blackriderfae
New Member
Lesbian Romance, Feeding, ~SWG - A couple's rather random topic of conversation leads to a day (and possibly more) of decadence and gluttony
[Author’s Note:] This is my first solid story attempting to write only a weight gain tale, so was very tricky for me to figure out my "in" and the manner to write it in. It is, I suspect, for this board unusual in that I like to keep this "realistic" (human sized, not force feeding and kind of pushy in tone, keeping the characters sympathetic throughout) and one thing I struggled with was crafting an actual beginning-middle-and-end story that wasn't just a girl eating a lot and general comments about how big she was. Thank you for your patience and time, given I am new to this sort of subject matter sitting on it's own, and hope some shall enjoy. Thanks again, and comments/constructive criticism more than welcome!
The ivory-clack whisper of pool balls striking each other and the small clink of pint glasses jostled for attention with several hushed, half-drunken conversations. Typical social landscape of an Irish style pub on a wet winter evening in Chicago. At the bar, two girls were seated close to one another, faces washed out partly by the weak milky ghost-light of the television mounted behind the bar. Before them sat several upside-down shot glasses, a half-drunk glass of Coca Cola, a small bowl of spicy bar snacks and two fresh, frosty pints of stout.
The first girl turned to her friend, gesturing slightly drunkenly at the television (nearly overturning her glass in the process), and said, "Seriously, that shit is weak, Karla. I could do better myself. Why're they showing this on ESPN for? Fucking losers sitting in some dive in Maine, eating oysters. 'S not sports." The other merely shook her head before responding: "Well, yeah, it's stupid, but I don't see the point anyway. So you could eat more, Val, big deal."
The program at the center of discussion was a little fluff piece on a big sports network: an oyster-eating competition live form Bar Harbor, Maine. On the screen, a rather skinny looking Japanese guy in his twenties was looking vaguely ill, seated behind a table covered in mollusk-related detritus: cracked shells, bottles of hot sauce, wadded up napkins.
"I'm just saying, some damn guy eating like, what, fifty oysters? Sixty? So fucking what. That's weak. I could eat like hella shit, eat all day tomorrow from morning till night, and real food too, good shit, not slurping down like sea snails. I'd be fine at the end, that guy can't handle shit." As she spoke, the girl named Val looked more and more sure of herself, though she visibly had quite a few drinks in her as well. She had a slightly blunt, angular face with dark green eyes. Her head was shaved, bare except for a black row of spikes, up in a mohawk, and twin fat pigtails at base of her skull. A delicate silver ring curled out of one nostril, and twin spikes jutted from her lower lip. She was slender, her stomach flat and toned. In contrast, her friend Karla was slightly nerdy and soft looking, a little chubby, fashionable wire-rimmed skinny glasses over rich brown eyes. Her skin was pale and soft, lightly freckled, and she wore a plain skirt and a Skinny Puppy t-shirt. Wavy black hair framed her face, cascading lightly down her back.
Karla merely sighed, but grinned at her friend, shaking head slowly. "Yeah, I know you could Val, that's not an issue. Might do you good to indulge yourself, too. But the TV is meaningless, you know that: all these shows and crap, 'reality' stuff, that doesn't matter. The same thing happened that one time, with that girl who played hockey, you take this stuff all personal if you think someone is a poser or whatever. You deciding you want to just lay around and eat is sort of silly, don't get me wrong, I can see it being fun too. But you don't gotta do things just because you think some loser on television is 'weak'." The punk girl considered, taking a drink of her pint, then set it back down. "You're right, K, but I mean, it looks kind of fun, and we aren't doing anything tomorrow anyway.....god bless the weekend, right? Sit on my ass all day and eat, there are worse things we could be doing. You're always riding me to eat more, anyway. Trying to get me fat, is that it?"
Karla flushed slightly, soft cheeks reddening, and Val winked at her friend, teasing her without any real malice or taunts embedded within her words. "Well, I mean, maybe, it could be fun...I'm sure we could get you some nice food at least, if you really want to have like, a stuffing-yourself session. I'd help you, Val, of course...I love you." Karla actually did try and encourage her love to eat more, and for pleasure, rather than just slopping together some microwave mac and cheese and a peanut butter sandwich. Personally, she thought her love might look better with more plushness to her frame, and if she did get a little chubbier in the process, no harm in that. Karla had never voiced such opinions out loud to her friend, however, lest Val take it for criticism or being ordered around. Their relationship was about more than just what her love looked like. The two girls had been friends since high school, and often more than that: sharing a bed and sharing all the intimate things normal couples do, mundane and exotic both.
As they stood up to leave the bar, their pints finished at last, Val first scooped up her thick leather jacket from the back of her chair, then wrapped an arm easily about Karla's waist and led her girl out into the night. At home, the two crashed in their queen-sized bed, snuggled under the covers, soft, feminine snores filling the room slowly. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, in more ways than one, and the two needed their sleep first. Karla was spooned in close to Val, facing away from her, the punk girl's skinny arms lightly encircling the other's soft stomach, face buried in hair at base of her neck. They stayed this way, sleeping peacefully, until the sun started to slant through the blinds, dust motes drifting lazily in the still air.
When Val rose at last, stretching sleepily, the bed was empty apart from her. She yawned and cricked her neck, then paused. Sniffed the air, once, twice...something rather delicious seemed to be going on downstairs, judging from the smell. The punk girl padded into the bathroom and showered quickly, climbing into a slightly worn pair of jean shorts and Misfits belly tee. Down the stairs she went, scratching her stomach lightly, to find her girl already in the kitchen. Karla was standing, expectantly, little half-smile on dark painted lips. Held in her hands was a large mug of coffee, and behind her on the table was a large plate, seemingly heaped with foodstuffs.
Val was in her girl's arms in a flash, hugging her, and taking the steaming mug of coffee without hesitation. "Mmmm, I knew there's a reason I love you", she purred, kissing Karla's cheek. She downed a bracing sip of the coffee, then wandered over to the table, her eyes widening. "Holy shit, K, what is all this?" escaped her lips. Piled one on of their Pier One Imports bargain plates (midnight blue with silver stars imprinted in a repeating pattern) was a massive breakfast sandwich. Ground beef patty was stacked with bacon slices, a poached egg, some mixed greens, and what looked like freshly made salsa. Stacked next to it was a pile of tater tots, dripping with melted cheese, and a plate off to the side was piled with homemade buttermilk biscuits practically drowning in sausage gravy.
The girl was rather distracted by this bounty of breakfast foods, and so didn't register Karla sliding up next to her at first. The Goth lass gently poked her girl's belly, and giggled. "You said you could eat more than those losers on TV, well, here is your chance...all the food is delicious, I assure you. You don't have to eat more than you want, but I figured you'd better have the opportunity to show you can do it, sweetie." The slightly shy girl grinned at Val, and took her hand, squeezed it.
The punky girl smiled back, slowly, and gave her a light kiss, then sat at the table. "Wow...well, shit. This all looks delicious, I don't know where to start. Do we have like, orange juice, or something? Help all this go down."
Karla simply nodded, and fetched a tall glass, adding some ice, then fresh squeezed juice.
As she brought it over, Val was starting to eat, taking a few tentative bites of the massive breakfast burger. She tasted it at first, slowly, savoring the textures and mixing ingredients, the clean, crisp bite of the mixed greens contrasting with the soft meat and crispy tater tots off to the side, the whole thing being mixed together with melting cheese and the cooked egg. Before she knew it, she was on the last few bites, licking the runny center of the egg off the last piece of bread. She took a slow, deep breath, and downed half the cool glass of orange juice, licking her lips clean. Her eyes alighted on the plate of biscuits, warm and smelling heavenly. She bit her lower lip in indecision: should she wait a bit, let her stomach settle, or tear into them now? She leaned back in her chair slightly, shrugged, and tugged the plate over. May as well go all in.
The biscuits were delicious, hot and chewy, and the gravy was perfectly made. Not gummy or over-thick, but just the right amount of spiciness and texture from the sausage, with a light, pleasing buttery feel to the sauce itself. She put away the biscuits over the course of about five minutes, and leaned back in her seat.
Karla had been watching, of course, and now she came forward. Very gently, she stroked the back of her girl's head, then kissed the top of it. "How was that sweetie, everything good?" Val looked up at her, smiling softly, wry little grin on her lips. "That was fucking delicious, babe. I should have had you cook for me like this before." As she spoke, the Goth lass lightly laid her hand on Val's stomach, rubbing it soothingly.
"Not too full, I hope, you've got the whole rest of the day ahead of you., if you still wanna do this."
The punk girl's eyes half-closed as her belly was massaged so, even uttering a rather kitten-like, adorable purr. "Mmm, no way am I done yet, just need a little break, K." With that, the two girls retired for a bit to the living room, putting in a DVD of the horror/spoof parody, Night of the Living Tomatoes. As they sprawled on the couch, Val's head on Karla's shoulder, the Goth girl gently rubbed and massaged her girlfriend's slightly protruding stomach. It wasn't too big or overfull yet, but had a definite tightness to it, and looked a little rounder than that morning when she first arose.
As the movie wrapped up, Karla lightly squeezed her girl's belly, and giggled slightly. "What about it, dear, you ready for lunchtime? Round two? After that, there's still dinner to contend with, but we will stop it there...don't want to go overboard with this."
At the squeeze, Val wiggled slightly, felt her own stomach slightly, then shrugged. "Sure, I could eat again, not that full right now."
The bespectacled girl helped her friend up, tugging her by hand, and led her once more into the kitchen. Once there, a chair was tugged out for Val, and she was simply instructed to "Sit.". The punky girl settled down in the chair, lightly slouching, her stomach a little heavy on her legs. A soft roll of had pushed its' way over the waist of her pants. Still, it rumbled hungrily, and she definitely wanted more food.
Two unwrapped sandwiches from Quizno's (her favorite fast food joint) would be set before the girl. Unable to help herself, Val salivated just a little, as she always found the grilled sandwich chain's food to be endlessly delicious. On offering were two large subs: a prime rib and peppercorn, practically dripping with meat juices and caramelized onions, and Baja chicken, grilled meat piled high with red onions, bacon, and cheddar cheese. This time around, Val dug in a little more heartily, ripping and tearing at the sandwiches, washing down the food with swigs from a silver-and-red can of Coke. Once the sandwiches were thus dispatched, Karla even caught her looking around as if still hungry, and laughed happily. Of course, there was more food to be had for her girlfriend, if she wanted it.
Next up, a large cheeseburger pizza (Val's personal favorite from a local joint) was set out, accompanied by a side Cobb salad and a can of cold beer. The punk girl barely hesitated, curling up a slice and picking a few sweet pickles extra from the main pie to garnish it. As she began to eat, Karla sat next to her, softly massaging the girl's stomach. A pale sliver of tummy was now beginning to poke out from under her shirt, the lower portion curved outwards in a distinct imprint of her rounded tummy. Val gulped down a swallow of her pizza, speared a forkful of salad, and took a swig of beer. She grinned slightly shyly over at her girlfriend, before speaking: "This is pretty fun, actually, I mean...we can't do this sort of thing every day. But it's kind of I don't know, fancy…you spoiling me like this. A girl could get used to it."
Karla merely smiled back, and patted Val's slowly-filling belly. "Well, glad you are having fun. We can stop any time if it gets to be too much. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or do things you don't want to be doing sweetie."
As Val finished up the pizza, Karla was ready for her. Brought out last for this sitting were three large slices of fresh, home-made lemon cream pie and a big pitcher of milk. Val lightly bit her lower lip, toying softly with the piercings there, but it was clear she rather wanted her dessert too. She stretched briefly, twining thin arms over her head, and placed a hand over her stomach. It was tight to the touch, decidedly, and starting to swell rounder than she had ever been filled before. She still had room though, she thought, so fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Once she started to eat the pie, the texture was heavenly: silky and smooth, both cool in temperature and just lightly tart enough to balance it. The soft clouds of whipped cream were delightfully soft, the crust perfectly golden and crisp. Her love had seemingly gone all out in getting food for her, even making it herself, and Val was rather flattered by the attention and that Karla seemed to delight in spoiling her like this. It was especially sweet of her, given the silly manner in which the subject had come up at all between them. Definitely a fun little bit of frivolous indulgence to engage in, but be damned if it wasn't turning out to be quite enjoyable.
This time, after she finished eating, Val felt much more sated and heavy. Her stomach was clearly visible, showing two or three inches out from under her shirt. She wasn't uncomfortable, but her belly felt very tight and rounded, like a tightly-filled sandbag under her shirt. Karla took a seat next to her and helped her drink cool water, as soft hands pushed her shirt up, rubbing and massaging her tight belly.
"Mmm, you're really starting to look full, Val...you ok? Not that I'm complaining...I think you look cute like this."
The punk girl half closed her eyes, enjoying the attention, before answering. "Yeah, I'm doing good honey, don't worry…I am just not used to eating this much. I think I can do more, like, in a little bit, long as you promise I'm not gonna burst or something here. I am really starting to feel like a stuffed hog, to be honest. It's not bad...just not used to all this, y'know." Slowly, ponderously, Val stood, and hugged Karla tight, the soft swell of her belly squishing against her lover. "I don't wanna stop though. This is fun, and you seem to get off on me getting all full, so no harm there."
Karla once more blushed at these words, but didn't bother to deny it. She helped Val to the living room once more, and this time, laid her back on the couch, taking up a position in front of her. She tenderly poked the girl's bellybutton, then pushed her shirt up off the curve of her stomach, admiring its fullness and shape. Val shivered lightly, bit her lower lip, but stared into Karla's eyes. Slowly, the two began to kiss, the Goth girl straddling her partner's widened stomach carefully. They merely cuddled then, soft pokes and strokings delivered to the larger girl's midsection, making her shiver in small bursts of pleasure. Eventually, Karla slipped away, only to return with scentless, smooth skin oil, and began oiling her love's belly carefully, soothing it.
In about an hour, Val took Karla's hand, meeting her eyes, and said: "You know what, I'm hungry again. Let's go, I wanna finish up with a bang."
This time around, the meal was brought out to Val on the couch, so she could be more comfortable. A large bowl was filled with steaming hot pasta, garlic and sun-dried tomatoes, combined beef and pork meatballs, a hearty cheese sauce and thin noodles. Homemade garlic bread on the side and a light, spicy, tomato broth soup accompanied the pasta. Several bottles of dark beer were chilling in a bucket of ice. The punk girl pushed herself up lightly, rounded stomach protruding forward, and began to eat. She ate efficiently, and clearly hungrily, but not at all in a sloppy manner. Spaghetti noodles were forked up and twirled around, deposited into mouth, alternating with chunks of warm bread and sips of the delicious soup. All the food, as earlier, was perfect and very tasty. As the level of dinner before her went down, Val's stomach merely grew, a rather solid, spherical gut before her. She was starting to lag, definitely, but she still found room to finish the last few bites of her meal, and drink down the rest of her soup and bottle of beer.
Things weren't over, yet, as Karla returned, bearing a bowl of vanilla ice cream, fresh made brownies and caramel sauce applied over the top. Val groaned slightly, shifted her weight: her stomach was nearly packed full and sticking away from her, curving in an appealing manner away from her breasts, outwards in a lazy, plump arch. But she couldn't resist, and so the ice cream was slowly savored and devoured. The brownies were warm and fudgey, quite richly irresistible, and the ice cream smooth and cooling. When at last she finished, Val was bloated and content. She lay back on Karla, stomach sticking well up into the air, tight with food and quite large (especially considering the girl's thin frame) but not uncomfortable. The two girls merely basked in each other's presence, Karla's arms lightly hugging her lover. As Val slipped away into a pleasant, food-binge fueled nap, Karla whispered to her, "You know, I love you like this dear. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Rest now, but if you want, when you wake up, I know this killer 24-hour diner just down the road......"
Val and Karla
By blackriderfae
By blackriderfae
[Author’s Note:] This is my first solid story attempting to write only a weight gain tale, so was very tricky for me to figure out my "in" and the manner to write it in. It is, I suspect, for this board unusual in that I like to keep this "realistic" (human sized, not force feeding and kind of pushy in tone, keeping the characters sympathetic throughout) and one thing I struggled with was crafting an actual beginning-middle-and-end story that wasn't just a girl eating a lot and general comments about how big she was. Thank you for your patience and time, given I am new to this sort of subject matter sitting on it's own, and hope some shall enjoy. Thanks again, and comments/constructive criticism more than welcome!
The ivory-clack whisper of pool balls striking each other and the small clink of pint glasses jostled for attention with several hushed, half-drunken conversations. Typical social landscape of an Irish style pub on a wet winter evening in Chicago. At the bar, two girls were seated close to one another, faces washed out partly by the weak milky ghost-light of the television mounted behind the bar. Before them sat several upside-down shot glasses, a half-drunk glass of Coca Cola, a small bowl of spicy bar snacks and two fresh, frosty pints of stout.
The first girl turned to her friend, gesturing slightly drunkenly at the television (nearly overturning her glass in the process), and said, "Seriously, that shit is weak, Karla. I could do better myself. Why're they showing this on ESPN for? Fucking losers sitting in some dive in Maine, eating oysters. 'S not sports." The other merely shook her head before responding: "Well, yeah, it's stupid, but I don't see the point anyway. So you could eat more, Val, big deal."
The program at the center of discussion was a little fluff piece on a big sports network: an oyster-eating competition live form Bar Harbor, Maine. On the screen, a rather skinny looking Japanese guy in his twenties was looking vaguely ill, seated behind a table covered in mollusk-related detritus: cracked shells, bottles of hot sauce, wadded up napkins.
"I'm just saying, some damn guy eating like, what, fifty oysters? Sixty? So fucking what. That's weak. I could eat like hella shit, eat all day tomorrow from morning till night, and real food too, good shit, not slurping down like sea snails. I'd be fine at the end, that guy can't handle shit." As she spoke, the girl named Val looked more and more sure of herself, though she visibly had quite a few drinks in her as well. She had a slightly blunt, angular face with dark green eyes. Her head was shaved, bare except for a black row of spikes, up in a mohawk, and twin fat pigtails at base of her skull. A delicate silver ring curled out of one nostril, and twin spikes jutted from her lower lip. She was slender, her stomach flat and toned. In contrast, her friend Karla was slightly nerdy and soft looking, a little chubby, fashionable wire-rimmed skinny glasses over rich brown eyes. Her skin was pale and soft, lightly freckled, and she wore a plain skirt and a Skinny Puppy t-shirt. Wavy black hair framed her face, cascading lightly down her back.
Karla merely sighed, but grinned at her friend, shaking head slowly. "Yeah, I know you could Val, that's not an issue. Might do you good to indulge yourself, too. But the TV is meaningless, you know that: all these shows and crap, 'reality' stuff, that doesn't matter. The same thing happened that one time, with that girl who played hockey, you take this stuff all personal if you think someone is a poser or whatever. You deciding you want to just lay around and eat is sort of silly, don't get me wrong, I can see it being fun too. But you don't gotta do things just because you think some loser on television is 'weak'." The punk girl considered, taking a drink of her pint, then set it back down. "You're right, K, but I mean, it looks kind of fun, and we aren't doing anything tomorrow anyway.....god bless the weekend, right? Sit on my ass all day and eat, there are worse things we could be doing. You're always riding me to eat more, anyway. Trying to get me fat, is that it?"
Karla flushed slightly, soft cheeks reddening, and Val winked at her friend, teasing her without any real malice or taunts embedded within her words. "Well, I mean, maybe, it could be fun...I'm sure we could get you some nice food at least, if you really want to have like, a stuffing-yourself session. I'd help you, Val, of course...I love you." Karla actually did try and encourage her love to eat more, and for pleasure, rather than just slopping together some microwave mac and cheese and a peanut butter sandwich. Personally, she thought her love might look better with more plushness to her frame, and if she did get a little chubbier in the process, no harm in that. Karla had never voiced such opinions out loud to her friend, however, lest Val take it for criticism or being ordered around. Their relationship was about more than just what her love looked like. The two girls had been friends since high school, and often more than that: sharing a bed and sharing all the intimate things normal couples do, mundane and exotic both.
As they stood up to leave the bar, their pints finished at last, Val first scooped up her thick leather jacket from the back of her chair, then wrapped an arm easily about Karla's waist and led her girl out into the night. At home, the two crashed in their queen-sized bed, snuggled under the covers, soft, feminine snores filling the room slowly. Tomorrow would be an interesting day, in more ways than one, and the two needed their sleep first. Karla was spooned in close to Val, facing away from her, the punk girl's skinny arms lightly encircling the other's soft stomach, face buried in hair at base of her neck. They stayed this way, sleeping peacefully, until the sun started to slant through the blinds, dust motes drifting lazily in the still air.
When Val rose at last, stretching sleepily, the bed was empty apart from her. She yawned and cricked her neck, then paused. Sniffed the air, once, twice...something rather delicious seemed to be going on downstairs, judging from the smell. The punk girl padded into the bathroom and showered quickly, climbing into a slightly worn pair of jean shorts and Misfits belly tee. Down the stairs she went, scratching her stomach lightly, to find her girl already in the kitchen. Karla was standing, expectantly, little half-smile on dark painted lips. Held in her hands was a large mug of coffee, and behind her on the table was a large plate, seemingly heaped with foodstuffs.
Val was in her girl's arms in a flash, hugging her, and taking the steaming mug of coffee without hesitation. "Mmmm, I knew there's a reason I love you", she purred, kissing Karla's cheek. She downed a bracing sip of the coffee, then wandered over to the table, her eyes widening. "Holy shit, K, what is all this?" escaped her lips. Piled one on of their Pier One Imports bargain plates (midnight blue with silver stars imprinted in a repeating pattern) was a massive breakfast sandwich. Ground beef patty was stacked with bacon slices, a poached egg, some mixed greens, and what looked like freshly made salsa. Stacked next to it was a pile of tater tots, dripping with melted cheese, and a plate off to the side was piled with homemade buttermilk biscuits practically drowning in sausage gravy.
The girl was rather distracted by this bounty of breakfast foods, and so didn't register Karla sliding up next to her at first. The Goth lass gently poked her girl's belly, and giggled. "You said you could eat more than those losers on TV, well, here is your chance...all the food is delicious, I assure you. You don't have to eat more than you want, but I figured you'd better have the opportunity to show you can do it, sweetie." The slightly shy girl grinned at Val, and took her hand, squeezed it.
The punky girl smiled back, slowly, and gave her a light kiss, then sat at the table. "Wow...well, shit. This all looks delicious, I don't know where to start. Do we have like, orange juice, or something? Help all this go down."
Karla simply nodded, and fetched a tall glass, adding some ice, then fresh squeezed juice.
As she brought it over, Val was starting to eat, taking a few tentative bites of the massive breakfast burger. She tasted it at first, slowly, savoring the textures and mixing ingredients, the clean, crisp bite of the mixed greens contrasting with the soft meat and crispy tater tots off to the side, the whole thing being mixed together with melting cheese and the cooked egg. Before she knew it, she was on the last few bites, licking the runny center of the egg off the last piece of bread. She took a slow, deep breath, and downed half the cool glass of orange juice, licking her lips clean. Her eyes alighted on the plate of biscuits, warm and smelling heavenly. She bit her lower lip in indecision: should she wait a bit, let her stomach settle, or tear into them now? She leaned back in her chair slightly, shrugged, and tugged the plate over. May as well go all in.
The biscuits were delicious, hot and chewy, and the gravy was perfectly made. Not gummy or over-thick, but just the right amount of spiciness and texture from the sausage, with a light, pleasing buttery feel to the sauce itself. She put away the biscuits over the course of about five minutes, and leaned back in her seat.
Karla had been watching, of course, and now she came forward. Very gently, she stroked the back of her girl's head, then kissed the top of it. "How was that sweetie, everything good?" Val looked up at her, smiling softly, wry little grin on her lips. "That was fucking delicious, babe. I should have had you cook for me like this before." As she spoke, the Goth lass lightly laid her hand on Val's stomach, rubbing it soothingly.
"Not too full, I hope, you've got the whole rest of the day ahead of you., if you still wanna do this."
The punk girl's eyes half-closed as her belly was massaged so, even uttering a rather kitten-like, adorable purr. "Mmm, no way am I done yet, just need a little break, K." With that, the two girls retired for a bit to the living room, putting in a DVD of the horror/spoof parody, Night of the Living Tomatoes. As they sprawled on the couch, Val's head on Karla's shoulder, the Goth girl gently rubbed and massaged her girlfriend's slightly protruding stomach. It wasn't too big or overfull yet, but had a definite tightness to it, and looked a little rounder than that morning when she first arose.
As the movie wrapped up, Karla lightly squeezed her girl's belly, and giggled slightly. "What about it, dear, you ready for lunchtime? Round two? After that, there's still dinner to contend with, but we will stop it there...don't want to go overboard with this."
At the squeeze, Val wiggled slightly, felt her own stomach slightly, then shrugged. "Sure, I could eat again, not that full right now."
The bespectacled girl helped her friend up, tugging her by hand, and led her once more into the kitchen. Once there, a chair was tugged out for Val, and she was simply instructed to "Sit.". The punky girl settled down in the chair, lightly slouching, her stomach a little heavy on her legs. A soft roll of had pushed its' way over the waist of her pants. Still, it rumbled hungrily, and she definitely wanted more food.
Two unwrapped sandwiches from Quizno's (her favorite fast food joint) would be set before the girl. Unable to help herself, Val salivated just a little, as she always found the grilled sandwich chain's food to be endlessly delicious. On offering were two large subs: a prime rib and peppercorn, practically dripping with meat juices and caramelized onions, and Baja chicken, grilled meat piled high with red onions, bacon, and cheddar cheese. This time around, Val dug in a little more heartily, ripping and tearing at the sandwiches, washing down the food with swigs from a silver-and-red can of Coke. Once the sandwiches were thus dispatched, Karla even caught her looking around as if still hungry, and laughed happily. Of course, there was more food to be had for her girlfriend, if she wanted it.
Next up, a large cheeseburger pizza (Val's personal favorite from a local joint) was set out, accompanied by a side Cobb salad and a can of cold beer. The punk girl barely hesitated, curling up a slice and picking a few sweet pickles extra from the main pie to garnish it. As she began to eat, Karla sat next to her, softly massaging the girl's stomach. A pale sliver of tummy was now beginning to poke out from under her shirt, the lower portion curved outwards in a distinct imprint of her rounded tummy. Val gulped down a swallow of her pizza, speared a forkful of salad, and took a swig of beer. She grinned slightly shyly over at her girlfriend, before speaking: "This is pretty fun, actually, I mean...we can't do this sort of thing every day. But it's kind of I don't know, fancy…you spoiling me like this. A girl could get used to it."
Karla merely smiled back, and patted Val's slowly-filling belly. "Well, glad you are having fun. We can stop any time if it gets to be too much. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or do things you don't want to be doing sweetie."
As Val finished up the pizza, Karla was ready for her. Brought out last for this sitting were three large slices of fresh, home-made lemon cream pie and a big pitcher of milk. Val lightly bit her lower lip, toying softly with the piercings there, but it was clear she rather wanted her dessert too. She stretched briefly, twining thin arms over her head, and placed a hand over her stomach. It was tight to the touch, decidedly, and starting to swell rounder than she had ever been filled before. She still had room though, she thought, so fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Once she started to eat the pie, the texture was heavenly: silky and smooth, both cool in temperature and just lightly tart enough to balance it. The soft clouds of whipped cream were delightfully soft, the crust perfectly golden and crisp. Her love had seemingly gone all out in getting food for her, even making it herself, and Val was rather flattered by the attention and that Karla seemed to delight in spoiling her like this. It was especially sweet of her, given the silly manner in which the subject had come up at all between them. Definitely a fun little bit of frivolous indulgence to engage in, but be damned if it wasn't turning out to be quite enjoyable.
This time, after she finished eating, Val felt much more sated and heavy. Her stomach was clearly visible, showing two or three inches out from under her shirt. She wasn't uncomfortable, but her belly felt very tight and rounded, like a tightly-filled sandbag under her shirt. Karla took a seat next to her and helped her drink cool water, as soft hands pushed her shirt up, rubbing and massaging her tight belly.
"Mmm, you're really starting to look full, Val...you ok? Not that I'm complaining...I think you look cute like this."
The punk girl half closed her eyes, enjoying the attention, before answering. "Yeah, I'm doing good honey, don't worry…I am just not used to eating this much. I think I can do more, like, in a little bit, long as you promise I'm not gonna burst or something here. I am really starting to feel like a stuffed hog, to be honest. It's not bad...just not used to all this, y'know." Slowly, ponderously, Val stood, and hugged Karla tight, the soft swell of her belly squishing against her lover. "I don't wanna stop though. This is fun, and you seem to get off on me getting all full, so no harm there."
Karla once more blushed at these words, but didn't bother to deny it. She helped Val to the living room once more, and this time, laid her back on the couch, taking up a position in front of her. She tenderly poked the girl's bellybutton, then pushed her shirt up off the curve of her stomach, admiring its fullness and shape. Val shivered lightly, bit her lower lip, but stared into Karla's eyes. Slowly, the two began to kiss, the Goth girl straddling her partner's widened stomach carefully. They merely cuddled then, soft pokes and strokings delivered to the larger girl's midsection, making her shiver in small bursts of pleasure. Eventually, Karla slipped away, only to return with scentless, smooth skin oil, and began oiling her love's belly carefully, soothing it.
In about an hour, Val took Karla's hand, meeting her eyes, and said: "You know what, I'm hungry again. Let's go, I wanna finish up with a bang."
This time around, the meal was brought out to Val on the couch, so she could be more comfortable. A large bowl was filled with steaming hot pasta, garlic and sun-dried tomatoes, combined beef and pork meatballs, a hearty cheese sauce and thin noodles. Homemade garlic bread on the side and a light, spicy, tomato broth soup accompanied the pasta. Several bottles of dark beer were chilling in a bucket of ice. The punk girl pushed herself up lightly, rounded stomach protruding forward, and began to eat. She ate efficiently, and clearly hungrily, but not at all in a sloppy manner. Spaghetti noodles were forked up and twirled around, deposited into mouth, alternating with chunks of warm bread and sips of the delicious soup. All the food, as earlier, was perfect and very tasty. As the level of dinner before her went down, Val's stomach merely grew, a rather solid, spherical gut before her. She was starting to lag, definitely, but she still found room to finish the last few bites of her meal, and drink down the rest of her soup and bottle of beer.
Things weren't over, yet, as Karla returned, bearing a bowl of vanilla ice cream, fresh made brownies and caramel sauce applied over the top. Val groaned slightly, shifted her weight: her stomach was nearly packed full and sticking away from her, curving in an appealing manner away from her breasts, outwards in a lazy, plump arch. But she couldn't resist, and so the ice cream was slowly savored and devoured. The brownies were warm and fudgey, quite richly irresistible, and the ice cream smooth and cooling. When at last she finished, Val was bloated and content. She lay back on Karla, stomach sticking well up into the air, tight with food and quite large (especially considering the girl's thin frame) but not uncomfortable. The two girls merely basked in each other's presence, Karla's arms lightly hugging her lover. As Val slipped away into a pleasant, food-binge fueled nap, Karla whispered to her, "You know, I love you like this dear. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Rest now, but if you want, when you wake up, I know this killer 24-hour diner just down the road......"
