Even sitting on her ass, Julie found herself staring eye-to-eye with the manager. Her long brown hair fell down her back and over her chest, but aside from some stray scraps of cloth still hanging around, Julie was stark naked. Her face was still smeared with spaghetti sauce. With a casual wave of her hand, she knocked her table out of the way. Her legs, thick as the manager's whole body, flanked both him and the waiter on either side.
"That was a pretty good appetizer, don't you think?" she said, eying the door leading off to the kitchen. "But I seem to be getting hungrier. I'll take this, for now." She took the bag from the hands of Edgar, who still stood frozen in terror. "But do you think the kitchen could whip something up?"
"Oh my God," whispered the manager. He started to back away, his legs refusing to work.
Julie grabbed his arm, yanking him toward her and slamming him into her soft, enormous cleavage. His whole chest was covered by one of her tits, and her nipple grated on his shirt. She drew him in, her arm pressing him deeper into her boob until he was inches from her face and that wide, dangerous mouth. She whispered, but her voice carried so that Edgar could hear.
"Maybe," she said, licking her lips, "you have Edgar go back there and get me some food, or else I break your neck. How does that sound?" She looked over the manager's head, straight at Edgar, who jumped when she said his name.
The manager nodded once, slowly. "Edgar," he said, breathlessly. "Go ask."
With great hesitation, Edgar turned to the kitchen. Constantly checking over his shoulder, he shuffled toward the door off to the side.
"And you let Edgar and everyone else here know I'd better not hear any police."
"Yes, no police." He turned his head to address the restaurant. "No police, just, ah--stay calm."
"Good," Julie said, smiling. "We're all doing good. Now where were we? Ah, yes, this." She pulled up the bag containing the prepared food to her face, and inhaled. "Ah, more marinara? It's the best. I hope Eddie finds some more back there for me. But this much? Oh, no. No, I'm sure this isn't enough. But it'll do as another snack, I think."
Keeping a careful eye on her captive still wrapped up between her arm and breast, Julie tore open the bag and tore off the lid on the container of pasta. It was a lot for anyone other than her. she set it on the floor next to her. He let up off of him, but before he had a chance to move, she grabbed his arm again. "Pick it up," she said.
"What? I don't--"
"Bend down and pick up the tray. You're going to feed me."
"No! No, no, I won't."
She squeezed his forearm, causing his knees to buckle. "Yes," she said. "You will."
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why don't you just leave?"
"My food's getting cold," she said. "And I'm getting hungry."
The manager opened his mouth to respond, but clambered for the tray as Julie applied pressure again to his arm. When he stood, she grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him back in again. She opened her mouth, and he took handfuls of the spaghetti, sauce running down his arm, and fed it to her. She moaned in approval. Julie's tongue wrapped around the manager's fingers like a python, sucking the food from his hand obscenely. Pressed as he was against her enormous rack, he could actually feel her breasts get bigger, the warm, soft flesh pancaking against his shirt. Soon, he would slip into her cleavage. He balanced the container on the edge of one tit, the lid fluttering with her panting breaths.
"More," she demanded, and he grabbed as much as he could into his hand. The empty container fell, dotting her thigh with some of the sauce. He brought both hands up, holding them as close to her mouth as he dared.
She opened her mouth wide. Wider, until her jaw creaked. Wider than the span of the manager's offering, the corners turned up in a cheshire grin, and wider still. The manager gasped as he saw her teeth, magnified in size and multiplied in number, surrounding a swelling, lengthening, undulating tongue. It snaked out as she leaned in for a bite. A huge, encompassing bite.
Her lips engulfed his hands completely, beyond his wrists. He shuddered as her mouth closed, as her tongue shoveled and scraped the pasta from his grasp. Her saliva drenched his hands and flowed out of her mouth, trailing down his forearms. She pulled him away, stripping him of her prize, and it felt like razors and sandpaper as her teeth and tongue passed over his flesh. His fingers cleared her lips with a pop. He looked at his arms in wonder, amazed that they were still there.
Her eyelids drooped as she sighed, delighted in how wonderful everything tasted. Even his skin tickled her taste-buds in ways nothing had before. And there was more, too. As she held the food in her mouth, rolled it around her cheeks and mashed it with her teeth, she could feel a warmth building in it. It was the power, the pleasure, the pounds-in-waiting. How much did she weigh now? How tall was she? But the numbers could not describe the magic and beauty of her metamorphosis. Her breasts grew, grew from the envy she felt when she saw all the other girls in high school develop around her while she stayed the same. She had bought her bra to try and emulate them, a desperate plea for attention. Now it could have scarcely contained a fraction of her magnificence. Her pants had simply exploded as she had grown, unable to face an ass that could crush chairs, hips that could fill doors. And could this building be far behind? Bras could not contain her. Pants could not contain her. Walls were just a small hurdle now. The power was in eating more, and she would never, ever stop.
She swallowed slowly, a trickle at a time, and she felt an orgasm building. Her huge pussy, kept well-maintained for a non-existent boyfriend, drooled onto the restaurant's floor. Her tits inflated again, pushing the manager away. A centimeter at a time, her head rose toward the ceiling. She was looking down on everyone now, and her feet met another table. Its occupants jumped up and stood, staring as their table began to slide across the floor. Her grip loosened as her passion began to take over. She slid a hand up and down her side, caressing her growing boob, appreciating its heft.
The manager now stood eye-level with her engorged nipples, and her pulsating growth rubbed his face against it as she climbed higher. The sound of her expanding flesh filled his ears. Skin rubbed against skin, flesh murmured and shifted as her skeleton thickened, joints popped. The fingers wrapped around his waist lengthened. He watched as more of the spaghetti slid into her body, then more. Through her flesh, he heard her deep, guttural moan. She quivered violently, tightening her grip and now shoving his head between her hundred-pound tits. Everything went dark.
"That was a pretty good appetizer, don't you think?" she said, eying the door leading off to the kitchen. "But I seem to be getting hungrier. I'll take this, for now." She took the bag from the hands of Edgar, who still stood frozen in terror. "But do you think the kitchen could whip something up?"
"Oh my God," whispered the manager. He started to back away, his legs refusing to work.
Julie grabbed his arm, yanking him toward her and slamming him into her soft, enormous cleavage. His whole chest was covered by one of her tits, and her nipple grated on his shirt. She drew him in, her arm pressing him deeper into her boob until he was inches from her face and that wide, dangerous mouth. She whispered, but her voice carried so that Edgar could hear.
"Maybe," she said, licking her lips, "you have Edgar go back there and get me some food, or else I break your neck. How does that sound?" She looked over the manager's head, straight at Edgar, who jumped when she said his name.
The manager nodded once, slowly. "Edgar," he said, breathlessly. "Go ask."
With great hesitation, Edgar turned to the kitchen. Constantly checking over his shoulder, he shuffled toward the door off to the side.
"And you let Edgar and everyone else here know I'd better not hear any police."
"Yes, no police." He turned his head to address the restaurant. "No police, just, ah--stay calm."
"Good," Julie said, smiling. "We're all doing good. Now where were we? Ah, yes, this." She pulled up the bag containing the prepared food to her face, and inhaled. "Ah, more marinara? It's the best. I hope Eddie finds some more back there for me. But this much? Oh, no. No, I'm sure this isn't enough. But it'll do as another snack, I think."
Keeping a careful eye on her captive still wrapped up between her arm and breast, Julie tore open the bag and tore off the lid on the container of pasta. It was a lot for anyone other than her. she set it on the floor next to her. He let up off of him, but before he had a chance to move, she grabbed his arm again. "Pick it up," she said.
"What? I don't--"
"Bend down and pick up the tray. You're going to feed me."
"No! No, no, I won't."
She squeezed his forearm, causing his knees to buckle. "Yes," she said. "You will."
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why don't you just leave?"
"My food's getting cold," she said. "And I'm getting hungry."
The manager opened his mouth to respond, but clambered for the tray as Julie applied pressure again to his arm. When he stood, she grabbed the front of his shirt, and dragged him back in again. She opened her mouth, and he took handfuls of the spaghetti, sauce running down his arm, and fed it to her. She moaned in approval. Julie's tongue wrapped around the manager's fingers like a python, sucking the food from his hand obscenely. Pressed as he was against her enormous rack, he could actually feel her breasts get bigger, the warm, soft flesh pancaking against his shirt. Soon, he would slip into her cleavage. He balanced the container on the edge of one tit, the lid fluttering with her panting breaths.
"More," she demanded, and he grabbed as much as he could into his hand. The empty container fell, dotting her thigh with some of the sauce. He brought both hands up, holding them as close to her mouth as he dared.
She opened her mouth wide. Wider, until her jaw creaked. Wider than the span of the manager's offering, the corners turned up in a cheshire grin, and wider still. The manager gasped as he saw her teeth, magnified in size and multiplied in number, surrounding a swelling, lengthening, undulating tongue. It snaked out as she leaned in for a bite. A huge, encompassing bite.
Her lips engulfed his hands completely, beyond his wrists. He shuddered as her mouth closed, as her tongue shoveled and scraped the pasta from his grasp. Her saliva drenched his hands and flowed out of her mouth, trailing down his forearms. She pulled him away, stripping him of her prize, and it felt like razors and sandpaper as her teeth and tongue passed over his flesh. His fingers cleared her lips with a pop. He looked at his arms in wonder, amazed that they were still there.
Her eyelids drooped as she sighed, delighted in how wonderful everything tasted. Even his skin tickled her taste-buds in ways nothing had before. And there was more, too. As she held the food in her mouth, rolled it around her cheeks and mashed it with her teeth, she could feel a warmth building in it. It was the power, the pleasure, the pounds-in-waiting. How much did she weigh now? How tall was she? But the numbers could not describe the magic and beauty of her metamorphosis. Her breasts grew, grew from the envy she felt when she saw all the other girls in high school develop around her while she stayed the same. She had bought her bra to try and emulate them, a desperate plea for attention. Now it could have scarcely contained a fraction of her magnificence. Her pants had simply exploded as she had grown, unable to face an ass that could crush chairs, hips that could fill doors. And could this building be far behind? Bras could not contain her. Pants could not contain her. Walls were just a small hurdle now. The power was in eating more, and she would never, ever stop.
She swallowed slowly, a trickle at a time, and she felt an orgasm building. Her huge pussy, kept well-maintained for a non-existent boyfriend, drooled onto the restaurant's floor. Her tits inflated again, pushing the manager away. A centimeter at a time, her head rose toward the ceiling. She was looking down on everyone now, and her feet met another table. Its occupants jumped up and stood, staring as their table began to slide across the floor. Her grip loosened as her passion began to take over. She slid a hand up and down her side, caressing her growing boob, appreciating its heft.
The manager now stood eye-level with her engorged nipples, and her pulsating growth rubbed his face against it as she climbed higher. The sound of her expanding flesh filled his ears. Skin rubbed against skin, flesh murmured and shifted as her skeleton thickened, joints popped. The fingers wrapped around his waist lengthened. He watched as more of the spaghetti slid into her body, then more. Through her flesh, he heard her deep, guttural moan. She quivered violently, tightening her grip and now shoving his head between her hundred-pound tits. Everything went dark.
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June 9, 2023
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