After his morning routine, Alan showered off the sweat then put on his work uniform. Unlike most poor saps, Alan didn't have to go around in a suit and tie; his job as a personal fitness trainer let him dress in flexible shorts and loose shirts, both of which showed off his toned, muscular body. It also let him get up late, go to bed late, maintain an uptown apartment, and afford to eat a restaurants with wait lists. All while keeping his body looking good. As he made his way to the Elysian offices, Alan didn't mind the looks the girls and guys on the bus gave him, looks of envy and desire.

Elysian was where Alan met his main client: Mr. Bernard, the man who built the Elysian business and Alan's highest paying customers. Without Mr. Bernard, Alan's business was just a couple of hobbyists who could barely pay him enough for food. Alan kept hoping the man would introduce him to some new, wealthy clients but... so far, nothing.

At the desk, however, was someone who Alan was much more interested in. Heather, the pretty young secretary who worked for Mr. Bernard. When she saw Alan coming, Heather looked down at her computer, trying to pretend she wasn't watching him walk across the room. Alan smiled, coming over to sit on the edge of the desk. Heather gave only the smallest of glances at his firm butt as it pressed against the table.

“Morning Heather,” Alan said. “That's an awesome blouse. You're looking very summer.”

Heather smiled, looking up bashfully at him. “Thanks Alan. Actually, I just found it at a Goodwill.” She laughed. “Is that silly? Working at a big company like this and shopping at Goodwill?”

“Heck no,” Alan said. “Especially not when it lets you look as sharp as this.” He winked, giving Heather a full bloom in her cheeks. Then, rising from the desk, he stretched and said, “Guess I better head in to see the boss. He up?”

At that, Heather's smile fell. Alan could tell right away something had happened.

“Actually, Alan,” Heather said. “About the boss.....”

***

Alan couldn't stop staring. He didn't even realize his jaw had dropped; it hung open as he looked at his new “client” scarfing away at a monster breakfast burrito. Alan wanted to laugh, but he was too grossed out to voice any sound at all.

Mr. Bernard was dead, and his daughter, Corri, sat at his desk. Mr. Bernard had been an older but still fit gentleman, refined and Spartan. His daughter, though, was a hedonist. Corri's gut bulged under her stained shirt like a tire; her navel poked out below the hem of the shirt, linty and crusted with grime. Her breasts and thighs were swollen with fat. Corri had tried to wear the sharp business clothes of her father... tried. Her gut was an assault of flesh on the straining buttons of her shirt; the khaki pants ripped at the waist, the button long ago having given way, popping off and leaving her waist line open, showing off her sweaty panties. Flesh bulged and pushed out from every sleeve and hole of her business suit, like an overstuffed hotdog.

“Well?” Corri asked again when Alan didn't respond to her question, the trainer being too stunned to say much of anything. He shook his head and quickly mumbled, “I... I said I'm your personal trainer.”

Corri laughed, rolling her eyes. “That's right, I forgot. Dad always wasted money on stuff like trainers and nutritionists.” She wolfed down a sausage biscuit in a single bite. A single bite! Alan watched the bulge of it travel down her throat and into her gut, whole. He shuddered in disgust at the terrifying fate of the poor biscuit. “Sorry. But I don't need a trainer. Urrp. I'm in great shape. Heck, you don't need me to tell you that, right?”

She winked at him and Alan had to suppress a groan. He wanted to get out of here right now... but Corri represented his financial stability! This was the job that paid his bills. Still, the thought of Corri doing exercises was laughable.

While Alan fought over this issue in his head, Corri looked him over intensely, a wry, greedy smile dawning on her face. She said, “Though... you're not bad looking, I have to admit. Small bute cute. Tell you what: you stay on as my personal trainer, and only mine, and I'll pay you for it. Now, isn't that a generous offer? You get to spend all day with a sexy goddess of a woman AND get paid for it.”

Alan couldn't hold back a laugh. He shook his head. “L-listen... I have other clients. I just... I couldn't just take you on full time like-”

Corri cut him off with a belch. Rubbing her gurgling gut, she said, “Oh, right, your other clients. You know, my dad knew a lot of people in town, Alan. Most of your other clients knew him or work for someone who did.” She grinned, a nasty wicked smile. “I could let them know how bad your service has gotten since my dad died. Maybe they'll decide they need a different personal trainer, you know?”

Alan's blood ran cold. His face went pale as he asked, “Are you... blackmailing me?”

Corri leaned on her father's desk, the sturdy wood creaking horribly beneath her. “I am. If you want to eat, you'll work for me. Got it?”

What could he do? Alan knew his other clients wouldn't be enough to support his rent, his bills, his lifestyle, not without Corri. And if he left, Corri could cost him even what little his other clients brought in! Alan looked again at her swollen gut, her heavy body bulging out of her clothes like barely contained liquid brimming in a cup. He heard the soggy growl of her belly. He took a breath and said, “Fine... Miss Bernard. When do I start?”

Corri smiled. She came around the desk. With a jerk of her hands, she ripped apart her shirt, the buttons flying off and pelting Alan, finally free from the strain. Her gut sagged and her heavy breasts sagged with it, her whole body heaving like an avalanche as she walked towards him, towering over the hunky man, licking her lips. “Right now. Fuck me. Put that sexy body to work.”

Alan stepped back, stuttering in shock and disbelief. Corri, however, was not hesitating. She pushed her pants down, wiggling to free her huge butt and hips from the khaki. Her thighs were like two oaks rising up to meet the mudslide of her stomach. The dome of her gut ended in a fuzzy, linty navel that was moist with sweat. Sitting back on her desk, which threatened to snap beneath her, she gestured for Alan to come to her. He stared, managing to stammer, “Y-you can't be serious?”

“Fuck me,” she said, “or fuck off and starve. What's it going to be, hunky?” She spread her legs and Alan could barely see the dark triangle of her sex, moist and glistening between her thighs. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of Heather, probably looking at the door to Corri's office, wondering how things were going. Wondering about Alan. Concerned about him. Alan thought of her, and then he thought of his nice apartment and the car he still had payments on and the six months he spent after college unemployed, living on food stamps. Alan unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. Corri stared at his cock, laughing and saying, “I guess it'll be enough. Now come here.”

Alan came to the desk, stepping in between Corri's thighs. It was like stepping into an oven. Her body was so warm. She smiled, watching him. Alan wasn't sure at first what she wanted; Corri didn't move or say anything, just stared down at him, her chest rising and falling with her breath.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she finally asked. “You don't need me to hold your hand. Fuck me!”

“It's just....” Alan glanced down at her gut as it hung over her cunt. “If you'd just shift a little it'd be easier to get... positioned.” Corri rolled her eyes.

“I didn't pay you so that I could do all the work. You're my personal trainer. Either fuck me or get out.” Her stomach gurgled loudly and she belched, the stench of it filling the air between them, making Alan cough. She wasn't going to be any help. Alan was on his own.

He struggled to shift her gut up and get himself under. His cock rubbed against her belly fat and her thighs, starting to stiffen despite himself from the warm skin around it. He prodded and thrust forward, but Corri only continued to roll her eyes and comment about his lack of finesse. His arms began to grow tired from struggling with her heavy mass. Finally, he managed to wedge himself just right, pushing his tip into her, dragging a moan out of Corri.

“There,” she said with a groan, licking her lips. “Now why was that so hard? If you were a bit bigger maybe you wouldn't be such a wimp. Come on.” She continued to just sit there, waiting. Alan groaned from fatigue; he'd never had a more lifeless partner. She refused to do any work. He thrust against her, fighting the constant, oncoming wave of her belly as it threatened to throw him to the floor. Her linty navel ground against his chest, smearing him in sweat.

Alan soon began to pant. So did Corri, shaking in barely contained pleasure. She moaned, “Yeah. Keep going. Mmff. I can almost forget you're a wimp like this. Nnf. If you just had a big beautiful body like mine. Ahh!”

Alan shut his eyes, trying to think of Heather. Trying to remember her soft blush and cute smile. But Corri kept panting and belching in his ear. And her body shook over him like a landslide. He strained to hold it back, his cock thrusting as deep as it could. Corri lolled her head back, groaning. Alan began to lose his fight against her belly flab; it fell around him like mud, burying him alive. His back strained against the load as he continued to thrust, whimpering out, “C-corri! Please!”

Corri only moaned in response. Her body suddenly tense. Letting out a long, wet belch she shook as she came, splashing his legs with warmth. Alan couldn't stand up under her quaking body; he fell back, landing on his butt, his cock still throbbing and soaked from its trip inside his new boss.

Corri continued to moan for another minute before calming down. She looked down at Alan as he struggled to stand back up. She said with a low laugh, “I'm going to enjoy keeping you all to myself. But next time... bring me some fucking food.”

***

After a week as Corri's “trainer,” Alan was already starting to show improvements from his increased work out. When he arrived at Elysian to start his day, Heather looked up and, in contrast to her normal shyness, whistled. Alan was in a workout shirt that showed off his thick, powerful arms and tight abs. His gym shorts gripped his stout legs as he walked up to the desk. Leaning forward, curling her fingers round and round a pencil in her hand, she said, “Wow, Alan. You've really been looking good recently! Is it some new protein shake or something? With the lunch you're always bringing in, I'd figure you'd be going the other way.”

Alan blushed as Heather kidded him about the bags in his hands. Normally, Alan had brought equipment for Mr. Bernard's workout. Now, he came to work for Corri with bags of take out. Chinese, Thai, Southern fried, pasta, sandwiches. None of it for him; all of it would go down her throat to make her gut tight as a drum and just as loud.

Of course, he couldn't tell Heather the real reason he was getting so much stronger. So instead, he merely said, “Is Cor... is Miss Bernard in?”

Heather's face fell. Alan knew she was curious why he was spending so much more time with Corri than her old boss. He wished he could say something. But he dared not; what would Heather think of him if she knew? So, Heather just gestured down the hall, saying, “Oh yeah. You know she never misses her work out time. Go ahead.”

While Alan had gotten fitter, Corri had gotten fatter. Alan walked into her office and found her slouching on the couch, typing away on her phone. Her belly slogged over her legs and hips like a melted hillside, gurgling and running with sweat. She still had on a button-up work shirt, but she'd given up on buttoning it; the white shirt clinched tight around her arms, stained yellow at her pits. The fuzzy point of her navel overtopped the hillside of her stomach. This gave Alan a special sense of dread.

“Good morning, Alan,” Corri said with a smile, then let out a burp. “I thought I'd starve waiting for you to get here. I'm your personal responsibility, you know. You need to take some pride in your work.”

Alan wanted to laugh. Corri represented everything he strove to prevent in his vocation... but he couldn't tell her “No.” Sitting the take out bags down, Alan took up the box of Thai and came over to where Corri lay. She opened her mouth, leaning her head back while still pecking at her phone. Rolling her slimy red tongue out, she waited for Alan to do his job.

Using his hand, Alan began to feed the greasy noodles into Corri's maw. He'd tried a fork once but Corri had just insulted him for it. Corri's warm lips closed around his fingers; her probing tongue slurped the noodles out of his grasp and licked his fingers clean. Alan shuddered every time. Corri laughed noticing how much feeding her still grossed him out.

“You wimp,” she said, slurping up the next handful of Thai. “You're all big and buff but a little spit makes you queasy. You've got all these muscles, but you're still not even half as big as me. You know I could eat you up for brunch, Alan? That's how little you are to me. Mmm. Maybe I should.”

She belched in his face. Alan suppressed a gag from the stench and the thought of being trapped in Corri's stomach with all this greasy food. He opened up a box of wings and fed her, her mouth turning brown from the sauce. As she ate, Corri continued to insult him, saying, “Seriously, uuulllrrrp, look at you. Feeding a girl who's three times your weight. I thought you were suppose to help people get in shape. Course, I'm already the perfect shape, right Alan? After all, you can't get enough of me. Keep coming back for more cause you know I'm just right. Bllllrrrpppp. Give me some of that Chinese.”

Alan set down the empty bucket of wings and took up the box of Chinese. The stench in the room was growing suffocating. The skin around Corri's gut tightened until Alan could have bounced a quarter off it. Sweat drooled from her linty navel. Alan began to shift uncomfortably, hoping that maybe Corri would spare him from what he knew would come next. She did not.

Grabbing his head suddenly, without warning, Corri burped and said, “Time for a tongue bath.” She pulled Alan's head down and shoves him face-first against her slimy, crusty navel. Alan groans as he's buried in her linty, smelly belly button. Then, Corri turns. She rolls over, dragging Alan onto the couch with her, wedging him between her and the cushion.

Alan is buried under her fat in a suffocating darkness, stinking of sweat and musk. Corri's gut is a wall, firm as a brick but still soft as the couch cushion. Inside, a hurricane of gurgling, burbling, and churning whirls as the food is reduced to a disgusting mulch. Alan can hardly breathe; what little air he gets is stinging and insulting to his nose. Strong as he is, he can't push Corri off.

Grunting, Corri grinds her stomach against his face, and Alan knows what he has to do. With a whine of revulsion, he sticks his tongue out and begins to eat out her belly button. A series of groans and gags rises from her belly that make Corri smile with delight. She laughs and says, “Oh stop crying, you know you love this. Now eat out my belly button or else I'll make you eat out my ass.”

To emphasize the threat, Corri lets out a wet, bubbling fart that fills the room with a cloying, disgusting stench. Alan threw up the first time she did this. Now he's just barely able to keep his breakfast down. He licks and suckles her navel, the taste as rancid as moldy carpet after a dog has laid on it. Fuzzy lint rolls over his tongue, grimy and sticky from its stay in Corri's body. Alan cannot imagine how this girl could keep such a dirty navel. Sweat pours like water from a faucet down her skin, filling her belly button, moistening his tongue with every lick.

Corri belches, splattering Alan with saliva. As her stomach gurgles, she lets out another nasty fart. Eventually, she begins to squirm, turned on by her abuse of her personal trainer. She grunts, pulling back so Alan can get a little fresh air, saying, “Fuck me, Alan. Right fucking now.”

Alan gasps as he breathes in the fresh air, finally free of the stench of her gut. But that was all he would be getting from Corri. She just laid there, waiting, her stomach glorbing and shifting as it continued to work over her breakfast. Still panting for air, Alan crawled out from between Corri and the cushions, then he struggled to roll her over. The big girl made no move to help; she just said, “Come on, hurry up Alan. What good are all those muscles if you can't even fuck me right?”

Alan panted as he pushed against her body, managing to shift her just enough on the couch that he could get between her legs. Not that Corri would spread them for him. After working out of his pants, Alan then had to work her pants off, which was another feat entirely. You'd think being slimy with sweat would help, but no; it just made holding onto the fabric that much harder. Corri's hips were twice as wide as Alan's torso; he pulled and tugged at the waistline of her pants, managing to slowly work the defiled and stained khakis down until they were around her knees. Her pillar-sized thighs and musky cunt were half-buried by belly fat. Alan gripped her rolls, hefting them. With a groan, he shoved his hips forward, rubbing his cock against her sex.

Corri sneered. “You're not going to fuck me with a limp dick, Alan. Jesus. Put some muscle into it.” Alan couldn't look at her. He'd given up on trying to think of Heather while he fucked Corri. Instead, he rubbed his cock against her moist, sweaty sex until it stiffened. Then, finally, with a bit of backbreaking thrusting, he managed to push into her cunt. Corri moaned, saying, “There we go. See. It isn't so hard.”

She squirmed, her whole body jiggling as he fucked her. Alan couldn't even see past her gut to her sex; Corri's linty belly button smeared sweat and grime all over his thick pecs. He had to fight to keep her belly from sagging and pushing him out from between her thighs. Fucking Corri was like fucking the ocean; every part of her was uncontrollable and threatened to swamp him. Alan's muscles ached within five minutes, but Corri continued to moan, saying, “Fucking deeper. Fuck me, don't just give me a puritan prodding.”

She belched right in his face, splattering him with spit and bits of food. Another long, wet fart bellowed from her ass. Corri's cheeks were red with pleasure and she moaned, “Deeper. Ahh, deeper, fuck!” Alan was gasping for breath, his body aching like he'd just run two marathons. He kept thrusting into the deep, cushioned pit of her lap, no longer sure what was cunt, what was thigh, what was belly fat. It was all flesh. Corri's overwhelming, all-devouring flesh.

Corri rolled her head back, groaning, “Yes... ahhh!” Alan felt her body tense. She rolled onto him. Alan tried to scream as he was buried beneath her, his shout muffled. Corri moaned aloud as she came, sex tightening, body jiggling with pleasure. Alan clawed at her dense flesh with one arm, trying to pull himself out from beneath this mountain, her warm cum spilling down over his waist and thighs. Corri wiggled, her body wracked with pleasure, until, finally, she came to a panting halt.

Letting out another burp, she said, “Fuck Alan. Get out from under me. You think you're comfy to lay on? Move it!”

Alan grabbed hold of the back of the couch. Slowly, he managed to pull himself from beneath Corri's fat. His body hurt. Every muscle felt worn, and more than a few felt pulled. He crawled out from under her, falling over onto the floor in a heap, smeared with sweat, lint, cum, and saliva. Corri, though, just said, “What are you doing? It isn't time for a break yet. Come on Alan. Brunch. Open up those sandwiches and feed me.”

Alan rolled Corri onto her back. Taking out the sub sandwiches, he offered the BLT to her, sliding it into Corri's slime-lined maw. He watched as she slurped the whole foot-long out of his hand, leaning her head back and sending it down her throat in a single, plunging gulp. It bulged her flesh enormously then disappeared into the cauldron of her gut.

Five sandwiches and two microwave pizzas later, and Corri's gut was just as tight as before they started fucking. Any weight she may have lost in being fucked by Alan she'd gained back twice. Her stomach looked tight enough to burst. Alan found himself hoping it would. But Corri was still hungry.

“Is that seriously all you fucking brought?” she asked again when Alan had confirmed that the take-out bags were empty. “God damn it. You're all brawn and no brain, you know that?” Her stomach gurgled loudly and Corri let out a nasty belch. “Ugh. I'm starving. Alan, go bring Heather in.”

Alan's blood ran cold. So far, he'd managed to avoid being seen by Heather like this: sopping with body fluids, stinking of Corri, and worn out from fucking her immovable body. He didn't want her to know what he was doing to earn his commission, and if she saw him, smeared and stained... there'd be no question of what was going on in these “training sessions.” But Corri just looked at him, impatient, and said, “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

With no other choice, and too tired to fight, Alan said, “Ok.” He rose and stepped out into the hall, walking as quickly as his tired legs would let him to the entrance.

Heather's jaw dropped when she saw him. She only mumbled out, “Alan, what-?” before he cut her off, saying, “Corri wants to see you Heather.”

If Corri was a mountain to Alan, then she was a planet to Heather. Heather was dainty, slender, lovely in a fae sort of way. It would take four of her to match Corri in size and weight. Corri's stomach alone seemed bigger than Heather, especially now as it strained against its own skin, bubbling and churning loudly.

Heather stood before her boss, her hands clamped to her mouth in shock and horror at the display of flesh before her. She glanced at Alan; he just hung his head in shame. He had his clothes back on, but bits of food still clung to his skin here and there, and sweat soaked through his shirt and shorts everywhere. Corri's sweat.

Corri looked Heather over, sneering in disgust, and said, “Never realized how small you are. You're hardly worth the trouble. Whatever. You'll do. Alan. Feed her to me.” Saying that, Corri opened her mouth. Thick strings of spit hung down on her tongue and teeth, curtaining the pit of her throat, a dark abyss beyond.

Heather's eyes widened as she processed those words. She glanced at Alan. “Y-you can't be serious?” she asked. Alan wanted to laugh. Was Corri trying to play some mean joke? Did she really expect him to take such a command seriously?

Seeing him hesitate, Corri said, “I didn't stutter, Alan. Fucking push her head into my mouth right now... or maybe you want to find out what unemployment is like.”

“Corri,” Alan said, finally working up the nerve to tell Corri exactly what he had been wanting to say all week. “I... I don't know if this is suppose to be a joke, but this is too far. You aren't going to hurt Heather while I'm here, and if you think you can just-”

He stopped as Corri laughed. Her laughter turned into a rolling, wet belch as her stomach gurgled. Heather and Alan exchanged a look of uncertainty and fear before Corri said, “That's so cute. You think you're a big strong boy now, huh? Alan, you know that money you take home every day? That's no check; it comes out of my safe. And boy, you take home a lot more than my dad used to pay you, don't you? Makes me wonder if you're taking advantage of me. Opening up my safe while I'm not around. Stealing from the company since you know no one would ever think to suspect a personal fitness trainer.”

“What?” Alan shouted. Heather reached out, taking hold of his arm. Corri just laughed in his face, Alan's stomach turned as he understood what she was implying. Could she do this? Could she really accuse him of robbing her like this? His hands knotted into useless fists.

“Want to try keeping up your life style in prison?” said Corri. “Or how about you shove that cute little thing's head in my throat. Before I fucking starve.” Corri opened her maw again, the musky smell of her breath wafting through the room. Heather glanced at that gaping pit, then at Alan. She tugged on his arm, whispering, “Please Alan. Let's go. I'll back up what you say in court. She... she can't do this. To me. To us.”

Alan stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. His body shook in anger and fear, his hands aching to punch something. But even if he hit Corri, he doubted that he could hurt so big and so plush a body. Even with all his strength, he was weaker than Corri with all her fat.

Putting his arms around Heather, Alan leaned forward. He pressed his lips against her cheek, setting them on fire with a blush. Heather said, “Alan.” Then, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her forward. Heather screamed, shouting for help, but Alan knew from experience that no one could hear them. He'd screamed louder than this.

Heather kicked and tried to grab hold of something, but Alan forced her across the room, beside the couch. Corri's throat was like an open oubliette, running with slime and stinking of death. Heather stared into that abyss, screaming, “Please! Don't this, Alan! Please, just let me go. Just let me go! God, don't put me in there!” Alan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the shouts of this girl that he liked. He said, “I'm sorry,” then he shoved her down.

Heather's head slipped into Corri's maw without a pause, sliding past the plush lips with a wet smack. Her screaming turned into a mindless, horrified shrieking as she thrashed, trying to escape the dark pit Alan was forcing her into. Corri swallowed, pulling Heather down into her throat. Alan helped shovel her into that wide mouth, Corri's jaw easily extending to take in Heather's small chest and stomach. It was disgusting and amazing to see; Heather slid down Corri's throat as easily as the sandwiches had, making a bulge barely bigger than they did. Her screaming face appeared under the skin of Corri's throat for a moment before she slid down and out of side between Corri's massive breasts.

Alan let Heather go, pulling his spit-soaked hands away as Corri finished her secretary off. Her tongue working eagerly over Heather's body; she slurped the girl's kicking legs up between her lips, guzzling them down without a pause. Her stomach didn't even bulge as Heather slid into it. Alan could barely hear her now, the flesh muffling her screams. But he heard the churning as Heather slid into Corri's gut. He heard, faintly, her shrieking turn into a noxious vomitting and whimpering as Heather learned first hand just how disgusting Corri's body could be.

Corri slurped down the last of Heather, swallowing her feet and heels with a groan of delight. She patted her gut as the last of Heather slid down her throat. Then, she let out a long, stuttering belch.

“HHHLLLRRRRRGGGGPPPPP!”

Alan shuddered at the sound. He'd done it. He'd fed Heather to Corri, all for the sake of his own well being. He could see small bulges appearing in Corri's stomach now and then; signs of Heather's pitiful struggle against her disgusting fate. He knew there'd be no escape. No escape except into the industrial-sized toilet Corri used. Alan didn't want to think of Heather's awful, ignoble end. He pushed the thought away, saying to himself, “You had to. You had to.”

As if seeing his thoughts, Corri smiled and said with a laugh, “I guess this means you're single now, huh hunky. Whatever, I did you a favor. She wasn't even that tasty. Now get up here and eat our my belly button. Lllrrrpp. I don't want her to make me cramp.”

Alan nodded, understanding that this was his life now. Serving Corri. Living in her sweat and stench for the rest of his days. He climbed onto the couch, rolling her over so she'd be comfortable. He looked down into lint-lined navel, a noxious pit that seemed to devour his entire future. Beneath him, he could feel Heather still fighting for her life, gagging and throwing up and whimpering in agony as Corri's stomach began to treat her like any other food. Sometimes, he picked up words like, “no” and “Alan” and “hurts.” He tried to block them out.

Corri belched and Alan thought he detected just a hint of Heather's shampoo on her breath. Leaning down, he tried to push all thoughts of Heather from his mind. Then, he buried his face in Corri's belly button and started licking.