Pig Of A Pig 2

There was a whine from under the desk, a deep, needy, wanting whine that rang out, seeking solace from it's suffering.

Officer Hiroko Kikuchi shoveled in another handful of Cheezy-Lumps. That should take care of that...

She looked around, making sure nobody was watching, and carefully replaced the empty bag of snack treats with another, less feasted upon one.

She took great lengths to disguise the lengths of her gluttony from others in the Station. There had been strict policies regarding the daily calorie intake of officers after the unfortunate incidents involving Officer Hernandez.

Ah Officer Hernandez... Jamie...

Hiroko allowed herself a momentary lapse into a little private fantasy. She imagined herself as Jamie, so big, so round, so wonderfully fattened. She had often watched, enviously, as Jamie waddled her way across the office, her plump thighs rustling together in the black stretch pants she sometimes wore to work, hoping nobody would notice they weren't standard uniform. The way her belly had poked out from her un-tucked shirt after lunch, making those peculiar noises ...

Her memory clicked into gear, and brought her back down to earth with the knowledge of what had happened to Officer Jamie Hernandez... Deceased.

Hiroko had watched the cleaning crews arrive to scrub the walls after Jamie had left the building, so to speak. She had seen poor Doctor Forbes led sobbing from the building, and had seen, with a note of pity, her return several months later, a lesser, changed woman.

She checked her watch, it was almost 11:30.

She had an appointment to keep.

With the doctor.

*****

She knocked politely, and pushed in the door to the doctor's office.

"Good morning, Officer Hernandez... oh..."

Hiroko hadn't been expecting that. She knew she was slightly more... midriffy... than many of the other officers, but she hadn't intended a reaction like that...

"It's Officer Kikuchi, Ma'am..."

The doctor looked visibly paler than she had before. The previous events had taken it out of her somewhat, she looked somewhat older than before, and much frailer too...

"I'm here for my check up, doctor..."

Doctor Forbes seemed to have phased out for a minute, staring intently at the bulk of Hiroko's not-unimpressive stomach. The tiny Asian American had obviously not been paying attention to departmental guidelines...

Her shirt, obviously containing several Xs and an L on it's sizing label, strained against the swollen orb jutting from her front. Doctor Forbes watched as Hiroko breathed, her stomach swelling slightly with the influx of air, causing her shirt to yawn slightly, patches of chilly flesh revealing themselves tantalizingly before vanishing with the exhalation.

It was so similar, she could almost taste the cream...

For the briefest of seconds, she was back in the old office, Officer Hernandez spread out and groaning on her table, clutching at her immense stomach as it grew, swelling higher and higher and higher, before with a loud wet bang...

"Doctor?"

"I'm sorry, million miles away. Officer Kikuchi?"

"Hiroko, please."

"Hiroko... yes, step this way..."

Hiroko eyed the doctor sidelong. Something was amiss here, and she thought she knew just what it was...

An errant hand sunk to her belly, embracing the eager warm flesh. Her fingers slipped between the gaping buttons of her over strained attire, and finding a patch of contentedly plump flesh, she gave it a small, maternal rub.

The doctor gasped, trying to avoid looking at her stomach.

Just as she had suspected...

"What can I help you with, Hiroko..."

The doctor appeared to be in the early grips of a panic attack, unwilling or perhaps unable to look directly at Hiroko and her bloated gut. Time to strike...

"I need a check up doctor, I'm pregnant."

The lie came easy, easier than she'd thought it might. She'd spent all day stuffing herself, mentally with information and physically with fattening snack foods, in order to pull this off, but by the looks of it she was actually far more well prepared than she needed to be... That paid 'maternity leave' was as good as hers.

Doctor Forbes twitched like she'd been electrocuted.

"I'd like a second opinion, doctor..."

Doctor Forbes nearly shrieked, she had been reduced to little more than a quivering heap, a shadow, a shade in fear of the bloated belly before her.

"You look... um... glowing! Yes, that'll do. Um... have you taken a test?"

Officer Hiroko sighed.

"Pregnancy tests aren't cheap... my salary doesn't cover medical expenses."

Doctor Forbes withdrew a tiny leather purse from somewhere on her person, and thrust a handful of crisp notes toward the fecund police woman. Hiroko gleefully took them.

"Thanks Doc, I'll be sure to let you know the sex!"

Doctor Forbes gibbered to herself, and cowered behind her desk.

That was the first time She met the doctor.

Needless to say, the money was not wisely invested. All in all, Doctor Forbes had thrust a not too meager three hundred and forty seven dollars into Hiroko's hand. Hiroko spent this money on, amongst other things, a wedding cake. Not because she was going to get married, no. Because she wanted to know if she could eat one.

The first slice went down very, very well. Rich chocolate cake, with white icing, delicately set off with a floral motif of pink flowers against a pure, snowy white background. Hiroko hadn't been offended when the lady in the shop had made a comment about it being a shotgun wedding and stared meaningfully at the large round bulge gurgling in an anticipatory manner beneath an over sized t-shirt, rather, she had taken it as a very good sign.

Hiroko particularly liked the juxtaposition of white icing with dark, deliciously sinful chocolate cake. She liked the sound of 'Juxtaposition' too, but at the minute, the only sounds she could muster was the occasional 'm mph' and a small squeal of delight.

The second slice went down better than the first. The flowers on this slice had transitioned to orange, the only reason she knew this was that her fingers were covered in orange icing afterwards.

The third slice didn't go down as easily as the other two. For a start, it wasn't so much a slice as a handful. And secondly, it contained the plastic bride and groom, which were pointy, and decidedly less chocolaty.

The forth handful/slice was also a difficult one, this time not because of aesthetic plastic, but rather it was considerably larger than the last.

She had crumbs of cake in her bosom. She didn't really care.

She made it through the first layer with consummate ease of consumption. In order to maintain the illusion of being pregnant, she'd had to grow her stomach by degrees, and found that maintaining a near constant state of being stuffed to near rupture had had the inevitable effect of stretching her stomach. Speaking of stretching, by the time she finished the first tier, she was rather glad she'd worn stretch pants.

She took an experimental bite of one of the tiny white pillars that separated the layers of cake. Just as she suspected. Her keen detective skills, honed at police academy, told her this was plaster, not sugar. Tossing aside the moderately masticated and somewhat mangled masonry, she set to work on the second layer, pulling out handfuls of the larger wheel of cake, and stuffing them into her eager mouth.

Her belly was beginning to outgrow her outfit. The soft, dough like roll of flab extruded from the ever widening gap between shirt and pants, pale flesh gurgling and expanding from the influx of cake, every bite bringing joy to both feeder and recipient. The sounds of her stomach vastly outmatched the smack of lips and slight sounds of delight, noisy gurgles and the thrash of glutted intestines booming from the dangerously fattened girl.

The second tier was vanquished, as were her clothes. She sighed contentedly before jumping in shock at the sound of stitching giving way. With sorrowful eyes she regarded the ghost like fibers hanging on between the now gaping splits in her shirt and pants, before realizing with crumb coated glee it had given her the space she needed to maneuver for the final push

She had crumbs of cake in her bellybutton. She didn't care.

The final castle was in sight, this time the princess was inside. She scooped, first slowly, then quicker, faster, her pace increasing, her girth matching it. The cake began to show signs of wear and tear, great sections were missing, the icing as smeared and in several places showing worrying signs of a serial licking.

Hiroko moaned in digestive revelry, one hand sliding to her stomach to relieve the pressure, the pudgy, plump fingers barely able to sink into the swollen sphere, though doing their best to leave great greasy brown smears of chocolate over the surface of her stomach. She licked her fingers, a somewhat silly idea, as her next act was to plunge them back into the cake. Her stomach was so tight it began to creak, the skin barely able to contain the monstrous spectre of a woman able to consume an entire three tier chocolate wedding cake.

Nearly there...

She stuffed another few handfuls, unable to stifle the sounds coming from both her heavily over bloated belly, nor her cries of delight and satisfaction

Nearly there...

Her stomach was beginning to tremble worryingly, beneath her fingertips the great snowy mound had grown hard and unyielding, packed to the absolute limit.

Nearly...

The final mouthful hove into view. With a wistful air, Hiroko placed it gingerly on her tongue, closed her mouth, chewed once, twice, three times, a fourth for good luck, and let it slip down her throat to join the bakery based bulge erupting from her waistline.

With a splintering crack, her eyes shot open. Hands probed here and there, but there seemed to be nothing other than the obvious wrong with her stomach.

Then the chair legs gave way.

There was several drawn out seconds of silence, before from beneath the table, giggling was heard. With a chorus of wheezing pants and other straining sounds, Hiroko rose to her feet. She made her way ponderously past the table where the cake had once stood, now the rubble and detritus of battle evident. She crowed to her victory, but it was a hollow, Pyrrhic one, her face contorted in the wince of one who may have had eyes too big for her stomach. Looking to ascertain such a thing, she made her way laboriously and groan laden through the house, gingerly up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Her full length dress mirror stood ready to help in any way it could, but through the looking glass she saw no white rabbits nor figments of Carrol's fevered imagination, instead the vista was dominated by the great white whale, the mythical leviathan, given life and form by the young woman's gluttony. Her stomach protruded from her ruined shirt, with a motion that arose a few too many jiggles and many too many groans of complaint from the bulbous orb, she carefully tore the remaining stitches allowing the sweat pants to cling to her plump body, and let them fall to the floor. Her lower half, nude save for a pair of modestly small striped panties, had filled out considerably, but was no match for the all encompassing curve striking out from her once far trimmer gut for the new world of gluttonous pleasures. The sight thrilled and terrified her, she had grown considerably during the meal, her stomach far, far outweighing the now seemingly meager pot belly she had sported earlier. She felt a tingle in her panties, a sly grin slipping across her features as she stuck it out, turning this way and that to marvel at its dimensions. She tried, and nearly failed, to get her arms all the way around it, she managed the feat but at the price of squeezing the already angry abdomen she had been cradling so gingerly, her face suddenly contorting in discomfort as it voiced its feelings of mistreatment to her. Placing a hand either side of her now insignificant looking navel, she slowly waddled her way, triumphant but in near ruin, to bed.

Soon the sounds of snoring jostled for attention with those echoing from the vast girth hidden beneath covers and comforters. The quaking swell moaned and sloshed to itself, pinning it's restful owner to the bed, memories of her feast still dancing before her eyes. Sleep came deservedly, and with it, thoughts of how to do it again...

Needless to say, the money did not last Hiroko long. She waited a week before going to see the Doctor again, this time making sure to wear a shirt with one or two too few X's in the sizing label. She coughed deliberately, making her belly bounce and distort, and with a modicum of pride watching as a button catapulted over the doctor's head. The shirt, in actual fact, had been the same one she had worn for the previous appointment, only now, with the ravages of the wedding cake fully felt, she could barely fit into it. Still, if she was going to keep up the pretense of being pregnant in order to qualify for maternity leave, she had to do all she could to make her 'bump' as realistic as possible

She could barely fit into much these days. The effects of remaining so constantly stuffed were beginning to show, her stomach had outpaced that of almost every known pregnancy save those who through the miracles of science have explored the upper reaches of the Latin counting system. It was a solid, tight bulge at all times, prone to twinges of discomforting ache as the skin adjusted to its task of growing ever larger, ever ready to groan and gurgle at the most inopportune of moments. She had begun to avoid elevators, not simply because of her cacophonous midriff and the tight squeeze they usually presented, but for the one time she had come so close to disaster.

She was leaving the cafeteria when it happened, having reveled in the attention of her coworkers and their congratulations on her impending little bundle of joy, she waddled as fast asher plump legs could take her toward a rapidly diminishing gap in the elevator doors. Just as she thought she had reached safety... Thunk! The sides of the door pushed into the plush flesh of her belly, the overhang enough that her feet could not reach the sensor to cause it to spring open. It began to squeeze tighter, sweat formed on her brow as her stomach quaked malevolently, her hands neglecting their usual duty of gentle massage as they sought desperately to pry the door open before its constrictive grasp popped her bloated belly like an overripe grape. It bulged hideously, distorting wildly from the pressure, like a mistreated water balloon it stretched to the unnatural shape it was being dictated to by the doors, but it was less than happy about the arrangement, and was letting Hiroko know all about it. A few more seconds of this, and her skin would give way, a great rolling bang, her coworkers shocked to discover her belly riding the elevator separate to her body. She couldn't let that happen...

She grunted with the effort, but all the heavy sandwich lifting over the past few weeks paid off, and with a tear of fabric and a squeaky pop, she forced her way through the doors, and collapsed to the floor, winded and in abdominal agony, but thankful to be alive. She cradled her belly, cooing to it, soothing it maternally as she rode up to the fifth floor, the buttons all but devastated, she did her best to pin the front of her shirt closed with her police badge, though it was a difficult choice... whether or not to try to cover her breasts in their rather fetching purple bra, or her belly, with its rather fetching purple bruising from the over zealous doors. She chose for somewhere in the middle, revealing a scandalous amount of cleavage and almost the complete curve of her massive midriff, but neither the complete view of either was offered.

It was a wonder she'd made it to her doctor's appointment without causing a riot. She'd used the doctors handout this time (she needed pickles and ice cream, apparently) to buy a new shirt, one with a twenty percent spandex weave.

Today however, things would be different.

There is a school of thought amongst psychologists that suggests a radical treatment for those who suffer from phobias. They call it saturation therapy. Basically, it involves coming face to face with your deepest, darkest, most crippling fear, and bringing yourself forcefully into contact with it. People with a fear of spiders petting a tarantula, people with a fear of dirt going plowing, etcetera, etcetera.

Doctor Forbes' workers comp. therapist had suggested something radical to help with her fear of round bellies. She had talked at length about the pregnant Asian girl at work, and so had been told, on pain of dismissal from her job, she had to face her phobia. She had to administer an ultrasound to her.

The sight that greeted Hiroko's eyes on entry to the doctors office, was not what she'd come to expect. The doctor was still on edge and a blatant bundle of nerves, but now... now she had the machine.

"Officer Kikuchi... You... you look bigger..."

Hiroko puffed out her belly, which whined dramatically. She'd just finished eating for seventeen, let alone two.

"A waist is a terrible thing to mind, Doctor."

She prodded her own gut, which moaned balefully. A wince ran over her pretty features, her brow furrowing in consternation.

"Trouble with the little ones?" Doctor Forbes managed with out too much of a pronounced stutter.

Hiroko flashed a winning smile, hoping force of personality and her immense bulk could bypass any questions

"They are, I feel like I'm gestating a whole football team in here!"

She lifted her shirt slightly, allowing the chilly curve of succulent, swollen stomach a clear view of the doctor. Much to Hiroko's concern and surprise, the sight of her bloated "womb" didn't shake the doctor.

"Ah yes... I believe it's your 32 week appointment today... that means we must administer an u...ultrasound scan... to check on you..."

Doctor Forbes' tongue skipped as many beats as Hiroko's heart. This wasn't meant to happen... she was in it up to her neck now.

"Come along Officer... lie down please..."

Hiroko glanced about her, looking for an escape, but nothing presented itself. Damn!

"On the table, if you'd be so kind, and remove your shirt please."

Hiroko lay down. It would look suspicious if she ran, but it was going to look even more suspicious once she had a look at what was going on inside Hiroko's tummy. She undid her shirt, hoping beyond hope the doctor would baulk at the sight of her gargantuan gut. The leviathan sprang from her clothing, full an taut, stuffed to massive proportions, it towered over the reclining figure, who appreciatively ran a lazy hand over it's bulk, and cooed. This had to be enough to put Forbes off examining her belly.

No such luck

"This may feel a little cold I'm afraid to say, Hiroko."

The ultrasound gel was indeed a little cold. Doctor Forbes had applied enough to scan an elephant, the pale blue gel liberally dripping from Hiroko's distended circumference. Her stomach heaved and quaked, and with an unnatural whale song like sound, bubbled abruptly.

Hiroko belched. A slight hint of Cheezy-Lumps.

Doctor Forbes excused herself for a moment, having turned a very pale shade.

That was all the sign Hiroko needed. Quickly, Hiroko sized up her options, before spying a large pressurized oxygen canister under the table. Not caring for the danger or the consequences, she took the hose, removed the mask, and slipping it down the waistband of her slacks, went for gold. With the thought ringing in her head of "Go big or go home", one way or another she'd give the doctor a sight for sore eyes. She swell herself so large the doctor would have no choice but to believe her.

Doctor Forbes returned, but had second thoughts upon reentering her office. The figure lying prone on her examining table seemed... Bigger. She rubbed her eyes and refocused. Yes, she was... she was growing! Before her very eyes, the plump Asian officer was swelling, her stomach growing larger, and larger, rounder, grander...

She shook her head. The fear was getting to her, it was playing tricks with her mind, her eyes were deceiving her. There was no way Officer Hernandez could be back. Every night, still, it was the same dream...

She approached Jamie, lying flat on the table, her stomach a quivering monolith. The bulky Hispanic officer groaned with fullness, her belly a monument to over indulgence, enough contraband evidence swirling around in there to put a very big stain on the department's reputation. The pills were in her hand, and before she could stop herself, she was feeding them to her all over again. There was a moment of silence, she closed her eyes, heard a whimper, a groan, and then a sound of thunder.

That was when she woke up, heart drilling into her chest, sweat soaked and panting, at four AM.

She snapped too. There was no way she would let fear get the better of her, no way in hell. With grim determination, she steeled herself, clutched the tiny hand scanner, and pressed it to the gel covered belly of the extremely pregnant yet protesting woman.

She looked at the screen... that was odd.

She moved the scanner some more... very peculiar.

One more time, just below the navel, at the widest point in her bulging gut...

That was a donut, not a baby.

She looked Hiroko square in the eye, her fear replaced by a quizzical anger.

"I can explain, doctor..."

Forbes grit her teeth.

"Save it, fatty. You'll be doing that to the chief..."

She prodded Hiroko square in the bulbous bloat protruding from her uniform. The distended orb groaned mightily with untold fullness and hastily eaten confectionery. The girl winced. It felt good, very good in fact, so she did it again. Prod. Groan. Wince.

Forbes roused herself, and moved to the door. Behind her, she could hear the sound of an extremely over burdened stomach struggling to rise from an aborted ultrasound. Hiroko's pleas fell on deaf ears as the doctor swept out of the office and down the hall, toward the elevators.

Hiroko grabbed a scalpel. She wouldn't let her get that far.

Summoning all her strength, she waddled as far as the door, and thrust herself through it. Well... almost. With a groan and creak of wood and the squeak of trapped flesh, she made it half way. Her immense abdomen, perfectly spherical, gigantically swollen, had wedged in the door. She wriggled, but it was no use, she was stuck fast. Trapped like a beloved children's character, she let out a cry of unmitigated anger, untold rage echoing out from within the glutted glutton at her plight, the doorway non cooperative to her vengeful needs.

In fact, it was creaking rather loudly...

She realized in a heartbeat that the tank was still hooked up. She tensed a few muscles in her downstairs region, and felt the tube still firmly in place. She placed a hand lovingly to her massive midriff, and laughed.

This may just work.

Beneath her fingers, she could feel the compressed air forcing its way into her bowels, the inner workings of the vast sphere being jostled aside to make space for more and more of the gas, the only way to fit it all in? To make more room.

She grunted at the effort, feeling her belly swell, larger and larger, fuller and wider. She pressed eagerly into the taut flesh, hearing the groaning resistance of her organs, but feeling the progress.

The door frame creaked louder, the cheap wood letting out a slight, almost imperceptible splintering sound.

She smiled, rubbing and coaxing her girth to grow bigger, faster, wider.

The door way creaked in a manner that would make Boris Karloff afraid.

Creak.

Creeeeak.

Creeeaaaaaaaaaaaaak

This was it, her belly aching with fullness, she braced her hands against the door, her round, plump butt wiggling with readiness on one side, her face set in a mask of determination on the other.

Crrrrrreeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaakkkkk...

CRASH!

With an earsplitting crack the timber gave way, and in a heartbeat Hiroko was free. He pulled herself free of the wreckage, and patted her belly in triumph.

Her belly expanded to it's full dimensions, and she realized in a heartbeat something was wrong.

She looked down at her stomach, the huge ocean of white flesh that emerged from her shirt and obscured the lower portions of her body. Cautious hands explored it, unsettled fingers probed it, and she felt the shift...

Free from the confinements of the door way, her belly was free to expand to its fullest dimensions. This normally wouldn't have been a problem, much like when Hiroko had found herself stuck in the elevator doors by her belly. However, when that had happened, her belly had been full... and not still being filled.

With a look of terror, she realized, as her tummy poured outward to its fullest scope, that it was too much. It had just about managed to contain the air lying on the table, it had been uncomfortable but do-able. Now... now was different.

She felt for the hose, still protruding from her, and with a slight 'pop' pulled it from herself.

A long, hollow sound echoed out from her, the sound roaring out from behind her tiny looking navel, seemingly amplified by it.

A single tear rolled down one cheek... it was far, far too much.

She clutched her gut as a spasm of agony ran through it. It roared, rocked, rolled and heaved beneath her fingers, angry and malevolent and massive beyond possibility. Indeed, as Hiroko was about to discover, it was not possible to become so abdominally massive.

Her belly lurched from her grasp, her hands shot back as it growled and roared angrily. She sobbed to herself, pleading with her own stomach to hold on for dear life. She promised in her mind to do whatever it wanted if only it would spare her, unwilling to admit that the vast white blimp her body was attached to was indeed any of her responsibility. There was a tearing sound from deep within her, accompanied by a flare of unbearable pain, Hiroko gasped as her belly rumbled and contracted, the sound growing closer and closer to the surface.

Her stomach gurgled once... twice... three times.

A roar built.

Hiroko clutched her stomach, and opened her mouth to scream.

The tearing sound seemed to stretch out, not only itself but the moments, each heartbeat a lifetime as the woman held on to her own tummy, promising for all she was worth, swearing a thousand oaths and cursing herself a thousand thousand times more.

The ripping sound echoed through the corridor, to be replaced by a rubbery sound of skin stretching far beyond its own elastic limit. Hiroko cried out, a great red welt appearing on the apex of her stomach, it's expansion slowing, slowing, holding steady...

There was a sound of thunder.

Hiroko's belly burst.

The building shook on it's very foundations, the walls cracked, ceilings crumbled, water coolers shattered and even miles from the scene, people had to readjust picture frames that had slid askew.

By the time they found Doctor Forbes, she was hysterical. She had been buried beneath the rubble of the police headquarters for two days, and had tried to tunnel her way out through the remains of the cafeteria's stock room... by eating her way out.

Though she had been through a terrible ordeal, she appeared much younger and more sprightly, her features beaming, her smile a beacon of hope in the disaster area.

As she was lead away, she patted the surprising bulge that protruded from her lab coat, and smiled. It gurgled back to her, a needy, narcissistic gurgle.

"I'm hungry" she said.