“Dinner is served,” I heard, and rubbed the ring once again as I climbed from the couch, leaving a pile of wrappers behind me, struggling through the door into the kitchen. As I stepped inside, I saw the table buried in junk food, plates overflowing with greasy burgers, fried chicken, potato wedges buried in cream cheese, bacon-wrapped sausages, each with a heaped serving of fries and pools of ketchup, all placed in easy reach of my place at the table. There was a gap in front of my chair, and as I heaved myself down onto it, I looked up to see the reason why.
After a week of constant wishes, Mom’s breasts entered the room a second before the rest of her, covered by a T-shirt that had long since become skin-tight, with a rip at the top designed to show a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. She had a huge bowl of lasagne in her hands, and as she jiggled her way towards the table, I snatched at the first of the burgers, taking a bite that sent grease running down her chins as she placed the lasagne before me, a huge spoon shoved into it, and strutted her way back into the kitchen.
I looked down at my belly, struggling against my strained belt, and with a shrug, released it from its constraint, letting it roll out over my lap. The food was tempting, so tempting, and I know that it was all mine, as much as I wanted. Why hold back when I could live like a king, wanting for nothing. Before I quite realized it, I was shoving burgers into my mouth with one hand, shovelling lasagne with the next, not caring about the trail of sauce running over the table, instead eager only to stuff myself full of the delicious, endless food, snatching up a fistful of salty fries and stuffing them into my mouth.
“Milkshakes,” Mom said, jiggling into the room again, a pitcher in each hand. “Chocolate or strawberry?”
“Both,” I replied, and she moved to fill a glass with one of them. I shook my head and leaned back, and she poured the first into my mouth, chocolate running down each side. I could almost feel my belly growing as she stood back to look at her handiwork, the calorie-laden dinner already beginning to disappear. On and on I ate in an endless stream of desire, and Mom started to help out, bringing treats closer to me, periodically giving me more of the milkshake as I ate. Once the first pitcher was finished, as the lasagne was beginning to empty, she came back with a bowl of mac and cheese, and I gestured for her to simply pour it in with the remnants of the lasagne, shovelling it in with extra vigor. At the final bite, a button popped on my shirt, and I looked at the devastation on the table with astonishment and glee.
Then the doorbell rang, and Mom ran to answer it, leaving me alone for a moment to look down at my belly, still rumbling, groaning, as though perpetually wanting more. I looked at the ring again, contemplating what I might do, whether I should simply give in to all of my desires, greed, lust, let myself completely go. Mom came bouncing in once again, and somehow her breasts were even larger, the rip in her front still bigger, and started to clear the table. Then one of my teachers, back from when I still bothered with school, came inside, Miss Rogers, her breasts huge and full, wrapped in a skin-tight leopard-skin top, a beaming smile on her face.
“This is Tiffany,” Mom said. “She hadn’t seen you in ages, so she offered to help me with dessert.”
“Dessert?” I asked, my stomach growling.
“Sure,” Tiffany said, helping Mom clean off the empty plates. “A growing boy like you needs all the food you can eat.”
A moment later, the table was groaning once again, a pair of huge chocolate cakes in the middle, a mountain of pastries, cream cakes, eclairs on either side, a huge chocolate pudding, two more pitchers of milkshake, foaming and frothing, and a trio of huge apple pies, buried in sugar. On either side, a busty woman approached, and I looked out at the table, still starving, and made my decision.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author