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You gobbled the last of the steak and sat back, feeling amazingly full. Patting your swollen belly, you leaned back with a loud belch, feeling intense satisfaction along with the fullness. It was good, feeling like this, you realized. You wanted to feel like this... forever.

When the Librarian came to take away the dishes, you caught her eye and smiled at her. “Thank you for feeding me,” you told her. “I like feeling like this, so big and full.” You took her hand in yours and stroked her palm over your swollen gut, bloated out with food.

You watched her eyes drift closed as she touched you with loving gentleness, tracing the edge of your belly with a light but firm touch, her fingertips drifting over you in a long caress. A smile rose to your lips as you enjoyed the feelings she evoked by touching you.

“Do I feel good?” you asked her.

“Very good,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling back at you. “So lovely and firm and warm.”

“Warm?” you asked.

“Oh yes,” she said with a nod. “Outside, it's all cold and snowy, especially up here on the mountain. And you are like a little potbellied stove.” You might have wondered if that was a knock at your new smaller size if she hadn't leaned into you. She leaned in further, bending her knees and resting her cheek on top of your swollen gut. “I just want to cuddle up to you and absorb all your warmth.”

“I'll keep you warm any time you want,” you promise her recklessly. You looked at the way she was embracing you, her body draped aginst yours, and felt warm all over yourself.

“I want to be bigger,” you blurt out, giving voice to the feelings you can no longer ignore. “I want you to make me as big as a chair, a bed. I want you to lie on me as I hold you to me.”

A soft smile parts her lips. “That sounds wonderful.” Her hand swept over your belly. “But only if I can keep you healthy. I'm starting to worry how off-balance you're becoming. I think you need to do some exercises to help your agility.”

“Can I even exercise without losing weight?” you asked, worried.

“Sure you can,” she said. “I can have you exercise and still gain weight. I just need to motivate you in the right way. With the right rewards, you can get far more calories than you can exercise away.”

“How?” you asked.

She smiled at you. “Why don't I show you instead? Is is okay if I re-purpose your gym room?”

Change the “fattening room” back into an exercise space? Yes, please! But appropriate that it would now perform both functions at once. Although... “You're not going to use the fattening machine, are you?” you asked. “I'd rather not be put through that any more. I don't want there to be a 'fattening room'.”

She grinned. “We don't need a 'fattening room' just for you to gain weight. We both know where that happens now, don't we?”

Nodding, you point at your mouth, but she chuckles and nudges you gently. “I meant, pretty much everywhere, but hey, that works, too!” She bends a bit more and kisses your bulging stomach, making you blush a little.

“Rest now,” she tells you. “I'll have it all ready by the time you wake up again.”

With a satiated belch, you lie back on the cushion and close your eyes. She leaned in, tucked the blanket in around you and kissed your forehead. “Sleep well.”

****

When you woke, it was to the smell of a huge pot of tomato, meat and cheese casserole, thick with egg noodles and heavy on the cheese. You ate until your belly bulged and groaned, practically creaking with how much you'd stuffed yourself.

You groaned as she touched you afterwards, cupping the bottom of your round, swollen belly in her warm palm. “That feels good,” you said as she helped you up and onto your feet. You followed her out the door, swaying a little as her hand caressed you.

You walked happily down the corridor to the former “fattening room”. The pumping machine was gone, you were more than glad to see, and not only that, but there was no sign it had ever been there. In fact, there were only three things in the room. An overstuffed couch large and heavy-duty enough to hold you, A treadmill with a hose attached to front of it at head height and a large canister that was soldered to one side, and what looked like a modified weight machine with only one station: something that looked like a lat bar. This one had several canisters and metal boxes attached to it, a computer control screen with a keyboard beneath and another hose at about head height.

Remembering your bad memories involving a treadmill, you tried to ignore that for now. “I'd like to try that one first,” you said, pointing at the weight machine one.

She smiled. “Good choice. But first, I have something special for you to put on.” She held out a bundle of fuzzy blue cloth. “Put these on over your costume. You can sit on the couch.” She helped you there, and you discovered the cloth was a pair of very large adult size footy pajamas in bright blue. Despite how large you already were, these were even bigger, fitting you loosely, but not so loose as to fall down. The bottom had an elastic waistband, and the top closed with a series of small buttons that ran up the front, down the middle of the chest.

“How do I look?” you asked her, feeling nice and warm in the material, which was made of the same soft fleece-like stuff as the blankets she'd been covering you with as you slept. It was warm and soft, but light in weight.

She smoothed the fabric over you and smiled. “Very nice indeed! Now, just a few little precautions...”

She led you to the weight machine, which stood near the wall. A wide leather belt, like a weight belt, had been fastened to the wall with steel bolts. She strapped you in to it. The belt ran diagonally across your chest, giving you room to move, but not fall. “Next, the bar.” She secured your arms to the ends with wide leather cuffs, showing you how you could release them on your own if you needed to. “I don't want you falling and getting hurt, even by accident,” she said. “Feeling secure?”

“Yes,” you told her. With the belt, you could imagine it was her arms wrapping round you, holding you and keeping you safe. She smiled and kissed your cheek.

“All right. This machine is set up for three exercises. First, I want you to bend at your waist from side to side as you hold the bar. Make it pivot with you. You can either bend all to one side first or switch it up. The machine uses the pivoting of the bar to count the bends. I want you to do this 20 times to each side. Like this.” She demonstrated and you followed her motion. The machine made a noise as the bar clicked and she said, “Open your mouth!” You did, and a donut shot out of the open end of the hose into your open mouth. Jelly filled with powdered sugar. It was delicious, heavy with raspberry jelly, and a smile crossed your lips as you ate it down. Afterwards, you licked the sugar from your lips.

“Sometimes, your reward will be just the filling. But not only raspberry jelly, either.”

Intrigued, you kept moving through all twenty right side bends and found yourself eating two Boston Creme donuts, a lemon filled, two shots of Boston Creme and something delicious with bits of crunchy chocolate that you couldn't quite identify. You raised an eyebrow at her, and she grinned at you. “Cookies and crème.”

“That was good,” you said, licking your lips. “I really liked that last one.”

“I know.” she said.

Once you were done with all the side bends, the bar you were holding moved down with a whirring noise to a position on the floor and a small black sensor extruded from the machine. “Okay, next exercise. Bend over at the waist and lick the black dot. That's a sensor and will register each one as a bend. Don't forget to keep your mouth open as you come back up,” she said with a smile. “Use the bar to hold yourself so you don't fall down.”

You did and moaned happily as more donuts and fillings shot into your mouth. You could see yourself in the mirror across from the machine, smiling broadly and happily as you chewed donuts and swallowed fillings. You definitely wanted lots of time on this machine!

After the forward bends were done, the bar rose up to the top of the machine again and loosened a bit, hanging from a thick chain while a seat came up from below. “Last exercise is knee bends. Pull the bar down while bending to meet the seat, then slowly rise back up to a standing position, okay?”

“Yeah.” you do as she says, your mouth open to intercept the donuts and fillings. After fifteen knee bends, the bar retracted back to the first position, leaving you free to stretch to the side once more. Already, even after only a single round of exercises, you could see and feel a difference in your belly. The pajamas were a little tighter, and you felt fuller now than you did before.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked.

You admired yourself in the mirror. “This is the greatest exercise machine ever!” you said. “What do I get if I manage to exercise enough to empty the machine?”

She smiled. “If you can do that, I'll fill you with donuts and fillings until you're ready to burst!”

“Now there's a challenge I can really get behind!” you said, grinning.

“If you do that, you'll already have a much bigger behind!” she said with a laugh. “And a bigger front, and sides...” she rubs the body parts in question, and her voice drops to a lower, more seductive register. “And that will look very good on you...”

“I want to do more. Ten... no, twenty more rounds. I know I can do it!”

“Let's start with just five for now. If you're still doing okay after five, you can do ten. All right?”

“Okay.”

After three more rounds of exercise, you could see the changes becoming more visible. Your belly had swollen considerably and the pants were tighter in the waistband. A wedge of purple costume was visible between the top and the waistband of the footed pants, where they had once overlapped.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her hand stroking the visible wedge of purple, thumb rubbing circles on your exposed costume.

“Wonderful! Like I want to exercise more. Lots more.”

She smiled, her eyes fond. “All right, then. I see no reason to stop you.”

You kept on, your belly's swelling increasing with each round of repetitions and each round of feeding. The pants grew tighter and tighter, while the top receded further from the waistband of the pants, exposing more and more of your swelling midriff. From time to time, you turned sideways to enjoy the sight and gauge the effect in the mirror. The changing tastes kept you hungry and interested, although you always paused to enjoy whatever you were eating. The donuts and fillings were just too good not to.

The pants grew tighter and tighter, until your belly ballooned outwards on top in what looked like a “muffin top”. Every line and dimple of your belly was outlined by the skin-tight fabric and stretched-out elastic. They were very uncomfortable, but you continued to work and eat, until the elastic popped and the fabric tore, rending the pants into shreds and scraps which fell around your ankles. Your belly popped out further, regaining its rounded appearance, and causing the top to ride up even more.

What had once covered your belly was now only to the top of your midriff, your huge gut putting strain across the entire top. The material looked like it had been spray-painted on you, your huge stomach rounding out underneath it. The buttons were still holding, but the bottom ones were pulling tight on the holes, and you could see bits of purple through the gaps.

“Look at yourself,” the Librarian said, her voice low. “Look at your beautiful belly. Look at how much you've grown.” she paused to let you take in the sight. “How does it feel?”

Your mouth felt dry. “So good,” you said, looking at yourself, at the whole of your swollen belly. “So... good.” You paused. “I'm gonna bust this top right off of me.”

You went back to exercising, Every donut, every shot of filling was a downpayment on something you wanted to happen, and you watched as your stomach pushed out, the first button popping off as you bent forwards. You began to exercise faster and faster, the buttons growing tighter and tighter as your belly swelled. Then, with a loud report, they began to burst off the top like bullets, hitting the walls and mirror with loud reports like gunshots. After only a few tore off, the rest went in one long burst, and your belly pushed out even harder than before until the top lay limp and torn, all the buttons torn away from the fabric.

You cried out in pleasure as your belly settled into its new shape and size. “I like this machine!” you told her with a happy smile. You looked at the treadmill, curious now rather than apprehensive. “What does that one do?”

She smiled. “i'll show you.” She came and released your hands from the bar and undid the belt from the wall. “We know the weight machine works,” she said, helping you out of the remains of the pants. “How are you feeling?” Her hands gently ran over your expanded belly.

You caught her up in your arm and pulled her close, hugging her to you. “Amazing,” you told her, one hand stroking your fat, swollen gut. You were no longer taut and hard, but soft, and when you pulled her into you, your belly engulfed her in your hug. “Am I still your little potbellied stove?” you ask her.

“Oh yes,” she said happily. “Even bigger and warmer now.”

For long while you stood there, your arms wrapped around her, feeling happy and content just holding her and keeping her warm. Finally, with a little sigh, she pushed herself back a bit. “You wanted to try out the treadmill,” she said, as if to remind herself.

“Yes,” you said, feeling a sense of loss that she was no longer pressed against you. Her hands were still touching you, still caressing your belly, rubbing your swollen body and sensitive skin. “You know what I want later?”

She smiled up at you. “What?”

“A Cake. A celebration cake. Like one of those fake ones that the girls jump out of, but real.”

“So you want one that size?” she asked, leaning into you again.

“Yes.” Your word was more like an exclamation than a confirmation. “I want you to make it all delicious for me so when I stuff myself with it, I'll only be thinking of you.” You ran your hand along her back, stroking her and the soft silk of her hair. “I want a celebration for gaining all that weight on these exercises.”

“A celebration would call for a bowl of punch and some finger foods,” she says, “In addition to the cake. You know, mozzerella sticks, chicken fingers, mini quiches, things like that.” Her eyes gleamed with suppressed mirth.

You grinned. “More for me to eat, then. And I'll wash it all down with the punch. But I want my cake.”

“You'll have your cake,” she promised. “But first you need to at least try the treadmill.”

“Lead on,” you tell her with a smile.

She helped you walk over to the treadmill, but even so, you could tell the difference immediately. Even though you were carrying more weight in your swollen gut, you were no longer so unbalanced and could move much more easily. Even climbing on the treadmill, which might have been difficult for you earlier, was now almost easy. Even so, she had her hand on your belly, gently guiding you and keeping you from falling should you need it. Once you were in place, you flexed your back, pushing your stomach into her hand.

“Feel how nice and firm I am,” you said invitingly, wanting to hug her again.

She ran her hand over the edges of your belly, her touch slow, but with firm pressure. It felt so very good, and her delighted smile was beautiful to see. “Mmm...” she said, “I like how it feels. I like it a lot.”

One of her hands rose to your right arm, and she touched your hand, caressing your arm before laying the hand on the hand hold at the front of the machine. Walking around you, she did the same on the other side, then adjusted the hose nozzle to touch your lips. “Open your mouth and wrap it around the nozzle,” she says.

When you do so, she smiles. “You're not going to be able to talk much, but just walk at the pace of the treadmill. A slow walk, no running or jogging. Okay?”

You give her a thumbs-up and start to walk. After only a few steps, something cold and vanilla, shot through with hot fudge and chunks of banana, shot into your mouth. You stopped in shock, chewing and swallowing slowly in a state of bliss. “Banana Hot Fudge Sundaes...” you say, feeling amazed.

She nods, smiling, and you eagerly start walking again, eating your way through the exercise, feeling yourself slowly growing larger, heavier, your belly pushing out as you keep eating. Your belly swelled out and down, hanging lower and lower the longer that you walked. You found yourself leaning forward to make room for your expanding gut and to keep your hands on the bars, sucking the liquid sundae with banana chunks down eagerly.

Finally, the Librarian put her hand on your swollen stomach, which nearly touched the surface of the treadmill. “All right, that's enough for now, I think,” she said. “I am going to have to rethink the treadmill.”

Gratefully, you straightened up, your belly hanging down below your knees even when you were upright. You were still taut but soft enough to pull her into your swollen gut. “I want you to sit on me,” you told her, happy with your progress. “I want to hold you like that.”

She smiles and leads you back to the couch. Your gut is so huge and swollen that you need to spread your legs wide to be comfortable, resting your belly partly on your legs and partly on the couch. She hesitated, then stroked your stomach. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“Yes,” you told her.

Slowly, she got onto the couch, then slid by increments onto your belly. “Tell me if I'm hurting you,” she says anxiously.

You reached out and pulled her against your chest, holding her there. A massive belch blasts out of you, but it doesn't feel bad at all. “You feel good,” you tell her. “I can't wait until you can sleep on me.”

She relaxes slowly, and smiles at you, settling into a more comfortable position. “I like how you feel,” she says, gently running her hand over the top of your bloated gut and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But if you don't stretch, you're going to be hurting by tomorrow. You exercised longer than I thought you'd be able to, and I hate to see you in pain.”

“I know,” you told her. “You're always worried about hurting me. But I'm tougher than that.”

“Tougher still doesn't make being in pain okay,” she said, sliding off your body and onto the ground. She kneels between your legs and picks up your left foot, begins massaging it, rubbing and stroking the sole with her thumbs and knuckles. You let out an involuntary cry of ecstasy as the pleasure overwhelms you.

“Feels good?” she purrs, not even looking up.

“Don't... stop...” was all you could manage as her hands continued to work your sole. You could only hope the evidence of your pleasure wasn't visible on the outside of your costume. As she continued upwards from your foot, up the calf to your thigh, you found yourself writhing in pleasure as she stretched, touched and massaged you. And then she started on your other leg, and your mind went up in flames as pleasure rampaged through you at her touch. You moaned happily as your leg muscles went completely limp. You hugged her close, and moaned again as her scent drifted into you. She smelled of sugar and vanilla and cinnamon.

Cookies. She smelled like cookies, and you wanted to lick her to see if she'd taste that way as well. In fact, the whole idea of licking powdered sugar or brown sugar off her skin made you hungry all over again. “Were you baking?” you ask, your stomach letting out a soft grumble.

She smiled. “Yes. Sugar cookies and Cream Cheese Spritz cookies. Would you like some?”

“Oh, god, yes!” You stomach seemed to do a happy dance inside your body at the thought of eating some of her cookies. “And milk?”

“Of course,” she says with a grin and walks out of the room.

Man, she even smelled good! For a moment, you were overcome with the need to hold her down and lick her skin to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. The image of licking her skin clean of cinnamon sugar made your belly clench with hunger and a groan of need forced itself out of your throat as you shivered happily.

Then, she was back with a tray piled high with cookies in one hand and several gallons of milk in the other. She placed the tray on the proud jut of your belly and opened one of the jugs of milk for you. You forced yourself to sate your hunger on the cookies, soft and pillowy and hard and crunchy, sweet and cinnamon-y and all completely delicious, washing it all down with the milk. You belched out air and moaned as the milk made your gut swell outwards as you drank and ate voraciously.

She, in turn, sat by you, her head leaning on the side of your swollen stomach, her cheek pressed to the rounded line, watching as your belly pushed out further and further with every gallon of milk you drank. Her gentle smile and soft caress as she touched and stroked you seemed only to make you even more hungry and thirsty to eat and grow for her. When you were finally done, you were all but gasping in pleasure at the size you'd achieved, your head thrown back in ecstasy at her slow touches. Your belly had gone from soft to solid and firm, and no matter how much you belched, you didn't seem to be able to change it.

“Help me turn sideways?” you asked, and she did, helping you lift your swollen belly so that you could lie with your legs out on the couch, spread so that it could lie between your legs. In that position, your belly towered over you like a giant mountain of taut, hard gut, and you groaned at how good and full you felt, hands pushing your stomach, but it sat immobile, like a rock.

“Would you like to nap here?” she asked, looking at you laid out on the couch.

“Yes.” A sudden idea hit you and you patted the back of the couch. “Stay here and cuddle with me?”

She eyed the small wedge of space that your body and belly left for her to fit in there. “Do you think I'll fit?” she asked, a smile curling her lips.

“Sure! It just means you'll have to get nice and close,” you told her.

She grinned. “I can do that.” She climbed over the back of the sofa and slowly slid herself down against you, wiggling a little to try and make herself fit. Finally, she wound up pressed to your side, her head on your shoulder, one arm beneath her, the other resting against your swollen belly. Her hand stroked down your chest and over your belly with a firm touch that felt surprisingly sensual. Her hand was warm on you, seeming to spread through your costume like the touch of a sunbeam. By slow degrees, you felt yourself relaxing even more, her touch spreading the warmth through you, seemingly dripping down inside you like a puddle of honey.

It felt good, like you were a cat, bathing yourself in a pool of sunlight, the warmth of her touch making it feel like you were floating in a warm golden sea, calm waves gently lapping at your skin. You moaned softly. “That feels so good...” you told her, “so warm. How do you do that?”

“T'ai Ch'i,” she said. “My Sifu tells me I have strong energy that comes out of me naturally. So when I concentrate, I can do all sorts of thing. I try to heal, but I can manipulate body energy to do all sorts of things.”

You were intrigued. “Such as?”

She shrugged. “Make things grow faster, like hair, skin and nails. Or stop or slow them for a long time.”

“What about digestion?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I could slow it down. Not stop it entirely- that would be almost impossible, not to mention, make you very sick if it even could be done.”

“Would it hurt?” you ask, suddenly intent on her answer.

“No. I mean, you could make it hurt, but it doesn't have to. You just have to know the right Qi point to use and press it. It's more about using the energy out of your hands to manipulate the Qi point than just hitting it hard.”

“Show me?” you asked her.

She raised her eyebrows at you. “Let me get this straight. You want me to slow your digestion down... deliberately?”

“Yes.” you said with a nod. “My body burns calories too fast to get really fat really quickly. And I want to be fat and big and round... for you.”

She didn't say anything at first for a long, long while, just buried her face in your chest. You could feel her breathing quicken and then she exhaled a long sigh. “If you were anyone else...” she says, her words trailing off. She rubs the top of your belly with her hand. “But you're you. And I...” she trails off again, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Please,” you said, not pleading or begging, just straight out asking.

She sighs again and struggles to sit up over your lower legs. From there, she stands over you, touching and stroking your belly before extending a single finger and jabbing it at your belly somewhere between the stomach and abdomen. She doesn't even touch you and yet you feel a spear of pleasure go through you as her finger stops inches from your skin.

Then, without a word, she slides back down next to you, folding herself into the space and cuddling against you. You were still panting, still feeling that hot stab of pleasure in your guts, your hands cradling your huge belly. “That... was it?” you ask her.

“Yes.” She nods. “Manipulating the energy points doesn't mean you have to hurt. Did it hurt?”

“No. It felt... good.” Good was such a bland word for such a sensation. “Thank you. How long does it... last?”

“About two or three days. I can renew it if you feel the need.”

“Ohhh,” you said as another wave of pleasure curls through your belly and makes your toes curl against your feet. “I like how it feels. Very much.”

This evokes a smile out of her and she begins stroking you again. “You were already gaining weight,” she tells you. “But it's really going to speed up now,” she says in tones of warning.

“I'm looking forwards to it,” you tell her, and curl one arm around her, pulling her even closer to you. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.” She creates a blanket out of thin air, where it floats down and drapes over you both.

“You feel good,” you tell her sleepily, stroking her body with your hand.

“I could say the same,” she replied with a smile, kissing your cheek, one hand still stroking your belly.

Warm and sated, you fell asleep, feeling all was completely well with the world.

****

You woke to the smell of sizzling sausage and cooking pancakes. Something, though, was different this morning. You were used to awakening small and more shrunken than you had the night before, your digestion working overtime on all you had overeaten, shrinking the size of your belly.

This morning, though, you seemed even larger than you had been when you fell asleep, your belly only mildly complaining of hunger. You had to push yourself up, rolling your belly to the edge of the couch before you could swing yourself into a sitting position. You were thrilled with the results of that one little touch last night, and ready to put on a serious feed and gain some serious weight.

The Librarian wheeled in a cart with a portable cooktop on which sausages were already sizzling and a huge tray of pancakes sat ready with a vat of hot maple syrup and two sticks of butter. Another vat held pancake batter and she passed you the tray while she started to cook fresh ones. Ensconced in your sofa seat, you ate until everything was gone, your belly pushed out so far that you could barely move, then gulped down gallons of more milk and orange juice, gasping happily as your belly swelled and expanded even further.

You could no longer reach the tray on top of your belly, and you sat back with a groan of delight as she cleared it off you. “From now on, you're going to have to feed me,” you told her with an ecstatic belch. “My arms aren't long enough to reach the top of my stomach.”

She offered another cooked sausage, waving it in front of your open mouth. “Like this?” she asked with a grin.

You bit into it, moaning at the explosion of spice and juices in your mouth and across your tongue. “Yes!” you said when you could finally speak. You gobbled the rest, then sucked the juices from her fingers with your mouth. “I like this,” you slurred, licking your lips. “I feel so full and fat.” It was half boast, half statement of fact, and you slapped your belly with your hands, delighting in the feel of its solidity. “Feel it,” you invited her.

She ran her hands over your gut, stroking it with that same sensual pressure that she had used the night before, until you wanted to preen like a cat and rub her hand harder into your gut.

“Mmm...” she said with a smile. “Nice and full.” She gently patted your gut. “If you want to exercise later, you might want to start with a few gentle stretches this morning.”

“Okay,” you said, sleepily. You stretched, yawned, arched your back and stretched again, stretching your arms and legs to their limit, until they shook with the strain as you worked out the kinks from sleeping on the sofa. You yawned once, and yawned again, then leaned your head back on the sofa back, your head sinking into the soft cushion. Once there, it was too much effort to move again, and you felt your eyes slowly closing. You were barely aware when the blanket was spread back over you and you drifted into sleep.

When you awoke once more, you were alone, but feeling energized. You worked your way slowly into a standing position, your belly wobbling as you moved, and walked to the treadmill. You got on, started the program mode (obviously, “Powerbelly” was meant for you) and began to walk at a slow and steady pace.

The irresistible banana ice cream sundae liquid was cold and good as ever, and seemed twice as delicious today. You maintained a steady pace, your stomach swelling as you walked.

Yes, you confirmed to yourself as you walked. You were growing larger even faster than before. Soon, you were so large that you lost your grip on the handlebars but you kept walking, kept growing, until you could barely stand on the treadmill because of the girth of your belly. Rubbing your hands over yourself in glee, you got off and went over to the exercise machine, strapping yourself in and starting it up.

You closed your eyes as you ran through the exercises, fantasizing about The Librarian's reaction when she saw you again. Too soon, you felt something bump against your stomach, but it wasn't her. It was your gut bumping against the bars of the machine. You'd expanded so far that your belly had taken up all the space available between you and the machine, but you continued to keep on, pushing yourself further and further, taking pleasure in the donuts and fillings that shot into you.

You could feel yourself pressing against the machine harder and harder, your gut so tremendous that it seemed like you would be stuck there until she came to help you out of your predicament. But before you could do anything, the machine began to tip, pushed against your firm, unyielding belly as you continued to exercise and grow larger.

The Screen flashed and the machine made a panicked-sounding beeping noise, while the screen read “ERROR!” in bright red letters. “ERROR! ERROR!” it repeated, then “Purging holding tanks”.

You barely had time to register what this meant before donuts and filling came shooting out into your mouth without stopping. You ate and ate and ate, chewing and swallowing frantically as you struggled to free yourself at the same time. Your belly swelled outwards as if it was being blown up by a balloon, getting larger and wider and bigger with every passing moment. A rising feeling of exhilaration rose up in you as you kept up with the purging machine and finally managed to free yourself of the restraints just as the machine toppled over completely. The plug pulled out of the socket in the wall and the machine toppled with a crash, its beeping halting as it lost power. A last lone cookies and crème donut shot into your mouth, and you chewed it and swallowed it even as the Librarian, alerted by the crash, came running in.

“Are you...” she caught sight of you and your gut and stopped speaking.

“All right?” you said, still gasping for breath after trying to eat so quickly. “I'm better than all right. I feel amazing!”

You tried to move in her direction, but you were hampered by the obstacle of the weight machine and your newly-swollen belly. She moved to you, pressing one hand to the front of your gut to hold you in place. Swollen out so far and wide, you now had an oblong oval shape, with the front being your vastly inflated gut.

You smiled proudly to yourself. You were turning into the perfect bed. Now, you just had to convince her to try you out.

“Touch me,” you told her. “Feel me. Tell me how I feel to you.” You tried to wiggle your belly invitingly at her, but you were just too large.

She moved forward and ran her hand over you, swallowing hard. “Do you like it?” you asked her.

Her hand moved gently but firmly over the edges of your stomach. Her eyes were shining, her fingers moving in circles over your gut. Her touch made you feel even more amazing, and the look in her eyes, the tenderness and affection in her face. “Yes,” she said, her voice hushed.

The touch of her hands and fingers made your skin tingle in a very pleasant way, sweet and sensual. You moaned softly. “That feels so good,” you told her. “Touch me some more.” You raised your arms higher, above your head, lifting your belly slightly higher, showing off how large and rounded it was.

“I like it very much,” she told you in a hushed voice, moving closer, caressing you with both hands. She moved around you, studying you, continuing to touch you and stroke you, before leaning into you and embracing your belly with both arms as wide as they would go.

She moaned softly, rubbing her cheek against your swollen stomach. “You feel so good,” she told you, marveling. “So nice and warm and firm...” She lay against you, and you enjoyed the feel of her body pressing on you, into you.

Your arms came down, the right one going around her, pulling her even harder against you. “I want you to sit on me... sleep on me, all while I hold you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But let's get you away from all this debris, first.”

When you nodded, she knelt to place a few anti-grav disks beneath your huge belly, allowing you to move as if your belly wasn't so large, and guided you to the couch, making you sit down, legs spread as wide as they could go. Your belly touched the ground and pushed out even further towards the front as your weight settled, giving her a nice place to sit... or lie down.

“Ready?” she asked, her hands still touching you, stroking you, brushing against your skin beneath your costume. You felt so huge and large, and you nodded eagerly as she touched your arm, and you pulled her up and on to your stomach.

You were so large, you could barely even feel her weight, and being so huge made you feel extra-protective towards her. She slid closer to your body, making a happy hum when your arm slid around her slim waist, your face buried in her hair, which smelled sweet. You breathed in the scent of her and enjoyed the feel of holding her, of protecting her with the weight and size of your body. “I like how this feels,” you tell her, your voice almost raw with tenderness.

“I like how it feels, too,” she tells you. “Very, very much. I feel warm, safe and protected in your arms.” She hugged the arm you had draped around her and leaned back into you. Her voice sounded low and intimate in your ears. She paused to press a kiss to your cheek and your arm tightens around her, pulling her closer.

“I wish I could look more like a chair for you,” you say softly. “Or a bed.”

“Why?” she asks. “You're perfect just like you are.” You felt a blaze of warmth inside you as she ran a hand over the surface of your swollen belly. “A Costume wouldn't make you feel any better than this.” She paused. “It wouldn't make your arms holding me feel any better.”

The warmth inside you turned into a flash of heat and you blushed. Pressing your hot face against the back of her neck even harder, you whisper, “Thank you.” You were overwhelmed with the sweet savor of her hair, the cookies and vanilla scent of her skin.

“I want you...” You paused, licked your lips and tried again. “Will you sleep on me?” Your next words made you nearly trip over your tongue. “In a night gown?” You paused again, barely able to get the words out. “I want to be your bed. To hold you while you sleep.”

“Yes.” she says simply, and another wash of hot pleasure spreads through you. “Let me take a shower first, if I'm going to be in a nightgown.”

“You don't need to,” you tell her. “I like how you smell.”

She smiled at you. “I always take a shower before I go to bed,” she tells you.

“Oh...” You say, your mind filling with images of her, freshly scrubbed and clean, sliding against you as she lies down on your belly, and you suddenly have no objections at all.

She slid down your belly, smiled at you, and rubbed your stomach with her hand. “I'll be back soon,” she tells you, kissing your stomach and giving it several soft pats. You made a happy little moan, your hands rising to stroke your belly, to glory in its swollen roundness, the way it pushed out from your body. It was perfect, soft and yielding to the touch, yet firm beneath, and you couldn't wait for her to return.

“Power Man,” she called from the doorway. You looked up, and were struck dumb. She'd forgone her costume for a long white cotton nightgown that covered her to the ankles, and her long dark hair curled around her, freshly washed and brushed, gleaming in the overhead lights.

Slowly, she moved closer. In one arm, she held a huge navy blue blanket, and a control to dim the lights. She halted by you, her free hand reaching out to stroke your stomach, pressing against you with that same firm pressure and gentle touch that made you want to stretch and preen. “Can I get a lift?” she asked with a smile, and you gladly lifted her back atop you without even a grunt of effort, putting her in a seated position on your belly.

She smelled good, still of vanilla and sweetness, and lightly of soap and cleanliness. Her hair smelled like honey and roses, and she didn't object as your arms went around her and pulled her to you. “You're nice and warm, too,” you told her, rubbing your face on her hair.

She smiled at you. “Thank you,” she said, patting your belly gently. Slowly, she slid down lower against you, her body sliding over your rounded belly, sinking into you a bit, as if your flesh and gut were embracing her and holding her close, And she kept moving until her head was pillowed on your chest, close enough that you could hold her with one arm while she spread the blanket out over her body and your swollen gut. Then, she laid back against you, her hair a soft cool river over your chest and down your side, cheek pressed into the swell of your gut, her arms sweeping out to embrace you gently.

“Yes,” you said quietly as she dimmed the lights. “Sleep now. Sleep now and let me hold you. Like this. Just like this.” A bubble of elation swelled inside you as she sighed and did exactly that. She was so warm and soft in your arms, against your swollen body. With a sigh, you rested your head on hers and let the feeling of holding her lull you contentedly into sleep.