Belly Burger VI

Note: This is a story-prompt for Phat94.

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For the next few days, Iowa hid out at home, completely aghast by her development, and confused as to why it was continuing to grow. She had never heard of the affliction, much as she searched online, but she had somehow developed a giant breast on her torso, bulging out as though to replace her stomach with a much rounder, fatter, mound.

At first Iowa tried to ignore it—surely she was simply delusional—but every time her shirt so much as brushed against her protruding pink navel, waves of pleasure heated her insides.

On her third day home, Iowa could not help giving in. Much as she resented herself for it, she lightly stroked her pulsing navel, her face flushing, and her hips twitching instinctively. This caused her fat belly-breast to jiggle, and just made her arousal all the more intense. The strokes grew faster and harder, until her fingers were gliding up and down the hard pink nub, to eventually tug and squeeze it between them. She gasped for breath and arched her back, her eyes to rolling up.

“Nngghhh…” Iowa grunted as her navel burned and the white sauce began to spurt out the large, pink nub. Gasping for breath, she watched as the thick fluid sprayed freely from her body, before raining back down on her.

Iowa felt herself beginning to salivate, and she could not help reaching down and coating her fingers in the secret sauce that she remembered so well from Belly Burger’s mouthwatering sandwiches. She stared at it with rapt attention, lips quavering, before she lost her fight for self-control, and it to her lips.

It was delicious as ever, if not moreso—fresh and warm as it hit her taste buds. Iowa heaved herself up with some difficulty, panting once she was upright in bed. Her heaving belly was perched into her lap, larger than a basketball, and hot, full, and still seeping where it protruded beneath the stretched hem of her shirt.

With a grunt, she rose to her feet. Cradling the underside of her round mound, she awkwardly made her way to the kitchen, her breast-belly bobbing gently against her.

Iowa pulled out rolls, pastries, bread slices, bagels, tortilla chips, and various fruit, until she had a sizable pile. She allowed her belly-milk to seep directly onto the foods. At times, she impatiently scooped the creamy fluid off the underside of her gut and slathering it onto the items. Iowa then gobbled the food down, piece by piece, even as her navel ached and burned, and her belly continued to tighten. She cupped her sides and squeezed at them gently, releasing a grunt of discomfort as the sauce spurted into a large bowl of cake batter she had hastily put together. Iowa gasped for breath until the batter was soaked, at which point she plopped back down, her belly-nipple seeping warmth onto her groin. In the meantime she impatiently mixed the batter then gulped down every spoon of it, in a matter of minutes.

Iowa groaned. Her belly shuddered. She felt so tight. She began to stand, but grunted out in discomfort, her mound flushed and sleek with sweat. Sinking back, Iowa leaned back, her eyes beginning to droop. Absently, she licked a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “So…good…” she mumbled, before she dozed off in a veritable food coma, peacefully oblivious of the hulking figure lurking in the shadows of her china cabinet.