The Possession - Part 2

Apparently the room wasn't non-smoking because Jerry just lit up his cigar right in the doorway. He was also an accomplished smoker, given how he took in an entire lungful of smoke without even getting red in the face. He had some capacity too, but then again, you’d figure that to be the case just by his size. I certainly did.

He handed me the cigar while still retaining his first draw. I nodded, placed it to my lips somewhat tentatively, and inhaled. And then I nearly died.

This was quite possibly the worst cigar I’d ever had. Not that I was much of a smoker, but I’d been to weddings and births and none of those had anything on this stogie. It was like it was simultaneously made of old ash and dried leather that had been left to crinkled on a rock. I didn’t even get much of it and my lungs felt like they were on fire. 

I handed it back to Jerry as he finally let out a billowing cloud of smoke that filled the room with the same awful stench that filled my sinuses. He laughed as I hacked and wheezed with hands on my knees desperately trying to breathe in clean air that no longer existed anywhere in the vicinity. 

“Guess you’re not much one to smoke, huh?” Jerry said as he patted me on the back several times, his heavy hand surprisingly gentle. “Don’t worry, we’ll get that fixed for ya.” 

I didn’t quite understand that last comment, but when Jerry offered the still burning cigar, my hand took automatically without a thought. And then I clamped it in my mouth without even needing to hold it between my fingers--as though it was the only comfortable position for it to be. And when I inhaled, the smoke no longer burned, and instead felt like the welcoming embrace of an old friend.

“There, see? Now why don’t we get you on the bed,” Jerry said as he belly-bumped me into the room. “Ol’ Jerry has a few other things he’d like to teach ya, city boy.”

I stumbled backward into the room but somehow my lips never lost their grip on the cigar in my mouth--even when I fell to the bed and a heap of ash fell on the clean sheets. Only then did I notice they weren’t quite as clean as they’d appeared from the doorway, with yellowish stains appearing on the pillowcases and comforter. 

“First, let’s get you some chow,” Jerry said through the smoky cloud that now filled the room, although I could only slightly make out his blurred enormous outline. “Skinny little thing like you ain’t gonna do, not one bit.”

From within the cloud suddenly appeared a cart laden with all manner of fast food--hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, french fries, you name it. It somehow wheeled itself over to the side of the bed and then stopped, as though expecting me to do something. I inhaled again, another lungful of smoke filled the room, and suddenly I was hungry. So desperately hungry.

First it was the hamburger. Then chicken wings. Then an entire smoked brisket. I ate and ate and ate. And as I ate, I grew. My svelte frame developed a thin layer of softness that pooched over my belt before the pounds piled on in earnest. My belt snapped, my shirt ripped, and I could feel my calves tearing their way through my jeans as everything grew and grew.

And as I ate and exploded out of my clothes, more carts kept arriving with yet more food. And throughout it all the cigar never left my mouth, my tongue and lips deftly maneuvering each morsel around the smoking object as though I’d practiced my entire life. As I ate, I could feel those lips growing, my cheeks becoming jiggling jowls that wobbled with each bite and swayed as I turned from one dish to the next.

That feeling continued throughout my body as I blew up and out. My focus was entirely on the food I was mindlessly shoveling into my mouth, but some part of me realized that my once trim body had been completely destroyed. I could feel my belly resting on my lap, my thighs touching down to my knees, and my arms being held out at an angle from the ring of lard that now encircled my barrel chest.

“Not bad,” came a voice from behind me--an impossibility, given how little space was between my enlarged body at the headboard of the bed. “But we can do better for you, piggy. Lay down.” 

I did as instructed, the carts automatically moving to the foot of the bed as I lay myself on my suddenly soft belly. It felt like I was laying on a pile of blankets, only that pile was me. Now I didn’t even need to reach for the food--it just floated into my mouth as thought the smoke itself were lifting it.

“That’s a good piggy, now you just keep on with your slop while Ol’ Jerry gets down to business.”

I felt something--someone--on top of me. I could barely turn my head to look, the fat of my shoulder bunching up into folds that almost obscured my vision, but I could just make out the hazy image of coveralls. Only, they’d slipped from atop shoulders that were at least as large as mine now. And they were so hairy... 

It was Jerry. He’d somehow gotten on the bed without even me realizing it and now he was kneeling right behind me. I could feel his enormous gut resting on my ass as his hand fished beneath it and between my own expanded cheeks. And then I felt a sausage-like finger probing my hole. 

“What’s happening?” I managed between mouthfuls. It was all I could say before a bag of chips was shoved in my face like a horse’s feedbag. 

“Oh nothing,” came Jerry’s voice from behind me. “Just getting you ready.” 

And then I felt him slip something deep inside.