Stuffed Pt. 3

This is a big chapter (in more ways than one!) Let me know what you think! 

Stuffed

By

Brimmingbelly04

Based on Pregnant, Stuffed, and Desperate for Labor

By moo9731 from Deviantart

Part Three

Once he was down on the hard, tiled floor, he groaned in (added) pain as his (already) sore to begin with knees became his bloated body's main points of support. The pain caused Aaron to suddenly realized how crazy what he was about to do was, but since he was now stuck on the floor till Emilio came looking for him, crazy as it was, he reasoned he might as well go for it. It was safe to say that as soon as his maybe baby-daddy saw what he was doing, Emilio would surely freak out and put a stop to it, so without further ado, Aaron started doing what he'd decided he needed to do next…

He grunted and grimaced as he tottered forward a little on his poor kneecaps, tits bobbling about just beneath his chin since his huge and heavy belly was stuck between his thighs and the rest of him. Once he'd moved so his mouth was right under the chocolate and hazelnut loaded nozzle, he stopped moving and leaned back, letting his huge and heavy ass press down against his heels. After reaching up and taking hold of the nozzle's handle in his left hand, Aaron sighed and shook his head as he opened his mouth, then gave the handle a turn.

Even though he only turned it maybe a third of the way, immediately, his mouth was flooded with ice cream, causing his cheeks to bulge. Aaron's eyes bugged as he started to both choke and swallow, some of the soft serve shooting back out of his mouth and onto his chest, but after several seconds, during which he conjured up memories of shotgunning beers back in college like it was his job, he got the hang of it.

A minute or so after getting his initial rhythm down, Aaron opened the nozzle a little wider to about half blast. For the next few minutes, he gulped and swallowed, letting the cold, creamy goodness flow into his mouth. While he was able to mostly keep up, every once in a while, usually while he was taking in a shallow breath through his nose, some ice cream escaped, dribbling down his chin onto his already ruined shirt.

As he quite literally all but inhaled soft serve at a disturbing rate, Aaron's belly quickly grew bigger, more taut, and heavier. Leaning back to allow as much ice cream as he could into him at once, his back really started to ache but he kept at it. Some five minutes and at least three or four gallons in, Aaron needed a break and he took his mouth from under the nozzle before he remembered to turn it off. As a result, several seconds' worth of flow landed on his vastly stretched as it was exposed abdomen, causing his strained skin to attempt to form goosebumps, but ultimately causing him to shiver…

"Oh… my… God…" he huffed out, as he stopped leaning back and suddenly hunched forward, the underside of his belly pressing even harder against the tiles beneath it, despite his hand shooting as far out as they could reach in front of/to the sides of him/it to mitigate the effects.

"Yeah, ohmygod!!!" Emilio shouted from the swinging door leading from the front of the house. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"I, uh… Um…" the triplet-filled man fumbled, orally and physically as he tried but failed to straighten up, his loaded belly weighing him down.

"Tell me you weren't just doing what I think you were?!" The chef demanded.

"What do you… think I… was doing?" Aaron asked as groaning again, he leaned his left shoulder against the counter, his stomach now screaming in protest it was so full.

"I… You! I…" Emilio stammered as he shook his head in shock and alarm.

"Help… me… up?" Aaron feebly requested, forcing himself to give a half-assed smile.

"Jesus…" Emilio groaned, throwing his head back as he approached. "I told you I'd…"

"Turns out I… wanted… more than a… taste," Aaron haltingly cut him off.

"No fuckin' shit!" The restaurant owner huffed as he checked the soft serve machine. "Shit! You almost emptied it!"

"How much was… in it?" Aaron asked as he looked up from himself, sweat starting to form again on his brow.

"Enough to hopefully get me through the week, if it was any good, which I guess it was?!"

"It… was," he nodded.

"There were almost six gallons in here, Aaron!" Emilio shouted as he smacked the side of the machine. "Six! And now there's almost none!"

"Ugh…"

"Why are you groaning?" He scoffed.

"Why do you… think?"

"Honestly, I don't know?! Do you wanna finish the rest off, or…"

Aaron shook his head as he groaned again. "No… thank you."

"I used real cacao and real hazelnuts, neither of which are cheap!" Emilio huffed.

"Just… add it to… my tab."

"I already settled it!" He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the tip, by the way."

"Of course."

"This is ridiculous, Aaron!" Emilio shook his head as he looked down at him. "It's beyond that, and it needs to stop!"

"What needs to… happen is to… get me back… up," Aaron replied as he stuck out his hands.

Emilio's eyes narrowed. "Do you think the two of us are going to be able to?"

Aaron nodded even though honestly, he wasn't so sure…

"You really need to start making better decisions," Emilio said as shaking his head, he took the anchor's sticky hands.

On his count of three, working together, both gritting their teeth, groaning, and working up a sweat, they very slowly proceeded to get Aaron back to his feet. As soon as he was standing, quick as he could, he turned to lean back against the counter, he and it both groaning in protest. Emilio grunted because as Aaron made his turn, his massive middle had bumped him with surprising (but not really) force, sending him stumbling back a couple steps.

"I need to… so sit," Aaron gasped out.

"Your chair's waiting," Emilio replied. "So is that water and some more piccata and bread, but I guess you won't be…"

"Sounds… good," Aaron grunted as he pushed off the counter, steadied himself for a second and then turned and started lumbering back towards the front of the house.

Getting back to the private room was a slow and arduous process in his state. Because of how much (more) he'd rapidly added to his stomach, Aaron was forced to lean back, both hands bracing his hips as he moved more at a waddle than ever before. Now, not only was his shirt stained, his belly was too. Some of the cold ice cream that had dribbled onto his chest caused his bigger, darkened nipples to become fully erect and blatantly visible. The enormous breasts they crowned bounced up and down atop the shelf of his belly with each slow, forced step he took.

Huffing and puffing and leaving a trail of sweat behind him, eventually, Aaron made it back to his table. He was so desperate to sit, he didn't think about asking Emilio to quickly exchange his chair with one of the other armless ones. Once his chair had been pulled out for him and he'd worked himself between it and the table (now a few inches further away than it previously had been,) Aaron dropped down with a grunt.

He and the chair groaned as his ass squeezed between the arms. Aaron groaned again as the arms squeezed the sides of his belly, lifting it some and causing it to bloat up and out. Immediately, he realized he was stuck but for the time being, he kept this to himself 'cause if he told Emilio, there was no way the chef would continue to help him.

"You OK?" Emilio asked. "Wanna scoot in a little closer to the table?"

Aaron looked and saw that now that it was sticking out even more, the front of his belly was less than two inches from the closest side of the table. This really made him take stock of his situation… He was completely stuffed with food (and babies) and wasn't sure how much more of either he could fit inside him? But his plan hadn't worked yet and now he was stuck in his chair so he might as well keep going till maybe he stuffed himself right out of the chair, along with the triplets right out of him.

"No," he replied with a shake of his head. "I'm good here," he grimaced as all three of the babies suddenly gave a squirm, adjusting to his seated position.

The pressure everywhere was incredibly intense. Everything felt tighter than ever now that he was wedged in place by the arms of the chair. But with no other choice, Aaron sighed and leaned forward as much as he could as he warily eyed the piccata loaded plate in front of him, ignoring the water.

His belly was so big and bloated now, he was barely able to reach his new fork and knife, let alone the plate. Already such a mess, Aaron didn't bother with the napkin or even pulling his shirt back down over his belly. He had no choice but to rest his elbows on his pregnancy, the slight additional pressure they created as he cut his chicken making him groan. Aaron eyed the fork he'd just loaded up, sighed and shook his head.

"I'll take some more lasana next please," he requested through his mouthful.

Emilio opened his mouth to reply, but then promptly snapped it shut. He was going to say "Seriously?" but decided not to waste his breath. Instead, he just shook his head as he turned to go back to the buffet to do as requested. In the short amount of time it took him to cut another massive slice of lasagna, plate it and return to the table, he was shocked to see that Aaron had already finished off the two whole breaded breasts he'd given him.

As Emilio swapped out the plates, his only customer of the day slumped back in his chair gasping for breath as he feverishly but lightly rubbed his belly, focusing on the upper portion where his aching stomach resided. Even though he was as light as he could be with his self-massage, it hurt. Everything did, but he needed to work all that food lower. Emptied plate in hand, Emilio stood there staring at the true spectacle.

His overly pregnant to begin with sometime hookup, was now stuffed beyond belief and positively squeezed into his chair. Belatedly, Emilio realized he should've switched it out for one without arms, but he doubted he'd be able to convince Aaron to make any unnecessary moves now… His belly was the biggest Emilio had ever seen in real life by far. He noted that it now seemed like Aaron was only able to take small, shallow breaths because big as his midsection was, his lungs only had so much room.

He couldn't say for sure what it was, but something was audibly groaning: either Aaron's overly taxed skin, or his straining stomach. It was quite possible that both were…

With another frustrated groan, Aaron leaned forward again, finding doing so even harder than the last time he had. He'd just picked up his fork and was about to grab his knife when all of a sudden, he felt a sharp, intense pain start somewhere deep inside him. Where exactly was hard to tell with everything under so much pressure.

His eyes bulged from the pain but then he smiled. Aaron smiled because he realized the pain he was feeling was a contraction! Finally, his plan was working!

"Ooooooooh, fuuuuuuuuck!" He groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Are you…"

"Contraction!" He grinned, baring his gritted teeth. "Fuck, it hurts!"

"Then why are you smiling?!" Emilio asked as he hurriedly set the plate down on the table.

"Because… my plan… is working!"

"Oh…" he frowned. "Yeah, I guess it is," even he had to agree.

"Get excited!"

"Right… Woohoo!" He half-heartedly cheered, feeling more worried than excited as he watched Aaron's pregnancy clench and heave.

"Gaaaah!!!" Aaron groaned as the pressure inside him really ramped up.

The contraction had already been going on for about thirty seconds, and it was still getting more intense. It hurt like hell, but that was a good thing! Now, all that needed to happen was for him to have a few more within a few minutes of each other and he could head to the hospital. How he was going to get there, let alone get out of his chair, Aaron wasn't sure, but he'd figure it out, just like he had this predicament.

After a total of almost two minutes, the contraction finally let up and he was able to breathe again. Well, sort of… Aaron still wasn't able to take anything close to a full breath, but he hadn't been able to in more than a month, so that was nothing new. Face red and brow dripping with sweat, he smiled again as he looked over at Emilio.

"Contraction!" He said again, grinning like a madman.  "A big one!"

"Yeah, it was!" Emilio grunted. "Do you need to go? Do you need a ride to the hospital?"

"I'm going to," Aaron nodded as he rubbed his belly. "But not yet…" he switched to shaking. "What I need is to… have a few more, then yes," he went back to nodding. "I'll need a… ride to the, unnnngh!" He grunted as he reached out to grab his napkin to wipe his face. "Hospital."

"I think we should start working on getting you there now."

"And I think you should pass me that lasagna and my work," Aaron replied as he sat back.

"You're not gonna use the table?" Emilio frowned.

"What's the point when I have one right here?" The red-faced pregnant man asked as he moved his hands to palm the sides of his swell where they particularly bulged above the compressing arms of the chair.

"Fair enough," Emilio shrugged as he grabbed the plate and fork and handed them over.

Aaron set the plate atop his belly in front of his breasts. Not all that long ago, the top of his pregnancy wouldn't have allowed him to do so, both because it wasn't big enough, but also because it sloped. Now, the upper hemisphere was plenty big and while still round, stuck out far enough that the curve was more gradual, making it a perfect resting place for something such as a lasagna loaded plate.

Eating was becoming progressively more difficult, causing Aaron to slow his pace, but he kept going. Halfway through his current, massive "slice" of lasagna, he asked for more bread, specifically, a loaf, as well as of course, more butter.

Once again, while Emilio was making the switch, his triplet (and food, now probably almost in equal measure) filled friend had another contraction. The chef stood there holding the basket of bread and watched as Aaron huffed his puffed and his belly bulged in and out. All the while, he moaned and groaned and once again, turned bright red in the face. Emilio felt truly bad that he might have been the one to knock the anchor up but even if he had, he wasn't the one responsible for his current situation…

Aaron had another contraction as soon as he swallowed the last of the bread. Once again, he closed his eyes and threw his head back yet smiled as he dealt with the pain, while Emilio stopped prepping his "solo" diner's next plate (more lasagna) and just stared at his massive orb as it heaved and warped. When Aaron's third contraction ended, he let out a sigh of relief as he started to open his eyes.

He was still in the process of doing so when all of a sudden, he grunted and grimaced as he felt an intense pressure returning. Aaron's eyes shot open the rest of the way.

Was he having another contraction already?! Yes, the whole point was for them to keep coming, but not this quickly!

As he grunted, moaned and groaned in great discomfort, Aaron's stretched and overburdened nerve endings gradually told him the pressure he was currently feeling was different… This pressure felt like it was coming from the outside of his bloated form, and like it was being caused by something cold and hard… Just a quick look at his humongous belly provided the answer.

Following his most recent contraction, before which he'd wolfed down an entire loaf of absorbent bread lathered in butter, his pregnancy had expanded to the point where the front of it, somewhere around what remained of his navel, was pressing into the closest side of the unyielding, solid wood dining table!

"Need to, unnnngh!!!" He groaned. "Scoot back! Now!" He aggressively nodded as he frantically waved Emilio over.

The chef quickly set down the plate he'd piled high and wide with pasta and rushed over. He got behind Aaron and grabbed the sides of the back of his chair and pulled. Emilio groaned when despite his best efforts, the chair didn't move at all, the resistance almost causing him to throw his back out.

"Fuck!" He hissed as his right hand flung behind him to massage the middle of his now sore spine.

"Hurry!!!" Aaron moaned.

"I'm trying!" Emilio replied, teeth tightly clenched. "You're gonna have to help me out!"

"How?!"

"Stand up for a sec!"

"I can't!!!" The pregnant man wailed.

"Jesus, Aaron! It'll just be for a second!" Emilio shouted back.

"I literally can't!" Aaron replied in the same manner. "I'm stuck!"

Emilio frowned. "What do you mean, you're…"

"I mean, I'm fucking stuck!!! My belly is stuck between the arms and I'm pretty sure my ass is too now that I…"

"Jesus Christ! Are you…"

"Don't!" Aaron cut him off. Don't even, mmmmmmph!!!" He moaned. "Ask."

"Fine!" Emilio huffed. "Then I'll ask this… What the fuck are we supposed to do now?!"

"I dunno?! But we need to figure it out NOW, 'cause I feel like I'm about to EXPLODE!!!" The pregnant man loudly informed, this time followed by a guttural groan as (probably?) the lowest back kicked at the table from inside him. "Oh God, Emilio!!! Do something!" He shouted as he truly began to panic, fearing he might actually burst open right then and there, his belly felt so tight and now also, constricted.

Emilio was now equally as panicked but fortunately for him, Aaron and the babies, he retained most of his wits… After thinking for a few seconds about "their" latest predicament, he nodded to himself as he stopped massaging his back and returned his right hand to that side of Aaron's chair and took a firm grip on it.

"We're going to have to work together…" he stressed. "Since you can't fucking stand up, you're gonna have to push up and back with your feet and legs when I tell you to, got it?!" He asked, his firm tone making it clear that neither of them could afford to fuck up if they wanted to succeed.

"Got it!" Aaron nodded, following it up with, "Please, hurry!" as tears started prickling his eyes.

After providing some hurried instructions, once again on his count of "three," Emilio and his maybe baby-daddy worked together, the chef pulling, the pregnant man pushing up and back. It still wasn't easy but this time, their combined efforts produced results, and Aaron's chair and more importantly, his belly, slid away from the table.

Once more, Aaron sighed in relief as he collapsed back in his groaning chair. Emilio was glad to have helped, but still released they'd only solved one of their now many problems… As such, he finally put his foot down.

"You're done!" He firmly declared. "No more food! And I'm not even going to let you take what LITTLE is left home!" He shook his head.

"That's… fine with… me," Aaron slowly nodded. "I'm done."

"You are?"

"For now," he nodded some more.

"What?!" Emilio huffed. "No, not FOR NOW, FOR…"

"My… plan…" the pregnant man huffed.

"Ugh… What about it now?!"

It's… working, but it… it isn't yet," Aaron shook his head. "I'm not… eating any more till… we see if I have another… contraction without… forcing myself to."

Finally, he'd made the wise decision to stop fucking eating and see if his body really was ready to birth his babies without him trying to force it to. Upon Aaron's proclamation, it was Emilio's turn to sigh in relief…

"I'm very glad we're finally on the same page," he nodded. "Now, we can start thinking about how we're gonna get you outta that…"

Aaron took his left hand from his belly and waved it about dismissively as he let his chin dip down between his heaving breasts. "Please… Just let me… rest for a few."

"Fine…" the restaurant owner relented with a roll of his eyes. "Since you're finally done, while you rest, I'm gonna start cleaning up."

"Yeah, yeah…" the overly pregnant man replied with another dismissive wave as he closed his eyes again and not so patiently waited for his next contraction to hit.

While Emilio set to cleaning, Aaron went back to rubbing his belly and thinking about his impending labor. He wasn't a fan of the contractions, but he knew he had at least a few more painful ones ahead of him. Once they started coming on their own and once he and Emilio figured out how to get him out of his chair, he could go to the hospital and get an epidural and he wouldn't feel them anymore. That, he was looking forward to, the pushing, not so much, but it would be worth it.

Even with an epidural, it wasn't going to be easy and Aaron already knew better than to even think he'd get lucky and give birth quickly, but once he had, he'd officially be a dad. A single dad of three till if and when he figured out who the other father was… He looked from his belly over at Emilio who was cleaning, and considered the prospect.

The chef wasn't the only possibility, but overall, he was the best. Emilio was handsome, caring, a talented chef/restaurant owner, who made a good living and was also great in bed. He was the most stable and settled of Aaron's possibilities and he could see the two of them building a life together with their three children. He could even see them having one or two more on purpose sometime down the road but needless to say, not for a while. Aaron knew it was going to take him a long time to recover from this pregnancy, the excessive stuffing he'd done over the last day certainly not making things any easier on himself.

As he sat there thinking, rubbing, recovering and starting to digest the pounds and pounds and pounds of food he'd crammed into himself, he continued to await his next contraction. Any progress Aaron made settling down was undone when ten minutes had passed without another one coming and he quickly got irritated again.

By that point, Aaron knew he couldn't take one more bite. If he did, he feared his belly would literally burst despite it having proved to be quite up to the task of stretching. Thanks to how hard the arms of the chair were pressing into him, he could practically feel the triplets growing bigger as the overabundance of nutrients he'd consumed made it through his bloodstream into theirs. Hard as he'd tried and as much as he'd pushed himself, once again, his plan hadn't worked.

"I'd like to go," he said quietly to Emilio once the chef returned from the kitchen where he'd started bringing all the plates he'd dirtied.

"To the hospital?"

Aaron shook his head. "Home."

"But…"

"If I go to the hospital now, when I'm not having contractions, they're gonna make me have a c-section!"

"And what's so bad about that?" Emilio countered.

"It's not what I want. And no, I don't want to give birth naturally, but I have to at least try and they won't let me unless I'm in active labor, which obviously, I'm not," Aaron frowned. "So I'd like to go home."

"I still think…"

"I know what you think," he cut Emilio off. "Question is, have you been thinking about how we're gonna get me outta this chair?"

"Actually, I have," the chef replied with a nod as he came over and went behind him. "I don't think you're gonna like it, but just hear me out," he requested.

Aaron sighed and rolled his eyes. "Go 'head…"

"In order to unwedge you, I think we're gonna need to wedge you a little more first."

"What do you mean?" He frowned.

"We're gonna work you back up to the table till your belly's pressing into it again, maybe even a little harder," Emilio explained. "Then, we're gonna use that leverage along with what you provide with your arms to create some extra pressure. You're gonna push yourself up while I pull the chair down and back. Make sense?"

"Makes sense," Aaron nodded. "Doesn't sound like fun and sounds like we might end up breaking the chair in the process, but if we do, just charge me for it," he rolled his eyes again. "Even before today, I've gotten so big, I'm surprised I haven't already broken a chair!"

"Me too!" Emilio couldn't help but agree.

Ten minutes later, both of them were red, sweating and gasping for breath. Ever since getting Aaron into position (which took a couple minutes,) they'd been trying what Emilio had suggested without any results other than causing Aaron more discomfort and both of them quickly becoming tired.

"Just… call the… fire department…" Aaron huffed out as he collapsed back in his prison of a chair. "Tell them to… bring the… the Jaws of Life. They're… probably gonna… need 'em!"

"No," Emilio shook his head. "We can do this."

"I already said I'd… pay for the…"

"I don't care about the chair, Aaron. I care about you. If we get Emergency Services involved and they come here and see it's you they're here to help, there's a good chance that'll go public, and…"

"Shit…" Aaron grumbled. "I don't want that," he shook his head. "But what other choice do we have?" He groaned.

"We can do this," Emilio said again. "I feel like we were starting to make some progress."

"And I feel like I'm about to blow!"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"None of this is your fault," Aaron shook his head.

"No?" Emilio chuckled. "It was all of my food you ate and possibly my babies that…"

"OK… Maybe it is a little," the pregnant man chuckled back. "But so how are we gonna do this?"

"I'm not sure yet," the chef admitted. "We just need to… to loosen you up a little, but how?"

Suddenly, it dawned on Aaron. "Do you have any butter left?"

Emilio scoffed. "This is a fine, Italian restaurant, of course I have butter!"

"Even after all I ate..?"

The mention of eating reminded Emilio of their problem, but then it made him worry… "Ohmygod, Aaron! You're not seriously asking for more food, are you?!"

"What?! No!" He scoffed.

"Then…"

"We could use the butter to loosen me up!"

"What?"

He nodded. "Grease up my belly."

"And your ass!"

"And my ass…" Aaron rolled his eyes. "What do you think? Think it'll work?"

"It might?" Emilio shrugged. "It's just butter, but…"

"It might, right?"

"It might," he said again. "I'll go grab a stick from the fridge."

"Better grab a whole pack, just in case," Aaron suggested.

"A stick should do," Emilio said as he headed for the kitchen. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere!" He teasingly called over his shoulder.

"I wish!" Aaron grunted before yelling back, "But seriously, bring a pack!"

Emilio returned a minute later with his hands behind his back and an odd smirk on his face.

"You heard me, right?" Aaron asked, raising his brows. "About bringing a pack? We're not talking about greasing up a cake pan here, we're talking about…"

"I heard you, but I only brought a stick," the chef cut him off.

"Emilio!" Aaron groaned.

"You really don't think this will do?" Emilio asked as he took from behind his back the biggest "stick" of butter Aaron had ever seen.

"What the hell is that?!"

"A 5 lb stick of unsalted butter."

"I didn't know they sold it like that," Aaron shook his head.

"Of course they do," the chef replied as he looked down at the huge, pale yellow, waxed paper wrapped block in his hand. "You probably didn't know since you don't work in a kitchen, but this is what we use."

"Now I see why you only brought a stick."

"Right?" He chuckled.

"If we use all that butter and it doesn't work, we're in trouble…" Aaron groaned.

"I think we'll be OK," Emilio said, sounding slightly uncertain despite his best effort. "So, um… Do you want to grease yourself up, or…"

"Emilio…" the pregnant man groaned again. "I can barely move! You're gonna have to do it!"

"I figured," Emilio nodded as he started unwrapping one end of the butter. "I just wanted to make sure," he clarified.

As he unwrapped the stick and approached, Aaron looked down a little and noticed that the crotch of Emilio's pants was definitely bulging. Weird as what his maybe baby-daddy was about to do, apparently, he didn't mind… Interesting…

Emilio crouched and started on Aaron's right side, generously coating his bulging flank with butter. Initially, the pregnant man shivered from the cold, but given all the heat he was putting off, it didn't take long for the end of the stick in contact with him to start to warm up. Emilio made sure to get as close to the arm of the chair as he could, both above and below it. Above the arm, butter started to slide down Aaron's belly and pool on it. As he stood and moved to the other side, the chef hoped some of the butter would make its way between the arm and Aaron's tightly stretched skin.

After repeating the process on the left side, Emilio stood again and moved behind Aaron. "Gonna need you to lean forward as much as you can," he requested.

"Seriously?!" The pregnant man groaned.

"Yes, seriously!"

"Mmmmpph!" Aaron huffed as he did as requested, then winced as his belly pressed against the table, causing the triplets to protest. "Hurry… up!" He puffed out. "Please!"

Even after he'd leaned forward as much as he could, there wasn't much room for Emilio to work. In fact, there wasn't enough room for him to angle what remained of the huge stick of butter down between the back of the chair and Aaron's ass, so Emilio realized he was going to have to get a little more hands on…

"What's the… hold up?" Aaron groaned.

"I'm buttering my hands."

"Buttering your hands?!"

"The stick won't fit between the back of the chair and your ass," the chef explained. "So either we wait for it to melt, which won't be as effective, or I use my hands to grease up…"

"My ass…" Aaron realized with a roll of his eyes.

"Right. So..?"

"Just do it."

Obviously, this wasn't going to be the first time Emilio touched Aaron's ass, but it was going to be the first time he had for this reason. Once he'd initially thoroughly greased his hands, the chef set the stick of butter down on a plate and then moved behind Aaron's chair. As soon as he was in place, he leaned over the back, reached down, and started rubbing.

Being a chef, Emilio had a lot of experience rubbing meat, coating and massaging it with various seasonings and marinades. Same as he was back in the kitchen, he was thorough. Obviously, Emilio watched while he worked, making sure to get everything evenly coated, also just like when he was cooking. He had to re-grease his hands in order to get all of Austin's ass that was sticking out the top of his shorts but worried that wouldn't be enough.

"Should I…" he started to ask as he withdrew his hands from the now shiny (and notably bigger than the last time he'd seen them) mounds.

"Yes," Aaron replied before he could finish asking. "Get everything, or at least as much as you can. We need this to work!"

It took two more applications of butter before the chef had coated all he could get his now slippery hands on. He'd worked his fingers as far under Aaron's bigger, heavier cheeks as he could get them and thought about working them between them, but as much as he wanted to, he didn't see the need. This was the one time Aaron didn't need to be greased up between his mounds.

"Alright…" he sighed as he straightened up. "I got everything I could. Ready to give it a…"

"No, you didn't," the stupidly pregnant anchor cut him off.

"No?" Emilio asked, biting his lower lip as his hard dick twitched in his tight pants. Was Aaron seriously about to ask him to grease between his cheeks? If so, he'd be happy to oblige.

But no, he wasn't… "I think you should do my belly too," Aaron said instead. "That way it can slide against the table."

"Don't you think we should let it push against the table?" Emilio countered. "We need a little friction…"

Aaron shook his head. "Something tells me that even with my belly greased too, we'll still have more than enough friction."

"If you say so?" The chef shrugged as he left his place behind the pregnant man.

He returned to the table and reached for what remained of the stick of butter, which was only about half of it, and started running his hands over it again. As he did, Aaron frowned.

"Why don't you just use the stick for this part?"

The question was fair enough. Emilio could've used what was left of the stick and probably should have but surprisingly, he didn't want to. Same as he'd just had his hands all over what they could get to of Aaron's ass, he wanted them all over what they could get to of his belly. Why, he couldn't say, but he hoped he'd come up with a good enough reason quickly…

Fortunately, he did. "My hands are so slippery, I don't think I could hold onto the stick now," he replied with a chuckle he hoped didn't sound too forced or anxious.

Whether it did or not, Aaron accepted his response. "Fine…"

Before he got his latest application of lubricating butter underway, Emilio told Aaron to scoot and lean back from the table, which the fecund anchor grumbled about to no end, all while complying. He ended up working himself and the chair he was wedged into far enough away from the table that Emilio was able to crouch down between the two, giving him total, unfettered access to the gigantic sphere.

At eye level (and then some, up and down, and to the sides,) it looked all the bigger and more "impressive." Not that he'd missed them before, but now, Emilio saw all Aaron's stretch marks and really noticed how prominent his linea negra was as he spent the next several minutes lubing up his/maybe their pregnancy…

Once again, he was thorough with his efforts, undeniably, more than he had to be, but once he'd gotten his hands on the truly massive swell that might contain his children, Emilio didn't want to take them off of it. As such, he couldn't help himself as he continued to grease Aaron up… The chef went from barely pressing, to really firming up his touch as he explored every inch he could of the swollen orb, which had almost no give.

The experience was very strange for both men, but not entirely unpleasant… Eventually though, Aaron decided enough was enough.

"We should be… good… now…" he said between breaths, not from having lost his, but from having almost lost himself in the "buttering" process, having come to find it unexpectedly decadent.

"Yeah, sure…" Emilio begrudgingly replied after clearing his throat. As he stood in front of Aaron, the front of his pants were now even tighter. "Think we're ready to give it a go?"

Aaron nodded. "Might as well. There's hardly any butter left," he nodded again, this time at the table and the now nearly emptied plate, holding what little remained of the unsalted butter.

"So once we get you back up against the table, I'll hold the chair while…"

"You're gonna need to wipe your hands first so you can get a good grip."

"Right," Emilio nodded. "Um…" he said as he looked around for something suitable to wipe them off on.

"Pretty sure the table cloth's a goner too, so…"

"Might as well," he shrugged as he leaned over and grabbed the closest side of the ruined, white cloth, further desecrating it  as he removed all the butter he could from his hands.

As he did, Aaron looked down at his now glistening belly and frowned. Despite how stuffed it was, coupled with all of Emilio's rubbing and prodding, he'd yet to have another contraction. Needless to say, he was way over his most recent stuffing efforts and ready to go home, but before he could, he and Emilio still needed to get him out of his damn chair… After working his belly back up against the table, they got to work.

It wasn't easy or comfortable, but eventually, their combined efforts and the butter worked. All of a sudden, Aaron's belly slid from between the arms of the chair. A moment after it had, his fattened, greased up ass followed, sending his huge pregnancy crashing into the table before thanks to the butter, it slid atop it.

Behind him, his sudden release sent Emilio stumbling back still holding onto the chair. He was several feet from where he'd been standing when he came to a stop and set the chair down, which promptly fell apart after all the strain it'd been put under. Looking down at the broken chair, Emilio belatedly noticed that sitting atop the melted butter-stained cushion were Aaron's shorts and underwear.

"Oh my God!" He laughed.

"Oh, come on…" Aaron groaned as he rubbed the greasy sides of his belly. "It wasn't that funny!"

"Your shorts!" Emilio continued to laugh.

"What about them?"

"They came off! So did your underwear!"

"What?!" The pregnant man yelped as he turned to look back over his shoulder. He would've fully turned around but he didn't have the energy, plus the table supporting the immense weight of his pregnancy was too good to give up yet. "Jesus…" he groaned as he rolled his eyes. "This is ridiculous!"

"Yeah it is!" The chef grunted in agreement as he stared at Aaron's ass, which looked even bigger all shiny from the butter.

"Are they ruined?"

"Aaron…" Emilio grunted again. "They tore right off of you! Yes, they're ruined!"

"I have an extra pair of shorts in my truck."

"Well can you go get them?" The pregnant man requested. "I wanna go home."

"So soon?" Emilio asked as he stepped around the broken chair.

"So soon?!" Aaron scoffed. "I've been here for hours and ate all that food, and for what?! I'm still not in labor!"

"No, you're not," the chef confirmed. "But after all your… efforts, you should be soon, and you know what that means..?"

"No, what does it mean?" He asked with a roll of his eyes.

"It means that soon, you'll be outta commission…"

"What're you…" he started to ask but before he could finish, he felt Emilio's hands on his ass again. "Oooh!" He gasped in surprise as the chef spread his cheeks and then buried his stubbled face between them. "Oooh, fuck!" He moaned, hands slamming down flat against the sides of his belly as Emilio's tongue found its mark and lapped at his pink pucker.

Despite his disappointment and discomfort, Aaron attempted to circle his hips in pleasure. In an unexpected (but was it really though?) turn of events, Emilio had quickly taken him to heaven… One of the news anchor's favorite things was to be rimmed, which hadn't happened since some time back around when he'd been knocked up.

"Oooh, fuuuuuuck, Emilio!" He panted, belly heaving atop the creaking table with each rapid, shallow breath.

Inaccessible (to him, anyway) beneath the heaving mound, Aaron's dick had quickly become rock hard and throbbed with need as the chef's talented tongue continued to swirl and twirl. The ridiculously pregnant but miraculously and inexplicably not in labor man moaned and groaned (now at least in pleasure) as he did all he could to thrust his ass back against Emilio, egging him on (not that he needed the encouragement.)

"Oh, God, Emilio!" He shouted. "Keep going! Don't stop!!!" He loudly begged as he frantically shook his head. "I'm about to cum!!!" He screamed as he turned beet red.

The chef would've been happy to continue eating out the biggest ass he'd ever laid hands, eyes or tongue on, but one of Emilio's favorite things was swallowing loads. He loved it so much, even though he was a strict and talented top, he almost loved taking big, thick, warm and creamy loads down his throat more than he liked depositing them inside warm and wet holes. As such, he did what Aaron had told him not to and stopped rimming him.

"No!!!" The pregnant man shouted, clearly annoyed. "What're you…" he started to ask but once again didn't get to finish as Emilio reached down between his thick and greasy thighs, fisted his cock and balls and aimed his twitching tip back at his mouth. "Oooh!!!" He moaned as the chef took what he could of his shaft into it, which though not a lot, was enough to get the job done. "Fuuuuuuuuck!!!" He bellowed as he released.

And release he did… As Aaron screamed in some much needed pleasure, he flooded Emilio's mouth. Even though he probably shouldn't have been, the chef was surprised by the size of his maybe baby-daddy's load. It was so big and came so fast that despite his passion and "talents," Emilio coughed as he struggled to keep up and not waste one single tasty drop.

"Oooh, fuuuuuuck meeeee…" Aaron drawled out as his fingers curled up against his belly, his toes doing the same in his shoes.

Being a strict bottom, he was more accustomed to sucking cock than having his sucked. Not enough tops were cognizant or caring enough about their bottom's needs to remember to take care of them too, but Emilio wasn't one of them. As he began to come down from the intense orgasm he'd almost started to worry wouldn't end (not that he wanted it to,) Aaron mentally added another beneficial check mark to Emilio's tally. He really was a good guy, in more ways than one…

"I take it you enjoyed that?" Emilio needlessly asked as he stood, a smug smirk on his handsome face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ohmygod, yessss!" Aaron lazily nodded as he looked back at the chef over his right shoulder. "That was…" he paused to sigh. "Just what I needed."

"Happy to help," Emilio winked at him.

"Yeah?" The triplet-filled man grunted. "You had me fooled earlier!"

"Let's not talk about earlier," Emilio shook his head. "Let's talk about what you said while you were cumming…" he wagged his brows.

"What did I say?" Aaron asked, sounding like he needed a nap.

"You said, fuuuuuck meeee!" The chef repeated in an orgasm mocking manner. "Was that the pleasure talking or an actual request?"

Aaron thought about it. After all his initially begrudging help, he reasoned Emilio deserved a reward aside from the handsome tip he'd left him. Besides, the chef was right… Once he finally went into labor, after having his/maybe their three big babies, Aaron was going to be "out of commission" for the foreseeable future, so even though his efforts today (and yesterday) hadn't paid off, he also reasoned that he deserved a reward in the form of a thorough fucking.

"It was a request," he replied with a nod.

"Yeah?"

He nodded again.

"I don't have a condom with me," Emilio frowned. "Do you?"

Aaron shook his head. "No, but you're still clean, right?"

The chef nodded.

"So am I," he nodded back. "And it's not like we have to worry about me getting any more pregnant!" He rolled his eyes.

"Silver lining!" Emilio chuckled as he started to work on his belt. "So how do you wanna do this?"

Aaron's size, overly stuffed and exhausted state, and their setting didn't leave many options, including the way he was currently situated with the table bearing most of his belly's weight. The position had granted Emilio perfect access to eat him out, but wouldn't be conducive for fucking, his hole too high and not angled properly. Still, aaron needed all the support he could get so the table needed to remain in play…

So slowly, he waddled back, grunting as his pregnancy gradually slid off the table then really grunting as it fell off entirely, pulling his back into a painfully deep arch. His belly had grown so large, even though he was standing, now with his elbows propped on the table, the front of his belly hovered less than two feet over the floor beneath him as he struggled to spread his legs. As soon as he nodded that he was ready, Emilio reached out and grabbed his ample hips, his hard cock eagerly poking in between his pregnancy (and obviously) food-fattened globes.

Without further hesitation, after spreading them, Emilio sank himself all the way into Aaron with ease. Thanks to his tongue bath, the pregnant man took him with ease and moaned in pleasure despite the abrupt penetration. The chef would've been happy to make this carnal encounter last as long as he could, but he knew the fecund anchor had to be very uncomfortable so after giving them both a few seconds to adjust, he started thrusting in and out again and again and again.

Emilio didn't have the biggest cock he'd ever taken but it was nice and thick and probably as big as Aaron could handle so incredibly stuffed at the moment. As he thrust in and out with purpose, the chef continued to tightly hold onto the anchor's child-bearing hips.

"Oooh, fuuuuck!" Aaron groaned as his bloated body rocked.

As he did, Emilio took his right hand from his hip and worked it up under his pathetic excuse of a shirt and started fondling his aching tits, which were both jiggling wildly from his powerful thrusts. Large, strong hand in constant motion, the chef not so gently groped and squeezed, all while working Aaron's shirt up off his milk-filled mounds.

All of a sudden, the stuffed anchor felt an odd sensation, one that fortunately provided some much appreciated relief… Aaron looked down at his violently shaking tits as he was being fucked and saw that milk was now spurting out of both of his erect nipples. He was lactating and it felt good…

Emilio continued to "milk" him as he rammed in and out of him from behind. So stuffed in every sense of the word, and now leaking milk, Aaron felt like a pregnant cow, the slightly disturbing primality of the situation surprisingly bringing him back to the edge of another climax.

"Oooh, yesss, Emilio!" He groaned loudly. "Fuck me! Keep fucking me!" He shouted.

The chef was happy to oblige. He fucked Aaron harder and harder, his hands moving all over his taut belly and quaking, leaking breasts. Following another minute of intense, breathtaking pleasure, it all became too much for the pregnant man, who started cumming again, this time all over the underside of his belly as he screamed in pleasure despite being so stupidly stuffed and desperate to give birth.

Feeling Aaron clench around him sent Emilio over the edge. As he came further filling the pregnant man, Aaron was struck by another contraction. It hurt like hell but he still smiled as his muscles tightened and clenched. Emilio felt like he would never stop cumming but finally did just as Aaron's contraction started tapering off and he collapsed forward onto his belly, causing the chef's spent dick to slide out of his wet, loosened hole.

After taking a few moments to try and catch his breath, reality hit. Lust satiated, with a loud grunt and a corresponding groan from the table, aaron slowly worked himself back to a standing position and slowly turned around, Emilio stepping back to give him room.

He was a sweaty, greasy, food-stained, panting, barely dressed mess. More than ever, Aaron wanted to get out of there. Embarrassed, he could barely look at Emilio as he thanked him and reminded him he needed those extra shorts he had. After pulling his pants back up and tucking himself in, the chef silently nodded and went to get them. After all was said and done, Emilio didn't know what to say either?

When he returned with the shorts, he helped Aaron into them then the two shared an awkward goodbye, including an even more awkward embrace before the pregnant man tugged down his ruined shirt as far as it would now go over his belly.

Aaron felt absolutely massive as he slowly waddled towards the front of the restaurant. His recently added heft had greatly altered his center of gravity and the babies all felt lower. For a moment, he worried they might fall right out of him before he made it to the parking lot, but without any further contractions to encourage them, they remained inside him, keeping him obscenely stuffed and pregnant.

After just managing to cram himself back behind the wheel, he headed home. Obviously, Aaron needed to reasses his predicament. He had to get the triplets out of him before they got any bigger. He simply couldn't fathom getting any bigger or more pregnant, but what to do about it now?