I Won't Stop

His stomach is huge. I can't take my eyes off of it. He's so skinny - at least for now - and it pours out from him like a mountainous boulder. The skin glistens not only with sweat, but with how much it has stretched to accumulate the feast. While normally pale, it now glows pink with effort. Already there are thin stretchmarks forming.

Running my finger from chest to bellybutton, I feel how hard it is. Taut as a drum, refusing to give an inch when I poke it forcefully. This draws a moan from his lips; he's still mostly unconscious. Sleeping off the stuffing. He's so sweet - didn't even bother trying to remove the feeding tube. Finally learned his lesson.

Currently, the beautifully swollen young man lies in the centre of the bed. Stomach soaring upwards before crashing back down onto the mattress. As much as it has pushed forwards, it's distended outwards as well. Formed a huge, perfect dome the size of which a human stomach has never been before. Though still in slumber, it is clear each breath is difficult. Though neither he nor I can move him, so he just has to stay put.

That belly - God, it drives me insane. I've known him almost a week - not long enough for the rest of him to fatten up. But that gut has been a trooper. Before it was pitifully concave, but no longer. It is a beautiful piece of work, and I will make it bigger.

When he finally wakes, we make a team effort and put him into a sitting position. He can breathe much easier. The unearthly mound rests on the bed, taking off a load of pressure. I turn on the feeding tube without hesitation. Instantly, his mouth his flooded with food. He doesn't have to do anything but sit there as it forces its own way into his belly. I sit before him, watching with wide, eager eyes as it begins to grow. Engorging itself ten-fold, pushing outwards towards me and the sides of the bed. It flows over his thighs, demanding new space as it simply gets bigger. Beneath the mask, he moans in pain.

I don't stop.