Fake No More (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday who requested a custom epilogue for Faking.

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Olivia had thought that things would change after the babies were born. She finally took time off from work, but soon found herself working from home. After all, she was helpless to the constant raises and bonuses the company was offering her. Even after her tirade at the company dinner, they were sycophantic and adoring. They excused all her behaviors because of “hormones” and such. It was infuriating!

The money helped.

Olivia thought she had recovered fast, probably from the excessive amounts of nutrition she was getting. She went home with her hoard, and even attempted to adapt to being a parent. She had milked her pregnancy for all it was worth, so what choice did she have? It was time to own up to the narrative that she was quite pleased to be a mother. Of course she would have opted for adoption, or just handing the kids off to Mike, but with all the money involved plus the scrutiny, that just seemed unwise.

Mike was certainly keen, always changing diapers and rocking babies, two on his person at all times. Sometimes he could attend to up to five, three strapped to his chest, and two to his back. In the beginning, Olivia had helped some. She had thought that something maternal and instinctive would activate inside of her. She had thought that she would become a real mother and stop being so gluttonous, indulgent, and selfish. She nursed the babies, and even changed a diaper or two. But by the third week, other things were taking over.

Olivia’s food addiction had not improved, even despite her not being pregnant anymore. She found that she was eating more than she ever had, her belly rapidly inflating, puffing out and distending. She was growing every day as she grunted and clutched it, yet kept stuffing pastries into her mouth. She was always so tight, so full. She had honestly never stopped looking as though she was pregnant, but was now getting back up to the size she had been even before she had given birth. In no time, Olivia had a quavering boulder of flesh attached to her torso that made her look as though she had never had her numerous babies at all.

Her mobility was declining rapidly, the weight continuing to pile on at record speeds. Mike looked daunted as her weight eclipsed her pre-birth mass and was only escalating.

Olivia found herself spending most of her time sprawled on the couch, limbs squirming awkwardly as her bulk pinned her down. When the couch strained and creaked, and she felt like she would teeter off it, she moved on to the bed, feeling beached there. She felt tired and hungry, and disinclined from doing anything but consuming.

A good deal of time was spent panting and groaning as she endured breast pumps attached to her fat, pillowy breasts, each the size of a basketball. Even then, Olivia was eating burgers, pastries, pizzas, and whatever else Mike brought for her. Stuffing her mouth with soft, squishy things. Things that didn’t work her jaw too hard, like processed foods, and then more of her special milkshakes which lately consisted mostly of lard.

She was getting softer all over. Thighs plump and thick, arms soft and squishy, her face becoming quite round with puffy cheeks. Her ass had become a pair of huge globes of wobbling fat bulging out, her thighs thick and broad with dense fat. She was just getting massive, while still dealing with the huge orb of her belly that overwhelmed the rest of her body. Her skin was continuously flushed and dewy, thighs spread wide as she tried to support the increasing strain of it all.

She was always eating. It was all she wanted to do or think about. Not a moment was spared from his need, not unless she had fallen asleep. But even then, she was hungry in her dreams.

There was an outpouring of donations after story got out on her multitude of babies. People thought it was miraculous. Some gathered around the house, trying to peek through windows or get pictures, religious folks, but there were also paparazzi and reporters. Things were getting quite weird lately. Olivia really needed to move, needed a bigger house. For now, Mike just kept the curtains closed, and the workers kept an eye on things.

Yes, she had hired workers. With all the money she was making, Olivia was able to afford a small construction crew and various devices as well as a good deal of modifications to her house. She even had some healthcare workers who came by regularly to help with her mobility.

The house was getting modified heavily and continuously. There was now a broad opening through the roof, through which the line of a construction crane descended into the house. Attached to it was a cushioned hammock of industrial-strength fabric, made custom and specifically to help Olivia stand by supporting her belly.

All the doorways in the house had been widened significantly, and now the construction workers were working on the hallways, which were getting really tight lately, despite already having been expanded a few weeks prior.

It was now three months since she’d had the babies and Olivia was doing her best to accommodate her expanding body. Throwing money at people tended to help, it seemed.

“Nrrgghhhh!” she grunted that day as the crane shuddered and made a series of strange popping noise that had construction workers looking alarmed and hurrying off in different directions.

“Easy, easy there!” said one of her medical aides, several of them helping guide Olivia back to her mattress, where she plopped down, pink and gasping while clutching what she could of her massive midsection.

Mike was rocking a baby in each arm, shushing them as they started wailing. He seemed unconcerned about the crane failure. Of course, this sort of thing had happened previously. The construction manager had actually warned that the crane would not support Olivia’s weight much longer.

“It’s okay. They’ll figure something out. Why don’t I get you a snack?” Mike suggested to Olivia as random workers continued to hurry about in the background.

“Yes,” Olivia gasped out, sinking back while grimacing at the weight and hugeness of her midsection. It towered over her. She groaned and fumbled before managing to shift slightly, resting it against the various pillows set up around her on the bed like a nest.

It was a floor bed, actually. It was huge. They had made it custom for her, and it was surprisingly stylish. The bed was thick and framed, but still very much on the floor. Two very-broad and very-firm mattresses were stacked atop each other. Nothing else could have supported her, not since the last bed had broken. Now they just replaced the mattress regularly as each succumbed to her weight. If she was lucky, Olivia got three weeks out of them. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

Olivia huffed and puffed, struggling to breathe. She felt like a whale, truly beached there helplessly. She whimpered quietly, feeling all hot and pink. Her chubby fingers compulsively massaged what she could reach of her momentous belly.

She was completely dependent. She didn’t do a thing on her own. Couldn’t.Olivia wasn’t even able to stand on her own. Everything was taken care of with the devices and some effort. She could not indulge the way she wanted, but that’s what Mike was for.

He was a true enabler. He supplied her with food and snacks ceaselessly. Olivia always got food down rapidly, but even then, she still felt starved most days. They found a solution in a feeding tube that seems more like a hose in its thickness. At that moment, Mike brought the end of the hose over to her on the bed. He unceremoniously stuffed the nozzle into her mouth, causing Olivia to grunt. But then she moaned and relaxed in anticipation of her treat. Mike went to a panel nearby, and managed to flick a switch with his elbow, still balancing the newborns.

A gelatinous substance flooded Olivia’s mouth as she warmed in euphoria, sinking back. There was a whole tank attached to the house, filled with gunky lard, butter, sugar, cake batter, and various other wonderful things that she could suck down easily through the tubing. A duo of food workers attended to the tank constantly, ensuring that it stayed cool, and fresh, and full. Olivia hummed as she sucked, and was pumped full of the delicious, squishy sludge, her belly pulsing gently, visibly throbbing as it was filled more. The mound was taking up nearly the whole mattress by then, having doubled the size it had been when she was fully pregnant.

An hour later, Olivia’s eyes had drifted closed as she continued to drink from the hose, looking like one of her babies sleepily suckling. She barely noticed when a nurse came by, looked at some charts, and prodded at her. The nurse then hooked Olivia up to a nutritional IV bag. Mike helped the woman lift it onto a custom stand, as the IV bag was nearly the size of a potato sack.

All in all, Olivia thought things had turned out well for her. Her body was continually occupied by that warm, addictive fullness. As long as she could continue to get consume, and adapt, and make money off this, she didn’t think that much else mattered.