The Woman Who was Bred For EatingJacques Mason was sitting somewhere in his study, reading through a book he had written. The room he was in was absolutely warm, as was the rest of the manor. Jacques had a two-toned hairdo. That is, he had a black swept top, but, greyed sides. Along with it, was his former moustache. This man had a good-looking body, hidden under his robe. Jacques looked at his watch from time to time, until he heard his door being knocked.
"Enter," Jacques said, without looking from his book.
A young woman, weighing no less than 300 lbs., came in, calmly, and said, "Mr. Flay is here to see you, sir."
Yes, Jacques was married, but he couldn't help but blush each time that young girl would say something like that. Perhaps it had to do with her face, as he thought of a soft pear with eyes and a mouth.
"Right, let them in." Jacques said, as the maid gestured for the guest to enter.
An equally aged man, Mr. Flay wore his suit like a 22-year old man. He was accompanied by his wife, Mrs
My Chubby Pig: Part IIMy Chubby Pig
The ride back from the traders home was long, and very quiet. Pig, the slave that Leor had purchased, sat quietly as a mouse in the corner of the carriage while Leor kept trying to glance out the window. Each time Ethan would lightly remind him that it was dangerous to do so, and the prince would huff and lean back into his seat. Pig kept peeking up from behind his messy black hair, trying so hard to be a good boy and keep his head down, but it was hard. Leor was so different from the people he knew. He was a prince, and even the air around him seemed royal. This only made Pig feel even more unworthy to have him as a master. His arms tightened around his stomach and he bit his lip.
His tutor had taught him different from the rest. Most slaves were told to clasp their arms behind their backs, but not Pig. Pig had to try to push his stomach in, hide it from potential buyers. It had never worked. Every time they put him on the sale stockade, people would point an
When Your Eyes are Bigger than your StomachWhen Your Eyes are Bigger Than Your Stomach
Duncan wondered, abstractly, if he should feel ashamed or embarrassed by the latest turn of events. He had known that he had gained a lot of weight in the last two years. It was inevitable. However active he was, however hard he trained, since he and Yanna had been together he had gorged himself on life like a kid let loose in a candy factory.
Every day was a celebration and every day came a feast. He loved Yanna's cooking and could not help but stuff himself whenever she cooked for them. He loved going out for brunches, lunches and dinners and delighted in finding delicious new places to bring Yanna to.
Since the moment they had come together he had wanted to be full to the point of bursting, to expand and match the love he felt for her. And to top it all off, her look of mischeivious glee when he ate himself into stupification and she would help him waddle to bed, pry him out of too-tight pants and constrictive belts, and kiss eve