Whipped

Chapter 1

A point guard darted across the court on screen, weaving through defenders with a low dribble, his eyes scanning the floor. He snapped a pass to a teammate on the wing, who feinted a shot before driving hard toward the basket. The crowd roared as the defense collapsed, arms raised in a desperate attempt to block the shot. At the last second, the ball was passed out to the perimeter, where a sharpshooter caught it cleanly, his body coiling into perfect form.

The shot went up, forming a graceful arc, and the camera followed its path. A clean swish through the net sent the scoreboard flashing, and the home team’s bench erupted in celebration. Noah could feel the energy in the room surge as his friends clapped and whooped, though his own reaction lagged behind, subdued. His eyes flicked toward the kitchen, the thought of the snack spread creeping back into his mind.

The break was announced, and Noah pushed himself up from the couch, the effort accompanied by a soft groan he tried to stifle. His stomach, heavy and bloated from a steady stream of wings, chips, and sliders, shifted with the motion. He tugged at the hem of his shirt reflexively, though it did little to hide the soft curve of his belly pressing against the fabric.

The kitchen was quieter, though the faint hum of the TV and his friends' voices filtered through. He grabbed a plate, eyes scanning the spread. A platter of mozzarella sticks gleamed under the pendant light above, next to a bowl of cheesy dips and a mountain of mini pretzels. He knew he didn’t need more—his jeans were already digging uncomfortably into his waist—but the sight of it all was irresistible.

Ryan’s voice broke through the stillness, casual and teasing. “Getting more, huh? Pretty sure you’ve had the most out of all of us.”

Noah froze, his hand halfway to the pretzels, the warmth of embarrassment spreading up his neck. He glanced over his shoulder at Ryan, who was leaning against the fridge with a drink in hand, a smirk playing on his face.

“Someone’s gotta eat it,” Noah muttered, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Ryan chuckled, but the comment lingered, sticking to Noah. He turned back to the food, the flutter of self-consciousness already dissipating. It wasn’t like Ryan was wrong. The past several months had seen his weight balloon in a way it’d be hard for anyone to ignore. Pretty chubby had turned into outright fat, and the evidence was everywhere—in the way his shirts rode up, the way his friends teased, and most of all, the way he felt: heavy and slow. But it wasn’t completely his own fault.

He loaded his plate methodically, piling it with mozzarella sticks, pigs in blankets, and a generous scoop of chips and pretzels. The plate felt heavy in his hands as he made his way back to the living room, each step punctuated by the faint jiggle of his stomach. He could feel it wobble with every movement, a constant reminder of just how much he had gained, how much he’d let go.

His friends were still engrossed in their animated banter when Noah sat down, the couch dipping noticeably under his weight. He settled in with a sigh, letting the plate balance on his lap as he grabbed a mozzarella stick. The cheese didn’t stretch as he bit into it, the center set after sitting for a while, but the salty flavor was still just as good as it was with his first snack plate. And his second.

The buzz of his phone in his pocket brought him back, and he reached for it, swiping it open. Justine’s name popped up, accompanied by a photo. His girlfriend was in a tight pajama set, the fabric clinging to her curves, her cleavage front and center. His face burned as he glanced quickly around the room, ensuring no one had seen.

A second buzz. Another text.

‘Come over. I want to feed my pig.’

Noah swallowed hard, his stomach tightening as a surge of heat spread from his chest to his ears. His thumbs hovered over the screen as his mind raced. He looked at his friends, still laughing and jeering at the screen, then down at his plate and the TV. He really didn’t want to miss the game, and his friends would surely be annoyed. They’d already given him grief for up and leaving so many times before.

But Justine.

She was everything he wanted in a feeder, everything he craved. Saying no to her felt impossible.

His gaze flicked back to the screen, his hand tightening slightly around his phone. He had already had quite a bit to eat, and he couldn’t keep ditching his friends. Hopefully, she’d understand.

Noah’s thumb long-pressed Justine’s photo, reacting with a heart-eyes emoji. He hesitated for a bit, feeling a strange mix of guilt and longing. He’d never turned her down before—not once in the eight months since they’d met. For months, every request, every flirtatious tease, every command had been met with an eager yes. This was new territory, and it didn’t feel good.

He followed the reaction with a text, his fingers moving slower than usual. ‘As much as I’d love to, but I’m a bit busy tonight.’

The little gray bubble appeared and then quickly disappeared. A single sad-face emoji came back.

Noah felt his stomach flip, a different kind of weight settling there than the fullness from his plate. He rushed to reply. ‘Tomorrow?’

The seconds dragged. Nothing came back.

Noah stuffed another mozzarella stick into his mouth, chewing mechanically as his thoughts swirled. He glanced at his friends, still engrossed in the game, their shouts and laughter blending into background noise.

He wanted to go over. A night with Justine—her teasing, her soft touches, her overwhelming focus on him—was always better than anything he and his friends got up to. Infinitely better. His friends’ jokes and the game on screen felt pale in comparison. But he could still hear the comments from last time: “You’re leaving again?” “Dude, just bring her here for once.”

They’d never met her. Justine was...affectionate, to say the least. And Noah often worried what she might do in front of them. Hand feed him, rub his belly in front of everyone. The thought was thrilling and scary all at once, he wasn’t ready for that yet. He shifted in his seat, his jeans pulling uncomfortably tight across his hips. He checked his phone again. Still nothing.

The game resumed, the commentators’ voices rising with excitement as the players took the court again for the second half. Noah tried to focus, his eyes tracking the ball as it passed from hand to hand. But the tension in his chest grew, spreading to his throat, his jaw. He couldn’t stop imagining Justine. The way her hands would glide over his belly as she fed him bite after bite, her voice low and sweet, coaxing him to take just one more. The fullness, the heat, the bliss of it all.

His friends cheered as a three-pointer swished through the net, but Noah barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere, his body restless, his fingers fidgeting against the phone in his pocket. He checked it again. Still no reply.

He could see her so clearly in his mind: the way her lips would curl into a smile when she saw him, her hand pressing just slightly too hard against his stuffed middle, her words dripping with affection and praise. The thought sent a rush through him, his pulse quickening. He wondered what food she'd feed him, how stuffed he'd end up, how well he'd get off by the end of the night. Suddenly he wasn’t interested in the game anymore.

Before he could think it through, his phone was back in his hand. His thumbs moved fast this time, typing out the words he should’ve sent earlier.

‘I’ll be there in 20.’

Her reply came almost instantly, as if she’d been waiting. A grinning emoji, followed by a kissing face.

‘See you soon!!’

Noah felt his heart leap and then sink just as quickly from the weight of what he had to do next. Telling his friends he was leaving wasn’t going to go over well—he already knew that. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to stay.

Clearing his throat, he set his plate aside and pushed himself off the couch, his stomach jostling with the effort. His friends looked up briefly, one of them raising an eyebrow. “Uh, hey, guys. I kinda gotta go...”

The room went quiet for a moment, save for the sound of the game on TV. Jack was the first to respond, his brow furrowing as he twisted to look at Noah. “What the hell, dude? The game’s not over.”

Noah shifted his weight awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, I know, but I—”

“Let me guess,” Matt interrupted, his tone sharp with mock annoyance as he reached lazily for the bowl of chips. “You’re going to see Justine.”

Noah froze, unsure of what to say. He didn’t need to confirm it; his silence spoke volumes.

Matt shook his head and laughed, turning back to the TV. “You’re so fucking whipped, bro.”

The comment stung more than Noah expected, though he forced himself to chuckle as if it didn’t. Before he could think of a response, Ryan stood, dramatically sashaying in front of the TV, his hands on his hips.

He turned to Jack with an exaggerated pout and a high-pitched voice. “Oh, Noah, I need you,” he whined, batting his eyelashes.

Jack grinned and immediately dropped to his knees, crawling toward Ryan with a ridiculous, servile expression. “Coming, my mistress!”

The room erupted into laughter, Noah included, though his laugh felt strained and hollow. His cheeks burned, and he looked down at his shoes, trying to will away the embarrassment creeping up his neck.

“Fuck off,” he said, his tone light but edged with discomfort.

Ryan and Jack collapsed back onto the couch, still laughing, while Matt smirked at Noah. “Have fun with your girlfriend,” he said, waving him off dismissively.

Noah nodded, brushing off the teasing as best he could. It bothered him, but only a little, not enough to dampen the anticipation he felt. They could laugh all they wanted—nothing they said could ruin the night he had ahead of him.

After a few more laughs and vague plans to hang out later in the week, Noah slipped on his jacket and headed for the door. His friends barely looked up, already engrossed in the game again.

The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stuffy warmth of the living room. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew without looking that it was Justine, probably checking to make sure he was on his way. He climbed into his car, the faint sting of his friends’ teasing fading as he pulled out of the driveway.

Chapter 2

Noah pulled up to Justine’s townhouse, his heartbeat picking up as he saw her waiting at the door. Her excitement was palpable, her smile wide and radiant. As soon as he stepped out of the car, she hurried toward him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Missed you,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.

Noah’s gaze swept over her as they pulled apart. She was stunning, as always. Her soft pink lounge romper clung perfectly to her svelte frame, the delicate material hugging her curves and accentuating her long legs. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, her collarbone peeking out beneath a glint of gold from her necklace. The faint smell of vanilla and something floral lingered on her skin.

“Missed you too,” Noah replied, the words thick with honesty. Any hesitation or guilt from earlier evaporated. He was so glad he’d come.

Justine took his hand, her fingers warm and firm as she led him inside. The familiar coziness of her apartment greeted him, from the soft lighting to the plush throw blankets draped over the furniture. She guided him to the sofa, her voice bright as she said, “Sit down and relax. I’ll go heat up your food.”

Noah sank into the couch, the soft cushions cradling his weight as he smiled after her. Reaching for the remote, he called out, “Mind if I put on the game?”

“Go for it!” came her cheerful reply from the kitchen.

Settling back, Noah flipped to the channel just as the game returned from a commercial break, glad to know he hadn’t missed much. The faint clatter of dishes and the hum of the microwave filled the background, but he didn’t mind. Despite having plenty of snacks earlier, his stomach growled, anticipation building as the smells of dinner began to waft into the living room.

Justine soon returned, balancing a large tray laden with food. Noah’s eyes widened as she set it down on the coffee table in front of him. A generous spread greeted him: roasted chicken glistening with juices, creamy mac and cheese oozing with melted cheese, and smothered green beans topped with bacon. Beside it all were a small stack of golden, flaky biscuits and a couple cold bottles of beer.

“Dig in,” she said, her voice soft with affection as she took a seat beside him.

Noah didn’t need to be told twice. He picked up a fork and dove into the mac and cheese, its velvety texture coating his tongue. Justine leaned closer, her hands finding his belly as she rubbed it with a familiar ease. Her fingers lingered, tracing the curve of his stomach before gently poking at his sides and squeezing the thickest parts of him.

A blissful sigh escaped him. This—this—was heaven. He couldn’t believe he’d almost missed it for Matt’s musty apartment and lukewarm snacks.

“You like it?” Justine asked, her tone teasing but pleased.

Noah nodded, too preoccupied with a bite of chicken to answer. The flavors exploded on his tongue, and he let out a muffled hum of approval. Her hands didn’t stop, exploring every inch of him with a mix of fascination and adoration.

“What were you so busy with earlier?” she asked after a moment, her voice light but curious. “Why couldn’t you come over at first?”

Noah glanced at her, briefly distracted by the question before turning his attention back to the food and the game. “I was with my friends,” he said between bites, his tone casual.

“Were you guys watching the game together?” He nodded, his mouth too full to reply.

“Oh, okay,” she said simply, her fingers resuming their slow, light movements over his fattened form.

Noah sank further into the couch, utterly content. Justine’s touch, the hearty meal, the game on TV—it was perfect.

Noah’s attention flickered between the TV and the plate in front of him, but the food quickly became the star of his focus. Each bite was indulgent and rich, the kind of home-cooked decadence Justine excelled at. The mac and cheese was creamy and perfectly seasoned, its cheese pull delightful, while the roasted chicken was tender, each mouthful melting away with its savory juices. The biscuits, warm and buttery, were ideal for sopping up the smothered green beans, which were fragrant with spices and bits of smoked bacon.

Justine stayed close, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his belly, which grew tighter with each bite. “You’re so cute when you eat,” she cooed, her hand moving to cup the underside of his stomach. She gave it a playful jiggle, her lips quirking into a smile. “I swear this thing gets bigger every time I see you.”

Noah flushed and smiled, but didn’t pause in his eating. Her words sent a mixture of pride and contentment coursing through him, a warmth settling in his chest. The game on TV was becoming more of a backdrop now, its commentary and crowd noise barely registering.

As he reached for another bite of chicken, Justine’s hand drifted lower, her fingers exploring the curve of his hip and the softness there. “And these,” she murmured, giving a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been growing so much lately. My perfect little piggy.”

He swallowed hard, the food in his mouth suddenly feeling heavier. The mixture of affection and teasing in her voice made his heart race, though he tried to focus on the plate in front of him. The fullness in his stomach began to grow more noticeable, the waistband of his jeans pressing snugly against his middle.

“Keep going, babe,” she encouraged, her voice lilting. “You’re doing so good.”

Noah obeyed, though he began to feel the strain of his pace. Each bite now came slower, his jaw working harder as his stomach grew tighter and tighter. Justine’s hands were relentless, exploring the doughy rolls on his sides, the swell of his chest, the soft expanse of his thighs. She even reached down to prod at his fat pad, feeling the plushness of it through his jeans, giggling softly as she did.

“You’re getting so big,” she whispered, her tone affectionate but insistent. “I love it.”

Noah shifted uncomfortably, trying to find more room as the tension around his waist became unbearable. Still, he didn’t want to disappoint her. He speared another forkful of mac and cheese, his movements sluggish now, and forced it down with a small groan.

Halfway through his third biscuit, he had to pause, leaning back slightly as he rubbed his distended stomach. His breaths came heavier, and a dull ache began to settle beneath the overstuffed fullness. Justine, however, wasn’t ready to let him stop.

“Just one more bite,” she urged, her hands never leaving his body. She gave his belly a playful slap, laughing at the soft jiggle it created. “You’ve got room. I know you do.”

Noah shook his head weakly, his hand resting protectively over his stomach. “I... I think I’m done,” he mumbled, his voice thick with discomfort. “I’m too full.”

“Are you sure?” Justine asked, leaning closer as she gave his side an encouraging squeeze. Her tone was light, but laced with a touch of pouting that made Noah hesitate. “You didn’t finish everything.”

He nodded, a small moan escaping as he reached down to undo the button on his jeans. The relief was immediate, though it didn’t stop the lingering tightness in his belly. “I had... a lot to eat earlier,” he said, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes briefly.

Justine tilted her head, her smile soft but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. Disappointment? Maybe. But there was also a flicker of something deeper, something almost calculating. “Okay then,” she said, brushing it off with a cheerful tone.

She scooted closer, nestling against his side and leaning her head on his shoulder. Her hand resumed its familiar path over his belly, coaxing out a series of burps that made Noah groan softly. She giggled, patting his stomach fondly.

“You did good,” she said, her voice soothing. “My big, stuffed boy.”

Noah couldn’t help but smile, even as the fullness weighed him down like a heavy stone. It wasn’t just the food or the game or even Justine’s touch—it was all of it. All of it was perfect.

Chapter 3

About an hour later, Noah stretched out on the couch, his fingers absently tracing the fabric of the armrest. The movie on the screen blurred into the background, its muted dialogue competing with the gentle hum of his own contented thoughts. Justine had shifted away from his shoulder a while ago, yet her presence beside him still radiated a calming warmth. The heavy weight in his stomach anchored him in place, heavy from how indulgent the evening had already been.

The game had long since ended, though Noah could hardly remember the score. The fullness in his stomach had taken center stage, its tightness competing only with the soothing weight of Justine leaning into him earlier. Her absence now made him oddly restless. His eyes flicked toward her, seated next to him, her posture relaxed as her attention drifted somewhere unseen. The dim light of the room framed her face in soft shadows, and Noah couldn’t help but think how the moment seemed to stretch on.

Then, the low, deep rumble of his stomach broke the stillness. Not hunger—more like a slow, gurgling protest from his overworked gut. He winced slightly at the sound, half amused and half embarrassed. Justine turned to him immediately, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. Without a word, her hand found its way to his belly.

“You’ve been such a good boy tonight,” she murmured, her fingers kneading gently into the plush curve of his stomach. The motion sent a soothing warmth through him, coaxing out a soft mmm of satisfaction. “I can’t get over how full you look. So cute and round.”

Noah chuckled softly, a mix of pride and bashfulness. Her words always struck him somewhere tender, filling him with a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration. He closed his eyes briefly, letting her touch calm the subtle ache in his abdomen. “Feels... heavy,” he admitted, his voice low, almost groggy.

“It should,” she teased, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over the tight expanse of his stomach. She leaned closer, her lips brushing the edge of his ear as she whispered, “You’ve really outdone yourself tonight.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and Noah found himself smiling despite the pressure in his middle. He opened his eyes halfway, glancing down at the hand she kept on his belly. The way she touched him—so casual yet so focused—made him feel like he was the center of her world. And maybe, in these moments, he was.

Justine shifted slightly, sitting up straighter as her fingers stilled for a moment. “You’re not done yet, though,” she said, her tone light but carrying an edge of playfulness that piqued Noah’s excitement. She tilted her head, studying him with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. “Think you’re ready for dessert?”

Noah’s heart skipped, anticipation pooling in his chest. He’d been waiting for her to say it. The offer of dessert wasn’t just about food—it was the unspoken promise of what came after, the intimacy that always followed these evenings of indulgence. He swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the tightness in his jeans and the way his stomach pressed outward against the fabric.

“Definitely,” he said, glancing at his belly, which looked impossibly round and full. The thought of eating more made his stomach twist slightly in protest, but the idea of denying her—of missing out on her affection—was unthinkable. He grinned faintly, patting his stomach as if reassuring himself. “I’m not really hungry, but... I’ll eat whatever you’ve got.”

Justine’s smile widened, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her hand lingered on his belly for a moment longer, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent a thrill through him. Then, with a graceful shift, she slid off the couch.

“Just a minute,” she said, her tone promising something sweet, something indulgent. The sound of her steps faded as she disappeared from the room, leaving Noah alone with his thoughts.

He sank deeper into the cushions, the weight of his full stomach pulling him into a near-languid state. He absently rubbed his belly, his fingers skimming over the tight curve. The pressure was intense but not unpleasant. And yet, despite the fullness, there was a small part of him eager for more—not just the food, but the way she looked at him, touched him, made him feel.

The minutes stretched on, and Noah’s thoughts drifted to the past months, to the way his body had softened under her care. He couldn’t deny how much he loved it—the way she lavished him with attention, the way every meal felt like an act of devotion. He’d never been this way before, never let himself indulge quite this much. But with Justine, it felt... right.

He heard the sharp, deliberate click of her heels before he saw her, and the sound alone made his pulse quicken. When Justine stepped into the room, Noah’s breath caught. She was transformed—her usual cozy, casual demeanor replaced by something sleek, bold, and utterly commanding. She wore a black latex bodysuit that hugged her every curve, its glossy surface catching the dim light in a way that made her seem almost unreal. The zipper at the front was drawn low enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of cleavage, and her knee-high leather boots added a striking edge to her already magnetic presence. In one hand, she held a small chocolate cake, its glossy surface decorated with rich frosting. In the other, still partially hidden behind her back, was something he couldn’t quite see.

For a moment, all Noah could do was stare. His mouth went dry, and heat rose to his face and chest as his gaze traveled over her. “Wow,” he said finally, his voice breaking the silence, though it came out quieter than he intended. His grin widened with a mix of awe and excitement. “You look... you look amazing!”

At first, Justine didn’t respond. Her expression remained unreadable, her head tilted slightly as if assessing his reaction. The way she stood—her back straight, her chin lifted—radiated confidence, and something about it made Noah’s heart race even faster. He expected her to smile, to tease him like she usually did, but instead, her gaze remained steady, sharp in a way that made him shift slightly on the couch.

His initial excitement gave way to confusion as the silence stretched. The longer she stood there, her expression unreadable, the more unsure he became. Was he missing something? He’d meant his compliment wholeheartedly, but the way she was looking at him now made him second-guess himself.

“Uh...” he started, his grin faltering. “Is everything okay?”

Justine raised an eyebrow, her eyes remaining serious. “I’m not sure why you’re smiling,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a weight that sent a shiver down his spine. “You’ve been a very bad pig.”

The words hit him like a jolt. Noah’s heart skipped, then started pounding faster, adrenaline surging as the tone of the evening shifted entirely. He stared at her, his thoughts stumbling over themselves. Bad pig? The phrase echoed in his mind, leaving him startled and unsure how to respond.

“I... what?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He sat up straighter, his hands instinctively moving to his lap as though trying to compose himself. A nervous laugh escaped him, shaky and unsure. “I thought—uh, I mean, bad? I didn’t realize...”

She took a slow step forward, and the sharp click of her heel against the hardwood floor silenced him. Her movements were deliberate, her posture as commanding as her tone.

Noah’s gaze flickered from her face to the cake and back again. This wasn’t the playful flirtation he was used to. Roleplay maybe? Her serious expression and controlled movements told him this was something else entirely.

“First,” she began, her tone even and measured, “you refused to come over when I asked. Then you didn’t finish the dinner I made you.” She took another step forward, her boots echoing ominously in the quiet room. “What made you think that was okay?”

The words hit him like a reprimand, and he felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing coherent came out. Instead, he stammered, “I-I didn’t mean to— I thought—” His voice faltered as she took another step closer.

Her other hand moved then, coming into view, and Noah’s breath caught in his throat. She was holding a sleek black riding crop, the polished leather gleaming in the light. His eyes widened as he stared at it, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening. His chest tightened, the thrill of anticipation mingling with a growing nervousness.

“W-wait,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He forced a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “What’s, uh, what’s that for?”

Justine didn’t answer right away. Instead, she bent down gracefully, placing the cake on the floor in front of the couch with careful precision. Her movements were precise, as though she was drawing out every second to make him squirm. When she straightened again, she ran her fingers along the length of the riding crop, her touch casual yet purposeful.

The room felt smaller now, the air heavy with tension. Noah’s stomach flipped, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to piece together what was happening. Was this some kind of joke? A new kind of game? He searched her face for a hint of her usual playfulness, some clue that this was all in fun, but all he found was calm, measured intensity.

Her eyes locked onto his, and he felt pinned under her gaze, unable to look away. His pulse thundered in his ears, and his hands tightened against his thighs. There was no mistaking her seriousness now, and it sent unease through him.

When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, commanding, and left no room for argument. “On your knees.”

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