Chapter 4: Feast of Flesh
The heavy thud against the dorm door startled Becca upright from her half-dozing slump on the futon. The scent of garlic butter, rich cream, and roasted meat hit her nose a second later, thick and unmistakable. Trixie heaved herself off her bed with a grunt, the mattress groaning in relief. Her vast hips brushed a precarious stack of textbooks, sending them tumbling like dominoes. She ignored them, padding barefoot to the door, her immense, unsupported breasts swaying heavily with each step. Becca’s gaze tracked them, the familiar heat already pooling low in her belly.
"Feast time!" Trixie announced, wrestling the door open. A delivery guy stood there, eyes wide, holding three massive insulated bags straining at the seams. His gaze flickered over Trixie’s near-nakedness – just tiny black panties vanishing into the deep canyon of her ass cheeks, her enormous belly a soft, round shelf above them. Trixie just grinned, grabbing the bags. "Thanks, hon! Keep the change." She slammed the door with her hip, the bags swinging perilously.
The smell intensified, overwhelming the stale pizza scent lingering from the night before. Trixie dumped the bags onto her chaotic desk, pushing aside empty chip bags and a stray bra. Foil containers emerged: creamy fettuccine Alfredo glistening with fat, a mountain of garlic bread glazed with butter, deep-dish pizza oozing cheese and pepperoni, and a large container of tiramisu dusted with cocoa. She ripped open disposable cutlery packets with her teeth, spitting the plastic onto the floor.
"C'mon, Becs," she ordered, patting the cleared space on her bed. "No time for plates. Primitive dining tonight." Becca obeyed, the movement making her increasingly snug sweatpants pull tighter against the thick ridge nestled within. Trixie’s eyes tracked the movement, a hungry smile playing on her lips. She scooped a massive forkful of fettuccine, the creamy strands dripping, and held it out. "Open wide."
Becca leaned in, taking the bite. The richness exploded on her tongue, the heavy cream coating her throat. Trixie watched her swallow, then immediately scooped another forkful. Before Becca could chew properly, Trixie guided the pasta between her lips again, her thumb brushing Becca’s chin. "Good girl," Trixie murmured, her voice already husky. "Need you fueled up." She leaned closer, her heavy breasts pressing against Becca’s arm. "Need you big."
Between bites of Alfredo, Trixie tore off a dripping chunk of garlic bread. She held it to Becca’s mouth, but as Becca opened to accept it, Trixie pulled it away slightly, her other hand landing possessively on the tented fabric of Becca’s pants. "Getting tighter in there, huh?" she teased, her fingers flexing, feeling the rigid shaft beneath. Becca gasped, the garlicky aroma filling her nostrils. Trixie chuckled, a low, satisfied rumble, and finally pushed the bread into Becca’s mouth. "Bigger bites. Faster."
The feeding became a relentless rhythm. Forkfuls of pasta, chunks of bread soaked in sauce, slices of pepperoni pizza, each guided to Becca’s mouth by Trixie’s insistent fingers. Grease smeared Becca’s chin, her cheeks. Trixie licked her own fingers clean, her eyes never leaving Becca’s face, then immediately loaded up another bite. Becca’s stomach began to protest, distending slightly under her t-shirt, but the pressure below was more insistent, a throbbing ache responding directly to Trixie’s dominance and the decadent assault on her senses.
"Look at you," Trixie breathed, pausing to scoop a dollop of creamy tiramisu onto her finger. She traced it slowly over Becca’s lips, then kissed her, hard, licking the sweetness away, her tongue demanding entry. Her thick thigh pressed down firmly on Becca’s lap, right onto the straining bulge. Becca moaned into the kiss, her hips lifting instinctively. "Yeah," Trixie gasped, breaking the kiss, coffee and mascarpone on her breath. "That’s it. Feel you pressing back." She smeared more tiramisu onto Becca’s neck, leaning in to suck it off, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Her hand slid down, cupping Becca firmly through the sweatpants, fingers finding the dampening head. "So hard for me. So fucking eager."
She pushed Becca back onto the tangle of blankets. The discarded food containers rattled precariously on the desk. Trixie swung her leg over Becca’s hips, settling her immense weight fully onto Becca’s lap. The pressure on Becca’s cock was immediate, intense, a delicious, suffocating weight that forced a choked gasp from her. Trixie’s belly, warm and heavy, draped over Becca’s stomach. She grabbed a fistful of garlic bread, crushed it slightly, and held a piece to Becca’s lips. "Chew," she commanded, grinding her hips down in a slow, deliberate circle. The thick shaft shifted, trapped beneath her, rubbing against the thin fabric separating it from Trixie’s heat.
Becca choked down the bread, her eyes wide, fixed on Trixie’s face hovering above hers. Trixie leaned down, her breasts spilling forward, brushing Becca’s chest. She kissed her again, deeply, messily, the flavors of garlic, cream, and coffee mingling. Her hand disappeared between her own vast thighs, pushing aside the flimsy scrap of her panties. Becca felt the heat radiating from her, the wetness soaking through the back of her own sweatpants where Trixie ground against her. "Need you inside," Trixie moaned against her mouth. "Need you stretching me right now." She fumbled with the waistband of Becca’s pants, her fingers slick and clumsy. "Bigger, baby," she breathed, pulling the fabric down just enough. "I need you even bigger inside me."
The thick shaft sprang free, impossibly stiff, glistening. Trixie gasped, her eyes drinking it in. It was undeniable – thicker, heavier, the veins standing out like ridges beneath flushed skin. Without preamble, Trixie lifted her hips, guided the blunt head to her soaked entrance, and sank down.
It was a slow, deliberate impalement. Trixie threw her head back, a guttural cry ripping from her throat as she took Becca inch by straining inch. Her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. Becca arched beneath her, the tight, slick heat enveloping her completely, stealing her breath. The stretch was immense; Trixie’s inner walls clung, fluttering wildly around the girth invading her. She bottomed out with a final, shuddering sigh, her vast body trembling. "Fuck... Becs..." she gasped, her voice ragged. "So full... God, you're huge."
She didn't wait, didn't tease. Planting her hands on Becca’s shoulders for leverage, Trixie began to move. It wasn't frantic; it was a slow, powerful piston stroke. She rose up, almost completely, letting Becca feel the drag of her slick walls, the cool air hitting the slick shaft, before plunging down again, taking her full length in one deep, heavy thrust. Her immense breasts bounced heavily with each downward movement. Her belly slapped rhythmically against Becca's, a soft, wet sound in the otherwise heavy silence broken only by ragged breathing and the slick slide of skin on skin.
"Feel it?" Trixie gasped, her eyes rolling back slightly before focusing with fierce intensity on Becca. "Feel how deep you go? Filling me up... stretching me..." She ground down hard when fully seated, rotating her hips in a slow circle. "You grow... so good for me... just for this..." She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against Becca's face, muffling her next words. "Need you thicker... deeper... more..."
Her hand scrabbled on the rumpled blanket beside them, fingers closing around the discarded plastic ruler. She held it up, the numbers stark against the dim light. Her hips never stopped their relentless rise and fall. "After... we measure..." she promised breathlessly, her gaze dropping to where their bodies joined. She squeezed down hard, milking Becca’s cock buried within her. "Gonna be... so big..."
Becca could only cling to Trixie’s thick waist, lost in the overwhelming sensation. The sheer physicality of Trixie’s massive body riding her, the slick, tight heat, the possessive gleam in Trixie’s eyes, the lingering taste of garlic and sugar on her tongue – it all fused into a white-hot coil of need tightening beyond bearing. Trixie felt it, sensed the building storm. She slammed down harder, faster, her moans escalating into sharp cries. "Yeah! Come on! Fill me! Make me feel it! Grow for me!"
The command, raw and desperate, shattered Becca’s control. Her back bowed violently off the bed. A ragged, almost pained cry tore from her throat as she erupted, deep inside Trixie’s clutching heat. Thick pulses surged, one after another, a seemingly endless torrent. Trixie gasped, her movements stuttering, then becoming frantic shallow bounces as she milked every drop, her inner walls clenching rhythmically, her own climax triggered by the flood within her. She collapsed forward onto Becca, a heavy, sweaty, trembling weight, her breath coming in harsh gasps against Becca’s neck.
The dorm room swam back into focus: the smell of sex and cold garlic bread, the hum of the mini-fridge, the crinkle of forgotten foil containers. Trixie lay bonelessly atop her, their sweat mingling. Becca’s softening cock was still buried deep, held captive by Trixie’s weight. Trixie’s fingers weakly traced the ruler lying beside them. She turned her head, her lips brushing Becca’s ear. "Ten," she whispered, her voice hoarse but triumphant, her breath warm and smelling of coffee and cream. "Next time... you're hitting ten." Her hand slid down, fingers slick with their combined wetness, finding the thick base still nestled inside her. "Gonna make sure of it."
The heavy silence stretched, broken only by their ragged breaths and the faint drip of condensation from the air conditioner. Trixie’s weight, warm and immense, pinned Becca to the damp sheets, her softening cock still buried deep within Trixie’s slick heat. Becca’s hand drifted unconsciously to her own stomach, tracing the new softness beneath her sweat-damp t-shirt. It felt unfamiliar, alien. Gym, the thought surfaced, sharp and clear. Maybe tomorrow. Run some laps. Lift something heavy.
"Feel that?" Trixie murmured, her lips brushing Becca’s ear, her voice thick with satisfaction. She shifted slightly, making Becca gasp as the movement tugged where they were still joined. "You’re getting softer, Becs. Like a pillow." Her own vast belly, a warm, yielding mass, pressed firmly against Becca’s side. "But you know what happens when you push hard? Sweat it out? Lift till your arms scream?" Trixie’s hand slid down Becca’s torso, fingers digging possessively into the soft flesh of her hip. "Makes everything grow. Especially… that." She ground down, a slow, possessive roll of her hips, emphasizing the that still inside her.
The gym smelled like stale rubber, old sweat, and desperation. Becca stared at the treadmill, her reflection in the mirrored wall a stranger: thicker thighs straining the leggings, a rounder face flushed pink. She pounded the belt, lungs burning, legs leaden. Counteract it, she chanted internally, pushing harder, sweat stinging her eyes. Across the weight room, a guy grunted, hoisting massive plates. Becca eyed the dumbbells. Trixie’s words echoed: Lift till your arms scream. Makes everything grow. She grabbed twenty-pounders, muscles trembling immediately.
Back in the dorm, the scent of delivered pizza clashed with Becca’s post-workout sweat. Trixie sprawled gloriously naked on her bed, a mountain of flesh and curves eclipsing the mattress. Her breasts, impossibly larger, rested on her swollen belly; her thighs spilled wide. A half-eaten meat lover’s rested beside her. "How was the torture chamber?" Trixie asked, eyeing Becca’s heaving chest and flushed skin. She shoved a pizza slice towards her. "Fuel up. Gotta rebuild." Becca hesitated, staring at the greasy pepperoni. "Eat," Trixie commanded, her voice dropping. "You need the bulk. For the growth. Saw you eyeing the weights. Good girl." Becca took the slice, the richness thick on her tongue, guilt warring with a strange, burgeoning pride in her own thickening frame.
Weeks blurred into a cycle of aching muscles, heavy meals, and Trixie’s insistent hands. Becca’s sweatpants grew tighter, her shirts straining across shoulders now layered with muscle and softness. Trixie, meanwhile, bloomed. She was colossal, magnificent, a living monument to indulgence. Clothing became a memory; she moved through the cramped dorm like a warm, naked planet, her every shift accompanied by soft, fleshy sounds. One afternoon, Becca returned from the gym, legs wobbling, her own belly a solid curve under her damp tank top. Trixie was waiting, eyes gleaming, a familiar plastic ruler held loosely between her fingers.
"Shirt off," Trixie ordered, her voice husky. Becca obeyed, peeling the damp fabric over her head, revealing a torso transformed: broader, softer, heavier, the definition of muscle barely visible under new layers. The air felt cool on her skin. Trixie’s gaze wasn’t on her belly or pecs. It was locked lower, on the thick ridge tenting Becca’s shorts. "On the bed. Now." Becca lay back, the mattress groaning slightly under her new weight. Trixie crawled over her, a tidal wave of flesh, her own immense curves dwarfing Becca. Her thick fingers hooked into Becca’s waistband. "Let’s see what all that lifting really did." She tugged the shorts down.
Becca’s cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already half-hard just from Trixie’s proximity and command. It looked… different. Broader at the base, the veins more pronounced, the shaft longer. Trixie whistled low, a sound of pure, greedy appreciation. She didn’t touch it yet. Instead, she grabbed the scale they’d shoved under Trixie’s bed weeks ago. "Stand," she said, her voice tight with anticipation. Becca heaved herself up, the unfamiliar bulk of her body feeling ponderous. She stepped onto the scale. The digital numbers flickered, climbed… and settled. 330.0 lbs. Becca stared, a wave of disbelief washing over her. 330. Her.
Before the number could fully sink in, Trixie was on her knees. Her hot breath ghosted over Becca’s cock, making it twitch and thicken further. She grabbed the ruler, her hands surprisingly steady. The cool plastic pressed against the underside of the shaft, right at the base. Trixie slid it upwards, slowly, deliberately, her eyes wide and fixed on the measurement. Her thumb pressed the tip flat. The ruler stopped. Trixie’s breath hitched. "Holy shit, Becs," she breathed, her voice trembling with awe and pure, unadulterated lust. She tilted the ruler so Becca could see the number clearly etched at the tip: 12. "Twelve inches. You glorious fucking beast." Her lips curved into a triumphant, hungry smile. "Now let's see how deep it goes."
The cool plastic ruler clattered to the floor, forgotten. Trixie’s hungry gaze locked onto the thick, heavy weight throbbing before her, the sheer impossibility of its twelve-inch length demanding worship. Her breath hitched, a sharp, greedy sound in the humid dorm air thick with sweat and sex and the lingering ghost of pizza grease. "God, Becs," she breathed, her voice cracking, fingers trembling inches from the flushed skin. "Look at you." Not soft anymore, not just padded. Solid. Powerful. Heavy muscle layered beneath the new padding Becca had accumulated, a testament to weeks spent grunting under iron in the fluorescent hellscape of the campus gym. Trixie’s own monumental body, a landscape of soft, yielding curves barely contained on the straining mattress, felt suddenly, strangely… different beside this new density.
Becca swayed slightly on the scale, the digital ‘330.0 lbs’ a stark accusation and a bizarre point of pride burning in her chest. Her legs, thick with new quad definition under the fat, ached from the morning’s brutal leg press sets. She felt Trixie’s stare like a physical heat tracing the lines of her changed body – the broader shoulders, the thicker neck, the swell of her pecs pushing against the new softness of her belly. "Trix…?" Becca’s voice was rough, uncertain, still catching her breath. The intensity in Trixie’s eyes wasn’t just lust; it was something sharper, almost appraising.
"Shhh." Trixie leaned forward, her vast breasts brushing the heated skin of Becca's inner thighs. The sheer proximity, the scent of Trixie’s arousal, the memory of her command – "Now let's see how deep it goes" – sent a fresh surge of blood pounding into Becca’s cock, making it jump, the already impressive girth seeming to swell further. Trixie moaned, low and thick, watching the movement. "Just… let me look at what all that sweat bought you." Her fingertip, surprisingly tentative, traced a prominent vein that ran the length of the underside. The touch was electric. Becca gasped, her abs clenching instinctively. "Harder," Trixie murmured, fascinated, her nail scraping lightly. "Everything’s… harder."
She didn’t dive in. Not yet. Instead, Trixie pushed herself back with surprising agility for her size, rolling slightly to grab the discarded pizza box beside the bed. Grease soaked the cardboard. She tore off a massive, dripping slice of meat lover's, the cheese stretching obscenely. She held it out towards Becca, her gaze never leaving the massive erection. "Fuel," she stated, her voice regaining its usual command, though a new note vibrated underneath. "Building muscle eats calories, right? Protein." She wiggled the slice. "Come on. Eat up. Gotta keep the gains coming."
Becca stared at the offering, then at her own reflection in the darkened dorm window – a broad, solid shape, powerful shoulders tapering to a thick waist, the heavy cock jutting obscenely. The familiar grease smell, once tempting, suddenly felt cloying. Her stomach, stretched from Trixie’s relentless feeding and the sheer mass she now carried, gave a faint, protesting gurgle. "I… I’m kinda stuffed from lunch," she mumbled, shifting her weight. The scale creaked. "That protein shake after squats was huge."
Trixie’s hand froze mid-air. The pizza slice hung, dripping pepperoni grease onto the already stained blanket. Her eyes, wide and momentarily confused, flicked from the rejected food to Becca’s face, then down the powerful lines of her torso, resting finally on the undeniable, intimidating proof of Becca’s transformation. A complex ripple passed over Trixie’s features – surprise, a flicker of something like loss, then a dawning, almost alien curiosity. She slowly lowered the slice back into the box. "Right," she said, her voice oddly flat. "Protein shake." She looked down at her own body, at the vast swell of her belly resting on her thighs, the heavy breasts spilling onto her stomach, the dimpled softness of her immense arms. She poked her own bicep. It jiggled softly, profoundly. "Squats, huh?" she asked, almost to herself. "Those the ones that make your ass…" She trailed off, her gaze drifting towards the window, catching her own reflection beside Becca’s denser, harder silhouette.
Becca stepped off the scale, the floorboard groaning. She reached for her discarded sweatpants, the worn cotton straining dangerously over her thickened quads and burgeoning glutes. The struggle to pull them up over the new muscle was real, familiar yet amplified. She caught Trixie watching the struggle, a strange intensity in her eyes.
"Looks like a fight," Trixie observed, her voice quieter now. She shifted her immense weight, the mattress sighing. "Getting… cramped in there?" She gestured vaguely at the sweatpants.
"Yeah," Becca grunted, finally winning the battle and yanking the waistband over her hips. "Need new ones. Bigger. Or… maybe just shorts." She flexed her arm unconsciously, the bicep pushing noticeably against the sleeve. A tiny, unexpected smirk touched her lips. "Feels good, though. Strong."
"Strong," Trixie echoed. She looked at the pizza box, then back at her own soft, magnificent expanse in the window. Her hand drifted to the curve of her hip, fingers sinking into yielding flesh. She squeezed, watching the indentation slowly fill back in. A long beat of silence stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts. The air hummed with the fridge and the distant thump of bass from another room.
Trixie took a deep breath, her vast chest rising. She looked from the discarded pizza to Becca, then down at her own soft hand resting on her softer belly. A spark, unfamiliar and challenging, lit in her dark eyes.
"Tomorrow," she declared, the word cutting through the stillness. "Spot me?"