rightstuff
Member
~BBW, Imagery. Stuffing ~SWG - a chubby receptionist enjoys striving to project the firm's image
I am extremely full. My clothes are tight. When I move, I can hear all the seams creaking. I sip an ice cold coke quietly, and try to save my loud belches for when clients aren't around.
I'm a secretary, and the face of this law firm. Sort of. In any case, it wouldn't do to be caught burping when the clients come in. It's okay if the other employees see me, because everyone is aware of the head partner's tastes. That's actually how I got this way.
In the beginning, I was thin, but struggling with my weight. I've always been one of those girls that likes to eat, but this job encouraged me to really let go. I'm kind of lazy, and to work the front desk you have to be big, because that's what the head partner likes to see. I wasn't big when I started, but I got the job because during my lunch interview, he thought I had "potential."
Don't get too excited, it just means I ate two family size portions of lasagna after a full meal for two, followed by a dessert consisting of an entire cheesecake.
I'm more than happy to indulge his interests, because you see, I like to indulge. And I do, every single day. Right now, I'm so full from lunch, I pray nobody wants xeroxes. It will be awkward trying to get up to make them.
This afternoon, I walked to the all you can eat chinese food buffet. My pencil skirt was a little loose, it showed off my curves perfectly. When I got there, I was ravenous from walking the half a block to the restaurant, and ready to enjoy a big meal. I started with four plates of chow mein, two of sweet and sour pork.
I love noodles. I held a hand on my belly lightly as I slurped up each plate, feeling myself expand ever so slightly. I inhaled the sweet and sour pork, then was up again for more. Two plates of orange chicken, two plates of deep fried spicy beef. I upended the metal tin full of potstickers onto a plate. I set everything down on my table and went back. One plate of fried rice. One plate of pork fried rice. Two plates of BBQ pork. Another three plates of chow mein. One plate of shrimp. Another plate filled with egg rolls.
I tucked a napkin into the front of my blouse and ate, quickly. If the waiters spotted me they might throw me out. That's probably why I didn't notice how far past capacity I was going. I polished off the fried rice almost immediately and greedily licked each plate clean, adjusting myself as I sat. I felt my belly inch forward on my lap a little bit and my panties tighten. Then the chow mein. My gut swelled and dropped onto my thighs, heavy with all the food I was loading into it, but that didn't stop me.
I was too nervous to ask for a fork since I still had so many plates on the table, so I switched to using my hands. I shoveled handful after handful of bbq pork into my face, enjoying the sensation of gorging myself with reckless abandon. My skirt stretched, trying hard to contain my rapidly expanding form. My belly bloated as I filled it and overfilled it with pork, beef, and chicken. It distended, pulling the skirt tight as the skin around my paunch grew tight itself.
I grew and grew, my stomach pressing outwards into a beach ball, my sides and ass spreading, my skirt digging tight into my middle. Then suddenly, the meal was gone. I was alone with stacks of empty plates and a round, full belly. I touched it and a surge of warmth shot through my crotch along with a dull ache. I wanted to unzip my skirt for comfort, but knew if I did, I'd never get it back on. I also wanted just a little bit more.
One hand on my gut to steady it, I stood, hoping nobody really heard it gurgle. I waddled slowly to the buffet, my thick thighs pressing it up with every step. Ooo, hic, it felt painful and good at the same time. Slowly I lumbered down the buffet line. I grabbed two plates of ribs and two of chicken wings. I couldn't believe nobody noticed me, and being a greedy pig, I took one more plate of deep fried beef.
Back at my table I leaned into the meal, not caring about the pressure on my stomach at first, but soon I was so overfull that leaning forward was painful. I pushed my shoulders back into the booth, letting my belly expand before me as I carried food carefully over the vast expanse of my boobs and gut. Even my shirt was getting tight. The blouse, a nice satin button up, was working hard to contain my bloated girth. Too hard. After the second plate of ribs I tried to relax my gut so I could fit the last few plates of my huge meal into my belly.
I breathed deep and massaged my sides. I belched. With a deep exhale, I relaxed my stomach, which delighted me by hitting the table. "Ooo," I whispered, "I'm a pig."
A big fat, gluttonous pig who can't stop herself from eating everything the buffet has to offer.
"Mmmm," I said and began stuffing chicken wings into my face. My skirt was so tight I could see the outlines of the buttons of my blouse from tucking it in this morning. The fabric between my tits grew taught, and soon I was sporting tiny gaps between each button.
"Delicious," I muttered and smacked my lips. I picked crumbs off each plate and rubbed my belly gently as I waited for the check. When it came, I still wasn't comfortable with moving, and half a block was a long walk. I sat quietly in the lobby of the buffet, trying to get my gut comfortable as I waited for a taxi to drive me back to work.
And here I am now, stuffed to the hilt, a well fed pig in her office chair. If I suck in, the gaps on my shirt don't show. I can smell pizza in the coffee room. Surely one piece couldn't hurt?
I hoist myself out of my chair and walk slowly into the coffee room. The mail clerk is in there and I know he likes big women because he always asks about my meals.
"Did you go to the buffet?" he asks me.
"Mmm, how could you tell?" I say and relax my belly. My skirt lifts a few inches as I bulge in every direction for him. He sucks in his breath.
"I didn't eat that much," I say, and pick up a piece of pizza. It's like crack. I only meant to eat one slice in front of him, but he looks so interested that within moments I'm devouring the whole thing.
"That was soooo good," I moan. I make my way back to my desk and sit heavily and hear a pop. The button above my skirt zipper flies off and the skirt relaxes down. It feels incredible and I come explosively, moaning and rocking in my chair. I'll never be able to zip it back up, I realize as I look down my side.
Fortunately, it's near closing time. I spend the rest of the afternoon comfortably in my chair, caressing my overloaded belly like a lap cat. I have the best job in the world.
A Job Fit for a Stuffed Pig
by Rightstuff
by Rightstuff
I am extremely full. My clothes are tight. When I move, I can hear all the seams creaking. I sip an ice cold coke quietly, and try to save my loud belches for when clients aren't around.
I'm a secretary, and the face of this law firm. Sort of. In any case, it wouldn't do to be caught burping when the clients come in. It's okay if the other employees see me, because everyone is aware of the head partner's tastes. That's actually how I got this way.
In the beginning, I was thin, but struggling with my weight. I've always been one of those girls that likes to eat, but this job encouraged me to really let go. I'm kind of lazy, and to work the front desk you have to be big, because that's what the head partner likes to see. I wasn't big when I started, but I got the job because during my lunch interview, he thought I had "potential."
Don't get too excited, it just means I ate two family size portions of lasagna after a full meal for two, followed by a dessert consisting of an entire cheesecake.
I'm more than happy to indulge his interests, because you see, I like to indulge. And I do, every single day. Right now, I'm so full from lunch, I pray nobody wants xeroxes. It will be awkward trying to get up to make them.
This afternoon, I walked to the all you can eat chinese food buffet. My pencil skirt was a little loose, it showed off my curves perfectly. When I got there, I was ravenous from walking the half a block to the restaurant, and ready to enjoy a big meal. I started with four plates of chow mein, two of sweet and sour pork.
I love noodles. I held a hand on my belly lightly as I slurped up each plate, feeling myself expand ever so slightly. I inhaled the sweet and sour pork, then was up again for more. Two plates of orange chicken, two plates of deep fried spicy beef. I upended the metal tin full of potstickers onto a plate. I set everything down on my table and went back. One plate of fried rice. One plate of pork fried rice. Two plates of BBQ pork. Another three plates of chow mein. One plate of shrimp. Another plate filled with egg rolls.
I tucked a napkin into the front of my blouse and ate, quickly. If the waiters spotted me they might throw me out. That's probably why I didn't notice how far past capacity I was going. I polished off the fried rice almost immediately and greedily licked each plate clean, adjusting myself as I sat. I felt my belly inch forward on my lap a little bit and my panties tighten. Then the chow mein. My gut swelled and dropped onto my thighs, heavy with all the food I was loading into it, but that didn't stop me.
I was too nervous to ask for a fork since I still had so many plates on the table, so I switched to using my hands. I shoveled handful after handful of bbq pork into my face, enjoying the sensation of gorging myself with reckless abandon. My skirt stretched, trying hard to contain my rapidly expanding form. My belly bloated as I filled it and overfilled it with pork, beef, and chicken. It distended, pulling the skirt tight as the skin around my paunch grew tight itself.
I grew and grew, my stomach pressing outwards into a beach ball, my sides and ass spreading, my skirt digging tight into my middle. Then suddenly, the meal was gone. I was alone with stacks of empty plates and a round, full belly. I touched it and a surge of warmth shot through my crotch along with a dull ache. I wanted to unzip my skirt for comfort, but knew if I did, I'd never get it back on. I also wanted just a little bit more.
One hand on my gut to steady it, I stood, hoping nobody really heard it gurgle. I waddled slowly to the buffet, my thick thighs pressing it up with every step. Ooo, hic, it felt painful and good at the same time. Slowly I lumbered down the buffet line. I grabbed two plates of ribs and two of chicken wings. I couldn't believe nobody noticed me, and being a greedy pig, I took one more plate of deep fried beef.
Back at my table I leaned into the meal, not caring about the pressure on my stomach at first, but soon I was so overfull that leaning forward was painful. I pushed my shoulders back into the booth, letting my belly expand before me as I carried food carefully over the vast expanse of my boobs and gut. Even my shirt was getting tight. The blouse, a nice satin button up, was working hard to contain my bloated girth. Too hard. After the second plate of ribs I tried to relax my gut so I could fit the last few plates of my huge meal into my belly.
I breathed deep and massaged my sides. I belched. With a deep exhale, I relaxed my stomach, which delighted me by hitting the table. "Ooo," I whispered, "I'm a pig."
A big fat, gluttonous pig who can't stop herself from eating everything the buffet has to offer.
"Mmmm," I said and began stuffing chicken wings into my face. My skirt was so tight I could see the outlines of the buttons of my blouse from tucking it in this morning. The fabric between my tits grew taught, and soon I was sporting tiny gaps between each button.
"Delicious," I muttered and smacked my lips. I picked crumbs off each plate and rubbed my belly gently as I waited for the check. When it came, I still wasn't comfortable with moving, and half a block was a long walk. I sat quietly in the lobby of the buffet, trying to get my gut comfortable as I waited for a taxi to drive me back to work.
And here I am now, stuffed to the hilt, a well fed pig in her office chair. If I suck in, the gaps on my shirt don't show. I can smell pizza in the coffee room. Surely one piece couldn't hurt?
I hoist myself out of my chair and walk slowly into the coffee room. The mail clerk is in there and I know he likes big women because he always asks about my meals.
"Did you go to the buffet?" he asks me.
"Mmm, how could you tell?" I say and relax my belly. My skirt lifts a few inches as I bulge in every direction for him. He sucks in his breath.
"I didn't eat that much," I say, and pick up a piece of pizza. It's like crack. I only meant to eat one slice in front of him, but he looks so interested that within moments I'm devouring the whole thing.
"That was soooo good," I moan. I make my way back to my desk and sit heavily and hear a pop. The button above my skirt zipper flies off and the skirt relaxes down. It feels incredible and I come explosively, moaning and rocking in my chair. I'll never be able to zip it back up, I realize as I look down my side.
Fortunately, it's near closing time. I spend the rest of the afternoon comfortably in my chair, caressing my overloaded belly like a lap cat. I have the best job in the world.
