Stretch Marks

[LordEdmund]

A story I found online. A successful businesswoman surrenders her body to the machinations of her bratty new employee, whose intent is to transform the protagonist into an obese slave with a useless sphincter. The tone is frequently disturbing, and there is something of an intelligible narrative arc. Themes of financial slavery, anal destruction, incontinence, humiliation, age difference, and feeder-feedee relations abound. Real perverted stuff. Enjoy!

Source: http://www.literotica.com/s/stretch-marks-2

[b][u]Stretch Marks[/u][/b]
Author: [url="http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1408324&page=submissions"]Phantasy_Star[/url]


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"Open wide," Zoë said, pushing the metal ring between my lips. I felt the tingle of blunt spider-hooks as they dug into my jaw. The edges of my mouth strained uncomfortably, but I knew full well that this was the least of my worries.

"Last time, you put up such a fuss. Good thing I stopped by the hardware store," she said as she picked up a 6-inch stainless steel pipe from the coffee table and pushed it halfway through the gag's opening. I felt its rough grooves scrape against my tongue. "I got the measurements right this time."

She slipped the tube all the way to the edge, deep enough to bypass my squirming tongue. I tensed as it teased my gag reflex. "Down the hatch, Ms. Haynes," she said with snide grin on her face. She held a big wobbling bucket in her hand, tilting it forward slowly.

I reflexively bit down, which only rewarded me with a tooth ache. I knew resistance was unwise, but it was still in my nature to struggle. That fact only amused the girl even more, I could tell.

Looking up at her, I still had difficulty understanding the power she had over me. I had zero sexual interest in bratty 20 year old girls, or so I thought—she was young enough to be my daughter, for Christ's sake. While she was reasonably cute, she didn't seem particularly dynamic in any respect. And she wasn't much use around the office, either. I often wondered what I was thinking when I hired her.

Yet there was still something about her. Maybe it was her brazenness, which seemed to spring from some place far outside of my comprehension. Was it sheer confidence? And if so, how did she acquire it, at such an age?

In any case, I knew this couldn't go on forever. Either I would break, or she would tire of toying with me. Most likely it would be the latter, and then I'd be thrown away and forgotten—which is what girls her age do with just about everything, it seems. Still, in the moment she seemed as determined as ever to continue furthering my ruination.

The heavy bucket in her hands was filled with my daily intake of "slut slop", a viscous concoction of her own creation which she prepared for both our noon and night meetings. It contained only two elements: about a half dozen Cold Stone milkshakes, and several cans of hydrogenated lard. To someone as health conscious as I was, the combination was vile even in principle, let alone taste.

I shuddered as the bucket tipped in her hands, sending a steady stream of the glutinous mixture down my throat. I heaved and gurgled as it splattered across my chin and cheeks. I wretched and squirmed, my knees tousling the tarp beneath them.

"Yum yum," she said with a snigger, pausing a moment as she waited for it to drain down into my stomach. I coughed, sending spurts of the syrupy sludge belching up through my useless mouth only to have it ooze back down again. My jaw ached severely now.

Tears began to form at the edges of my eyes. Tears I didn't want her to see. But I knew she did, because she leaned over to catch them with her tongue before they could roll to my cheek.

"I know you prefer your slut slop, but you should really taste your tears sometime. They're quite delicious," Zoë said, patting my head. She dipped her grinning face around to my side. I could hear the jingling of her necklaces and smell her hot Spearmint-scented breath. She spoke sharply into my ear.

"You know, you're getting quite plump Ms. Haynes. Especially around that big fat ass of yours, which I guess is the whole point of this," she said.

I looked across her messy, well-lit living room, catching my dim reflection in the darkened window. She was right. I was beginning to look rather bloated. Over the course of the past year, I'd put on about 90 lbs. Considering I'd been born with a bit of a bubble butt, my consistent weight gain only accentuated that.

"Besides, all you are is an ass to me, Ms. Haynes. So we might as well make yours as big as possible," she said, leaning over to place the bucket on the floor.

"And bigger in every way possible," she added, rifling through her duffel bag. I gasped. I knew exactly what she meant by that. My crying was still silent, but my breathing was becoming noisier, and I knew she could sense every inch of my despair.

Before I met her, I'd prided myself on my lean figure. I'd been referred to as "svelte" more than a few times, and I knew I made some women at the gym jealous. That was just one source of confidence among many in my life as a self-made businesswoman. I could only imagine what the women back at the gym would think if they saw me now. I hadn't been in many months.

"It's time for your butt-fucking," she said, retrieving her large black strapon from the bag. She had it custom made with her name engraved on its leather harness. And she used my credit card to buy it, just like she did everything else.

I remembered the measurements she recited to me when she first told me about it: 16 inches long, 12.5 inches in circumference. Just hearing those words made my heart race. But the scariest part was that I was starting to get used to it.

"Stand up," she ordered. That self-satisfied smile on her face was so abrasive, but I couldn't resist her.

I tried to say, "Yes, Zoë," but it came out as a garbled grunt. She laughed at me. "Hm, I guess we can take that gag out for a while..." she said, pulling the pipe out between the ring in my mouth, then unfastening the straps at the back of my head. I gasped, feeling the tension around my mouth finally relax as she removed the gag. My front teeth throbbed at the gums, and my jaw felt slightly dislocated and raw, but I did not complain.

I slowly rose to my feet. My pussy was already gushing, and my nipples were stiff to the point of rawness. She grabbed the waistline of my dress pants and yanked them down past my knees in one motion, causing the front button to pop off. I would have to sew that back on later. With another yank, my silk underwear came down. The cold air flowing from under her front door rose goosebumps on my exposed bottom.

"Oh, we're out of KY Jelly, by the way. I got lazy and forgot to go to the drugstore today, so you'll have to make do with that tub of Vaseline on the table," she said, pointing. I looked down and saw it. It looked old and slightly dirty. I shivered and picked it up.

"Gimme," she snapped, ripping it out of my hands. She then reached out and began and smearing it up the extent of my sweaty ass crack impatiently.

"Oh god," I let out, feeling her fingertip streak across my anus once, then twice as it slipped back down my crack to target it. "Please, can you go slower than you—"

Zoë ignored me, shoving two fingers up my butt in a harsh stab. My sphincter sizzled with pain as a third finger quickly joined them, pushing the slippery glop up my twitching hole. She dug into me with complete disregard for my comfort, adding her pinky finger, then her thumb. I felt faint.

She crouched to get a better angle below me, her her fingers swelling into a fist in my rectum. I then felt her forearm tense as she pushed upward a few inches.

My sphincter gripped her wrist like a bracelet. I then felt her surpass it, slowly sliding in almost halfway to her elbow. I groaned loudly, but held still.

"Remember how I could barely get a finger inside you when we met? You've come a long way, baby," the young girl taunted as she pulled back, suddenly ripping her balled hand from my burning anus. I screamed in shock. Quickly after, my stuffed rectal bellows pushed out a loud, long hollow fart.

"Jeez, your ass is so loud. If we were out in the hall at work, it'd echo..." she said, laughing. I bit my lip.

Behind me, I could hear her slipping the strapon over her bluejeans. That was another thing: she never took off her clothes around me. Sometimes she'd wear a slightly more revealing sleeveless shirt or shorts in warmer weather. Very rarely—if I was lucky—I'd see her in her bra. I didn't deserve the privilege of seeing anything else though, she told me, and to be frank I wondered if she thought anyone did. She never spoke of having girlfriends, or boyfriends. In fact, I knew very little about her life. Maybe that was for the best.

She grabbed me by the waist, her nails digging into my skin. "Alright, let's see if your butthole's loose enough. Bend over, fatty," she said, patting my bottom with the flared head of the gigantic rubber cock affixed to her waist.

"Please, don't talk to me like that," I said weakly. I immediately felt a sharp slap on my bare rear end, causing me to squeak in pain. When she hit, she hit hard. You wouldn't guess a girl her size had it in her.

"What's wrong with being a fatty, you hypocrite? Big girls need love too, you know," she taunted, tossing her long, bone-straight hair out of her face. "Don't make me regret taking that gag out. Now shut up and bend over. Commercial break is almost over, you're gonna make me miss my show," she said, resting her hand on the shelf of my ass.

She always had the TV on some tacky reality show. She ritually watched it while she casually fucked my ass. Same time every day after work, 7:30 pm. She often seemed more interested in it than me.

I couldn't tell you what that show was about, though. I was too busy suffering to process it; it was just noise to me, perhaps the ambient soundtrack to my utter loss of dignity. I felt her position the alarmingly fat dildo between my butt cheeks, and then her grip on my waist increased as she pushed inward.

I cried out, throwing my head back as I felt my bottom split. I tried to reach between my legs to rub my clit, but she just smacked my hands away. "Tut tut, Ms. Haynes. You know better than to do that," she said. I whined, feeling her pack my ass deeper with another cruel stab. I stared back at her leggy figure, my eyes full of lust, fear, and appreciation. A pained smile creeped onto my face almost subconsciously.

She worked the dildo what felt about a quarter of the way in, then abruptly ripped it out. The bulbous flared heard strained my ring as it exited, causing me to scream. I knew that the gust of air I felt in my asshole probably meant I was gaping obscenely.

She then she aimed and gored my sphincter again, driving it deeper than before. My tormented groans flowed freely now. My constitution was beginning to crumble.

"Do you think your employees would ever imagine in a million years this is what you do every night?" she said, grinning as she pushed her hips forward, stirring my guts.

"No, ughh. I can't even...imagine what they'd say," I replied.

"Hmm. I'm always tempted to show my co-workers that little diary I'm keeping. You know, those pictures of your progress..." she said, her dark eyes glimmering. "Day after day, looser and looser..."

I refrained from responding. I knew that trying to discourage her would only produce the opposite effect. I just hung my head over the couch and started blankly into the cushion. I felt her rustle behind me for a moment.

"Ugh, this won't do. You're taller than me, remember? Arch your back more, spread out your legs a bit," she ordered. I complied silently, parting my legs and sticking my butt out as best I could. One thing I didn't quite realize about gaining weight is that it makes you slightly less flexible. Bending like this would have been easy not long ago, but now it was a bit taxing.

She ran her hand down my back. "Good girl," she said, apparently pleased with my attempt, even though my calves and lower back ached a bit in this position.

"Oh my god...wait—" I repeated as I felt her grab me and push, the massive dildo slipping up my stretched ass with less resistance this time.

"Shh. Just rock yourself back and forth on it. Shake your ass too, you know I love seeing your butt jiggle..." she said, almost cooing the last words, grinning as her tone went from mean to sweet on the drop of a dime. Her hands held the base of the dildo steady.

I wiggled my big ass up and down awkwardly, feeling ridiculous for accommodating her juvenile commands. I looked back at Zoë, feeling heat rising to my face as I began to hyperventilate with lust. I then pushed back and began to rock on the dildo. It still felt way too big, but my anus began to widen with each bob of my waist. The pain was excruciating, but I couldn't cease the momentum of my bucking now. It felt almost automatic.

"Hehe. I think your ass wants it even if you don't," she said, moving her hips in time with my motions at a leisurely pace. My ass wobbled and bounced as her large dildo slid upwards, colliding with the bend of my colon.

"I can't...this is too much," I said. "Please, Zoë. Aren't you interested in other kinds of sex? I mean...or can we at least switch to something smaller—"

"Other kinds of sex? Oh I see, you're still trying to get pussy privileges, huh? You never learn, do you. Let me remind you, Ms. Haynes. I know that somewhere behind those glassy eyes of yours still dwells some semblance of that cold corporate bitch you've been bred from day one to be. One day I'll destroy that side of you completely, but until then, I have to repeat: to me, you are just an ass."

"Y...yes, Zoë, but—"

"But what? I wanted a big fat one to play with, and you obliged. I wanted a big rubber band anus to go with that, and here you are obliging me further. I don't see why you should start complaining now, especially since I told you from the beginning that our relationship is backdoor-only."

"But, honey. I...I don't know if I should tell you this, but lately I've been starting to have complications..." I said, immediately seeing how close to exploding into joyful laughter she was. "Like what?" she asked expectantly, her hips slowing to a crawl.

"It's just, well last week, on train to work, I had an accident," I said, blushing deeply.

"What?" she said, laughter rising in her voice.

"I...I soiled my pants. I had to buy new ones at the corner store and change in a public restroom. And I'm positive it was because of all this play we've been doing. I've never done that before..."

Zoë's thin eyebrows raised high, vast amusement and a morbid curiosity flashing across her young face.

"Hahaha! Oh my god. Really?" she asked, wide-eyed. I nodded. She paused, then slowly shook her head.

"Ew. That's...well, I guess that's life. Anyway, I suppose that's encouraging. To me, at least. Means I'm getting the job done."

"But, honey, I can't—"

"Shush. Ms. Haynes, I'm going to stick to my guns here. It's backdoor-only for the rest of your life, or at least until I wear you out. Now open that shitring up for me again, Ms. Haynes, since obviously that's becoming a talent of yours...even when you don't intend it."

I took in a deep breath, trying to relax my body. She suddenly picked up the pace of her movements, her voice getting louder.

"Just remember, I don't want a tight girl. Those are boringly common. I want a good, loose slut," she said, punctuating each word of her last sentence with a harsh propulsion of her dildo. I groaned deeply with each one.

"When do you think people are gonna notice?" she asked, rubbing my big pillowy cheeks and spreading them wide.

"What...do you mean? The only other person who...uh...sees me naked is my husband, but he won't know...he's not interested in anal," I blabbered, filled with shame. "God, Zoë, no one can know. Please..." I say as I let out another embarrassingly loud, vacuous fart through my yawning anus. She responded by slamming back into me ruthlessly. I began to sob uncontrollably.

"But wait, you don't think he's never going to see it? Maybe he'll like it. I mean, he doesn't seem to mind that you're heavier these days, so maybe he's openminded. Perhaps he'll be openminded about women with big loose buttholes too?"

"No!" I let out, feeling immediately how useless anything I said was. She kept on as if my voice was just noise.

"I think it'll be good for you to show him what I've done to you. I imagine he won't be any more psyched to stick his cock in there than he is now, but with any luck he'll learn to enjoy fisting your ass. Maybe I can stop by one day and give a tutorial if you want. It would certainly be good to have an extra pair of hands. You know, to keep your shithole slack on the weekends while I'm out partying with your credit card..." She sounded so cheerful about this, ignoring my complaints, pounding me more swiftly.

"Faster!" she said, cracking my left butt cheek hard with the back of her hand whenever she decided I was going too slow. "C'mon, fuck your ass. Ruin it. Don't make me do all the work here." I bounced faster, sodomizing myself. The sadistic girth of her cock was becoming unbearable now, however, and I found it incredibly difficult to maintain her preferred speed. I heard her exhale frustratedly behind me.

"Damn it, you're still too tight," she whined. "You know, I think it's time to amp this process up, it's taking too long. What's it been, 15 months? I was barely out of high school when we started, for crying out loud. You know, I did some Internet research actually. It sounds like Botox injections into the anus could hypothetically cause permanent looseness. You can afford that, can't you?"

"Uggh my God, what the hell?" I said in a daze, standing with weak knees, feeling the deep greasy burn in my ass reach a new height. I stumbled, the hard wooden edge of the couch pressing up into my doughy stomach and making me feel like my "slut slop" might come back up at any moment.

"Answer me, you lardass!" she said brattishly, smacking my bottom hard enough to doubtlessly leave a handprint. I screamed, tears soaking the edge of the couch. The dildo made loud squishing and popping noises as she drove the length of it in and out of me.

"You hear me?" she said, her high-pitched voice piercing the air. I could barely think straight, but when she got those crazy ideas in her head, I became truly scared. This wasn't the first time she'd brought this Botox thing up, and I knew I couldn't keep ignoring it.

"Honey...God, Botox? That sounds like a lot of science fiction, what you're talking about. Besides, no ethical doctor would ever do that anyway," I said, shaking my bottom again in the hopes of distracting her. It didn't work.

"Who said the doctor had to be ethical? You're rich, everyone's got a price. Your price seems to be $0.00, so maybe you don't quite understand that concept—oh wait, yes you do. You're a businesswoman, right? So get on it."

"Zoë..."

"Shhh! After tonight, you're gonna find a doctor to give you Botox injections in your asshole ASAP. I want you much looser than this, Ms. Haynes. I'm talking, like, permanent loose," she said loudly, lost in her imagination for a moment.

She kneaded my hips with the clammy palms of her hands as she pounded into my colon, letting the fat head of her dildo completely exit my gaping ass each time before torpedoing it back into my burning depths.

"Oh god, oh god. Drew would leave me...he'd notice then, everyone would," I said in a spiral of debasement. "I couldn't do diapers...this is going too far, honey," I said. I tried to sound as common-sensical as I could, but she was clearly beyond my influence.

"Aww, poor thing. Maybe you'll just wear a plug all day if you don't want diapers, then. I personally don't care which you choose. But I guess a plug might be sexier, assuming we can find one thick enough to stay in place after I'm done with you," she said, her voice oozing self-satisfaction.

She pulled back, letting the dildo slip from my wide open, greasy hole. I desperately wished she would pay any attention at all to my vagina, but that was expressly out of our agreement, and that restriction drove me insane. I wanted to touch it so badly, but that was the worst thing I could try to do now that she was in high gear. Those spankings she doled out could sometimes become quite brutal; I could only imagine the depths of pent-up youthful aggression she had inside of her.

As she came around, I could see her dildo was visibly dirty, with a vivid streak of brown running the lower half of it. She jutted out her hips so that it poked me on the forehead, leaving a tiny stain. The dildo smelled horrific, and I felt my eyes water. "Suck it clean," she said plainly.

I let out a deep, sickly groan. "Please, Zoë! I can't do that, I almost got sick the last time—"

"Suck. It. Clean," she said, squeezing a clump of my hair between her knuckles.

I grimaced and took the dildo in my mouth. I dutifully tasted it, the flavor absolutely gross. There was no way I was going to be able to get that big streak of mess off without vomiting, though. "Please, Zoë. I'll pay you whatever you want. Just don't make me do this, I really can't," I pleaded.

"You already let me use all your credit cards and pay for my apartment here, what else you got for me? Plus, you should make sure you have enough money to pay for those injections..."

"Zoë..." I groaned, realizing there was nothing I could offer that she hadn't already claimed. "It's just—"

"Shut up, shut up! My show's coming back on," she said, distracted. "Whatever. Just suck it as best as you can, or whatever," she said, looking completely disengaged from me. Her hip movement slowed again and the grip on my hair eased. She picked up the controller laying on the couch and un-muted the TV, the volume abruptly blasting in my ears.

I started to suckle on the filthy rubber head, making sure to avoid that big clump of nastiness running along the underside. Even as I did this, the taste was a thousand times worse than my "slut slop" or anything else I'd tasted in recent memory. I shut my eyes and tried to block out the rancid flavor on my palate. The reality that I had financed this whole thing—I paid for her apartment, I paid for every lavish custom toy she used on me, and was now being tormented by a taste produced from my own body—seemed too bitterly ironic to bear.

My slobbering went on for what seemed like forever. I just kept cautiously bobbing my head on her dildo in an attempt to maintain our stasis. In between commercial breaks, she would roll her hips lazily and look down at me, saying a handful of insulting or fanciful things, before being distracted by her show yet again. As the show ended, I licked the top of the shaft dutifully a few more times before she took her hand off her head and eased back.

"Mm hm, there's something special about ruining a beautiful, successful woman like yourself..." she whispered almost somnambulantly as she gazed at the TV's rolling credits. Finally she picked up the controller and turned off the TV, her attention back on me. "I guess in a few more weeks you'll have all the chubby chasers coming after you, if they aren't already?"

I couldn't catch my breath to say anything. All of her trash-talking was beginning to wear away at my psyche. And these kinds of questions didn't seem to prompt actual answer, they were just more rhetoric meant to keep me in my place.

"What else. Oh, I was also thinking that you can forget about having kids with your husband. What are you, 45? You should have done that earlier, instead of trying to climb the corporate ladder or whatever. Because from now on you're an anal-only company whore. If you're lucky to hold my attention for a few more years, I'll just ride you out until you hit menopause."

"That's horrible, Zoë. You can't mean that..." I said, tears streaming profusely now.

"Have I ever lied to you, Ms. Haynes?" she retorted, chuckling.

I paused, raised my head to look back at her, then dropped my eyes. "No, you haven't, dear," I said, totally glazed over.

"Also, about this streak you left on my toy. You're lucky I'm letting you off the hook this time, but you're clearly in need of some better rectal hygiene. See, I like big assholes, I prefer them clean. So you're going to start taking at least two 4-quart enemas a day. One before our office meetings, one before our evening meetings." Her voice was stern and low.

My heart skipped. "Uh. I have...an enema kit at home. It's an old one, and I haven't used it in a long time...and I've never taken one that big before, but...I'll do it for you," I said, trying to satiate her enough to take her mind off her crueler impulses. "I'll even let you watch to make sure I do it right," I stutter.

"Mm, that won't be necessary. I'll know your ass is clean if my toys are clean," she said. But, anyway, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Ms. Haynes..." she added, sounding so condescending despite her diminutive, waifish look.

"Anyway, back to work. I'm not done yet," she said. She came around behind me again and grabbed my hips, lifting me forward over the back of the couch until I was almost upside down. Blood rushed to my head. She mounted me a second time, acrobatically planting her feet on either side of my wide hips as she balanced against the wooden strip. She began pile driving herself into me, drilling the fat cock into my sloppy hole.

"Now I can't stop thinking about that plug you'll have to wear for the rest of your life. You know, I actually hope all your employees see it fall out one day. I can image you trying to explain why a football-sized hunk of rubber fell from your fat ass. It'll probably happen while you're trying to give a presentation, pretending to be the woman you used to be, and failing miserably at it..."

I could tell her attention span was beginning to narrow, as she didn't commit to any one position for long at this point. After a few seconds of plummeting her strapon into me, she leapt off the couch and parted my bottom again. "Wow. God damn."

I shivered.

"Ms. Haynes, my God. You're decimated back there. Alright, seriously, I have to take a picture of this. It's not even like a porn star asshole, it looks more like a sleeve or something. It's actually kind of gross, but whatever," she said with a laugh, running over to her duffel bag to get her iPhone.

If I'd never seen those photos she'd taken after our sessions, I might not have believed that the ravages of my sodomy were as bad as she made it sound. I couldn't always go by sensation alone. But I knew by now that she was probably not exaggerating nearly as much as I wished.

Zoë dug her finger into the jar of Vaseline again and began slipping her hand into my anal void without needing to employ the least bit of effort. She made a fist, punching in and out with sloppy, wet sounds. "You're such a good girl..." she whispered, almost tender with me, despite the harshness of her work.

I relaxed now and offered no resistance, my rectal passage serving as a warm slimy glove around her powerful fist. I pinched my own nipples—one thing she usually allowed me to do without permission if she was in a decent mood—and bit the couch cushion. "Thank you, Zoë dear...I want to be a good...anal slut for you..." I mumbled through the cloth half-intelligibly, surprising myself.

"Mm hm," she said knowingly. Slipping her fist free, she stood back, admiring her handiwork with some pride. She got up again, the heavy dildo still hanging between her legs as she came back with a few more toys under her arms. Her attention span hadn't yet run its course, it seemed.

"You're so cute when you come over straight from work, Ms. Haynes. So put-together with those dark suits and skirts, the stockings...and then down they come and I see that gape. It really makes my day."

"Yes, dear," I replied. "It's for you only."

"Actually I don't mind if other people use your ass. In fact, I would promote diversification in that department. Why discriminate? Let the whole office up your ass I say, if you can manage it. You told me you were an equal-opportunity employer when I interviewed with you."

I grumbled slowly. I could hear her smear some vaseline on one of her toys while she spoke.

"But the rest of you is off-limits. I'm sure that the bigger you get, the more attention that ass of yours is gonna get. Granted, the quality of your offers may decline a bit, but that's life."

I felt her prod my interior with yet another object. She slid it around the distended rim of my ass, then pushed it all the way inside. I could barely distinguish its presence, though. Whatever it was, it felt positively tiny compared to her strapon, and it barely registered upon my senses.

"Remember this one? It should take you back down memory lane. First dildo I ever used on you, a measly 7 inches. The way you used to bawl about it, I would've never guessed there'd come a day when you barely even noticed it was all the way in your ass."

I responded with a grunt. I didn't even have the energy to cry anymore. I just lay over the couch, slung over like wet laundry.

"Mm, whatever. Guess you don't care about nostalgia. Oh, by the way, I think I maxed out one of your credit cards," she said offhandedly, pulling out the toy and tossing it aside. I gasped. "God, dear..." I gasped, unnerved. "What are you talking about?"

"Um. That Vanilla Visa one you gave me, for toy shopping. Well you know, I needed some more clothes. Like this outfit now, I think it's nice, don't you?" she said, standing back and doing a little 360º sashay. I was so frosted over with pain and arousal that I hadn't even noticed her wardrobe was brand new. Those bluejeans were fresh out of the store, and so were the bright green canvas sneakers she wore, and the frilly long-sleeve shirt, and that jewelry hanging from her neck.

"Uggh god you're terrible," I said weakly. "If I weren't in this position...I promise you..you'd...ughhhhh," I let out another disgusting hollow fart, spattering my legs with dirty vaseline.

"You'd what?" she asked, smacking my ass and smirking at this rare outburst from me. She leaned her compact body over quickly to retrieve two larger studded transparent dildos. She lunged forward, cramming them both inside of me. I gritted my teeth as I felt that oppressive fullness expand within my bowels. It became pure pain the minute she began working them up and down in a scissoring motion.

"Ugh, you little tramp!" I said, more angry with myself than with her for allowing her to meddle with my hard-earned finances. "You better enjoy your outfit, that's the last time you ever...augghhh...."

"Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the girl who finally showed you what your true purpose in life is? I'd hardly say that makes me a tramp..." she said, bringing her palm down on the bases of both dildos until they started to jam dangerously deep. I gasped, realizing that her toys were running the risk of getting lost inside of me if I didn't act fast. She's already landed me in the emergency room once because of that, and I couldn't bear that a second time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Zoë. Please, I didn't mean—"

"Well I guess we could stop our little affair, or whatever you want to call it. I could stuff these up your shitpipe and let you go home like this, to sort out your problems by yourself. Or maybe you'd have to run down to the hospital like last time?" she said, her nasal voice grating my nerves immensely.

"Please," I said with true fear in my eyes as I looked back. Her dark eyes almost never seemed to blink. I wondered if she even heard me. I spoke up again, this time beginning to panic. She was capable of very sudden, vindictive movements, and I was quite vulnerable to them at the moment.

"Please...don't," I said, lowering my gaze to her soft collarbone. I couldn't look her in the eyes anymore. They were too intense, too knowing. And I felt that if I stared longer, she'd consume me even more. Best to look away. To show my submission was complete.

"I thought so. Alright, Ms. Haynes, you must have practiced those sad eyes in the mirror, because you've been excellent at begging lately. Really Oscar-worthy performance you have going there, with the little tears and everything. But don't be rude. I don't think you agreed that my outfit was cute..." she said in a singsong tone that dripped sadism.

"It...it's adorable, Zoë. You're...absolutely stunning."

"Why thank you, Ms. Haynes!" she said, beaming with what looked like convincing enthusiasm before her face suddenly went scarily blank. She then reached back dramatically, balled her fingers into a tight fist, and punched my asshole with full force. I cried to the heavens, fear pounding at my heart. This girl's mean streak was a mile long, and I was feeling every inch of it.

Though she clearly intended to push the dildos irretrievably deep, her little hand instead slipped between the two of them, an outcome which I immediately knew was even more agonizing than what she'd intended. She cursed, frustrated, and then I felt her arm quickly tense. With an extra push, her fist curled in between the dildos more squarely, stretching my anus a single notch away from its absolute breaking point.

I screamed so hard I almost passed out, the searing pain overriding any perverted enjoyment I had been receiving for this deep sodomy. She angrily wriggled her hands around, and I could feel the ball of her wrist grinding against my raw rim. With one more strong shove, she buried the length of her forearm between the massive tubes of rubber clogging my rectum and laughed.

"Hehe, you're such an overachiever, Ms. Haynes. Well this wasn't what I expected, but it certainly has its own charms. It'll be even easier after those injections. " Zoë teased, her heart closed off to my suffering. I imagined my shouting and caterwauling was probably just music to her, or perhaps in her world she heard nothing. The way she just fondled my full thighs and laughed eerily, I couldn't believe she saw the world through eyes even close to my own.

"Zoë! Uhgghhh...please stop...can we please rethink this whole Botox thing. I don't ... even know where I'd look," I said.

"Cosmetic surgeons. There are tons of 'em out there, and I betcha there are loads of disreputable ones who will do anything for the right price. The shadier the better, I say. You could probably just walk in to one of those back-room outfits, throw a high six-figure digit their way, and have your pants down on a table in no time. Just look at all those women doing illegal silicone butt injections to make their butts bigger. Same thing. I guess we could consider that next, though your butt is pretty fat as it is after all those lard shakes..."

"Zoë, I...that's just not—" I began, then realized the futility of trying to reason with such an irrational girl. "I'll look into it..." I said, hardly believing what was coming out of my mouth.

"You'd better. I expect a full report on the status of that next week. But in the more immediate future...let's talk about tomorrow, chubby," she said, pausing. "We're going out."

"We...are?" I asked in a haze. I felt her hand wiggle deep in my body, gripping both dildos together.

"Yup, because I just decided I want you to take me out on a fancy date, where I can eat a lot of fancy food and drink fancy drinks. You don't need to eat anything though, since we'll be giving you plenty of slut-slop when we get back to your place."

I shook my head, my hair shagging in my burning eyes. "But, Zoë—"

"Don't Zoë me. Pick me up here at my place tomorrow night, 8 pm. Come in that ensemble we picked out for you at Lane Bryant. No underwear. Oh, and I guess if you wanna drop by the drugstore to get some lube for your sorry butthole you can do that. Though I'm just fine greasing you up with Vaseline myself, so whatevs."

I had no more will left in me. "Yes, Zoë," I said, hating the sound of my own despicable, deflated voice.

"Good whore," she said, smirking as she finally slipped her fist out, pulling the dildos free with a loud squelch. "And you know, I think you should get a haircut before we meet again. Maybe a sleek bob, that'd be cute...make that happen. Call your hairstylist as soon as you get home," she said, toying with my hair.

"Yes, Zoë," I said again, even more snivelingly.

"It's a date!" she said, finally releasing herself from me.

_________________________________________________

I arrived at 8 pm promptly; I'm always on time religiously, and that's something I always stressed at work—promptness. I wore the white convertible dress as ordered; it was constricting enough that I had to smear some cocoa butter between my thighs to make walking comfortable. High heels, a silk scarf, tastefully applied makeup, a white leather handbag, and a salon-fresh bob haircut completed the image, all as she demanded.

Although this getup was not at all my usual style, it didn't feel as bad as I'd anticipated once I merely committed to it. I missed my hair, though. I could have pulled off short hair when I was thin, but now I felt like it just made my face look even rounder. Still, I imagined this would all please Zoë, so I made peace with it as best as I could. I rang the buzzer and waited outside.

"Well hi there," she said as she opened the door, simpering as her eyes quickly fell to focus on my curvy hips. "Turn around," she said, squinting. I wondered if she even saw a whole person standing in front of her.

Blushing, I did a little slow revolution for her. "Do you like?" I said as I granted her a good view of my pronounced derriere as it stretched the folds of my fabric.

"Very much so. I'm tempted to skip dinner and cut to being elbow-deep up that fat booty of yours," she said as if this was just playful banter. Her hand swung out to give the object of her desire a little smack. I laughed nervously, then I let out a really quiet moan as I felt her annex a portion of my expansive backside with a firm grip.

Taking a few seconds to savor the feel of my body, she released me and grabbed her bag. It was a big ragged-looking sports bag, not exactly something you'd take out on the town, and I knew it was heavy with the toys she always brought with her. The rest of her was quite chic, however, with a black angora sweater and matching wool skirt, patent leather pumps, with her long dark hair pulled up in a pouf style.

She linked her arm with mine, leaning against me as we began to walk. As we stepped out onto the street, I realized people would probably assume she were my daughter, or niece. But then she began to brazenly pinch my ass in public view, as if to test the waters. People around us mostly didn't seem to notice or care, though a few shot some vaguely shocked, amused or disapproving glances. I tried to mentally block them out, and hoped to God none of them ever recognized me. I'd had a full-color interview in a major business publication only a few months ago, so it was possible.

"So, Zoë. I...know of a nice place down on on 3rd street. Do you like French?" I tried to smile at her, my lips glossed to perfection.

"I do." she said, smiling back almost innocently. "But you won't be ordering any food there, though. Remember, you only get to feed on your lard shakes at the end of the night, after I'm done with you. Wouldn't want your gut to be too full before we get started, what with you being accident-prone and all," she said with a cruel snicker, nodding towards her bag. "After all, I brought one of the really long ones this time."

"Uhhh..." I let out as my eyes widened. "Okay...but I'm kind of hungry..." I looked down the street, squinting.

"You'll get your slut slop before bedtime," she replied. "Probably best for you to eat right before bed anyway, since then you can't work any calories off. You'll wake up feeling nice and anchored."

"There it is, right on the next corner. Are you sure I can't at least get a salad or something?" I said, pointing to Trou de Plaisir, a restaurant I used to frequent in better days. I wondered if the staff would even recognize me now. My eyes darted between Zoë and the bag rapidly as we neared it.

"Of course I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've fattened you up nicely already, I'm sure you can survive a few hours without stuffing your face. Like I said, we'll do plenty of stuffing later on. Both ends, even."

"Yes, Zoë..." I said, reaching for the restaurant door and opening it, avoiding eye contact with the staff and customers as best as I could without seeming rude. As we were seated, I made sure to sit with my butt hanging slightly off the side of my seat to avoid aggravating my already sore anus. I knew it must look incredibly awkward, but then everything about me probably did.

In the restaurant, Zoë let me pay for everything as she went through the menu. She raised a disapproving eyebrow at me if I even so much as reached for the bread. I felt my stomach grumble. I mentally tallied the sizable bill as she spoiled herself, watching her order the most expensive wine on the menu, as well as the priciest entree and side dishes, of which she consumed barely a quarter.

Although solid food was not on tonight's menu for me, I was allowed to drink. I ordered my own bottle of wine, and aggressively went about pouring and drinking it as if anesthetize myself. Then I tried to look her in the eyes. It was hard, but I managed.

"Do you...like the food, honey?" I asked, trying to smile. "I used to love coming here—"

"Shh," she said, piercing her escargot with her fork. "I'm eating."

I took another large gulp of my wine and stared at the floor quietly. After a few minutes, she eased back from her feasting to notice how oddly I was sitting. She began to smirk.

"You know some of the girls at work have talked about how you sit. They make fun of it."

"...Stop lying. No one knows about us. No one's talking about me..."

"I don't think they know about us yet, but they do talk about how you sit. I mean, your ass hangs off the chair and it's certainly hard to miss in the little lunch room," she said between dainty bites of her food.

"What...do they say about it?" asked. "I didn't know it was that obvious. I mean, I just didn't think they cared..."

"They just think it's funny. I'm pretty sure they think you're showing off to the boys in the office."

I put my head in my hands, and ran my fingers through my chopped hair. "Zoë...I know we're strange bedfellows, but...could you do me a favor...could you try not to be too obvious at work?"

Zoë paused. I continued, reaching out to put my hand on top of hers. Her cold little fingers squirmed impatiently and her eyes narrowed.

"Look, please. This is me asking you a favor. If not as a friend...well, we don't have much in common do we. But then I'm asking you as ... your ..." I paused, then whispered as silently as I can, "...as your anal whore."

Zoë raised an eyebrow at the mention, grinning as she leaned forward in her seat. "Alright, I'll be nicer to my little whore.." She said. She pulled her hand away from mine and reached under the table, falling to my knee and stroking it for a moment.

"Another glass of Pernot, please," I said to the waiter, smiling as sincerely as I could.

Zoë took her time with the rest of her meal, making a few dispirited attempts at small talk, but mostly just enjoying the meal and atmosphere. Finally she leaned back in her chair, toying with her hair, a sure sign of trouble. Chills traveled up my spine.

"Thank you, Zoë ..." I said, sipping my wine quickly and glancing at my wristwatch. "Are you...ready to order the check?"

"Mm hmm. I think it's time we went to your place. Slut." She said the last word a little loudly. I heard murmuring at the table closest to ours.

My heart beat a mile a minute as the word "slut" echoed in the restaurant. The waitress came by with our check. I hoped to God she didn't hear Zoë speak to me that way, especially since I recognized her as the daughter of the restaurant owner. I couldn't tell if she remembered me; perhaps it was best if I didn't know. She stared at us both curiously, a suspicious crinkle forming of her brow, before walking away swiftly. I stood up, signed a check for $498.51, and picked up my handbag.

Zoë stood up suddenly, slightly tipsy from the wine. "Ooh. I'll be right back..." she slurred, stalking off after the waitress, her eyes fixed on her retreating form. By now, several restauranteurs were staring at me. I made haste for the door, waving awkward goodbyes to people who have perhaps unknowingly catered to me for years. I knew they'd be talking about us when I leave. I just had no idea if they remember who I was anymore.

I waited for Zoë outside like some pet on a leash. It was maybe ten minutes or so before she emerged, beaming wildly at me. Aside from her giant sports bag, she had another paper gift bag from the restaurant in her other hand. She handed it to me. "Hold this."

"What is it?" I asked, feeling how heavy the contents were, and hearing the clinking of bottles.

"Don't worry about it just yet. Just get us a ride. We can go now," she said.

"Wait...seriously, what were you doing?" I asked as we stepped out onto the street. I went to the curb, trying to spot a taxi.

"That waitress was so cute," she said, smiling with a sort of drunken enthusiasm. "She had one of those cute teardrop-shaped butts that sticks out like this," she said, groping the air illustratively. "God, I love that."

"You're obsessed," I said, annoyed. She chattered on drunkenly for a few moments about things I could barely understand, swaying while her heavy bag teetered in her small hands. She never quite got around to explaining what took her so long.

I finally flagged a cab down, and we climbed in. "Straight down until you get to 76th, left corner," I instructed the driver. I sat back in my seat, sliding my hips at a weird angle to alleviate pressure on my ass. Zoë let her hand stray from my knee, edging it back until she was grabbing my butt from under the seat. "Mm, good way to keep my hands warm," she said.

"You're obsessed," I repeated to her plainly.

"You love it," she shot back.

We pulled up to my large apartment complex, paid, and stepped out of the cab. I tried to leave that paper gift bag she'd picked up at Trou de Plaisir in the cab, hoping she'd drunkenly forget it, but on her way out she lifted it up and sucked her teeth. "Uh uh, silly. Take it," she said, handing it back to me. I sighed and closed the cab door.

"You're going to get me that waitresses' phone number," Zoë said with a yawn. I tried to ignore her, leading her up to the large front door of the building. She kept one hand on my ass, digging her nails into it.

"Did you hear me? You're gonna get that French girl's number. She said she knows you. Said you used to come in all the time. So get me her number, and her full name wouldn't hurt too, since I didn't bother to ask. Actually I think she told me, it was like Chloe or Collette or something? Mm, I'm not good with names."

"I'm not sure how to do that artfully," I said. "Maybe you'll have to do that for yourself on your spare time. You have a way with words," I said, feeling a bit more comfortable in the confines of my own neighborhood, away from the stresses of work.

"I do, I guess. And your money does afford me a good amount of spare time," she said, giving my ass a hearty smack. I heard the crack ripple down the street.

"Ow! Zoë!" I blurted out louder than I wanted to, my butt smarting. "Look, we have to get past the door guard and look normal in front of the people I live around. You can't do that when we go into the lobby, okay?"

"Fine!" she snapped, looking on the verge of a tantrum from this minor inconvenience. She crossed her arms and trailed behind me. I could feel her obsessive eyes watch my rear end as I walked. I knew she loved seeing the cream-colored fabric outline the swell of my cheeks. That's exactly what she said when she made me buy this tacky dress.

Zoë glanced around the lobby, clearly impressed by its spaciousness and arty decor. Kelly, the door guard, smiled at us as we entered. "Ms. Haynes! Welcome back," she said with the wave of a gloved hand. She was a stocky middle-aged English woman, rather tough-looking, though impeccably well kept, and I someone I considered a good friend. I smiled back at her and nodded.

"Hi Kelly. Thank you," I said, grabbing Zoë's wrist and quickly leading her to the elevator so that she didn't do anything ridiculous. It was easy to see her sizing Kelly up the way she did most people, her big eyes traveling up and down, long eyelashes fluttering. I felt guilty, as I usually converse with Kelly for a few moments when I enter the building, but I couldn't risk it right now.

Zoë stood there boozily rocking back and forth. "I think you're embarrassed of me," she said with a laugh as we entered the elevator.

"You're a real handful, you know that?" I said.

"So are you, big gal," she said, pinching my ass yet again as if to remind me who's in charge when we're alone. All this rough groping Zoë had been doing had worked my bottom up to a steady burn.

The elevator took us all the way to the 22nd floor. The hallway extended far down, my apartment door at the very end. I moved ahead of the twiggy little tart, my heels clomping on the carpet as she she followed with stealthier steps. With slightly shaky hands, I unlocked the door and let her in.

"Whoa. Your apartment is huge! This is such a nice place," Zoë remarked as she looked around, jealousy showing on her flushed face. I closed the door behind her quickly so that her annoying voice didn't alert my neighbors. She skipped up to the large windows that spanned the west end of the living room, taking in the wide angle view of the city.

"This is like something out of a movie. Gosh. Hmm, maybe I should move in for a while. It's much nicer than that place you bought for me. Probably have to get some entertainment around here, though, since I'm not big on classic lit. I'm thinking a big home entertainment system, maybe a bar over there..."

I sighed. "Thank you. But ...Zoë, don't get any crazy ideas," I said with a weak smile. "I'm glad you like the place. Do you need some water? You look a little under the influence," I say, exhaling loudly. Anything to distract her train of thought.

"Umm, yes! Water. Go get changed, though. Ditch the dress, just those assless panties I like," she said as she let herself fall onto my couch, kicking her shoes off. She put her feet up on my expensive glass coffee table, wiggling her stocking-clad toes. Her bag was on the floor by her and she toyed with its strap with one hand.

"Yes, Zoë," I said obediently, my nipples clearly stiff through the fabric of my dress. I disappeared into my bedroom, closing the door. I quickly changed in the dark, stripping naked and then slipping into the underwear she desired. I paused at the door, took a deep breath, and then I emerged.

When I saw the girl again, she was standing up, rocking back and forth subtly, enjoying the view out the window. She'd shed her sweater in a rare display, though her bra, stockings and skirt remained on. A strap-on belt was visible around her waist. When she turned in profile, the gigantic dildo affixed to her hips swung, lifting the front of her skirt like a tent. It was well over a foot long, and capped by a flared head. I began to hyperventilate.

She turned in full, her smooth concave stomach flexing as she jutted her hips out to present her large dildo. She looked me up and down, coming up to me quickly, her feet padding softly on the floor. She reached out, fondling my heavy breasts, lifting them and letting them drop. "I forget how nice your tits are sometimes..." she said softly, leaning forward to flick a hard nipple with her tongue.

"Th...thank you, Zoë," I said, feeling her toy with my bosom. I moaned deeply as she engaged my stiff, tender nipples. The sensation of her thin saliva swishing across them made me gush.

"I'll tell you one thing, your body knows how to prioritize fat. Goes to all the right places first. What cup size are you at by now?" she asked between licks, capturing one breast in her mouth to suckle while her free hand twisted and squeezed the other one roughly.

"38 FF," I said with quivering lips. Truthfully they might have been bigger than even that, as the bras I bought last month were already starting to feel too tight on me.

"Neat. We'll um..have to talk about that some other time," she muttered, standing up straight. She began trailing her finger up and down my long crack.

"Remember how I had these kinky panties delivered straight to your office, and that intern in the mail room accidentally read the receipt? Haha, you did a real good job of pretending they weren't for you. Really dodged a bullet with that one," Zoë said with a snort.

"Yes..." was all I could say, looking at the floor.

"I forgot to ask. Was that why you fired him?" she asked, fixing me with a severe look.

I searched myself, unable to deny that she was right. On a particularly stressful Monday a few months ago, I'd chewed out a young man for some minor dress code infraction. When he tried to defend himself—which he had every right to, considering how I spoke to him—I fired him. At the time I justified it as insubordination, somehow. But in retrospect it was really me trying to erase the past, to edit it. I hated that he knew. That he read the receipt, even if he didn't fully understand.

I also hated the company Zoë bought it from for not being more discrete. But Zoë always had shady tastes. I bet she got them from the trashiest retailer imaginable, just to prove a point; even the material felt cheap, probably something made in a sweatshop. Still, all of this was ultimately my fault. I shook my head.

"Yes, that's why I fired him. I felt bad...I know he was your friend," I said.

"Eh, we were just acquaintances. But he was a nice guy, and you were a total bitch for firing him," she said.

"You're right..." I responded, tensing as I felt her hand slip across to my right buttock to find my anus. She pressed down with her middle finger, my rubbery hole easily yielding to her pressure. I whimpered, the sting of what she did to me earlier in the day returning.

"Full disclosure? I don't really like corporate whores like you, Ms. Haynes. You have no problem fucking anyone else figuratively when it suits you. Well I think I'm doing society a service by fucking you back, literally, in the best way possible."

Smiling sunnily, she pulled her middle finger out of my dry anus, putting it up to my nose so that I could smell the sweet stink. I shuddered.

"Remember, I want that French girl's phone number. She's about my age, right?"

"Okay, Zoë..." I said, almost drooling.

"I won't demolish her ass like I'm going to do to you, though. Unlike you, she seemed like a nice, humble girl. Kind of innocent. I'll be gentle with her, so no need to worry," she said.

She then slapped her palm with her massive rubber cock and raised her voice. "Anyway. I guess you have lube in that little bag of yours. Well you got 10 seconds to use it, and after that I'm not liable for what happens to you," she said.

Eyes wide, I rushed to my bag, shivering on my knees as I quickly pulled out the tube of KY Jelly I'd bought at the drugstore. I hurriedly smeared a bit over my asshole, then shoved the whole tube inside. I squeezed at it nervously, causing its entire contents to accidentally spurt deep into my colon. I panicked as I realized that this immediately made me feel like I had to use the toilet.

"Mmkay. You're out of time," Zoë sang, shoving me over so that I was in a doggy position right there on my rug. She climbed up behind me, immediately perforating my martyred anus with her fat cock. As it slid into my stretched hole inch by inch, she pushed my shoulders down, forcing my face to the floor.

"Ugghhhh," I bleated in a long, drawn out, extremely slutty moan. I was so used to her dildos by now that I no longer struggled. I loved the sensation of her powerful dildo molding my rectal chute, no matter how excruciating the process was.

"I feel like I'm mounting a whale," she said, her warm wine-scented breath moistening my shoulders as she bent forward drove her double-digit dildo between my thick globes.

"Honey, wait—"

"Shh," she said. She began fucking me up the ass hard and extremely fast, my heavy body wobbling underneath. My sphincter felt like it was on fire, and my anxiety spiked as I began to feel the mounting urge to run to the bathroom. I could faintly feel something slimy begin to cake up my ass crack, and then a foul odor began to rise in my living room.

I gasped. She slowed down her motions for a moment, turning up her nose.

"Ew!" Zoë yelled. "Damn it, Ms. Haynes. You can't stop making a mess, can you? You told me you started on your enemas, did you lie to me?"

"No, no honey—I just, I just..." I stammered. It was true. I hadn't yet started on the enemas she mentioned. It wasn't for lack of desire. I was just so stressed with work that I'd forgotten that particular demand, especially with the Botox thing still looming in my mind.

"Ms. Haynes, what is it with you? You keep getting shit all over my favorite toys, you incontinent lardass. You're disgusting."

She unhooked her strapon, letting it fall to the floor. I could see that I had, in fact, sullied it yet again, and quite heavily; the stench of my waste filled the air and there was a stain on the carpet I would definitely be scrubbing later. I looked away as quickly as I could.

The penis now detached from her, Zoë's skirt fell flatly back around her thighs. She got up, grabbing some tissue from a box on the coffee table and throwing it at me. "Ew. Wipe your ass, nasty bitch," she said. I took the tissue, swiping my crack clean as best as I could. I didn't even want to look at it; the scent was putrid. "Where should I put it?" I asked.

Annoyed, she wrapped her hand in several layers of fresh tissue and snatched the dirty wad out of my hand, tossing it squarely into the wastepaper basket across the room. "She shoots, she scores," she said aloud, then crouched behind me. She reached down between my legs and flicked my agitated clitoris. She did it only once, which caused my whole body to undulate.

Honestly, if she'd done it one more time, I would have exploded in what would've likely been the strongest orgasm of my life. But of course, she was not keen on that. She lifted her finger to her nose, inhaling my scent, then wiped my juices off on my backside. I couldn't stop shaking now.

"Gosh Ms. Haynes, you're like a faucet down there," she said, linking her fingers into a massive ball. "Too bad you're a dedicated butt slut now. I have to admit, that pussy of yours smells quite nice. Certainly better than this cavernous turd-socket of yours here," she said, pushing both hands into my ass with disturbing ease. At this point all I could do was I wheeze tonelessly, as I was completely out of air.

"Thank you..." I managed to say to Zoë, for some reason I still could not understand. I felt her knuckles mesh within me, swelling in a nonverbal reciprocation.

"Alright, enough of that," she said. She then withdrew from me, swiping more of my dark anal slime off across my legs and butt. I whined, a deep physical feeling of emptiness left behind in her wake.

She tiptoed over the mess left on the floor and walked over to the sink, thoroughly washing her hands of my anal muck. She then went to her sports bag, rustling through it to pull out the familiar spider gag we used during my feeding sessions. It was a necessary object when I still had a fighting spirit left in me, but now it was purely ritual in purpose. I could no longer resist any aspect of this girl's vision.

"Get over here," she said, motioning for me to come into the kitchen. I staggered over to her, accidentally stepping in a small clump of my own waste. It squished between my toes and began to drag on the carpet. I winced, but decided it was best not to say anything about it unless she did.

I stood before her, then dropped to my knees as always. She went about quickly affixing the gag to my head with a deft tug of sweat-stained straps.

I had no idea what she planned to feed me; for my usual weekly "dinners", she had that 2-gallon keg of slut-slop that she kept in her apartment, but we weren't anywhere near there now. I didn't see her 61-ounce steel thermos either—that was her preferred container for our lunchtime meetings at work.

"Do I have to use the pipe to make sure this all goes down your throat, or will you be a good girl?" she asked, bobbing her hips energetically as if dancing.

"Naw Hawh," was all I could manage to say through my jacked-open, drooling mouth.

"What was that?" she said, leaning in, her expensive necklace hanging right in front of my face.

"Nawwhype," I mumbled again through the metal ring, my saliva dripping to the floor.

"No pipe?" she said, squinting. I shook my head yes.

"Alright, we'll see if you can keep your word. You'll swallow this stuff whole, you hear? Must be at least a hundred dollars worth of these materials here, so don't waste them. I certainly won't be eating any of it, since I've already had a lovely meal."

I nodded my head again.

"You know the drill: down the hatch, and if you cough up or spill any of it, you're in a world of trouble. You won't like me when I'm angry," she said with a silly inflection, then walked over to the paper bag she'd picked up at the restaurant. She pulled out several bottles and cans, and a bucket. Suddenly I understood.

"Because I asked really nicely, that cutie down at the French place gave me a couple of cans of foie gras. Stuff's loaded with those ass-fattening calories, just like you like it. And I managed to make off with some saindoux, some whole milk, and a tub of butter...probably will be a bit more savory than your usual slop, but it's the closest thing to a French delicacy you're gonna get these days."

She dragged the contents over the kitchen counter, pulling out one of my large cooking pots. She began to tear open the various restaurant containers and dump them into the pot one by one. The swishing and plopping sounds viscerally disgusted me. With a wooden spoon, she began to whip the ingredients together. I could smell it sharply, and it was already nauseating.

"Voilà," she said triumphantly, walking over to me with that large steel pot full of days worth of fat. "Now open wide, Ms. Haynes."

So many different feelings swirled within me. The physical pain of this transformation I had agreed upon was one thing, but also there was the pain of guilt. This infidelity had gone on for so long that I wondered if Drew were even more delusional than I was.

How couldn't he see how much I'd already changed? And I knew that when he got back from his business trip in a few weeks, I would be even more profoundly transformed. How much longer would it be before he said something? How much longer before he had no choice but to?

Yet through this, there was also pleasure—euphoria, even. There was some crazy form of liberation I felt in knowing that my undoing was now irreversibly underway. The decision had been made and was now simply running its course.

I opened my mouth, greeting the flow of raw, rancid fat. It would enter my body, and with it Zoë's lesson of humility. It would make me whole, bonding with my very being. It tasted like freedom.

_________________________________________________

>>>

From: "Zoe"

To: "A. Haynes"

Subject: stuff

Date: Jan 27th, 2015

hi ms Haynes last nite was fun tho i think its time for me to move on. prob gonna move to west coast, cali got an offer i can't refuse. i'll be out of the apt. by feb. i had fun with you but got to move on with my life...guess u will understand it cannot go forever.

btw i was kidding about the botox i was cracking up thinking u would be silly enough to do it...lol...seriously get help

good luck at work without me and hope u don't have any more accidents on the train...rofl anyway serious though u were lots of fun ;) sorry i was mean to u but not really lol.

think u will be ok. there are guys out their who loooove big women, especially anal whores and women too since u go both ways. plus even tho i maxed out your stash u r still rich...at least richer then most ppl i kno...that's not saying much tho

anyway gotta go now finish packing, gonna use the last $700 on yr card to move my stuff out then I'll just mail it to ur office address...lol promise i won't send any more kinky panties

u have a good life and have fun with ur new loose butthole, i think u will have soooo much fun with it plus you don't have to waste any more money on lube maybe!! :D...lol life is strange...can't believe what we did...maybe i'll pay for my sins one day who knows. alright peace

xoxo

Zoë

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The End Edited September 26, 2013 by LordEdmund

[BlackrockBoss]

I enjoyed this, thanks to LordEdmund for posting! The forced feeding didn't do much for, nor the attempts at making the Ms Haynes into a fat bitch, but the description of the anal domination and consensual stretching of the victim's anus was very erotic.

[MeatyAssholeThrowaway]

This is amazing

[MeatyAssholeThrowaway]

also kinda horrifying

[looseholestwo]

I kinda wish this would have gone a bit further. End up with some botox, stretch her asshole looser, fatten her farther. And for a story named stretch marks, I'd have loved to see her get some. 

But despite all that, this was awesome!

[MeatyAssholeThrowaway]

I wish it was more of a reluctance story rather than the sort of psychological torture it ended up being. I like when they come to love it in the end and there was a bit of that but overall it was just really cruel.

Although yeah the botox could have been hot lol (i don't think that's how botox works though..)