elroycohen
Steampunk Psycho
~BHM, ~BBW, Gluttony, Stuffing, ~XWG - The story of how the mundane life of a burnt out software salesman is drastically altered after a fateful meal.
Chapter 7 - Back to Abnormal
Chapter 7 - Back to Abnormal
My long business trip took me through the Midwest, meeting with mostly existing clients who were thinking of upgrading software packages. The trip went smoothly, although the extended time away from Diane seemed more difficult. I kept thinking I should have been used to the time on the road but it was actually becoming harder the more I did it. It also seemed more challenging to turn on my fake friendliness for the clients I met day in and day out. I managed quite well despite my low morale. By “managed quite well” I mean nothing went terribly wrong. The clients seemed more interested in making half-joking references to my softening and expanding body then buying software.
Regardless, I was well ahead of schedule by the time I hit my last stop in Chicago. By lunchtime I had already met with the client who “wanted time to think over the deal” and was left with nothing but free time before my flight in the morning.
After calling Diane and checking e-mail I realized I may be in for a long afternoon. There were no other flights out that I could get on, so it was just me in my hotel room. My ongoing mission to impregnate Diane had me thinking I probably should not check out the porn offering on the hotel’s cable for fear of wasting precious little swimmers. Cold, rainy weather made anything outside off limits. I was left with only one thing to do - eat.
My boredom had me going a little overboard. Snack time started around 2 pm with two pieces of cheesecake from the hotel bakery and a very large bag of M&M’s (although, in my defense I seriously only meant to have a couple handfuls of the candies). By the time I finished that it was time to start thinking about supper. I thought I would go light and picked up a foot-long chicken and bacon sub with some chips from a shop around the corner (those commercials always say subs are healthy for you, so they must be). On my way back I had to pass a pizzeria and the smell had me admitting I was not going to leave Chicago without having a deep dish pizza.
Back up in my room it did not seem right to let the sandwich go to waste, so I made short work of that and then moved onto the large sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese that smelled like heaven when I opened the box.
I ate the pie laying in bed in my underwear, watching a boxing match I had no real interest in, but seemed more intriguing then a reality show about a coffee shop or a home improvement program on the other channels.
My belly rose higher and higher while my head sunk lower and lower into my pillow and I fell asleep with the last half piece of pizza resting atop my very full stomach. Streams of grease dripped down the sides of my paunch. The excessive eating before bed and the odd television programming caused me to have one heck of an odd dream.
***
In my dream I was prancing around a boxing ring wearing a sparkly red, white, and blue pair of boxing trunks, exactly the same as Apollo Creed wore in “Rocky IV” to fight the Russian. Not quite as impressive looking in them as the muscular boxer, my pale white belly flopped over the top of the belt with each hop I took. My flabby man-boobs jostled around quite femininely with each bob and weave. My arms were not any more firm than the rest of me, waggling about with each jab and hook I threw.
My dream me seemed determined and ready to fight whoever the opponent was going to be.
Fireworks shot off and loud music blared, signaling the entrance of my unlucky opposition. Through the smoke came a wiry little man wearing a pink and purple robe. Rex Beckman came strolling down the aisle confidently sneering in my direction. After climbing into the ring and removing his robe, my annoying co-worker revealed his body to be a polar opposite to my round form. His biceps were no thicker then his forearms, even more odd, his thighs were no thicker then his calves. Every rib was clearly visible on his emaciated torso.
I figured this was going to be a cakewalk I moved to my corner and awaited the bell. Beckman came out firing a barrage of wild punches aimed at my head but which I easily blocked like they came from a five-year-old rather than a grown man.
I returned fire and while Rex managed to block my shots, the extra weight behind my fists knocked the diminutive desk jockey halfway across the ring. Confidently strolling over to follow him I made my first mistake, letting my guard down. He caught me with a blow to the large soft target that was my midsection. It stunned me enough that he was able to get three more shots in on my rippling flab before I could react with a block. It was too late as Beckman turned his attention up to my exposed head and landed two shots on my chins before going back downstairs. Each blow he landed to my gut sounded like he was throwing boulders into the ocean. The loud wet slaps echoed throughout the stadium with each impact. I tried to elude and retreat but I was almost completely winded and Rex easily stuck with me, turning my wide belly into a bright red punching bag.
Thankfully the bell rang and was able to collapse into my corner. Rex kept following me and let loose with a barrage of verbal shots as I sucked wind and water.
“What’s the matter, butterball? All those meals the company pays for making you soft?” he cackled. “All that sitting around in your fancy office turning you into a corporate pig?”
It was the manliest I had seen the little guy act since I had known him and, although I outweighed him by nearly 100 pounds, I was the one scared for the start of the next round.
As I lay motionless in my corner I watched the blurry outline of the vaguely familiar young ring girl who was strutting across the ring showing the round number. Before I could focus I realized I was becoming fatter right before my eyes. With each gulp I took from the water bottle more fat was manifesting itself all over my body by the time the bell sounded for round two I appeared to be 100 pounds heavier then when round one ended.
The beating I took in round one and the added strain of more blubber hanging off my already out of shape body made moving around a very arduous task. I quickly decided I needed to go on the attack or risk being nothing more then a big slow moving target for my angry little opponent.
I made a desperate lunge at Beckman’s head that he easily dodged and countered with a shot to my kidney that shook my already quivering flesh like a pile of Jell-O.
Collapsing to the mat in a thunderous heap I could feel my fat start to multiply again, much faster this time. By the time I got my senses about me I was far too fat to pull my hippo-like body up to a standing position. Craning my fat-encased neck, I tried to look over at my corner to see who was responsible for giving me the water that turned me into a helpless blob. I did not recognize the corner man, but the ring girl who was standing next to him with her face blocked by the ring post was wearing a very familiar string bikini.
“Nicholas,” I heard her say in a voice that was also familiar but very manly. “Nicholas, wake up.”
Shook out of my nightmare I woke to find myself staring into the face of Arlington Benedict.
“A good businessman never sleeps all night, Nicholas,” he said sternly. “I haven’t slept for more then fifteen minutes in over twenty years.”
“What.” Groggy and disoriented I struggled to sit up but my large, still stuffed belly prevented that.
My vision got less blurry and I was able to see Vivian standing at the foot of my bed, looking admiringly over my half naked body. Wearing her typical revealing outfit, it was evident by her exposed flesh that, like me, Vivian had been consuming more calories than she was burning off over the last few months. Not to the extremes that I had mind you, but her rounder, fuller face and the definite ridge forming over her waistband signaled a slightly heftier trophy girlfriend.
“We have to talk,” Benedict demanded.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like two in the morning and I got an eight o’clock flight tomorrow. Let’s talk later,” I said, trying to sound angry rather than tired. A very scary thought came to me and I added, “How did you get in here?”
“Are you kidding? With tits like these?” Arlington gestured to the abundant charms of his spiritual advisor who shook them vigorously as he spoke. “I don’t even have to pay money for things like room keys anymore.”
“Just leave,” I begged.
“No can do, Nicky, it’s time for phase three.” Vivian’s words got my attention for a number of reasons, but mostly because she was the first person other than Diane to call me Nicky.
“What did you call me?” I glared right at Vivian, who seemed unfazed by my anger.
“Quit being so sensitive, it's phase three time and this phase I can tell you about.” She grinned with anticipation before revealing the huge surprise. “I am going to fix your low sperm count.”
My jaw dropped.
Her grin got even wider. “I see you’re interested now. The first acupuncture session, while still very important to your happiness, was mostly to make you a believer in just how important Arli and I are to your path to a happier life. Looking at you now, even someone as cynical as you must believe in what I can do.” She gestured toward the many empty containers of food and my fattened physique as evidence to her point.
I suddenly felt very vulnerable and helpless, not only because she was claiming responsibility for the forty pounds of fat that had accumulated on my body in the last few months (which, by her explanation, she had every right to), but because she knew about my inability to get Diane pregnant.
I cautiously pressed for more information. “Are you saying you can help my wife and me start a family?” As much as I was starting to buy into her story it still sounded weird when the question left my mouth.
“Exactly.” Vivian crossed her arms underneath her full hooters. “All you have to do for me is help test out a new technique and I’ll make your sperm so fertile your wife will be waddling around with Nicky junior in no time.”
Vivian turned her attention to the room's other double bed, which up until that point I had not realized had a six-foot-long serving tray resting on it. Lying across the tray was a lifesize sculpture of Vivian. It appeared to be made out of cake and frosting, but looked so lifelike it startled me at first.
“You’re looking at my first voodoo cake,” Vivian announced. “It’s been infused with my aura and is very closely tied to me spiritually.”
It seemed almost unnecessary for me to ask what was expected of me, given my last couple of meetings with the odd pair, so I made the obvious assumption. “You want me to eat it?”
“Since Arli’s been a little under the weather lately and unable to take part in any bedroom games, I charged this cake sexually so when you eat it, it should have a very noticeable effect on me,” Vivian explained.
“Wouldn’t it make more sense for Mister Benedict to try?” I offered.
“I never cared much for baked goods, Nicholas, but I’m anxious to see if this works.” Arlington had already found a seat and was ready to watch the show. “It could be a good business opportunity if it works. You should feel honored since you are the only person I trust enough to take part in this.”
“Honored? Really?” Resigned to my fate, since doing so meant Vivian would use her talents for something very important to me, like possibly end my poor wife’s frustration over possibly being barren, I rolled my soon-to-be heavier body off the bed and knelt down beside the eerily lifelike buttercream version of Vivian that even took into account the bulge of extra flesh over her mini-skirt. Trying not to think about it too much, I grabbed a handful of moist cake from the head area and crammed it in my mouth.
“Ooooh, gentle please, Nicky,” the real Vivian cooed.
Defiantly I brought the rest of the cake head up to my lips with both my hands and tore into it like a savage animal.
It appeared to be just what she wanted, because Vivian closed her eyes and moaned softly. Her face got flush and her nipples popped up. The sound and action was definitely erotic and turned me on, as for the first time since I had met her, I appeared to have the power. I really started getting into it and bent over to maul the sugary fondant sculpture.
My bent over position gave Arlington and Vivian a good view of my wide ass stretching my tight boxers that wobbled slightly with each bite of rich cake. There was also movement in my belly that hung down in front of my crotch while I hunched over. The pendulous swaying against my package combined with the increasingly arousing sounds coming from Vivian as I devoured her candy nipples, had me hard as a rock.
“Oh my, your ass is getting so big!” Vivian moaned. As humiliating as her comment sounded, I found it to be an unexpected turn on that put more intensity into my eating. It helped a little for me to look back and see Vivian’s hips were obviously no longer fitting into single-digit sizes, and grinding instinctively into the air as my eating got her more and more aroused.
As I worked my way through the cake tits (which had to have been eight servings apiece) my belly got fuller and started putting more pressure on my rod as it pendulously swung back and fourth. The fabric of my boxers was muting the sensation somewhat, but as I grew increasingly harder and longer it was not long before my undersized undergarment could no longer contain my penis and the tip popped through. I soon realized it was a very real possibility I could be brought to orgasm by the sweaty underside of the tub of lard hanging in front of my crotch.
The moans and groans from Vivian were becoming more urgent so it was no surprise that when my lips moved to the pelvis area of the cake I heard her collapse on the bed behind me in a squealing, jiggling fit of orgasmic pleasure. The sound was enough to finish me off as well. I straightened up, causing my stomach to pull heavily across my dick one last time and I erupted over the bed onto the wall beyond. My knees buckled and I fell back onto the same bed as Vivian, my head coming to rest on her soft middle, right underneath her towering mountains of boobs that had partially spilled out the bottom of her tube top.
“Looks like it works,” Arlington announced.
Part of me was terrified of what he was doing in the chair across the room so I kept my eyes locked onto Vivian’s tits.
After a short rest Vivian stuck ten long pins around my bellybutton, which she insisted held up her end of the bargain.
I heard a very unnerving zip from Arlington’s direction and saw him come into view and leave a small box and a portfolio next to me on the bed. They departed and I was left alone once again to my thoughts and indigestion. At first I tried to convince myself that eating cake in my boxers was in no way an act of infidelity toward my wife. Then I thought that any woman with a shred on sanity would divorce their husband on the spot if they heard their spouse had taken part in what I just had. Then I decided there was way too much sugar running through my system for me to think about this rationally.
Looking at what Arlington had left, I found the box to be a pregnancy test and the portfolio to contain signed contracts renewing his accounts that were up at the end of the year.
Now I was feeling good, so I polished off the legs of the Vivian cake before cleaning up for my trip home to my soon-to-be pregnant wife.
