by a handful of feed he'd scattered, was a dairy cow, its large, placid eyes blinking slowly in the kitchen light. And finally, trotting confidently at his heels, was a goat, its wiry beard and mischievous eyes taking in the scene with what looked like amusement.
"No," Sarah breathed, the word a puff of air. The denial was automatic, a reflex, but it held no power. Her body was already responding, the deep, churning hunger in her gut roaring back to life at the sight of the fresh, living prey. The animals already inside her seemed to sense it too, their struggles intensifying, as if they were protesting the arrival of new roommates.
"Of course," Ed said, setting the crate of chickens on the counter. He walked over to her, his hands immediately finding the sides of her colossal belly. "We can't stop now. We're just getting to the good part. Look at all this space we still have to fill." He pressed gently, and Sarah gasped as the internal pressure mounted, the animals tumbling over each other.
He started with the crate. He opened it and scooped out a chicken, holding it by its wings. "Open up, darling. Think of them as little, feathery popcorn."
Sarah sobbed, but her jaw was already unhinging. The first chicken was a frantic, feathered slide, a ticklish, clawing sensation that shot down her throat. It joined the chaos below, and she could feel its small, panicked body immediately start fluttering against the larger mass of the sheep.
Ed didn't wait. He fed her the second, then the third, then the fourth. She swallowed them down in quick succession, a line of feathery bulges traveling down her throat. The sensation was bizarre, a cascade of light, frantic energy that contrasted sharply with the heavy, solid weight of the larger animals. By the time the sixth chicken was settled, her belly was a seething, lumpy cauldron of movement, the surface rippling constantly.
"Good," Ed grunted, his eyes gleaming. "Now for something with a bit more substance." He led the goat over. It bleated once, a sound of mild protest, before Ed guided its head toward Sarah's mouth.
This was harder. The goat's horns scraped her lips, its broader shoulders forcing her jaw to a new, agonizing limit. She had to grip the edges of the table, her knuckles white, as she worked her throat muscles, swallowing and convulsing until, with a final, powerful gulp, the goat slid into the churning vat of her stomach. The added weight was immense. Her belly groaned, the skin stretched to a paper-thin, shimmering translucency. She felt the goat's hooves kick hard against her stomach wall, a distinct, powerful movement that made her vision swim.
But Ed wasn't finished. He looked from Sarah's heaving, tear-streaked face to the cow, which was now looking at her with a placid, almost curious expression.
"One more," he whispered, as if to himself. "The main event. The final course."
He walked over to the cow, his hand stroking its rough hide. "Come on, girl. Time to meet your new home."
Sarah thought she would die. She was certain she would burst. There was no physical way her body could handle anything more. But as Ed led the massive animal toward her, that dark, thrilled part of her soul rose up, silencing the panic. She wanted this. She wanted to be so full she couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't be anything but a vessel of glorious, impossible fullness.
She opened her mouth as wide as it could go, a gaping, dark maw ready to receive.
The cow was a monumental effort. It took Ed's full strength to shove its head in. Sarah's entire body convulsed, her throat stretching to dimensions that defied all logic. The slide was agonizingly slow, a process of pure, painful stretching and swallowing. She could feel the immense weight of it entering her stomach, displacing everything else, forcing the other animals into the corners of her cavernous gut.
With a final, monumental shove from Ed, the cow's hind legs disappeared past her lips. Sarah's world went white. She felt a sensation like tearing, not of pain, but of ultimate release. Her belly surged outward, a tidal wave of flesh that engulfed the table before her. She was no longer just on the chair; she was the chair, a colossal, quivering dome of flesh that filled the corner of the kitchen.
The movements inside were now a muffled, distant thing, the individual struggles lost in the sheer, overwhelming mass. Sarah lay back, gasping, a bloated goddess of impossible scale. Ed knelt before her, his hands running in awe over the vast, taut expanse.
Sarah lay back, a soft groan escaping her lips as the weight of her own body settled. The chair was gone, the table was gone, the kitchen was gone. Her entire universe had contracted to the warm, heavy, living sphere that was now her body. She was no longer a person; she was a continent of flesh, a breathing, groaning world unto herself.
The guilt, the horror, the reservations—they were like distant memories from another life, belonging to a smaller, weaker version of herself. This Sarah, this colossal being, knew only bliss.
She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the sensation. The sounds were a symphony. A low, deep, constant gurgling was the bass line, the sound of her own powerful gut working to process the impossible feast. Layered over that were the muffled, frantic thrums from within—the panicked heartbeat of the cow, a slow, heavy drumbeat that echoed through her entire being. The frantic, high-pitched fluttering of the chickens was a frantic percussion, a constant, ticklish vibration against her stomach walls. And beneath it all, the occasional, dull thud of the goat's horns or the pig's hooves, a solid, grounding rhythm that made her entire belly quake.
The movements were a dance. The sheer mass of the cow created a slow, ponderous shifting, a tidal movement of weight that pressed against her ribs and diaphragm, making each breath a deep, satisfying effort. The goat, still fiery, would kick out suddenly, a sharp, jarring movement that would send a ripple across the taut surface, making the other animals tumble and scramble over one another. The sheep was a heavy, rolling presence, a soft, wooly weight that created gentle, swelling waves. And the chickens… they were a constant, agitated energy, a thousand tiny, feathery tremors that kept her skin humming and alive.
She brought her hands up, not to probe or explore, but simply to rest them on the warm, stretched surface. The heat was incredible, like a furnace. She could feel every vibration, every struggle, every frantic beat of a heart that wasn't her own, transmitted directly through her skin into her palms. It was the most intimate connection she had ever felt. She wasn't just holding them; she was their world. Their terror, their life, their final moments were all contained within her, and it felt so powerfully, undeniably right.
A deep, guttural moan rumbled through her, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She shifted slightly, and the movement sent a fresh cascade of sensations through her. The animals tumbled, the weight settled differently, a new pressure point against her spine made her arch her back, which in turn made the entire dome of her belly tighten and groan. The skin was pulled so thin it was translucent, a shimmering canvas where she could see the faint, dark shadows of the life inside.
Ed was there, she knew, his presence a comforting, grounding force at the edge of her awareness. But her focus was entirely internal. She was savoring every single second. The feeling of being so impossibly, gloriously, overwhelmingly full was a drug, and she was hopelessly, joyously addicted. She was a goddess of gluttony, a bloated, beautiful monument to consumption, and as another deep, contented sigh escaped her lips, she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she had never felt more alive.
