Getting Spiteful II (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for dunnololz.

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Jack couldn’t deal with this. Not now. It was all just too much! “It’s — it’s a costume, bro,” he claimed, flustered and sweaty, breathing heavily.

“Dude, that doesn’t look like a costume,” Fred responded, still gawking at Jack’s swollen form. “Am I tripping right now? What the hell is going on?”

“Man, it’s a long story,” Jack said, feeling himself getting emotional. He swallowed thickly. Fucking hormones.

Maybe it was fortunate that his belly decided, at that moment, to give a powerful rumble. He groaned, clutching it. “God, I’m hungry.”

“Jack…” Fred said, looking daunted by Jack’s quavering swell.

But Jack could hardly listen. All he knew was that he needed food. He took hold of his nightstand and struggled to get up, but then wet heat blossomed at his chest. He moaned as his skin prickled, breasts growing hotter and heavier, swelling as he cupped them with trembling fingers. “Nngghhhhh….”

“I – I just can’t –” Fred stammered, before taking a run for it, still in his pajamas.

In the meantime, Jack’s breasts were growing rapidly, surging forward, heaving towards his chin as he arched and groaned. Both his nipples started squirting as he squirmed helplessly. “Guhhhhh…” Somehow through his disoriented state, he managed to get hold of one of the nursing bras he had ordered previously. It was a tight fit, but made do, and had plenty of padded inserts to soak up the milk.

Yet he could feel the bra steadily tightening around him, his breast flesh overflowing it uncomfortably. This was just too much, it was too stressful! Jack needed something to distract himself.

His belly rumbled again.

-

Jack found himself at the local buffet stress-eating the afternoon away.

He tried to dress as discreetly as he could, but nothing could hide his enormous belly, huge breasts, round ass, and overall voluptuous body. So he shed the massive, baggy overcoat, because he was sweltering hot at any given moment, the babies rumbling inside of him.

He was left in a huge custom-made T-shirt he had ordered online only a couple days ago. At first it had fit comfortably, but now it was skin tight on him. It was paired with some shorts that were shoved low by his huge swell. When he eased his fat backside down in a chair, the coverage was even worse.

His belly sat heavily on his lap while pressing into the edge of the table, separating him from it a good deal. Nevertheless, Jack was able to reach far enough to grab pieces of food. He stuffed his face, eating voraciously, moaning as his belly nudged harder into the table. It was the lunch hour, and thankfully it wasn’t too busy. The few customers who were present did stare, while the servers dutifully delivered one dish after the next, seeming both intrigued and alarmed by his relentless appetite.

While Jack was eating, there was no room for stress about his surging, seeping breasts and his overloaded belly. There was just delicious, numbing food, filling him tight. He forgot the rest.

-

Soon Jack’s shirts were all stretched taut and riding up his swollen abdomen while revealing inches of the flesh beneath. When he wasn’t devouring food, he was groaning, gasping, and rubbing his greasy hands into his belly. His life revolved around these demanding babies, and he was helpless but to indulge them.

The buffet became his new regular spot. He would go every afternoon and the staff eagerly served their best, and monstrously pregnant patron, his usual—that being lots of everything on the menu. They always had his table ready for him.

“Mmmghhhh…” Jack moaned that day. He had just finished gobbling down a ten-pound meatloaf with his bare hands. He leaned back for a moment to catch his breath, groaning as his belly gurgled. By then his breasts had gotten so huge, shelved there on his belly, that they were squashing into his chin any time he was seated.

Even though he was positively stuffed, Jack still reached out to grab some egg rolls with both hands. He started to stuff them into his mouth whole, chewing greedily as his cheeks bulged. He moaned in pain and pleasure, skin hot and throbbing, belly feeling ready to burst.

“How are you doing, Jackie?” asked Megan, the waitress who was often assigned to Jack’s table.

Though he had introduced himself as “Jack,” she called him Jackie. He couldn’t really blame her. She thought he was a woman, and he practically was one by then. Megan thought him to be a single mother, as he always came to the restaurant by himself. Jack had never bothered to correct her.

It was actually kind of nice, how attentive and kind she was, always patting his arm, bringing him extras, and acting affectionate towards him. She added to his short reprieve from reality.

“A-alright,” Jack responded breathlessly. “Tired.”

“That comes with the territory,” Megan said with a knowing smile. “All finished up? Why don’t I bring you a big bowl of ice cream?”

Jack barely covered his belch in time. The thought of trying to force down ice cream on top of everything else made him wince. Yet his belly betrayed him, grumbling enthusiastically, the way it always did at the promise of food. Jack groaned, clutching it.

Megan gave a giggle. “It’ll be right out.” She headed back to the kitchen as Jack wearily rubbed his swell.

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