Pairing: Genderless reader/Office worker
Warnings: burping and hiccuping, button popping, brief mentions of alcohol, very brief reference to pregnancy
Really, she hardly stood out at all.
Not to the casual observer anyway, or to anyone who didn’t know what to look for. You however, know all to well what to look for. You’d grown up in the same town as her, seen her grow from the kinda awkward but charming ball of energy she used to be into the seemingly dedicated, successful office worker she is now. She’d traded in her sneakers, cleats, knee pads, jerseys and shorts for sweaters, button-downs, pencil skirts and heels. She’d also traded a lot of activity for… well… hardly any activity at all. Not that you were close enough to know how she spent her free time nowadays, but looking at the way her current outfit was fitting it wasn’t hard to guess at least 1 of her favorite hobbies.
It wasn’t egregious , she never came to work looking sloppy or inappropriate, but it wasn’t hard to tell she was either terrible at doing laundry or… growing.
Her little white button up was pulling tight over her chest- not big enough to hide the roll of fat bulging over the waist of her skirt. Black may be rumored to be slimming but her black skirt and knitted cardigan were practically painted on her ever fattening body. For the entirety of the corporate event so far she’d been hovering around the extensive spread of fancy and rich food, having friendly chats with whoever passed by.
Her cheeks bulged as she stuffed another indulgent pastry in her mouth, washing it down with something alcoholic and bubbly. The carbs were making her bloat delightfully quickly. You briefly let yourself wonder how much more she was going to eat- or COULD eat- and if her clothes would be able to keep up with her greed.
By the end of the night most of the people at the event were well tipsy if not a bit drunk. Your coworker was swaying a bit, hiccuping and burping subtly but very often, clearly overfilled with food and drink. There were now clear spaces between the buttons on her shirt, you were sure one big breath would send the buttons flying.
As everyone was filing out to their Ubers or walking to nearby hotels, she made her way over to you.
“You- *hic*- hungry?”
You glanced around to see if she could be talking to anyone else.
She huffed out a short laugh, “Yes, you doofus. I’m starving! I don’t want to go anywhere alone this late, please just come with me? I’ll get you something too!”
You didn’t need the extra convincing, it felt like heaven (or hell) had just dropped the perfect gift right in your lap!
You agree and find yourself back in her hotel room with a family platter of pasta and a 2 liter of soda (“to share!” she said). Her hiccuping and constant burping had subsided during the drive and the fresh air had sobered her up a bit. She shucked off her sweater and now you could really see just how tight the rest of her outfit was. The skirt was cutting her in half, but she didn’t seem to notice as she settled on the bed with the platter in her lap.
“I’m -uuuuurp- so hungry.. it must be because they only had snacks and not a meal for us tonight..”
You could’ve laughed out loud at her justification. She had eaten more than enough “snacks” to more than make up for not having a dinner. Realistically, she ate more than most people would in a few days. She peeled back the tin foil lid on the platter and grabbed the single fork she had requested with the order. Without even a glance up she dug the fork in and shoveled and massive, messy bite into her mouth.
“Mhhmm that hits the spot!” She moaned, voice thick from the food still bulging in her cheeks. You watched in awe as she took bite after bite, never slowing down. She only stopped to open the large bottle of soda and drink directly from it, never stopping to offer you any. She gulped like she was dying of thirst, her belly bloating so quickly you could hardly believe your eyes.
When her lips finally *popped* off the neck of the 2 liter the gas build up proved to be too much, and a burped roared from her lips. As if the burp shook something loose in her pig brain, for the first time all night you saw her get flustered. Her cheeks blazed red and her eyes fluttered to glance at you, testing to see if she’s crossed the line.
You squirmed subtly in your seat and cleared your voice to say something-
“Woaaaah… root beer just makes me sooo gassy!” She chuckled, clearly a little embarrassed. “It’s just… my favorite and… I don’t know I just want more…”
The thread of sanity in your mind snapped. She was making a complete slob of herself in front of her coworker and she wanted MORE? You stood up and walked towards where she sat partially reclined on the bed. Her eyes followed you, widening as you got closer. You grabbed the 2 liter from her chubby hands and gently put your other hand under her chin.
“Open your mouth. Now.”
The frightened doe look in her eyes melted instantly, eyelids settling low and sexy. She obediently parted her lips with a light moan and you shoved the soda bottle back in, right where it belonged. You began tilting the bottle back and watched as she immediately fell into a rhythm as if she was a pro.
Gulp, gulp, gulp, breathe through her nose. Gulp, gulp, gulp, breathe through her snout.
She finished more than half of the bottle this way, finally breaking free when she couldn’t hold back from all the bubbly carbonation inflating her like a balloon.
“HUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP urrrggghhhh ohmygoood” she drawled, a little soda dripping from her both, down her chins and onto her white button down.
You stood by watching her rub her overstuffed gut to try and ease the ache that comes with being so full. She kept releasing loud, hoggish burps every time her fingertips would push into just the right spot. Following the burp would always be a wanton, lewd moan. Soon she looked up at you again without a word and just open her lips wide. Damn… she really was a pro.
She took a deep breath and started gulping again, clearly determined to drain the bottle completely this time. Her hands never left her belly, rising and falling with each gulp, breath and moan. The last few were a struggle, you could tell, but she squeezed her eyes shut and forced each hedonistic mouthful down into the bottomless pit of her belly.
Once the bottle was empty she let out a string of burps so loud that one of the people in the connecting hotel rooms knocked on the wall.
She just whined and squirmed, clearly turned on by the fact that other people could hear what a pig she was making out of herself.
“I wanna.. huff… finish the… uuooOORP… pasta… ple-hic-ase… feed me…”
You suggested she move into a more comfortable position, setting the platter on the bed and having her get on her knees facing it. Her belly was hanging so close to the mattress, barely grazing the sheets when she took a deep breath or arched her back.
You kneeled in front of her to get at eye level, feeling her desperate pants hit your face.
“Much better hm? I’ll feed you once you prove how hungry you really are. Go ahead, eat.”
“Okay! Can I have the fork?”
“Why would you need that? Pigs don’t use forks.”
Her eyes go wide and you savor the look on her face as you place your hand on the back of her head and give it a light push. As her face inched closer and closer to the platter you hear a small whine and feel her breathing speed up.
Then, without another word, she opened her mouth and started feeding. Like a pig at a trough she dove face first into the mountain of food, coming up for air once in a while. Each time she came up her face was covered with more sauce, making her look like a complete and utter slob. Her eyes were closed in pleasure as she chewed loudly and hoggishly. Slurping, belching, gulping, moaning…
You did your best to keep her comfortable while she gorged, petting her hair and rubbing soothing circles around the parts of her gut you could reach. She was so. fucking. soft… it drove you crazy.
By the time she got to the last few bites she was chewing slowly, mouth half open to try and get enough air in her overinflated body. Her skirt was pushed down under her overhang which was hanging freely from her shirt, constantly nuzzled up against the mattress now. The buttons were still hanging on, but you doubted that would be the case if she sat up. She was cartoonishly swollen, a true ball of a woman… more belly than anything else.
“P-please… *wheeze* huuuoorrp… help me.. *hic*… finish…”
You knelt in front of her again and, without a second thought, grabbed a large handful of pasta and brought it to her lips.
“Eat. Now.”
Simple commands seemed to be effective for the piggy brain as she immediately began eating from your hand. The feeling of her soft tongue lightly touching your palm and fingers sent shivers down your spine. You kinda felt like you were at a petting zoo… feeding a cute, overly excited animal who had no self control.
After a few handfuls the platter was finally empty. She even leaned her head down to lick any extra sauce off the foil.
“Can’t… hhHHUUUOOOORPP… fuck… waste any!”
She rolled over on her side, her massively swollen belly taking up a considerable amount of space on the hotel bed.
“Here, let’s get you upright…”
“Uuurrrgghhh *hic* noooooo-ourp… let me lay here…”
As adorable and hot as it was to see her immediately need to be as sedentary as possible to cope with the amount of food she ate you knew she needed to sit up in order to digest.
She slowly and laboriously (even with your help) rolled around the bed until she was finally sitting up against the pillows. There were some casualties, you’d heard some seams ripping and got pelted by an overstressed button, but you finally got her comfortable.
In this position she was unrecognizable. Her event outfit was completely destroyed, ripped open and covered in smears of red pasta sauce and drips of root beer. Her belly was taking up half of her lap, the roundness and tautness of it making her look heavily pregnant. She was desperately trying to rub the fullness away, her open, sauce-covered mouth letting
out
a steady stream of burps, hiccups, and moans.
You end up next to her, helping her rub her huge belly, and you think about what could happen next. You both clearly enjoyed this… would she want you to feed her again? Was she going to keep getting heavier, now by your hand and desire? How the fuck were you going to get any work done with her around all the time…
“Wanna stay here and get… huff… urp- breakfast tomorrow?”