Hansel, Part 6

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Note: This is the male version of Gretel.

Summary: Connor is kidnapped then forced to eat exorbitant amounts of food. Contains: Male: weight gain, stuffing, belly expansion, breast expansion.

Previous Chapter

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Macaroni and cheese filled a large industrial pot on the stove. There had to be several gallons of it packed into that pot. And it was soaked in several inches of oil that was beginning to congeal. Just the sight of it nauseated Connor a little, and yet his stomach growled. He knew that he needed to eat it. To get it inside of him, and as quickly as he could.

Connor somehow managed to lift the heavy pot and haul it over to the table. He retrieved a large spoon and dipped it in.

Mouthful after mouthful of goey macaroni was forced down Connor’s throat. He didn’t bother to expend valuable energy chewing. Even as the risk of choking, he gulped down the pasta whole.

He felt his belly filling, tightening, the hunger pains subsiding, at least for the time being. He finished the macaroni in no time, and slumped back in his seat, rubbing his grease-covered fingers up and down his mound.

It was no longer sagging as it had been before, though it wasn’t quite firm. He could feel the oils working, slowing his metabolism, plumpening his fat cells as his body struggled to digest the large amount of food. His stomach gurgled. Connor felt better, but not how he was used to feeling. He was used to being completely gorged with food, beyond capacity, to the point that he felt like he might burst. It was the uncomfortable condition that had become his norm. Right now, he was merely satisfied. And yet it wasn’t enough.

Connor glanced back at the living room, at the wide-open door. He really should be on his way before he pushed his luck too far. Even then, Connor thought he could hear groaning noises coming from downstairs, though it may have just been his mind playing tricks on him.

Clutching his belly, Connor heaved herself up, and started to waddle back towards the living room. His stomach gurgled again, and he stopped in his tracks. He glanced back at the fridge.

He needed one more snack. Just one more.

Nothing fancy. Whatever was readily available. He’d take it to go if he could. Besides, he had a bit of a journey ahead of him. He needed to store up as much energy as he could.

And that would be the end of it. He promised it to himself.

Connor closed in on Edna’s massive fridge and opened it wide. He had expected a container of leftovers or two—nothing prepared to be eaten—but instead, Connor found himself overwhelmed by an abundance of options. There were too many choices. He couldn’t decide!

Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. And there was no time to spare.

For some reason, Connor was strongly drawn to a large bucket at the bottom of the fridge. He tugged it out with some difficulty, and found himself plopping down on his softened bottom from the forcefulness with which he had tugged.

The bucket was now perched on the tiled floor before him, and looking down into it, Connor could tell why it had been so heavy. It was overflowing with goey, white, translucent lard. It was the type of thing that even Edna didn’t feed him whole, better used for soaps, and fertilizer maybe. Connor didn’t care.

He scooped his bare hand into the bucket, and brought it to his lips, filling his mouth with the fatty gunk, his cheeks bulging out as he forced it down his throat.

“Ohhhhhhh…” Connor groaned, suddenly gripping his stomach again. The blob of lard hit him heavily, making the whole mass tingly and warm. His stomach was already full from the oil and cheese-drenched macaroni, and the lard just pushed him closer to the edge of what he thought his body could handle.

Connor took several deep breaths, before his gaze returned to the bucket.

He scooped up two more handfuls of the lard, now using both hands. He stuffed his mouth to capacity, then quickly returned his hands to the bucket.

He didn’t know why, but he needed this—at least to endure his trip home, he told himself. Gulp after gulp, Connor forced down the lard, feeling his soft belly slowly grow firmer in his lap. With every mouthful, his belly tightened, until he was at the point that it was starting to bloat out larger, and he had to stop and take several more deep breaths, his chest heaving and face drenched in sweat as he was reunited with the familiar sensation of being truly full. Despite the hiatus, he continued to bloat, more and more of the fat he’d consumed pumping itself into his belly.

He was half-through with the bucket now. He had to keep going. Finish this once and for all.

Scoop after scoop, Connor ate and ate.

Now he could hear a shuffling noise coming from the basement, but surely it was just the wind. The window may have been left open after all.

Connor was reaching the bottom of the bucket, and nothing could stop him now. Not the fear, the anxiety, the cumulating, alarming, ultra-tightness, that filled his belly, pushing it forward in pulses now. Just a few more scoops.

“Nnnnghhhhhh…” Connor held his round belly as it swelled outwards another inch. His face was flushed by then, his body trembling. The round mound that had become of his abdomen made him look due with triplets were it possible—no, it was probably bigger. Plump and fat, it was wider than he was. It was the single largest amount of growth he had experienced in such a short span of time, and he didn’t think he could hold on for much longer. “Ahhhh…ohhh…” Connor took sharp breaths as though he was doing lamaze. Only, there would be nothing coming out of him. This was a permanent part of him. What have I done to myself? Connor thought regretfully, his skin aching. He wasn’t sure that he could move, and if he did, he just might pop. Connor continued to groan and squirm.

And yet, for some reason, his eyes shifted back to the bucket before him.

There was one more blob of lard.

Connor lowered his shaking hand down to the bottom of the mostly-emptied bucket. He scooped up the remnants and brought them to his mouth, sucking it down. He licked his fingers clean.

It was over. He could finally move on.

Connor tried to gather his limbs, but at that moment, he only wanted to pass out, and maybe allow his body to digest a little. He began to slump down in a stupor against his mound, when he was viciously jerked out of it by a banging noise. Connor’s eyes snapped to the living room, where the bookshelf was trembling, books falling to the ground.

Edna was alive.

With renewed panic and desperation, Connor tried to brace his feet against the floor. He held his lower belly with one of his greasy hands and held the floor with the other.

His belly bobbed and wiggled as Connor struggled to get himself up. Once he was on his feet, he wanted nothing more than to sit back down. His mound was massive and taut, his only relief being that the oils he had coated it with from his grease-based meals had managed to soften his skin somewhat.

Connor’s body was soaked in sweat, his breathing thin. He was used to being able to sleep off his eating binges, and this was a great digression from that, but Connor waddled his way towards the door all the same.

Now the bookshelf was rocking and pushing away from the basement entrance. Connor continued forward, one step at a time, making his way for the front door. He was aware that his belly was still swelling, slowly but surely. He could feel it, and it was absolutely draining him. He clutched the mound, huffing and puffing as he proceeded.

“Hahhhh…hahhhh…” Connor struggled to breathe. He felt off-balance with all the weight perched before him, and with every step, he struggled not to topple forward. His legs ached and felt like they would give out at any moment. But he was so close. He just had to get out the front door.

“Ah!” Connor yelped as his belly plumped out another two inches with a fresh surge of fat. His belly button throbbed, and he was startled to the point that he teetered and couldn’t regain his balance.

Connor desperately swung for something to hold onto, but he knew there was nothing. Strangely, his arms made contact with a firm, soft, thing. A calloused hand held Connor steady. Connor slowly looked up at the bloodied old woman beside him.

“E-Edna,” said Connor in fear and helplessness. Still breathless, he panted out, “Edna, p-please.”

But Edna was raising a crowbar high in the air, and then there was only blackness.

-

His bottom was round, and bulging from both the bottom and top of his shorts. He could even feel the attire beginning to tear beneath him. His bloated moobs were round and full, and close to popping out of the neckline of his top. His round belly was completely out in the open beneath the hem of his shirt.

Connor quietly groaned, still feeling groggy from his head injury. He was on the ground in the living room, tied to the radiator once again. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but his belly was mercifully softer now. It was perched on his lap, still full and round, still plump with fat. It heaved up and down, even bigger now than it had been before Edna had knocked him out. It resembled a beach ball in size, and Connor couldn’t help marveling at how much he had grown. If he swelled a single inch larger, he would never be able to escape. Then again, his prospects of leaving seemed fairly pathetic as it was.

“I had no idea of your capacity.”

Connor looked up at Edna as the old woman spoke. Edna’s head was bandaged now, and she seemed calmer than before.

“Admittedly I’m impressed,” Edna continued.

Connor simply whimpered. He had been so close. So close to finally going home.

“What do you say I get you another bucket of lard?”

His heart pounding, Connor stared up at the woman. He couldn’t deny how madly he wanted it.

The End