Encore

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

$20 Patreon Directory

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“This used to be a dump site,” said Fran dubiously as she watched Viv dip her toe into the water. “I wouldn’t.” She crossed her arms.

“How bad could it be?” said Viv as she stripped down to her bra and underwater. The lake water was a murky green and seemed to even give off a faint glow. It was alluring somehow.

Viv turned around to give her sister a wink before dropping back into the water.

Shaking her head, Fran walked back towards their parent’s cabin rental.

From the water, Viv frowned. The sisterly bonding trip was not turning out as she had hoped.

-

Viv was happy to get back to her city apartment Monday morning. She had work after all.

Viv was multitalented. She played numerous musical instruments, and even sang and danced. She got by doing performances at venues throughout city. She had a modest yet reliable fanbase. It wasn’t a lot of money, but she was doing something that made her happy.

As she got dressed for her performance that evening, Viv found herself having trouble getting into her favorite outfit—black shorts and a blazer. The shorts were proving too tight, squeezing against her backside, and barely buttoning. Viv turned sideways in her full-length mirror, idly cupping and squeezing her ass. There was a new layer of softness that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Viv absently scratched at an itch at the midpoint of her left cheek. She has always thought she could do to gain some weight, and didn’t mind the growth too much. In fact, it gave her an excuse to go shopping.

At her gig that night, where she performed as a backup dancer, her ass felt more swollen than ever. People seemed to paying more attention to her than the other dancers, who had slim, lithe physiques in contrast to her curving one.

Her performance a few days later was a harp recital, and Viv was frustrated to find that her blouse buttons would barely connect. The weight gain had only surged, now accompanied by a few odd rashes.

She was not eating differently, though she was approaching thirty. She had heard that the metabolism slowed down at that point in a person’s life. Viv resolved to go on a diet.

In only a matter of days, her belly was rounding out quite profoundly, and her ass was full, soft, and plump, looking as though she’d gotten injections. The rashes on each cheek were now accompanied by a bump at the midpoints. The more she scratched, the more defined they seemed to become.

Her stomach had gotten so swollen, people often thought she was pregnant. The mound wasn’t firm though, but fat and soft. Weirdest of all, her belly button had popped out and taken on a pinkish hue. Viv knew she was packing on the pounds but it hardly seemed normal.

Because of her lack of insurance, Viv continued to put off medical attention. She did performances as scheduled, and her spectators seemed to find her weight gain fascinating. Her following even seemed to grow. But some of the people who came to watch her didn’t seem too interested in her music.

In only another two weeks, it became a struggle to get up. Her belly was almost as large as a woman’s at term in pregnancy, albeit more soft and bouncy. She functioned in a soft of denial, and continued to adapt to the discomforts as though they were normal. When she walked around, she supported the underside of her belly with her hands, and had even taken to wearing pregnancy girdles when it got to be too exhausting.

The mound had gotten tight and tingly, her belly button large, pink, and stinging. It was even…responsive. It hardened at times. Viv tried not to touch it, and told herself it was merely inflammation. The rash that surrounded it made it look almost like a giant…nipple. That evening, she grimaced as she squeezed it into the largest pregnancy girdle she owned, before going to her latest show. She danced gently, but awkwardly, and felt her ass swaying. Her cheeks resembled fat honeydews in the back of her leggings, the distended moles on each sticking out visibly.

By the end of her performance, she felt suffocated. She usually waited until she got home, but found herself clambering into her dressing room and desperately releasing her belly from the tight confines of the girdle. Gasping for breath, her ran her hands up and down the hot, tingly mound. She groaned an arched. Her belly button tensed. “Ohhh…” she trembled. Her navel burned, and something abruptly started—spurting out of it, against her vanity. It looked like milk. Viv stared down at herself in shock.

There was a knock on the door. “Viv, they’re demanding an encore,” the club’s owner called.

Gasping for breath, Viv clutched at her belly nipple, trying to stop the leaking. She was completely nonplussed. “I don’t t-think…” she began to stammer.

“They’re wild for you, Viv. I’m willing to triple your commission.”

Viv needed the money badly. She struggled to rise, not bothering with the girdle—knowing that it probably wouldn’t fit her anymore. Her round ass rocked and jiggled. She could feel twin patches of moisture forming in her pants, but was too unnerved to examine it.

Swallowing down her nerves, Viv tugged down her shirt with one hand, clutched her belly with the other, and began to make her way back to the stage.