Faking, Part 4 (Patreon)

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Summary: Olivia is faking a pregnancy, and it has to be convincing. She  proceeds to  continuously stuff herself with food to keep up the  appearance. Contains: Female: weight gain, belly expansion, breast expansion, lactation, eventual pregnancy.

Previous Chapter 

-

Olivia thought the interview was going well. “Service is my passion,” she was saying through the breathlessness and sweating. “Who are we kidding, John? You know me.” She forced a thin laugh that might have been a little bit pained.

John Turner chuckled as well. “Indeed I do, Olivia. Indeed I do. Thank you for coming in to interview.” He stood, and it took Olivia a considerable amount of emotional fortitude to convince herself to stand as well. She withheld a groan, one of her hands cupping her belly. Turner’s eyes flicked down to the mound for the umpteenth time, and if he had noticed her abrupt jump in size, he made no mention of it. Turner’s gaze quickly returned to her eyes. “Though between you and me, this is just a formality.” He winked.

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“You know you’re shoe-in.”

She hadn’t known. “I’m honored even to be considered,” Olivia managed, her belly trembling slightly. It was so tight. Her eyes went wide, and she pressed her lips in an effort to cover a belch. It took her a moment to recover enough to say, “I intend to be more loyal than certain other new mothers.” A subtle jab at Peggy.

“We have high hopes for you, Olivia. Keep up the good work.”

She left, gingerly, indulgently gasping in breaths as she exited the office. She still couldn’t believe what she had done, but it seemed to have actually worked. Turner had said it himself. She was a sure thing. Olivia was flooded with relief and excitement.

And to think, all she’d had to do was fake a pregnancy. Her life had gotten exponentially easier and better in consequence. Sure, she’d had to gain some weight, but it was turning out to be well worth it, even despite the rather…aesthetic detriments to it all. But it was time for Olivia to really start thinking about her future, and this was certainly the way to go. She lightly patted her bump, then winced and contained another groan.

Allowing her posture to sag with her weight and weariness, Olivia began to shuffle back over to her desk on the main floor. She absently rubbed her temple.

“Do you have a headache, sweetie?” asked one of her coddling colleagues.

Olivia refrained from rolling her eyes. “Well, you know, with the pregnancy.” It was honestly a hangover. Maybe she had gone a little too hard with the beers the night before.

“You poor thing. Why don’t I go get you some cookies and hot chocolate. And I think I have a quilt to my car. We don’t want you to get nippy.”

“That sounds perfect,” Olivia said. She eased herself down behind her desk and opened a fresh game of tetris.

-

To no one’s surprise, Olivia got the job. She couldn’t believe she had ever doubted herself in the first place.

She had been so concerned about the interview, she had forgotten about the increase in responsibility.

Now Olivia had her own office and a broad L-shaped desk, upon it, a pile of papers that was only getting higher by the day. She was now expected to supervise her former colleagues, and host meetings with clients, among other things. There were polite messages that seemed to populate her email account daily; gentle pestering about missed deadlines from her superiors, Turner included. It was all getting so overwhelming. Olivia was beginning to realize that she couldn’t just coast along in the periphery anymore. There was actual weight to what she was doing here now.

Though Olivia was frequently frustrated by her new pile of responsibilities, she couldn’t deny that it was worth it. The promotion had nearly doubled her salary. She had more money than she knew what to do with. In a couple of months, she would have a nice little nest egg.

Another benefit was the increase of privacy, even despite the company’s open-door policy. The policy meant that Olivia’s window blinds were usually open, and her office door, unlocked. But unless someone was purposefully peeking in at her, they wouldn’t notice the way her hand continuously disappeared into her desk drawer, usually withdrawing something sweet and soft, or plump and buttery, to subsequently be shoved between her lips. Her food addiction was only growing. It had quickly gotten out of control, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she should be concerned about it. It was helping to keep her weight up, keep her belly round, and bloated, and pregnant-looking.

It wasn’t just the taste of the food. It was the feeling of fullness that accompanied it. It was the tightness of her belly after an eating binge. It was a sensation that she had gotten accustomed to, to the point that she felt odd when she was without it.

She couldn’t deny that she often felt like a slob, particularly when other people caught her in the act of indulging, fingers sticky, lips coated in grease and sugar. Sometimes she just didn’t have the patience to wait to eat, during particularly long conferences with Turner, or when one of her former colleagues stood in her office prattling on about graphs and charts Olivia couldn’t have cared less about. So she would shovel morsel in her mouth, trying to chew daintily rather than just filling her cheeks as was her wont. Suddenly she was always hungry, belly grumbling, insides lurching as her digestive system strained to process it all.

The other day, some of her inferiors had brought her a gift basket, complete with a teddy bear, a rattle, and a hand-knit baby blanket. The idiots. It sat at the corner of her desk, and Olivia was doing her best not to dump it into the janitor’s trash cart.

That day, Mike was joining her for lunch.

He looked around and gave a low whistle. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

Olivia gave a grunt of acknowledgment, not looking up from the large container of ziti he had brought her. There wasn’t enough oil or cheese for her liking, but she supposed it would do.

She finished the pasta before Mike could even gotten into the second bite of his sandwich. A loud belch erupted from her throat, her round belly gurgling where it sat perched in her lap, pressing into the edge of her desk. “Mmgghhh…” Olivia hummed. It had been decent, but it hadn’t nearly been enough. Barely just an appetizer. Olivia reached into her desk and pulled out a large box of donuts. She began to tear into them, appreciating how soft and compatible they were. She could gulp them down with barely any chewing. She greedily consumed one after the next, using both hands in her desperation to consume.

“Heh, you and your cravings,” said Mike awkwardly.

Olivia didn’t respond. She wasn’t even sure why Mike was there, beyond delivering the pasta.

“So…how are the new duties?”

“Fine,” was her muffled response. She finally spared him a glance.

“Oh, you have a little something…” Mike pointed at her face. Olivia merely blinked back at him. “Why don’t I just…” He lifted a napkin and dabbed at the corner of her lips. She continued to chew, then stuffed down another doughnut, sure that whatever he had managed to clean off her face had been replaced with another smear of grease, icing, or powder.

Her face twisted as her belly gurgled again. And even louder belch tore up her throat, causing Mike to jump slightly.

“God Mike, I’m just so hungry all the time,” Olivia groaned, slumping back in her seat once the donuts were finished. She refrained from cupping her mound, as her hands were quite dirty.

She looked as though she was eight months pregnant by then. Though most of the weight was concentrated in her belly, in recent weeks, Olivia could see that a thick padding of fat now lined her hips and backside. Her shoulders were softer, her face a bit rounder. And her breasts had suffered a surprise surge of growth, going from B-cups to D’s seemingly overnight. She hadn’t even had time to go bra shopping, and had been going to the office without for the past couple of days. She knew she couldn’t keep it up. Lately her nipples were hard and bulging all day, always erect and tense, sticking out visibly. Not only was it inappropriate at the office, but it was terribly uncomfortable. She would have to go pick up a few new bras over the weekend, otherwise face some uncomfortable conversations with her boss.

“That’s totally normal,” Mike assured. “You’re eating for two, now. And god, do you look good while doing it.”

Olivia peered at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“How many times do I have to tell you how gorgeous you look?” Mike griped. “You’re carrying my baby. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the tiny smirk that crawled over her lips.

Mike reached across the desk and took her hand. “This shyness doesn’t suit you.”

“You think I’m shy?” she said, a bit appalled at the notion.

“Lately, yes.”

“I guess I’ll just have to show you how misguided you are…tonight?”

“Tonight,” Mike agreed, the corner of his lip curling.

There was another gurgling sound, this one causing Olivia to tense up and wince, her eyebrows furrowing. “Baby’s still hungry,” she whined.

Mike stood. “Then let’s get baby fed.”

-

She thought she would regret the date they had made for that night.

She didn’t know how Mike had convinced her that anything about this was remotely attractive, but there was just something about him that was always so open and honest. And there was something about her condition that just made her body so…sensitive, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as his large palms cupped her breasts, her belly bobbing with every twist of her hips, her mounds squishing between them in a way that should have been gross, but was actually quite fantastic, the sensation of it, the way it gleamed with sweat as Mike thrusted and she gasped.

Mike had always been great in bed. Maybe that was why she always went back to him after so many failed attempts to end their so-called relationship.

When it was over, both were left sprawled back, panting, Olivia pulling sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes as she bit back a grin. That had been amazing.

“God, you’re amazing.” Mike said, his weary hand reaching over to stroke along her round ball of flesh.

She wondered if the faux pregnancy made him feel more manly. He was attentive, enamored, even magnetized by her supposed condition. He just found the whole thing miraculous. She could’ve scoffed at the idiocy of it all. She hardly felt bad. It was his fault for being so stupidly sentimental; for attaching his masculinity and self-worth to such ridiculous things.

Mike’s hand gave another stroke. “Hmmm…” he said thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Mike. When she continued to look at him, he rambled on. “It’s silly, I just thought your bellybutton would pop. Like, the innie would become an outie. Some weird rite of passage.” He laughed now. “I watch way too much TV.”

Olivia chewed her lip. “I guess it doesn’t happen for all women…” she hedged, realizing that she knew remarkably little about pregnancy for someone who was posing as a pregnant person.

“Yeah,” said Mike sleepily, his finger now drawing circles on her flesh. It made her a little uncomfortable — not his touching her, but his touching her now, when her belly was a bit too soft, and she hadn’t eaten very recently. She knew it should’ve been firmer to his touch. She gulped.

“Can I stay the night?”

This posed yet another problem. She needed to eat, no, she needed to binge. She felt as though she was starving. Yet her feeding sessions had gotten so outrageous, she certainly couldn’t do it in front of Mike.

She gave a weak nod, and Mike all but fell asleep that instant. In the meantime, Olivia stared at the ceiling. She had a lot to figure out.

-

Olivia couldn’t manage to sleep through the hunger pains and constant grumbling of her stomach. She tossed and turned half the night, before finally peeling away from the bed, padding lightly out of the room and into the kitchen, leaning against the wall as her shaking fingers put in an order on the meal delivery application on her phone. She felt like some kind of crook, sneaking around her own home.

It took half an hour, but the wait was well worth it. The late-night pizza joint delivered large portions, as though to make up for the blandness of the food. But it didn’t matter. All Olivia cared about was sating her hunger. She greedily stuffed down pizza slices and plump, oily, sugar covered zeppoles. The recognizable creaking of her bedroom door caused her to freeze up, a cannoli halfway into her mouth.

The lights turned on. In the doorway, Mike gave her a quizzical look. “What are you doing up?” He chuckled and walked in, plopping into the seat opposite her at the kitchen table. He looked at the two pizzas and piles of pastries littering the table, both his amusement and confusion growing.

Olivia took a large gulp, forcing down the half chewed food presently filling her mouth. “Um…” She covered a belch. “Late-night cravings?”

“This is a lot of food. Don’t you think you might have overestimated your appetite?” Mike lifted a slice, giving her a fond smile as he took a bite.

She awkwardly shrugged.

“You’re adorable.”

She gave a pained smile as she munched at a decidedly slower, and calmer, pace. Mike joined in her late-night meal, and every bite that he took of her food only seemed to exacerbate her hunger.