Gingerbread House (10 Parts)

Note: This is a story-prompt for imposter_dude.

Prompt Directory

1.

“Moose, get back here!” Emma shouted as she ran through the woods in search of her German Shepherd. It seemed like only moments before that she could hear his yips and panting, but she seemed to have lost all sense of direction. Emma stopped and gripped her knees, panting as she tried to catch her breath. She looked around at her surroundings, finding only foliage in all directions. She could no longer tell which way she had come from, or which way Moose had gone. Somehow she had gotten herself lost, and this camping trip was turning out to be a disaster.

Not knowing what else to do, Emma proceeded forward. She walked and walked, for what seemed like hours, hoping to find something unique or familiar. But in the never ending forestry, there was little to distinguish one location from another. “Moose!” she cried out until her voice went hoarse. For the third time, Emma tried her compass, but it just spun ceaselessly, as though there was some magnetic disruption.

She couldn’t even see the sky above her, the leaves so thick and encompassing. It was getting dark. Emma dropped to her knees. In her hurry to pursue her dog, she had managed to leave some of her things at her campsite, the lighter included. Without fire, there would be no warmth or visibility, and nothing to fend off wild animals. She’d be surprised if she survived the night. Emma drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face against them. Her eyes started to sting but she was determined not to cry.

She must have been imagining it, but she thought she could detect a sugary aroma in the air.

“Hello?” called out an unfamiliar voice.

Emma jolted at the sound. She immediately got to her feet, looking wildly around, until she spotted a middle-age woman at the edge of the clearing, and to her utter relief, Moose as well! The woman was clutching his leash, keeping the dog at her side even as he tugged for freedom. The same leash that had slipped from Emma’s fingers hours earlier.

“Oh my god, you found him,” Emma stammered. “Thank you so much.” She hurried over, accepting the leash from the middle-aged woman’s hand.

“It was no trouble. He found me on my evening walk. Didn’t seem like a stray. I’m lucky I found you, it’s already getting dark. And it gets quite cold at night.”

Emma nodded as she rubbed Moose’s furry head. He grinned and drooled, tail wagging. “He got a little lost. Well, I think we both did,” she added, looking around, then back to the woman. “I’m Emma.”

“My name is Annette. You’re a long way from town.”

“Yeah, this started off as a camping trip. But Moose escaped, and well, my compass started to malfunction.”

“It happens from time to time. Why don’t you spend the night at my house? Then I could lead you back in the morning.”

“That would be great,” said Emma appreciatively.

Annette led her about half a mile through the forest, the sweet aroma seeming to grow until they turned a bend in the faint dirt path and came upon an entire house made of gingerbread! Emma was almost certain she had lost her mind. It smelled delicious, and Emma felt herself starting to salivate. “Is this — real? I mean, how is this even…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

“Oh, you’d be surprised of the things we’re capable of when we put our minds to it,” Annette said with a grin. “I’m a bit of a baker. I hope you have a sweet tooth.”

Emma did. Though she was a thin woman of twenty-five, she had always been a fan of sweets and never turned down dessert. Certain that she had died and gone to heaven, she followed Annette into the warm house that smelled like vanilla and butter cream. The interior was cozy and full of pastry-themed furniture. True to her word, Annette had a cake baking in the oven, in addition to various pastries covering the kitchen table and counters.

“Dig in,” Annette invited. “It gets lonely out here. I rarely have a guest to try out my creations.”

Emma tasted everything. Living at home with a large family, and often serving as caretaker to her younger siblings, she rarely got the chance to indulge herself like this. Her parents were always practical in their spending, and seldom purchased anything aside from the occasional piece of sugar cane as a treat for the family.

Annette was an amazing baker. Everything tasted as delicious as it looked. There were breads, croissants, cakes, and pies. The pastries were covered in glazes, icings, and whipped toppings, or injected with thick custards and jellies. Everything had a different flavor and consistency, different toppings and decorations. Emma ate and ate, Annette encouraging her all along. Emma knew she wouldn’t get this opportunity again, so she positively stuffed her face.

By morning, she was terribly bloated and had a minor belly ache, but it was worth it. Emma had managed to doze at times between eating, but hadn’t even employed the guest room Annette had offered her. She had practically been up pigging out all night.

“My, do you have a healthy appetite,” Annette remarked as she scrambled some eggs on the stove for breakfast. “It’s a shame to see you go. I almost wish you could stay longer. It’s been such a lovely time having you and dear Moose.”

The dog in question was happily writhing around on the floor, trying to get a good back-scratch in.

“I wish I could stay too,” Emma mused aloud.

“Well that should settle it, then. Why not indulge me with your company for just another day?”

One more day? No harm in that. It certainly beat camping. “Why not?” said Emma.

Annette beamed as she lowered a large plate piled with eggs, sausages, and pancakes onto the kitchen table in front of Emma. “Bon appétit.”

2.

Emma stayed an extra day. It turned out being as delightful as the prior one. She lounged around on the squishy, cute furniture, consuming the decadent treats that Annette consistently provided her with. Usually the food servings were way too large, but Emma couldn’t imagine insulting the woman by turning anything away. After all, Annette was so kind to her, and generous. Emma ate everything, even until her belly got uncomfortably tight. It was hardly a hardship. It was all so delicious

Later that afternoon, Annette made a massive lasagna, the majority of which somehow ended up on Emma’s plate. Emma laughed wearily as Annette continuously gave her refills. Emma should have been able to turn it away, but it was all just so tasty, and Annette was just so kind. Emma ate until she was wincing a little, her face flushed and sweaty. She felt fit to burst, but forced down another forkful of the combined pasta, sauce, and gooey layers of cheeses. Then her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth as her stomach gave a forceful heave. She was assailed with a wave of nausea, but the thought of vomiting was unthinkable. It would be humiliating, and just awful, especially after all of Annette’s generosity.

Annette turned away from something she was stirring on the stove. “You okay, hon?”

Emma quickly lowered her hands from her mouth. “Yes,” she managed. “Everything’s great.” She pressed her lips, struggling not to groan. Her stomach ached, insides churning in protest.

“Then finish up,” Annette said. “It’s almost time for dessert.”

Emma had always been bad with establishing boundaries. It was how she, an adult woman, had ended up still living at home, serving as caretaker to her younger siblings. It was why she had been so easily convinced to stay in a strangers' home for one day more than necessary. And it was why, at this present moment, she just couldn’t bear the thought of rejecting Annette’s generosity.

She lifted her fork and took the last three bites of the lasagna, chewing far longer than necessary, but ultimately gulping it down, forcing it into her over-packed stomach. She grimaced and leaned her elbows on the table top, breathing heavily. Oh god. She felt sick. Emma closed her eyes and tried to breathe through it.

Her belly felt so tight. It shuddered slightly. She had exceeded its capacity, her fingers grazing over the taut mound stretching her shirt. A thin sheen of sweat now coated her whole body, her clothing damp. Emma looked at the large, deep lasagna pan on the table, now emptied. It had been enough food for half a dozen people, at least. It occurred to Emma that Annette had only had a small portion herself, really just a taste.

There was a thumping noise that jolted Emma out of her reverie. Emma looked up to see that Annette had lowered a large bowl to the table in front of her.

“I tried to keep dessert simple,” the older woman said brightly. “How does chocolate pudding sound?”

-

The pudding had been moussey. Very dense, thick, sweet, creamy, and buttery. Emma didn’t know how she had managed to get it down, but when she was done, she felt so lethargic and dizzy, she could hardly function. She could barely talk for fear that something would burst up from her throat. Her belly was tight and aching, heaving in protest, but somehow Emma managed to keep everything down.

Just standing up was painful, but Emma allowed herself to be urged along by Annette, too uncomfortable and sleepy to think about where they were going. Emma groaned as she was helped to recline across the guest room bed.

“You should get some rest,” Annette said. “You look exhausted.”

Emma gave an indecipherable mumble. She heard the door close, and felt so warm and cozy there snuggled into the soft mattress. Her eyelids sank and she fell asleep.

-

Emma awoke to the familiar sounds of birds chirping outside, and the sensation of warmth across her face, prickling but pleasant. It was sunlight.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, to realize that she had managed to spend an extra night at Annette’s house. Which wasn’t a big deal. She wouldn’t be missed, as her family would think she was still on her camping trip.

She rubbed her face with a sigh. “What got into me last night?” She shifted, and her attention moved to the unexpected sensation of her abdomen. She slid her hand down, then pulled away her sheets, to marvel at the curve there. She couldn’t believe how much weight she had gained in just a couple of days. Her belly was no longer the tight drum that it had been the night before, but it was quite round and plump, perhaps even larger than it had been following her binge on the lasagna. As a matter fact, Emma thought she could pass as someone who was six months pregnant.

3.

Before Emma knew it, a week had passed. A whole week.

She didn’t know what had gotten into her. Every time she intended to leave, she found herself too weary or lethargic from overeating. Often, Anette just convinced her to stay. The older woman discussed the terrible loneliness of living isolated in the forest, and that made it incredibly hard for Emma to turn away her requests that Emma stay a little bit longer. Not that it was any detriment to either of them. Emma loved it there, and Anette loved having her.

Emma was starting to have some difficulties in terms of clothing.

Anette had offered to launder Emma’s one outfit, and Emma had gratefully accepted. In the meantime, Anette had given Emma a dress slip to wear that was short and fit rather awkwardly at Emma’s torso, but it was better than nothing.

When Emma got her clothing back, she was certain they had shrunk. Her long sleeved shirt no longer pulled completely down over her belly, whereas her thick leggings were shoved beneath the mound, leaving a few inches of bloated flesh to protrude out in the open.

Emma knew that she had indulged in quite a lot of pork chops the night before — she wouldn’t have been surprised if she had eaten the whole damn pig — but this was getting ridiculous. The weight gain, the constant binging, her increasing appetite, and now her clothing.

Emma looked herself over in the guestroom mirror. She couldn’t believe how much her belly was bulging. It had become a round ball, making her look as though she was at least seven months pregnant by then. It was astonishing to see how much weight she had put on and in such a short span of time. And most of that fat was going directly to her abdomen.

Lately, Emma noticed, that she was gaining weight in her chest and backside as well. Her breasts were now bulging heavily from her B-cup bra, and it was getting so uncomfortable, Emma was beginning to consider not bothering with the bra at all.

Her pants were definitely tighter at her bottom, the material stretching more, and shoving down a bit too close to her crack. As she examined her profile, her growing bulges became all the more evident, and she could do little more than marvel.

“Emma!” Anette called from the next room. “It’s time for lunch!”

Emma drew in a long breath. She hated how much she wanted it. She was ravenously hungry even though she had eaten a ludicrously heavy breakfast only a few hours earlier. She felt as though she was constantly hungry, with only short reprieves in the two or so hours following her most recent meal. After that, the urge to eat would stir inside her, and she would dread as it progressed from uncomfortable to unbearable. She didn’t know what was going on with her, but she was becoming a bottomless pit. It didn’t help that everything Anette created tasted better than anything Emma had ever eaten in her life.

Her stomach grumbled, and started to ache, as a sweet, buttery smell wafted up to her nose. Emma groaned. Absently clutching the underside of her belly, she turned to the door, opened it, and walked out of the room.

When she walked into the kitchen, she was surprised to see the large table there piled with pastries. There were doughnuts, muffins, cupcakes, a cheesecake, a large plate of cookies, a stack of brownies, three different pies, and a mountain of fudge. Emma felt herself salivating at the mere sight of it. Though it wasn’t exactly what she would describe as “lunch,” she couldn’t say that she was disappointed.

“I thought we could do an early dessert,” Anette said cheerfully. “To celebrate our newfound friendship. You know baking is my specialty.”

“It looks amazing,” Emma breathed, her belly gurgling.

“I didn’t make it for its looks. Dig in!”

Emma didn’t need to be told twice. She walked up to the table and lifted two cupcakes, one in each hand. The first was vanilla with thick chocolate icing, and the other was the opposite, chocolate with vanilla icing, plus M&Ms and a caramel drizzle. They were large, but Emma managed to squish one right into her mouth; the whole thing. She moaned in pleasure, the flavors of butter, cocoa, and vanilla bean bursting into her mouth, her tastebuds singing. It was so soft and moist. She didn’t know how Anette did it but she should have been running a fancy bakery. Hell, she should have been serving royalty.

Emma swallowed the cupcake down as quickly as she could, then took the next one into her mouth. She consumed them one after the other, chewing and swallowing, feeling her belly tighten yet wanting everything inside of it. After she had gobbled down the cupcakes she moved on to the cookies, scarfing them down as rapidly as she could. She didn’t even acknowledge how slovenly she was being. In no other situation would her manner be acceptable, but she had subtly been groomed into this state of slobbish indulgence.

By the time the cookies were done, her belly was feeling impossibly tight, but Emma moved on to the cheesecake. It was the heaviest dish yet. The thing was covered in fresh cherries drowning in a sweet gooey glaze. She started off with a fork, but eventually just started scooping up handfuls and shoving it into her mouth. She groaned, not only in pleasure, but discomfort. Her belly was starting to ache, but she didn’t care. She needed more.

Over the course of an hour, Emma managed to force down the pies, brownies, and muffins. Soon all that was left was the fudge, but she was feeling dizzy. She gripped the table, breathing heavily. Her belly was unbelievably tight and unnaturally round, bulging out, making her look as though she was truly with child. She yelped as something popped at her navel, and suddenly her bellybutton was bulging out.

“What a healthy appetite. Why don’t you have a seat, hun?” Anette said, looking pleased.

Emma wearily shook her head, not thinking she could bend. She was so close to being finished, then she could rest. And so, grunting, she reached out and lifted the first piece of fudge as she opened her mouth wide.

4.

At some point, Emma could no longer determine how long she had been there. She had neglected to keep track of the passage of days, and there was no calendar in sight. Which wasn’t to say that she had been with Annette for a particularly long time. But Emma couldn’t say that it had been a short time either. She just didn’t know.

Her life had somehow become a lethargic cycle of eating, napping, and relaxing on the squishy furniture as she enjoyed the aromas of whatever Annette was cooking that day. Emma wasn’t sure of her family would be missing her by now. So she silently promised herself that she wouldn’t stay too much longer. It was just nice to spend time with someone who wasn’t one of her annoying siblings. She enjoyed having a break from constant chores. And indulging a little.

Though honestly, she might have been indulging a bit too much. Emma had gone from skinny to plump in no time at all. It was odd and kind of funny, to be so fat and happy; so lazy and carefree. All she had to worry about was eating the delicious foods that Annette was constantly providing her with. And despite the niggles of concern Emma often felt about her growing body, she really loved this lifestyle, temporary though it was. It was like a vacation from responsibility. It was so peaceful and content, and everything was just delicious.

Emma’s B-cup breasts had surged up to DD’s, though she couldn’t say she minded. She had tossed away her bra a few days ago when it was clear that it had no hopes of containing her anymore. The weight gain in her breasts had caused a plump, rounded appearance, and the mounds didn’t sink or sag. As they now bobbed a good deal when she walked around, the sensation of her nipples rubbing into her top sometimes gave her pause. Her face would scrunch from the combined arousal and discomfort. Overall, her breasts were the least of her problems. It might have even been a benefit. They were quite lovely, after all.

Emma thought the weight gain in her hips and backside only made her more womanly, the increased thickness of her thighs just complementing her increasingly voluptuous form. Her face was rounder and she had developed a bit of a double chin. She thought it cute, and Annette said as much. Emma had always been a bony girl, so it was certainly intriguing to be larger and softer than she had ever been before.

The most prominent change to her figure was undeniably her belly. She thought she looked due with child by then, or even beyond that. It was just huge. The mound was so round and heavy with all the food and fat contained within it, she had taken the habit of clutching it as she moved around, trying to stabilize it from bouncing around too much. And her gait had gotten awkward. Hilariously, she found herself waddling around like a true pregnant woman. Emma could imagine the look on her family members' faces when she returned so plump and round, like she was about to give birth to twins at any moment. She chuckled at the thought.

Yes, it would certainly be a surprise. And maybe not a pleasant one. As a matter of fact, her parents wouldn’t be pleased. And her weight gain was sure to impose on her ability to do chores and take care of her younger siblings. Lately, it was getting more difficult to move around on her own. Emma really did need to slow down with all the eating. This was already imposing on her mobility, and soon it could impact her health.

“Hi darling. I thought you looked peckish,” said Annette.

Emma snapped out of her reverie. She looked up to see Annette standing over her, carrying a large tray of food. “Oh,” said Emma, wanting to refuse, but she could feel herself salivating already. Was that what she thought it was?

Annette nudged the coffee table closer to the couch, where Emma was perched. Annette lowered the tray, and uncovered it, revealing a deep dish completely congested with plump ricotta ravioli. It was smothered in at least three inches of mozzarella cheese. And it was Emma’s absolute favorite.

“Thought you could use a treat,” said Annette, smiling fondly.

Emma shifted up from her slumped position, her round belly perching against her lap. She lightly cupped it with her hand as her tongue dragged over her bottom lip. “This looks so good…” Emma said mournfully. “But…I shouldn’t.” The broad dish of food looked to be enough to feed a dozen people. 

Annette looked crestfallen. “I went to all the trouble. How about just one bite?”

Emma couldn’t refuse. She had never managed it before. And to be honest, she truly enjoyed eating. She liked getting bigger, fatter, softer, and lazier. She even liked her huge belly. And so, she lifted the fork, and dug in.

5.

Emma awoke in the middle of the night to her stomach grumbling. Despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t manage to sleep through it.

She lay there on her side as her hunger grew incrementally worse till the grumbling was relentless, and her belly had started to ache. She could only tolerate an hour of this before she sat up, breathing heavily. She just needed a snack, then she would go back to sleep. Emma shifted herself to the edge of the bed, and after taking a moment to brace herself, heaved herself up to her feet. Once she was standing, her hands flew down to her abdomen, clutching at it in an effort to support it. She took another few moments to catch her breath, before she began a slowly rock to the door, down the hall, and into the kitchen.

Fortunately for Emma, there was always something to eat. Some food or snack, already prepared in the fridge or cupboard. Emma opened the fridge door and regarded everything for a moment. She finally reached inside and removed a large ceramic pot. Before she returned to the table, she also snagged the pan of homemade chocolate donuts that were still cooling in the oven.

Easing herself down in a chair at the kitchen table, Emma felt her belly sink against her lap, and couldn’t help enjoying the sensation of the round mound squashing between her thighs and torso, just perched there, huge and round.

Much as she fought it, Emma could feel her resolve progressively crumbling. She couldn’t deny how right this all felt. She loved being full, and round, and stuffed to the brim with food. She loved the increasing heaviness of her body when she woke up every morning. She loved eating. It had possibly become her favorite thing. There was nothing better than stuffing her belly until it was full, then forcing even more down, until she was uncomfortably bloated, then painfully tight. So why did it have to be so wrong? All her life, she had been the perfect, responsible role model to her younger siblings. But Emma wondered if she could toss that expectation aside. Maybe she could just do what she liked, for once.

Emma removed the lid from the pot. Inside was a mountain of potato salad, several pounds of it, a mixture of potato, mayonnaise, dressings, vegetable, and boiled egg with just a hint of sweetness. It was more of a side dish than anything else, but like everything Annette created, it was absolutely delicious.

Emma dug in, not even having the patience to retrieve a spoon. She used her bare hands, scooping up globs of the potato salad and shoving it into her mouth, appreciating how soft and chewable it was, how easy it was to gulp down, and rapidly. She felt it lurch down her throat and into her gut. She paused only to breathe, before filling herself more.

It was almost fetishistic. This newfound love for food. She ate until she took the edge of softness off her belly, and the potato salad was done, but she wasn’t nearly sated. Emma turned her attention to the large donuts. There were about a dozen. It wasn’t much, but Emma made short work of those as well, forcing them into her mouth, hardly even needing to chew because of their softness. It was even more delicious than the potato salad. Emma didn’t know how Annette did it, but her food was addictive.

After that, Emma returned to the fridge, retrieving dishes one by one. There was some cold pasta, leftover ham, some extra-large meatballs, and in the cupboard, Emma retrieved a bag of rolls, homemade potato chips, sugar cookies, and freshly baked bread. She ate until the sun rose.

“Oh dear,” Annette’s voice snapped Emma out of her trance.

Emma looked up, only then becoming cognizant of the food that coated her hands, face, and clothing. She looked down at the half empty tub of caramel ice cream she had been working her way through.

Emma’s belly ached, her gut uncomfortably tight and firm. She quickly covered her mouth, fearing that she might retch, but instead a belch emerged.

Annette hurried over, rubbing her back. “You have quite the appetite this morning,” Annette said, looking positively gleeful. “Why don’t I make you a nice big breakfast?”

Emma nodded her assent. She would not refuse food anymore. She didn’t even think she could.

6.

Emma looked as though she could have been overdue with triplets, at the size she was.

Her belly was a round, heavy globe attached to her torso.

Her stride had devolved to a heavy waddle, and Emma could feel herself getting slower as the days passed. Simply moving between the living room and the kitchen would leave her panting, flushed, and sweaty. Her hands were constantly clutching at her massive mound as it rocked with her struggled movements.

She woke up one morning, breathing heavily, as she blinked, grimaced, then finally shifted herself so that her weight was less against her torso. She panted as she rubbed the side of her large belly. She was still bloated from her late night snack, which had been classic: chocolate chip cookies, about three dozen of them. Each bite had been sweet and buttery. Emma was salivating just at the memory. A sleepy smile spreading across her face, she sighed then planted her hands firmly against the mattress.

It took a good deal of effort just to get herself upright. Afterwards, she was back to gasping for breath, cupping her girth. Slowly, she inched forward, easing herself to the edge the bed so that her legs dangled off it. Even this action required a few moments of recovery, as she waited for her racing heart to steady. Finally, Emma planted her feet firmly against the ground, gripped onto the dresser which was just within her reach, and with a prolonged grunt, heaved herself to her feet.

She groaned as she leaned more heavily on the dresser, her belly pressing into it as she used it for support. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe how big she had gotten, all filled up with food and fat. Shaking her head with a small huff of a laugh, Emma finally began to move, one foot at a time. It was a struggle to stay balanced, even as she edged along the dresser. She found herself arching, shoving her abdomen even farther outwards. It helped somewhat.

Just in a cotton nightdress Annette had gotten for her and a small pair of shorts, Emma slowly eased her way forward, panting and waddling, leaning her hand on the wall when she ran out of furniture. She felt like a penguin, her body swaying left and right as she made a painfully slow procession forward. She gripped her belly tightly with her free hand, puffing out breaths of air as she grew increasingly flustered. Yet still, there was a certain comfort to being so fat and free.

“Oh dear,” a voice said, and Annette was suddenly beside her, offering some support.

Emma gratefully leaned into the older woman’s contact.

“You’re a big girl now,” Annette teased as the two of them slowly made their way towards the living room.

“Heh.” Emma could feel Annette’s hand supporting her belly, fingers cupping it. Soon Annette’s hand began to rub as well, as though to comfort as she explored the sheer immenseness of the curve. It had become quite difficult to maneuver herself around, so Emma appreciated Annette sort of steering her. She still couldn’t believe how far her belly spanned out now.

Soon the two of them made it to the couch. Emma slowly eased herself down, feeling jolted when her abdomen knocked back against her, pushing some of the air out of her lungs. Emma clutched what she could of it, where it sat perched on her lap, heaving out and in with her gasping breaths.

“You don’t move an inch, dear,” Annette insisted. “I’ll bring your breakfast right here.”

Through her fluster, Emma nodded in appreciation. “Thanks,” she managed. Her belly chose that moment to release a loud grumble, causing a small blush to color Emma cheeks.

Annette laughed fondly. “Just another moment,” she said as she reached down, lightly patting Emma's belly. With that, Annette turned and marched off towards the kitchen. Emma could hear pots and pans clanging around, but wasn’t deceived. Annette always had something hot and ready. If she was cooking now, she was likely just getting an early start on lunch.

Emma sighed and sunk back, deeper into the soft, comfortable sofa. She noticed that her belly was overflowing her thighs, and wondered if it had grown wider than the rest of her.

At times like these, when she was so bloated round, she really did look pregnant; beyond pregnant, really.

The large, cotton nightgown should have been knee-length, but was already beginning to ride up, exposing a few inches of belly. Emma just smiled and shook her head at herself. Her life had changed quite drastically, and in just a couple of weeks.

A large belch tore up Emma's throat, her mouth filling with the flavor of chocolate chip cookies. She groaned and rubbed her belly as it grumbled again. How could she feel so hungry and so stuffed simultaneously?

“Time for the first course,” Annette said as she emerged from the kitchen, a huge pan in her arms.

7.

Breakfast was massive as usual. Annette brought out large pans of food one at a time. There was a whole mountain of bagels stuffed with jelly, cream cheese, and butter. Then there was a pile of eggs, Emma estimated three dozen, all scrambled together and saturated with cheese and oil. Annette brought out the meats all at one time. Bacon, sausage, and ham, all greasy and consolidated in a deep, overflowing roasting pan. Emma ate one bite after the next, never pausing to break, just ensuring that her mouth was full as long as food was in front of her. And food was always in front of her, Annette making sure to bring out the next course before Emma finished the prior one.

There were so many courses that hours passed before Emma even realized, and the meal evolved. Breakfast bled into lunch and Emma ate continuously without break. Though it was overwhelming, she couldn’t stop. Her body didn’t want to stop. She just filled herself more and more, stuffing her belly, feeling it get progressively firmer, and then larger, swelling up even more. Finally she had to pause to groan, her face flushed and sweaty, a vein bulging on her forehead. The strain was just intense, but Emma steeled herself, and grabbed another sandwich. Between two slices of bread was some corned beef and what had to be a pound of mayonnaise. Emma sucked it all in, eating greedily even as her belly trembled and ached.

By the time Annette stopped bringing out food, Emma was dizzy and lethargic. She slumped on the couch, gasping for breath, her belly pink and gleaming with sweat. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. It had been a particularly challenging binge session, but Emma felt great, dopamine rushing her brain. With a weary smile, she sank deeper in the couch and fell asleep.

-

Emma managed to sleep the whole afternoon, Annette only waking her for dinner. The meal of linguine, fries, fried rice, and pork roast was intense, but not the challenge that the breakfast/lunch combo was. Emma even managed to make it to her room — with Annette’s aid — before she succumbed to her food-fatigue.

“Annette, you really spoil me,” Emma said drowsily from bed, her hands cradling her uncomfortably tight midsection, that she thought resembled a beach ball by then.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” said Annette fondly. “I just appreciate you keeping an old lady company. Now rest up, dear.”

Emma did. Though being that she had already spent most of the day sleeping, she didn’t sleep for long. Emma was not surprised when she woke up in the middle of the night. A glance at her clock told her that it was 3 AM. She sighed, rubbing her face. Unsurprisingly, her stomach grumbled. Her hunger was relentless, and she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep until it was satisfied.

Emma started the long process of getting herself out of bed. First the struggle to get upright, then to swing her legs over the side while balancing her huge belly. Every step took several minutes of recovery as she gasped for breath, wiping sweat off her brow. This was even harder than it had been yesterday. She is getting so huge, so packed. Hard as it was, Emma loved every part of her new form.

Emma grunted on her third, and successful, attempt to heave herself up to her feet, hands clutching her belly, as it weighed heavily on her back. It had softened since her last meal, now a bit squishier, with less support. She loved how big it was. How much space it took up. But it definitely needed some firming. In the softer stages, it just wasn’t as manageable.

Determined not to wake Annette, Emma began her slow waddle towards the kitchen, huffing and gasping all the while, cheeks pink from the exertion. It took a while, but she finally pushed her way into the kitchen. She checked the cupboard and quickly found three dozen huge muffins that Annette must have been saving for later. Emma filled her arms and brought them back to the table. Thinking they would taste amazing with an extra sprinkle of powdered sugar and some icing, Emma went back to the counter, checking a cupboard and some drawers. She shifted some items around, searching for the icing. Her hand made contact with something tucked behind a bag of flour.

Emma pulled out a heavy book. She stared at the cover in confusion. It was titled Wexyl’s Witches Cookbook, and had an image of a plump boy hog-tied with an apple in his mouth. A large cauldron loomed in the background. At first Emma thought it was some sort of joke or gag gift, but as she flipped through the pages, there were countless recipes, all involving human body parts. And it all seemed serious. Emma paled, dropping the book.

“Oh god,” Emma breathed. What the hell? Annette was planning to — to eat her!? This was insane! But the more Emma thought about it, the more it made sense. Annette’s hospitality. Her determination to feed and fatten Emma.

Emma had to get out of there! Clutching her belly, she waddled out of the kitchen and headed through the living room as fast as her gigantic body would allow. Just the exertion left her throat burning and her head spinning, but she forced herself to keep going. She had reached the front door and gripped the knob when her stomach grumbled again. She was just so hungry. Emma thought of the soft, buttery muffins sitting on the kitchen table, abandoned there.

“God,” she breathed, slowly turning around. Just a couple bites, then she would be on her way.

8.

Emma waddled back towards the kitchen, her feet dragging somewhat. She breathed heavily, cheeks pink and forehead damp with sweat. Her pulse was racing, heart pounding in her ears, and she could hardly register anything beyond her swollen state. It contributed to her increasing paranoia. Her eyes would dart to the hallway, then across the living room, fearing that Annette would emerge from some dark corner.

She had to calm down. Emma made it into the kitchen, her hands clasping her huge swell, fingers sinking into the squishy flesh. It was too soft, too unwieldy. She could feel it bounce slightly with her heavy movements. A couple of bites, then she would leave. She just needed to firm up a little and to take the edge off her hunger.

Panting hard, Emma made her way to the counter. She grabbed up the Witch’s cookbook and shoved it back into the cupboard behind some canned goods. Emma then grabbed the remaining muffins there, filling her arms, and hauling them over to the table where she dumped them onto the pile of puffy muffins already there. There were over three dozen, maybe four. The muffins varied in flavor. Emma could spot blueberry, lemon poppy seed, chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, banana nut, apple cinnamon, and some others she didn’t recognize.

Her face twisted in discomfort as her stomach grumbled. Emma gripped the edge of the table as she shifted herself over to a chair, releasing a shuddering breath as she slowly eased herself down. She grunted as her huge swell plopped down against her lap. With shaking fingers, she grabbed up a plump muffin, sinking her teeth right into the top of it. An unexpected pumpkin flavor burst into her mouth, accompanied by a thick buttercream filling. It was greasy, sweet, dense and rich. The icing gushed into her mouth as her eyes closed in pleasure. Emma squished the pastry into her mouth, gobbling it down in only seconds. Then she hastily grabbed up another, even plumper, muffin.

This time it was blueberry. The fruity flavor wasn’t nearly as decadent, but delicious all the same. She moaned as she shoved as much as she could into her mouth, squishing it through, chewing only as much as she had to before forcing it down, her throat bulging to accommodate. She knew that she couldn’t slow down. Emma grabbed another.

She hummed as she ate, tearing into one muffin after the next. She was finally feeling the first hints of satisfaction; the pressure of her stomach being steadily filled out. It just made her eat with more enthusiasm. Emma picked up speed, gorging herself even faster.

Before long, the muffins had been demolished, but Emma needed more. She couldn’t stop. Just the thought of it was unthinkable. She braced her hands against the edge of the table, grunting and straining as her feet fumbled beneath her. As she tried to stand, her belly jabbed against the table edge, causing her to whine out in discomfort. But eventually she was on her feet, chest heaving as she gasped for breath. With purpose, she staggered towards the fridge, pleased to see that it was packed with food containers. There was always something prepped and ready for her to consume.

Emma clumsily grabbed two huge containers, putting one under each arm, before arduously waddling her way back to the kitchen table. She thrusted the containers down against the surface and peeled off the covers. One container was filled with seasoned ground beef, cold and saturated with congealed oil. The fat percentage was obviously very high, and Emma could see pieces of chopped up sausage in the mix.

The other container was packed with grated cheese. Cheddar, mozzarella, and some Mexican varieties. Panting, Emma surveyed the contents of the two containers. It seemed like an easy plan. Combine them.

But Emma couldn’t be bothered. She was too hungry, too desperate to fill herself. She grabbed a handful of the ground beef and greedily stuffed it into her mouth, using her other hand to grab a handful of grated cheese, and stuffing that down as well. She alternated between the ground beef and the cheese, savoring the oil, feeling it melt in her mouth with the flavors of the seasoned meat. She went into a sort of trance, eating mechanically, her left fist and then the right. She felt her belly getting incrementally fuller and tighter, her nightclothes sliding against her as the mound tightened then extended. She filled herself more and more, till her face was flushed with the strain, and it became a true effort, but she continued to eat. The ground beef was even heavier than she had expected, so greasy and filling. The cheese just perfected the meal.

She came out of her reverie only after she had gulped down two large tubs of sour cream she must have gotten in the fridge almost as a belated topping. Emma blinked around. She was covered in food and grease, her belly wedged hard against the underside of the table. She could see the sun was starting to rise in the window. She tried to shake herself out of her food fatigue.

Emma attempted to get up, but her knees felt weak and her thighs quavered. She whined out in her struggle, before slumping back against chair as it creaked in protest of her increased weight. She tried again, gripping hard at the table till her arms were shuddering. She finally managed to push herself off the chair, but yelped as she went toppling to the floor, her belly smacking against the kitchen tiles. She moaned pathetically.

But she had to get out of there before Annette got up. Emma started to crawled towards the door, but her belly outspanned to her knees, and dragged on the floor, the pressure making her gag and belch. She paused and groaned, rubbing the huge swell. Then the lights turned on. Emma looked up to see Annette standing in the kitchen entryway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Annette said.

9.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to figure it out,” Anette said as she chopped up some potatoes on the counter. “Then again, I don’t think you wanted to. You didn’t want to see any flaws in this new life of yours.”

Emma struggled helplessly. In a humiliating process, Anette had rolled her into a kiddy pool she had set up right there on the kitchen floor. And before Emma could even attempt to get up, she found herself being slathered with the oils and spices that Annette poured directly atop her head. Every few minutes Annette would come by with another plate of chopped vegetables or pile of spices, which she would then sprinkle atop her captive. She was seasoning Emma.

Emma‘s efforts to escape were even more hopeless now that she was soaked in oils. Her attempts to get her feet beneath her just left her slipping and sliding, fumbling around in the kiddy tub. After the third time she fell back to have her huge weight crashing against her, knocking the air out of her lungs, Emma groaned and knew she had to give up. She was completely depleted.

So she sat there slumped against the edge of the pool, moaning unhappily as her hands massaged her swollen belly. “You don’t have to do this,” she offered futilely.

“Of course I don’t. But I want to!” Anette said with clear glee.

Anette turned on the oven. Emma couldn’t believe this was the first time she was noticing how massive it was. It was large enough to contain a fully grown human. Probably two or more of them.

“Now just to wait,” Anette said pleasantly. She came by and stuffed an apple into Emma’s mouth.

Emma spat it into her pool, resenting that she was being treated like a stuffed pig.

“Just a snack, dear,” Anette said, amused. “You look famished. Though fruit isn’t really your thing, is it? How about something a little more indulgent?”

Emma gulped. Her belly still sat in her lap, round and tight, bigger than it had ever been before. It was so bloated and full, a small globe against her, squishing against her thighs, pressing at her breasts, bulging wider than her flanks, so heavy that she doubted she would have been able to get up on her own even if she hadn’t been covered in grease.

“I made something special, just for you,” Anette taunted as she continued to bustle about. She pulled a chair up beside where Emma was slumped in the pool. She also got a large folding table which she set there as well.

Anette then went over to the huge refrigerator. She rummaged around a bit, exerting clear effort as she retrieved a large rectangular platter, upon which sat an enormous dessert. It was a cheesecake that made Emma groan just at the sight of it. It had to be eight inches tall, and was so wide Anette could barely balance it. Anette carefully eased it down on the folding table. It was probably more than enough food for two or three dozen people.

Anette got a large spoon from a drawer then sat down in the chair beside Emma. “Just a little something to snack on while the oven is preheating.” Annette lifted up a heaping spoonful of dense cheesecake.

Emma turned her head away but it was hard to resist. She was just too conditioned to eat, to fill herself to bursting. And even though she had packed her belly full of food just minutes earlier, she was still salivating at the sight of more, her stomach grumbling in desire, even despite that she wasn’t nearly hungry. Emma whimpered helplessly as she finally parted her lips, allowing Anette to push the spoon in. Then Emma just moaned at the sweet, decadent flavor. It was unbelievably heavy as she got it down her throat and it hit her already-packed stomach.

“That’s a dear,” Anette said is she fed Emma another mouthful.

And so things proceeded. Spoon after spoon of the cheesecake was delivered to Emma’s lips. She struggled to resist, but it was futile. She was just too addicted, and couldn’t fight it, even as she ate to the point of pain. She was red and sweaty, her belly heaving with her gasping breaths. But she always obediently opened her mouth, desperate for more, desperate to get it all inside her.

She could feel her belly getting tighter, pushing and swelling, at times shuddering as she arched and groaned. It was just so packed, so tight. There was no room left, and yet she filled it more. Emma felt stretched to the point of bursting, skin flushed and straining.

“Just one more bite,” Anette said, though that was a blatant lie. She always said that. There was at least another third of the cake left, and Emma didn’t know what she was going to do. She whimpered, and took in another spoonful.

On the bright side, she was delaying her inevitable demise. On the downside, she was nearly delirious from the pain, pressure, and lethargy. The onslaught of sugar and calories left her dizzy, panting and drooling.

Emma couldn’t believe how big her belly was now, filling her lap, swelling farther and farther out.

“Oh god,” she panted, fidgeting. Her eyes squeezed shut, face pouring sweat.

“That’s it,” said Anette pleasantly as she offered another spoon. “Here we go. One more.”

10.

“No, please!” Emma cried as she was shoved towards the oven. Her hands were now bound in front of her, her feet scuffling against the floor as Annette pushed her towards the flames.

Emma could feel the heat pressing into her flushed, sweaty body. She could hardly maneuver at her size and had no hopes of escape. Her belly was like a boulder, huge; practically bigger than she was. It was wider than her flanks, a swollen ball of fat that bobbed relentlessly as she struggled to catch her breath. She was so full, so tight. Emma groaned as a sharp ache shot through her core—as if she didn’t have enough problems—her belly prickling, seeming to incrementally tighten from her recent, heavy binge. She felt weak and dizzy.

“Move along, dear. Another step,” Annette said in that kind, grandmotherly way of hers, even as she pushed Emma towards her death.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Emma pleaded desperately.

“After all the work I’ve put into fattening you? I don’t think so,” Annette responded in a tone one might use to reprimand a child.

“Nghhhh…god…” Emma whined, her belly positively throbbing. She was struggling not to collapse forward, right into the huge oven. By then she could hardly keep her balance. She fumbled and struggled to push herself back, regretting that she hadn’t escaped when she’d had the chance. If only she hadn’t been so damn greedy. Even then, was still mildly hungry, still peckish, and she wouldn’t say no to a couple donuts... Maybe she could use that. “Can I just have one more…nghhh…snack?”

Annette cackled. “Oh, we’re beyond that. Another bite, and you might just pop, dearie.” Annette happily patted Emma belly to emphasize her point. Emma grunted out in discomfort, instinctively arching. So…tight…

With her posture shoving her belly even further out, her abdomen was so close to licking the flames. Emma’s skin started to burn. “No, no, no…” This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be how things ended for her.

“That’s it,” Annette murmured into her ear. The older woman was right behind Emma, aged fingers clasping Emma shoulders firmly. “Just one…more…push!”

Emma screamed as Annette shoved her forward. She tumbled into the oven, and her body was consumed by white, hot pain.

-

Emma cried out and fumbled, fighting with her sheets. As she regained herself, she looked wildly around, her chest heaving and heart racing. It took her a moment to properly register her surroundings. She was…at home? Emma looked down at herself.

She was sprawled in bed against some pillows, a book of fairytales lying open on her lap. Still, all she felt was confusion. There was just no way… “It was a dream?” It had felt so real. Every detail.

Finally, a nervous chuckle erupted from Emma’s throat. “Oh my god,” she breathed.

It had been a dream.

On further analysis of the situation, how could it nothave been? A house made of treats and desserts? Her belly growing to those massive proportions? And the woman — Annette – actually intending to eat her? The whole thing had just been ludicrous. Emma shook her head as she dropped back against her pillows.

“What a ride,” she murmured, again looking down at the book in her arms. She sighed and pushed it aside, onto her nightstand. She wouldn’t be reading that again. At least not anytime soon.

It was astounding, how relieved she felt. She had been in a hopeless predicament, anticipating her own death. But none of that had been real. Despite it, Emma had a new lease on life. She glanced at her wall clock. 3AM, yet she felt wide awake. She gazed down at her dog, Moose, curled asleep on his little bed in the corner. No more excursions, she decided, smiling fondly down at him.

Emma stomach grumbled. As she slid her hand down to her flat torso, she finally registered that her belly was gone. It was odd to her. It had become such a fixture… She felt strangely empty with its absence. Honestly, she had quite enjoyed being round and plump, soft and happy. It had fostered a warm, domestic radiance. She had felt soft and sexy, big and impressive, and on top of that, just full. She missed the fullness.

Emma climbed out of her bed, pushing her feet into some slippers. She slipped out of her room and headed for the kitchen, deciding that she might as well indulge in a midnight snack or two (or several).

The End