The lady wot lunched a little too much - Chapter 10 preview (Patreon)

Hey all!

Sorry for the lateness with this. Work-work was incredibly draining last week. The below doesn't take us quite as far as I'd like, and may be subject to some modifications when I finish the whole chapter but I wanted to get something posted!

Working as hard as I can on getting the rest out by the weekend - including some Gemma!

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The lady wot lunched a little too much - Chapter 10 Preview

Ryan gazed down into the ice-cream trough.

Or was he gazing up from it? At this point, he really wasn't sure. That last martini had hit him like a punch to the temple - a punch that had knocked his brain free of its mooring, so that it felt like it was bobbing around in his skull, bumping off the walls.

There was only one thing he was sure of... the ice cream was gone. All of it. The entire triple-peaked mountain reduced to a few smears on the silver, through which Ryan's slack-jawed reflection continued to stare back at him.

He looked up at Abby, and one word sprang to mind.

Full.

In all his life Ryan had never seen anyone look so full. Full of herself: that smug crease appearing again in her left cheek as she ran a thumb across the plaque of her trophy for the hundredth time. Full of drink: her eyes were booze-glazed, and every ten or so seconds a glurking hiccup parted her lips and rippled her tits.

And, of course, full of food.

Full of food? Ryan snorted so hard that alcohol almost spurted from his nostrils. Full?! Abby was bulging like a tic that had sucked half the blood out of a hippo. Her expensive seams creaked with every breath and even her skin itself seemed to be pulsing and straining, as if struggling to hold in some sort of immense internal swelling. Ryan felt sure that any moment she would explode, coating the entire hall in a great psychedelic shower of ice cream.

And yet, drowsy and engorged though she was, there was a look in Abby's dark green eyes. A look that made one other thing clear.

However full she was - of food, drink and herself - she still had room for lust.

Ryan sighed in resignation. He could think of only one thing to say

'Want anything else?' he slurred.

His sarcasm was as wasted as he was. The smug crease in Abby's cheek deepened. She dipped her lashes and let out a dark purr.

'Mmm, yes.'

In truth, what Abby really wanted was to lie down—and not get up for a very, very long time. Behind her mask of sultry innuendo, she'd never felt so uncomfortably stuffed in her entire life. All that food... it felt like it was expanding inside, taking over her body, pushing her lungs up towards her throat and pressing so hard against her organs that every breath she took made her liver wince and her kidneys sting. It was a feeling that brought back memories of almost twenty years ago, when in fit of rage Abby had snuck into the kitchen at night and devoured her little sister's entire double-tier birthday cake in one sitting, including the inedible figurines on the top, after the precocious little bitch had dared to beat her at monopoly.

But it was worth it then, and it's worth it now, Abby told herself, swallowing a hiccup and fighting down a sloshing tide of cookie dough ice cream that had risen with it. Ugh... Too much ice cream. But how could she have stopped eating it, when with every spoonful Ryan had fed her his eyes bulged wider and his jaw grew slacker? Abby looked across the table and couldn't help smirking. The man was so drunk with lust for her that he almost looked like he was having a stroke. His mouth was hanging open in a lopsided way, and he was swaying vaguely in his chair.

Abby knew from experience that now was the time to strike. She'd won him an award, she'd done the foreplay. All she needed to seal the deal was to screw Ryan's brains out, just like the old days— overwhelm him with her perfect beauty and brilliance. It was always after sex that he'd give her whatever she wanted. And this time, with her victory with the award as well, she could push for more than ever. A massive pay rise, a car upgrade, the biggest bonus of her career. And nothing for Gemma and Holly. Maybe she could even get Ryan to pay her the bonuses he'd planned for them.

Stuffed though she was, Abby salivated at the prospect. Yes, it was worth it. With a final coy flutter of her lashes in Ryan's direction, she pushed back her chair.

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in the heat under the table, James had begun to nod off. The creaking of Abby's chair jolted him awake. Was this his chance? He blinked, trying to form a plan as the shiny thighs unfolded like great slabs of meat, quivering with the effort of lifting Abby's backside from the cushion of her chair, which reinflated with a gasping wheeze, like a drowning man finally coming up for air.

Its relief, however, was short-lived.

It had been almost two hours since Abby had last risen from her seat. Two hours, and five enormous courses of food. Throughout that time, her belly had been sitting comfortably in her lap, filling and swelling with every rich forkful. It was only now, as she began to stand up, that Abby realised just how heavy that belly had become.

And it caught her completely off guard.

Abby's bottom had barely cleared the chair when her gut dragged her back down like a boulder,. Only her tits saved her from faceplanting in the ice-cream trough. Compressing into the table like twin airbags, Abby's bosoms bulged wide around her armpits, pushing her back up with just enough buoyancy that she was able to fall back into her chair.

The thud that followed lifted the cutlery. For a few seconds Abby sat there blinking dumbly. A great bubbling rose within her. 'HUUIICC!'

A snigger from across the table quickly became a strangled grunt of pain as Fatima's own bloated body objected to even this slight mirthful jostling. Beneath the table, James watched a stiletto-nailed hand move soothingly across the puffy bulge in her glittering silver dress.

Meanwhile, Abby had regained her composure. Gripping the table with both hands, she pushed herself back up. This time she rose more vertically, as if from a squatting position, using her massive bottom to counterbalance the weight of her tits and stomach.

She faltered at the halfway point, and for a second Ryan thought she'd overcompensated—that her wobbling arse was going to cause her to topple backwards. But this time Abby kept her balance, rising with dirigible-like slowness, until she had straightened up completely.

With a sullen sneer at Fatima, the dark-haired diva seized up her trophy and turned towards the elevators with a haughty swing of her bottom.

And stepped right into James's abandoned bucket.

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As sudden warm dampness oozed between her toes, Abby cried out and instinctively jerked her leg upwards.

By the time she realised what she'd done, it was too late. The shocked diva rocked backwards on one heel, stretching her arms out to the sides, like an obese ballerina defiantly attempting one of her old moves. For several gravity-defying seconds she managed to hold the pose, teetering on one pin-thin heel, and just for a split-second Ryan thought she was going to regain her balance. Alas, Abby had put on too much weight and eaten far too much dinner. The heel snapped, and with a shriek of terror the bulging diva plummeted. She flailed wildly for the table and succeeded in scrunching handful of silky tablecloth, hauling a clattering landslide of glassware, bottles and plates down on top of herself.

This sound, however, was eclipsed by the thunderous thud of meat on wood as Abby's titanic rump hit the ground. The chandeliers rattled, and James felt the floorboards ripple beneath him, lifting him up so that he bonked his head on the underside of the table. The bucket, launched skywards by Abby's flailing foot, turned through the air in one lethargic arc, spraying foamy water like a faulty Catherine Wheel.

It landed on her sequined paunch, bouncing off it as if off an overstuffed Rococo cushion.

'Oof! Fu—!' The word died in a soapy gargle, as the remaining contents of the bucket crashed into Abby's face like a wave, pre-emptively washing out her mouth.

Up to this point Ryan had been struck dumb by what he was watching. Now he leapt to his feet... only to find that he didn't have any. It was as if his limbs had been replaced with jelly. His eyes rolled upwards and he crumpled to the floor like a cheap suit, dragging a chair down with him.

Seth set down his champagne flute, and dabbed his lips with a napkin. He dropped the napkin carelessly and stooped to pick it up. 'Want to earn your freedom, kid? Follow me and do everything I say. Move out—now.'