I thought I was done, I thought I had reached my absolute limit, but there's another plate in front of me and I'm being made to finish every single bite. I'm staring at the food with a mix of terror and desperate excitement, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps because my belly is already so massive it's pushing up against my lungs. I try to resist, but the moment the first bite hits my tongue, that love kicks back in. I'm a greedy little piggy, and even though I'm already bursting, the idea of being made to grow even larger is almost too much to handle.

Every forkful is a struggle, a slow and agonizing process of shoving more mass into a stomach that is already screaming for mercy. I can feel my belly tightening even more. I'm moaning and whimpering with every swallow. There's no room left. The pressure is immense, a throbbing, heavy weight that makes me feel like I'm being inflated like a balloon, and I can feel my middle pushing further and further out.

As the plate finally empties, I'm panting, my face flushed, feeling the sheer, overwhelming weight of it all settling inside me. The sensation is almost violent, a crushing fullness that makes every tiny movement a chore, and I can feel my skin vibrating with the tension of being stretched to the max.

I'm beyond stuffed, I'm practically bursting at the seams, and even through the pain, I can't help but love how absolutely massive I've become. I've been pushed to the edge, and I've never felt more like a piggy in my entire life.