Gingerbread House VII (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for imposter_dude.

$20 Patreon Directory

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Breakfast was massive as usual. Annette brought out large pans of food one at a time. There was a whole mountain of bagels stuffed with jelly, cream cheese, and butter. Then there was a pile of eggs, Emma estimated three dozen, all scrambled together and saturated with cheese and oil. Annette brought out the meats all at one time. Bacon, sausage, and ham, all greasy and consolidated in a deep, overflowing roasting pan. Emma ate one bite after the next, never pausing to break, just ensuring that her mouth was full as long as food was in front of her. And food was always in front of her, Annette making sure to bring out the next course before Emma finished the prior one.

There were so many courses that hours passed before Emma even realized, and the meal evolved. Breakfast bled into lunch and Emma ate continuously without break. Though it was overwhelming, she couldn’t stop. Her body didn’t want to stop. She just filled herself more and more, stuffing her belly, feeling it get progressively firmer, and then larger, swelling up even more. Finally she had to pause to groan, her face flushed and sweaty, a vein bulging on her forehead. The strain was just intense, but Emma steeled herself, and grabbed another sandwich. Between two slices of bread was some corned beef and what had to be a pound of mayonnaise. Emma sucked it all in, eating greedily even as her belly trembled and ached.

By the time Annette stopped bringing out food, Emma was dizzy and lethargic. She slumped on the couch, gasping for breath, her belly pink and gleaming with sweat. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. It had been a particularly challenging binge session, but Emma felt great, dopamine rushing her brain. With a weary smile, she sank deeper in the couch and fell asleep.

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Emma managed to sleep the whole afternoon, Annette only waking her for dinner. The meal of linguine, fries, fried rice, and pork roast was intense, but not the challenge that the breakfast/lunch combo was. Emma even managed to make it to her room — with Annette’s aid — before she succumbed to her food-fatigue.

“Annette, you really spoil me,” Emma said drowsily from bed, her hands cradling her uncomfortably tight midsection, that she thought resembled a beach ball by then.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” said Annette fondly. “I just appreciate you keeping an old lady company. Now rest up, dear.”

Emma did. Though being that she had already spent most of the day sleeping, she didn’t sleep for long. Emma was not surprised when she woke up in the middle of the night. A glance at her clock told her that it was 3 AM. She sighed, rubbing her face. Unsurprisingly, her stomach grumbled. Her hunger was relentless, and she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep until it was satisfied.

Emma started the long process of getting herself out of bed. First the struggle to get upright, then to swing her legs over the side while balancing her huge belly. Every step took several minutes of recovery as she gasped for breath, wiping sweat off her brow. This was even harder than it had been yesterday. She is getting so huge, so packed. Hard as it was, Emma loved every part of her new form.

Emma grunted on her third, and successful, attempt to heave herself up to her feet, hands clutching her belly, as it weighed heavily on her back. It had softened since her last meal, now a bit squishier, with less support. She loved how big it was. How much space it took up. But it definitely needed some firming. In the softer stages, it just wasn’t as manageable.

Determined not to wake Annette, Emma began her slow waddle towards the kitchen, huffing and gasping all the while, cheeks pink from the exertion. It took a while, but she finally pushed her way into the kitchen. She checked the cupboard and quickly found three dozen huge muffins that Annette must have been saving for later. Emma filled her arms and brought them back to the table. Thinking they would taste amazing with an extra sprinkle of powdered sugar and some icing, Emma went back to the counter, checking a cupboard and some drawers. She shifted some items around, searching for the icing. Her hand made contact with something tucked behind a bag of flour.

Emma pulled out a heavy book. She stared at the cover in confusion. It was titled Wexyl’s Witches Cookbook, and had an image of a plump boy hog-tied with an apple in his mouth. A large cauldron loomed in the background. At first Emma thought it was some sort of joke or gag gift, but as she flipped through the pages, there were countless recipes, all involving human body parts. And it all seemed serious. Emma paled, dropping the book.

“Oh god,” Emma breathed. What the hell? Annette was planning to — to eat her!? This was insane! But the more Emma thought about it, the more it made sense. Annette’s hospitality. Her determination to feed and fatten Emma.

Emma had to get out of there! Clutching her belly, she waddled out of the kitchen and headed through the living room as fast as her gigantic body would allow. Just the exertion left her throat burning and her head spinning, but she forced herself to keep going. She had reached the front door and gripped the knob when her stomach grumbled again. She was just so hungry. Emma thought of the soft, buttery muffins sitting on the kitchen table, abandoned there.

“God,” she breathed, slowly turning around. Just a couple bites, then she would be on her way.

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