petit fours

“When you suck your belly in and there’s a pooch sticking out, thats when you know you’re fat.”

The words echoed in Caprice’s mind and she looked down, her fingertips cradling a tiny overflow of stomache that wasn’t contained in her panties. Suck in air as she might, holding her breath in her chest as much as she could and standing as straight as possible did nothing, her pale bit of flab went nowhere, only shook slightly and stayed, lightly tanned over pale white panties.

All she could do was let out a sigh. Poke and prod. Electric current through her body as her finger slid into her flesh, stopped too quickly by tough and bone.

Caprice was a short with, every part of her lean save for her stomache. Her hips flared gently and her shoulders were only soft enough, dark curls spilling halfway down her back and her green eyes were hidden by a fringe of dark bluntcut bangs. She had on a pair of small glasses that fell to the tip of her upturned nose.

Cute, not sexy, but cute. Easily overlooked in part to the vicious puff made obvious by tight jeans. She had a taste for bad boys the same way she had a taste for chocolate cake. Her current boyfriend was no exception.

High school drop out with a few tattoos on his arms. A skinny twig of a boy that was much taller than she was. Enough to hover over her and make her feel inconsequential. Inch and a half plugs in his ear with a naked sailor girl, with the perfect hourglass figure, enough to make her feel even uglier, fatter than she usually did. His name was Travis and he had a tongue like a snake. Bitter. Mean.

For some reason, she loved it.

He had a little punkrock apartment on the east end of town she let herself into after dressing and hoping the subway, key hanging off a chain on her neck, caressing down between her breasts that peeked out through her tank top. She wrore a short skirt just for him, pleated black and almost embarassed as she stepped into his dim-light living room.

“Trav?” Her voice was high strung. But there was no answer. “Trav, where are you?” She huffed again. Her voicemail had said:

“Be at my apartment at 3pm baby, I’ve got a suprise. Don’t be late.” And it was 3pm on the dot of her wristwatch and Trav was nowhere to be found. Caprice kicked off her maryjanes and left them by the doorway, pattering over to the couch.

“That fucker...” She sighed, dropping onto it. “He’s such a flatleav--” But she stalled, looking at the coffeetable. What was usually covered in crushed beercans and porno mags was cleaned off and just a pink box with silver string was atop it.

Not to mention a little note.

“Baby,” It said inside. “I got these cakes for you. Don’t think I don’t love you girl. Especially your little tummy. So eat the fuck up.” It ended with a scrawl of a little drawn on skull and crossbones and Travis’ name.

But she barely paid attention to the words.

“Did it say, cakes?” She whispered to herself. Pulling the key down from her neck one more time she used the cut edge to pop off the silver strings, the box unfolding to expose a multitude of petit fours. Each one a different colour and each one a different flavour.

“Cakes...” She whispered to herself, picking up a small pink fondant covered one and popping it into her mouth. It seemed too small, gone too quick. She barely chewed it before it sunk down into her belly, and her stomache fought back,

urging her to have more.

“I shouldn’t eat too many...” She whispered once again, talking to her tummy. A tiny poke to the tender fat that pushed against the pleats, threatening to flatten them out. But she knew her stomache would win out.

Another pink one, then a blue. A tiny chocolate one slipping down her throat next before she began to feel it. Caprice went from empty and hollow feeling to full, almost uncomfortable. “They’re so small, I don’t understand...” She murmured, her hand straying to the underside of her stomache. It groaned but she didn’t notice until she felt the pleating start to rip. “Oh, oh damnit..” She gasped, looking down. The same overflow she had admired in her apartment seemed more aparent, more abundant. It started to pool in her palm and ache against the tight waistband of her skirt.

“Damnit, damnit. What’s going on...” Panic hit Caprice’s voice but it didn’t stop her. Her free hand picked up another chocolate, then a green, a purple, a pink, etc. etc. etc. She started slamming them into her mouth as if they were going to suddenly disappear and she moaned around it, feeling and kneading her sudden expansive gut.

Her fat belly pushed the waist of her skirt down and started to jut out over it. Red stretchmarks emblazoned on her skin as her eyes grew wide. “What the hell!” She screeched as her tummy started to roll onto her thighs (Which began to thicken to support her...). It trembled even under the lightest of touch.

The keylock undid itself and she couldn’t hear it over the own panic in her mind. She didn’t notice anything other than the terrible hunger her growing belly had until Travis spoke.

“Baby?” He sounded concerned, kicking the door behind him. Six feet tall with messy red spikes, glasses just the same as hers and a dash of freckles on his face and chin. His sharp nose scrunched up as he leaned over the back of the couch, replacing his hand with hers under her belly.

“Fuck Caprice, you’re getting fat...” Caprice noticed the concern started to fade away. She looked up, her cheeks and lips smeared with sugar and flakes of dough, chocolate curving the side of her mouth. Travis leaned down and licked it away, laughing,

as he began to press her tummy rolls hard, pain surging through her nerves.

“Really fat. Like a little pig.” And he squealed in her ear, illiciting a shiver from her straining gut. It was under control, in his hands. He lifted it and it was heavier than she could feel, until he let it drop and it shuddered, wiggling without remorse. Travis let out another sick laugh, licking her ear.

“Eat another Caprice. You’re a fat girl. You’ve always been one. Don’t you need another cake? God you’re disgusting. You can’t even eat just one. Don’t you know when you suck in your tummy a bit of a pooch sticks out, that means you’re fat baby. Fat. Fat. Fat.” Stacatto on each word he squeezed her pilable love handles, shoving her thick flesh back in just to get rejected again. She shivered at the words, at the touch,

but her tummy growled for more. Travis lined her newly forming rolls, getting his boney fingers lost in the chubbiness.

“Eat another Caprice.”

“No, no...” She mumbled back. The memory of her stomach’s weight haunting her until he did it again. He picked up her gut and dropped it and it fell further on her lap.

“Eat you fat, fat girl. You’ll start to disappear if you don’t. Don’t girls like you have to eat all the time.”

She whimpered and she moaned but leaned foward, her stomache straining against Travis’ hand as she picked up the box of cakes and put them in her lap. There was only four left and she swallowed the next one whole,

her tummy crying out in both ways. The pressure started to get worse, as her fat stretched her skin. Another two and the box started to move. Behind her Travis leered, cooing in her ear.

“Oh my cake filled baby’s going to break my couch. She’s so thick and heavy. And it’s all settling in her stomache.” He tugged at her gut again and picked the last cake out of the box, teasing her by putting it in front of her mouth. “Let me feed you fatty...”

“No, no...” again Caprice groaned. She could feel her heaviness extend nearly to her knees, the cakebox hovering precariously on the edge. Her skirt had all but ripped, scrunched down and the only bit of her tank top left was the fabric that covered her breasts. She was all stomache, a puffed out waistline, thick and heavy. Vibrating with each breath. She heaved, shaking her head. But Travis just laughed. The chocolate edge smeared her lips.

“You always had a taste for bad boys like me,
just like you had a taste for chocolate.”

Whispering sweetly into her ear he shoved the last morsel of cake into her mouth and she couldn’t refuse. She felt the pressure pop and the cakebox clattered to the ground, followed by a tidal roll of her stomache bursting free. She screamed and he covered her mouth with his hand.

“You’re such a fat, fucking pig.” He snarled in her ear and took his hand back, recceding away as she fought. She couldn’t get her hands around her tummy, couldn’t get up. She was too round, too heavy.

“Travis!” She cried, but again no answer. The door slamming shut behind her. “Travis! Travis!”

But she as alone in the room, the cakebox smeared with the remainder chocolate and sugar left on the ground, out of her reach and her stomache gurgling, yearning for it.

All Caprise could do was hold onto her spilled out hips and moan.