you’ve done it again: eaten yourself into a panting, moaning mess.
“you really overdid it tonight, piggy. those are looking pretty tight.” i watch you with hungry eyes. the way your overstuffed gut rises and falls with every shallow breath, dark red stretch marks peeking out from underneath your jeans.
those jeans, barely fitting even before you ate, now press tight into your middle, digging into your soft fat. you’re practically bursting out of them—i’m a little surprised they’re still buttoned.
“they are… so tight.” you whine, squirming in place.
“you can take them off, you know. we’re not in public anymore.” not that that stopped you before. you had undone your fly at some point during our dinner, and only that poor button still stands between your strained gut and the promise of freedom.
you whine and start fumbling at it, but the waistband is stretched so tight that your fat fingers aren’t quite able to unhook it.
i watch as you get more and more desperate to free yourself, breath growing more ragged as you grow more frantic.
“aww. poor piggy. you’re so helpless. look at you.” you whimper in response, fat face twisted in concentration and helplessness. “i can’t believe you did this to yourself again. how often do you end up like this? more than weekly now.” you try to suck in, give yourself more space to undo it, but you’ve packed on so much fat that it doesn’t do much. “so pathetic.”
when you finally free yourself your gut spills forward, fat spreading across your lap as you heave a sigh of relief. chubby fingers immediately find it, sinking in and playing with the soft fat, readjusting your bulk like it’s muscle memory.
“good piggy,” i purr, reaching out a hand towards you, playing with your softness. you tilt your head back and let out a soft moan at my touch. “those pants aren’t getting any looser, are they?“ i run a finger along the seam straining against your thick thigh. “poor thing. you just can’t help yourself, huh?” no reponse. just your pathetic, panted breathing. “might be time to size up.” with another pitying look and a kiss on the cheek, i stand up. “i’ll be right back. then i’ll help you with those pants. sound good?”
you really pushed yourself tonight, and hard work like that needs to be rewarded. a couple hundred, couple thousand extra calories coaxed down your eager throat to wrap up the night, and a little less space in those jeans tomorrow.
i make a mental note to place an order for a new pair of jeans in the morning.
inspired by a video of @thabigmiller — i wrote this well over a month ago, just never got around to posting it until now :p
