Farrow, Parts 32-34

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Summary: Gina is impregnated with piglets. Contains: Female: Belly expansion, multiple breasts (3 pairs), breast expansion, and more. Spin-off of Piglets.

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32.

Gina instantly felt weird; lightheaded, and she suspected it had something to do with the substance being pumped into her veins. She felt increasingly compliant, though she continued to resist her predicament at hand.

With a trembling hand, Gina lifted the fork. She was stuffed already, but she had little choice but to obey Warren’s commands. She breathed heavily between bites as she robotically stuffed forkfuls of linguine into her mouth. Warren returned to his seat to watch her. Gina didn’t know how, but she worked her way though the bowl.

Once she had finished, she was flushed red, breathing in harsh puffs. She felt so stuffed. She covered her mouth, feeling as though she finally might heave. But Warren gave her a warning glare, and Gina didn’t imagine that her circumstances could get any more pathetic than that. She had descended to a point in which she was not allowed to vomit. It took her a while to feel comfortable enough to slowly lower her hand.

Gina’s feeble hopes that dinner was over were squashed when the next course was placed before her by a waiter—and it was even bigger than the first. A whole sheet of lasagna.

Gina hesitated for a while, even despite Warren’s scrutiny. She stared down into the deep pan, her fork clasped tightly in her sweaty palm.

She felt so heavy heavy by then. It was like she could feel every ounce of the fatty fluid being pumped into her veins. Her body was hot and full, and overburdened by the extreme onslaught of calories. Her clothes were soaked in sweat. “Hahh…hahhhh…” she panted.

And despite it all, Gina somehow managed to dip her fork into the meal before her. She stuffed a chunk of lasagna into her mouth, and she did her best to chew. She felt as though she was running a marathon, even though, in actuality, she was just sitting there stuffing her face. She would have considered the lasagna delicious several thousand calories ago. But now, it was simply too much. She was being abused through food, maybe tortured.

“Nrrghhhhhh…” Gina’s fork clattered against the table. She clutched at her belly, her face red, her belly button throbbing. She was halfway through the pan but didn’t think she could go on. Her stomach was tight, and beginning to succumb to throbbing pains.

“Keep going,” Warren commanded.

“I c-can’t,” Gina whined back, her eyes squeezed shut. Her six breast heaved on her chest as she rubbed her hands up and down her mound. And yet she continued to grow heavier, the IV bags on either side of her barely halfway through.

“Keep eating if you have any care for your child at all.”

Gina narrowly opened her eyes. She hunched down, her belly resting against her lap. For a while, she struggled to catch her breath, though that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Droplets of sweat fell from the tip of her nose. Finally, she raised her face. She again lifted the fork.

Gina forced down the remainder of the lasagna. Next course—a massively thick steak was placed before her. She managed to gulp down a few bites, then pleaded with Warren to go to the bathroom.

Warren rolled his eyes. “Escort her,” he called to the two servers presently flanking her. “Make sure she doesn’t try to eject anything.”

Gina could barely believe that Warren had agreed. She didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. Yet she couldn’t help sitting there, for just a moment longer, trying to get her pounding heart to relax. Finally, she placed her trembling hands on the table’s surface, and with a cry out, she heaved herself to her feet.

33.

She felt incredibly tight. And she was only getting tighter.

Gina made her way towards the bathroom, feeling like a drunk, as she forced one foot in front of the other. She was vaguely aware of the two servers flanking her, rolling her IV lines alongside her, as the devices continued to pump calories into her system. One of the servers took pity, and wrapped Gina’s arm around her shoulders, helping to keep Gina steady.

They waited outside as she entered the bathroom.

Gina made her way to the sink. She turned it on and cooled her hands, then she groaned as she endured the tension of leaning down, but managed to splash cold water onto her face. She splashed some on her flushed cleavage, not caring that she was wetting her dress and making herself more of a mess. She doused herself with the water, until she felt her body temperature decrease, if just somewhat.

Finally, she straightened, her face contorting as she was again reminded of the painful tension within her mound. She pulled her dress up, and stared down at it. The whole thing was visibly, uncomfortably throbbing. She finally lifted her face to the mirror, and couldn’t help cringing. She looked as though she was eight months pregnant with a human child, having grown noticeably since she had first met up with Warren that day. Jack would ride it off as another growth spurt—the gullible fool. She resented him for putting her in this situation. Still, she resented Warren even more.

Gina reached behind her and unclasped her bras, one by one. They felt tight and uncomfortable, and didn’t help with her breathing. The result wasn’t exactly appropriate.

Gina stared at her round breasts, heaving cleavage, and the way her distended nipples were visibly protruding in the wet, tight, now semi-transparent material. Her eyes shifted lower, and she continued to marvel at her swollen belly. It had begun to grow flushed around her protruding navel. She rubbed the mound in worry, suddenly wondering if she could physiologically burst. She certainly felt as though she might.

There was a gentle knock in the door. “Mrs. Smith?” a server called nervously.

Gina took deep breaths of air. Warren was waiting. If she angered him, she would only make matters worse. She pulled down her dress and rinsed her hands one more time, then turned, and slowly made her way to the bathroom door. She opened it and forced a smile. The two servers merely stared at her in wonderment, no longer able to maintain their facades of aloofness.

Soon Gina had returned to the table and she was easing herself down, slowly and carefully. She felt nausea just looking at the food before her. A mountain of mashed potatoes had come to join the remainder of the steak. Gina lifted her fork and knife and began to shovel the food into her mouth, trying to get it over with, but also trying not to choke. There were intervals in which she paused, and was back to covering her mouth. Warren’s sternness has melted away, and he could not seem to contain what appeared to be a sadistic pleasure that had come to be painted over his face.

“Final course,” he assured her snidely, as a massive pan was settled before her. Of course, a staple.

34.

“That’s a…s-shame…” Gina managed, grabbing up a spoon and scooping up a large chunk of macaroni and cheese before placing it intp her mouth. She dug in with hastiness, leaving Warren surprised by the enthusiasm with which she stuffed it down.

Gina ate and ate, despite the discomfort, the pain, and the horror of her predicament. She tried to assure herself that she was unstoppable. She was a bottomless pit. She had gotten this far, and she certainly had not burst. Nothing could stop her now.

She tried not to think of the repercussions that this binge would have on her physically. After all, her condition was temporary. It would be over soon. Her child was permanent. She had to do whatever she could to protect her child.

“Mmphh!” Gina grunted, when suddenly one of the piglets gave a jerk. She quickly pressed her lips and waited a moment. Then she gulped down the food that she had been in the process of eating. She looked down at the pan and was relieved that the macaroni was done. Her bottom lip trembled. She was so happy, she feared she might cry.

But Warren snapped his fingers. “Bring out dessert.”

Gina stared at him in shock.

“You didn’t think we were skipping dessert, did you? I wouldn’t want you to think that I’m a cheap date.”

Gina looked on helplessly as a large plate of oatmeal cookies was set on the table. There were about two dozen of them. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. She had expected a massive cheesecake, or something similarly heavy. Still, her body was at the end of its rope. She desperately rubbed circles around her trembling navel. “W-Warren.”

“Eat,” he said simply.

Sweat continued to seep into Gina’s dress, making the material all but impotent. She felt like crying in despair now, but somehow she maintained a composed demeanor. She had gotten this far. She could push a little farther. Her face was flushed, her skin burning by then, she reached out and lifted one of the cookies. It was still warm.

Gina took a bite, chewed, took another bite, swallowed.

It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t as sweet and decadent as she had expected either. The cookies seemed utterly normal, aside from a strange aftertaste.

“Lactation cookies,” Warren informed her, smirking.

Gina unintentionally dropped the latest cookie that she had lifted. She looked at Warren and gulped.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” said Warren. “You know the rules.”

And so, despite it all, Gina continued. She forced the cookies down, one after the other, steadfast, and a little stunned, by how much she loved her unborn child.

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