Chapter 16: A Bit of Play 

It wasn’t easy for him, but Jeff finally did manage to eat the rest of his pork rib, along with an obligatory forkfull of broccoli and a swig of water. Sarah patiently and silently watched him choke down his food and drink. At first it had seemed to Jeff like she was just casually observing him, but the longer it took him to finish, the more he realized that she was staring hard at him, studying his every motion thoroughly. So intense was her gaze that she had actually stopped eating, and sat back in her chair with her shapely arms folded across her prodigious chest…almost as if she was watching and scrutinizing a performance. Her eyes made Jeff nervous, and she didn’t help Jeff’s anxiety when she neglected to return his awkward grin, aimed at her in an effort to invite one of her warm and soothing smiles. 

She hadn’t smiled back — she had just kept looking at him keenly, deeply, without changing her deadpan expression. Jeff had quickly averted his eyes back down away from her face, feeling rebuked, and tried to focus on eating. His stomach was knotted up with nausea and anxiety — whether it was from his oncoming withdrawals or the intensity of Sarah’s presence, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t feel like eating at all.

But Sarah’s promise of drinks after dinner, as well as her pledge to tell Jeff her weight, provided more than enough incentive for Jeff to fight through his discomfort. Bite after small bite, his little mouth whittled away at the meat on the rib. After a few minutes, he was nearly two thirds of the way done…his stomach was really beginning to knot and tighten now….

“That’s it Jeff,” said Sarah quietly, causing him to snap his eyes back up to her face. She was leaning back in her chair, her arms still folded authoritatively, yet gently, across her chest. “Keep going…you got this.” 

Her words breathed new life into Jeff’s efforts, and he took another bite of the rib with increased vigor. His body rebelled, and he had to tense up his diaphragm to keep from throwing up as the pork went down his gullet. 

“Keep it down,” said Sarah encouragingly. “That’s it Jeff, keep it down. Keep it up — keep going!” 

Her words came a little quicker, and a little louder. Their energy seemed to spur him on, and he went after the rib even more aggressively, biting off a larger chunk and chewing it as quickly as he could. 

“Yeah!” came Sarah’s spirited voice, even louder this time. Jeff looked up at her quickly through his chewing and saw her bringing her hand to her mouth, pretending that she had a rib in her hand. She bared her teeth and bit down aggressively, her teeth making a loud “clack” that echoed through the kitchen and vibrated through the blanket that hung loosely over his naked body. 

“Rrrrrrr!” she growled at him, keeping her teeth bared as she she shook her head back and forth rapidly like a frenzied animal. “That’s it Jeff! Eat it! Rip it off! Swallow it down! Mmmmmrrrrgghh!” She rolled her eyes back and closed them as she arched her head back and drew a line with a long finger all the way down her throat, tracing the path of the imaginary meat. Her aggressive carnality only propelled Jeff to eat faster and messier — transported by Sarah’s sensuality, he tore into the meat with such abandoned energy that he uttered an involuntary moan as his mouth struggled to tear, chew, and swallow. 

“Yes!” said Sarah forcefully, snapping her head back from its arched position and leaning forward on her arms, “Get into it Jeff — stick your little face in that meat! Bite it with those little teeth!” She stuck her face out at him, arching her long and graceful neck forward, and chewed and chomped loudly at the air as she continued to shake her head back and forth, her eyes never leaving his. Jeff had by this point abandoned himself to a kind of feeding frenzy — he was ripping and tearing at the meat for all he was worth, not even bothering about how his face was fast becoming comically messy and smeared with bar-b-que sauce. Little bits of meat and tendon and specks of sauce were flying all over the place. The only sounds in the room were the moist and rapid contact between Jeff’s face and the pork rib, his sporadic gasps of breath as he came up for air before diving back to his task, and Sarah’s sensuous and exaggerated breaths and growls of encouragement. 

“Rrrrrrr! That’s my little guy!” she snarled, again shaking her head back and forth in rapid bursts. “Get that meat! Eat it all! Rrrrr! Rrrrrrrr!!” Her fierce chants worked to hypnotize Jeff into a devouring hysteria, and for a couple minutes (but what him seemed only like a matter of seconds) he was a wild animal, attacking his food with an energy that was completely foreign to him. Sarah loudly and ferociously encouraged him the whole way…until gradually Jeff realized that Sarah hadn’t said anything for a while, and that she was simply sitting back again, silently watching his unrestrained feasting with an amused smirk on her face and a knowing twinkle in her eye. He suddenly stopped ripping and chewing, and panted breathlessly as he stared at the bone in his hand. Although there were still a number of little pieces of meat still clinging to the bone, he had eaten most of the rib. He couldn’t believe it — he had actually managed to eat the whole thing…and then almost immediately he remembered how Sarah had casually, calmly inserted rib after rib into her own mouth, pulling each and every one out spotlessly clean…far leaner than the bone he held in his hand. 

It wasn’t good enough — he had to clean the bone completely, just like she had. He brought the rib up to his face and was about to continue eating when Sarah cut him off. 

“That’s good enough, Jeff,” she laughed, evidently quite pleased with his efforts. Her body shook with her amusement as she stared at him for a few more seconds. Jeff felt like there was something mocking in her laugh and in her eyes, almost like she was taunting him for how far he had let himself go. 

“Wow, you sure went to town, didn’t you?” she grinned. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Jeff! Such energy!” She had to be mocking him, he thought…and yet, he couldn’t ignore the sheer joy of making her laugh and smile. It didn’t really matter to him in this moment what caused it — her beaming face was just so lovely to look at. 

“Did you save any room for broccoli?” she asked innocently.

“B-broccoli?” he stammered, feeling that he couldn’t possibly fit any more into his stomach. “N-no, I don’t think —”

“Nonsense!” tutted Sarah, interrupting him as she reached her arm across the table to pick up his fork. “You gotta have at least one good bite.” Her fingers made the fork look suddenly small as she picked it up, stabbed a couple of broccoli stalks on his plate, and held them up to his mouth. It suddenly and strangely occurred to Jeff how amazing it was that she could just casually reach all the way across the table and quite comfortably hold the fork up to his mouth without even extending or stretching her body. Could he even reach halfway across the table? 

“With me Jeff, come one,” said Sarah, noticing his lapse in attention. He looked at the green vegetables hanging from the fork, and then at the gently jangling bracelets on her wrists that he had failed to properly notice ever since she got home. He was distracted yet again until Sarah held up the fork closer.

“Let’s go Jeff, c’mon,” she said with a kind of patient urgency. “A great source of Vitamin C for your whole body’s immune system —” and she reached out her other hand and traced a long finger up and around his shoulders, up down his arms, and across his chest, “— and Vitamin K, for all the good bacteria in your gut,” and she took her finger and stuck in directly into Jeff’s stomach, indenting about half and inch and twirling it around in a playful circle, effortlessly vibrating his entire torso with her index finger.

Almost fully aroused once again from Sarah’s aggressive show a minute before, and from the present activities of her playful fingers, Jeff opened his mouth desperately and took in the vegetables, hoping that Sarah would grant him some kind of reprieve, some kind of breather, if he just did what she said. His mouth engulfed about half the broccoli, and Sarah gently and lovingly pushed the rest into his mouth bit by bit as he chewed as vigorously as he could. By the time the broccoli was gone, minutes later, his jaw was sore. 

“Good work, Jeff,” said Sarah, beaming at him and putting down his fork. “And now just —” and she gulped audibly at him, miming a swallow, “wash it all down.” She handed him his water glass, her hand easily encompassing the glass’s circumference. Without thinking Jeff accepted the glass with two hands, each hand holding the glass with some space in between, brought the glass up to his face, and swallowed several gulps before letting the glass fall back onto the table in exhaustion with a barely-contained clatter. 

Sarah spread her hands out to Jeff as he panted for breath, totally drained. “There we go,” she said kindly, taking his hands in hers and shaking them ever so slightly (rattling his entire body in the process). “A full meal!” She paused a moment, smirking down at him. “Well, at least a full meal for you.” She laughed at him, shooting him that wide-eyed look that he found so disconcerting and yet so irresistible, and suddenly, up she sprang and waltzed her huge form into the kitchen, her long blond hair whipping around her exposed shoulders and her skin-tight red dress, her tremendous ass rippling and quivering and bouncing after her like the ocean. 

Jeff sat a few more moments at the table, trying to catch his breath, and realizing that his body was red all over from exertion. Had he really work that hard to eat a single pork rib and a spoonful of broccoli? But his thoughts quickly jumped to something more immediate, because he realized that Sarah had gone straight for the handle of bourbon on top of the fridge. Excitement leapt in his chest and he caught up his crutches and was over to the kitchen as fast as he could carry himself. 

“Easy there — slow down, cowboy,” chuckled Sarah, seeing his enthusiasm. “Excited for a little drink, huh?” Jeff had reached her, and she looked down at him before he moved to reach for the bourbon. 

‘Oh my god,’ she thought, regarding his pathetic little form. She stood before him in her natural upright and confident posture, still wearing her 3-inch heels from work, and he was standing there, slumped against his crutches, his back curved by years of poor posture, looking up at her with his little puppy dog eyes, waiting for her to get the bourbon down. She had been riding a steady orgasmic wave ever since she had compelled him to eat his meat, and now for the second time that night, she silently orgasmed as she looked down on him. Standing as they were, the top of his head came up to the bottom of her breasts…if he looked straight ahead he would be staring directly into the top third of her stomach. She couldn’t believe how small he was next to her, and it was moments like these, when they were actually standing side by side, that she truly felt the overwhelming reality of her size over him. And she was just wearing her 3-inch heels…

‘Imagine when I wear —” she began to think blissfully, staring down at him as she rode out her orgasm…but then she caught herself. ‘All in good time, Sarah,’ she reminded herself. And she took a quick, deep breath, and came back to the exchange. 

“Well,” she said, smiling down at Jeff, “looks like you followed rule number three to a “t” today!” 

“Yeah, I…I guess I did,” muttered Jeff, remembering how high up the handle had been placed out of his reach. 

“Though let’s be honest,” said Sarah playfully, reaching out her arm and grasping the bourbon (which was level with her face) around the handle in one hand and smoothly lowering it from its perch without difficulty, “I don’t think you could’ve gotten this big thing down even if you’d wanted to.” Holding the large handle of bourbon in her hand, she brought it to the counter and softly placed it down and got out glasses and some ice to pour drinks. 

Jeff bristled at her words…was she insulting his height again? Or his strength? Or both? his emotions were wildly vacillating; he was overwhelmingly enchanted with Sarah one moment, then desperate to please her another, then scared of her deadpan expression, and then angry at her perceived slight against him…all in a matter of minutes. 

“I—I could have reached it if I wanted to,” he said defiantly to her back as she clinked ice into their glasses. Sarah chuckled without turning around, shaking her head. He felt compelled to keep going. “It—it wouldn’t have been too much for me to get it down. I just decided not to.” Once again, in the moments of silence that followed, his words sounded petty and childish, even to his own ears. 

“Oh yeah?” said Sarah, her tongue in her cheek as she turned around to face him, leaning on her butt slightly agains the counter. “Let’s see. Why don’t you come over here, Jeff?” He did, wordlessly, his shoulders already slumping. How was she going to humiliate him this time? He crutched himself to the counter, which was even with his chest. Sarah set the handle of bourbon close to the edge of the counter, where Jeff would have no problems reaching it. Without warning, she then dropped to her knees next to him. Jeff’s mouth opened and he failed to stifle a gasp. Her face looked so big to him when when it was up this close. The top of her head came up to the beginning of his neck…she wasn’t too far away from matching his height, even on her knees. Jeff couldn’t help but feel deeper humiliation at being so small…Sarah shot her big eyes up at him impishly, seeming to read his thoughts.

“Hello up there,” she said, grinning. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” he managed to ask. 

“Running an experiment,” she said officially. She winked at him and continued. “Now, I don’t want you putting weight on that leg, so I’m going to hold you in place here, ok?” She wrapped her hands around his waist and held him firmly. Did her hands go all the way around…no, it couldn’t be…he glanced down briefly enough to see that there was at least some space in between her hands. But he saw her long fingers extending around much of his waist, her long nails making her fingers look even longer than they were, and he felt sick to witness how bony and shriveled and bony his waist looked in her hands. He looked back up, not wanting to see any more. 

“That’s right, just let me hold you here,” said Sarah gently. “I’m supporting your lower body. Now look ahead…see the handle?” Jeff nodded. 

“Try to pick it up,” said Sarah simply, giving his waist a little squeeze. 

Jeff was confused. Did she seriously think that he couldn’t? He reached out both hands to the big glass container, which was almost completely full save the little bit Sarah had poured into the two glasses. The bottle sure did look big next to his arms…but he didn’t think any more. He reached hand through the handle and grabbed the other side of the bottle with his other hand and tried to lift it. As he tried, he felt Sarah’s hands tighten around his waist, making sure that he was supported. If anything, he felt stronger than if he had been on his own to feet. 

The handle of bourbon didn’t budge. Surely there was something wrong. He tried to lift it again, this time exerting more effort than he was comfortable giving. Yes! There it was — the bottle moved a little on the smooth counter, but still did not rise up. He gave another lug of effort, moving the bottle not up, but rather across the counter a little bit, toward the edge. 

“Careful there,” said Sarah in a bit of a purr from behind him. “That’s some single-barrel stuff you’re playing with there.” 

She was clearly enjoying this, and her comment irritated Jeff and made him try even harder. 

“I’m not playing with it,” he said, gritting his teeth in effort as he once again failed to lift it with both of his hands, “I’m just trying to get a good grip —”

On the word “grip” he had given an almighty and desperate tug upward with both of his hands. A tiny portion of the bottle raised up off the counter but came clanging down immediately. With his wild gesture, Jeff had managed not to lift up the handle, but rather to scoot it forward even more on the counter, just barely to the point that it teetered on the edge and then dipped and fell towards the floor. Jeff felt Sarah’s left hand tighten abruptly around his waist as her right hand left his side and shot out swiftly, catching the falling bottle in one hand about halfway between the counter and the floor. Jeff was stunned for a moment, first that he could have been so weak and clumsy, and second that Sarah had managed to catch what he had failed to lift…in one hand. 

Sarah held the bottle in the same position she had caught it, still on her knees, and still steadying Jeff with her left hand. She had initially paused in her motion just to make sure that she held the bottle securely, but after she was sure she had it, she made it a point to hold her arm’s position for a few long seconds, letting Jeff drink in the sight of her arm clutching the bottle in front of him, her forearm muscles emerging bashfully, yet with undeniable authority, the rich veins that mostly hid in her arms beginning to materialize in command with each passing moment. She heard Jeff’s ragged breath in her ear and smiled, feeling the warmth wash over her yet again. She looked slightly up at him and smirked, enjoying his inability to hold eye contact. Slowly and deliberately, she curled the bottle in her wrist up and down, up and down, a few times, before she gave him one last knowing look and stood back up, wasting no time in putting the bottle back on top of the fridge. Jeff felt crushed, humiliated…and in awe. 

“Well, now that’s over with,” said Sarah brightly, as if nothing had just happened, “drinks!” She handed Jeff a glass, which held around 3 ounces of bourbon. He reached up to take the glass as she reached down to hand it to him, bending her knees and arching her back down so that she was looking him nearly in the face as she handed it to him. 

“You got it?” she asked crucially, as both of their hands held onto the glass. He looked up at her, his eyes ashamed and indignant. Sarah immediately broke into another one of her tender smiles and stood up, ruffling Jeff’s hair with her hand. 

“So serious!” she laughed, returning back up to her full height and giving Jeff another view of her abdominal muscles, which flexed softly with her laughter through her tight red dress. “Let’s drink at the counter, shall we? Here, actually hand me back your drink — ” and she reached down and took the glass out of Jeff’s hand before he could react. “C’mon, over here!” she called back at him, as she was already at the counter in two strides. Jeff crutched himself over with considerably more difficulty, and managed to climb into one of the barstools at the counter next to Sarah, who watched his attempts with amused caution, making sure he didn’t do anything that was going to hurt his hip. 

“Well,” said Sarah after they were both sitting at the counter, holding up her glass and encouraging Jeff to do the same, “cheers! Cheers to…what, Jeff? Cheers to…to friends!” 

“Friends?” blurted out Jeff without meaning to, in a voice that was way more jilted than he had intended to let on. 

Sarah laughed at him, holding her glass to her lips. “Well, I don’t know! You weren’t coming up with anything, were you?” 

“It’s just…” said Jeff, smelling the sting and bite of the quality bourdon but not quite ready to indulge, “we seem like we’re a little more than…more than friends.” 

Sarah looked at him stony-eyed for a split second before she changed her expression — Jeff hadn’t caught her disbelief at his denseness. She rolled her eyes playfully as she put her drink down, sighing. Though Jeff didn’t realize, her sigh was more genuine and irked than she let on. 

“Of course we’re not just friends, Jeff,” she said, careful to keep her tone light and bubbly. “Remember what we talked about last night? About how we can play together?” 

Jeff nodded his head. He remembered…but he still didn’t really understand what she was talking about. It all seemed to him like she was just putting him on and flirting with him in some kind of elaborate, girlish, complicated way. 

“But do you also remember,” asked Sarah, “that I play with a lot of people?” 

Jeff felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten that part. 

“A…a lot of people?” His voice sounded weak and squeaky.

“Yeah.” Her voice was calm, deep, and matter-of-fact. She waited a few moments, letting Jeff recall their previous conversation. ‘Easy,’ she told herself as she watched him, ‘take it easy…” 

“H-how…how many?” 

Sarah took a deep breath in through her nose as she looked at him, determined to maintain her composure. She smiled genially at him. “You asked me that last night, Jeff. And I said “a good number.” I see a good number of other people.” She saw him opening his mouth to speak again, but she kept talking, not wishing to rehash the same conversation they had had the previous night. “But everyone I see is different, Jeff, and I see everyone for totally different reasons. No one is like you, and no one makes me feel quite like I do when I’m with you.” 

“R-really?” asked Jeff, and he broke into an uncontrollable smile. Sarah felt her heart sink as she looked at him smiling, knowing that he didn’t understand. But even as her heart hurt for him, she was looking at him with steely determination. ‘But he will,’ she told herself, allowing the slow excitement to spread to trickle throughout her limbs, ‘he will understand.’ 

Sarah laughed again cheerily. “Yes, really! Now enough talk! Cheers to friends, right?” 

“Friends with benefits!” added Jeff with enthusiasm. 

“Lame!” said Sarah, unable to contain her disbelief at how generic Jeff’s brain was. But she recovered quickly and seamlessly: “That’s such a cliche! There’s nothing cliche about what’s going on here, is there?” 

Jeff shook his head. Even though he was confused again, he could agree with that. 

“Oh my god, whatever,” said Sarah, laughing, “let’s just drink.” And they did. 

About twenty minutes later Jeff happened to look over at the clock in the living room. 7:47. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet?? He was stunned…so much had seemed to happen since Sarah got home from work. It seemed like ages ago. 

“S-Sarah?” he asked through the pleasant buzz of the bourbon.

“Yes sir?” Sarah was feeling a little lick of the alcohol herself. 

“What time did you get home today?”

“What a question!” she teased. “I’d say about 7. Why?” 

7:00. Jeff couldn’t believe it. How could it be that all that had happened in less than an hour? He sat there dumbfounded. Sarah guessed his thoughts and smiled to herself as she finished off her drink. She let another minute pass by. Then:

“So Jeff, aren’t you curious?” 

Her words jerked his mind back from the recent memory of her engulfing his entire hand in her soft mouth. “W-wha? What? Curious about what?” Sarah looked at him expectantly, her eyebrows going up and down humorously, teasing him. After a few moments he still didn’t remember, so she ever so slightly moved her body up and down and side to side in a little dance. Her ample flesh wobbled slightly at her movements, her curves dancing at her movements. Jeff suddenly remembered. 

“Oh!! Oh!! Yes! Yes, your….your — ” but he couldn’t say it. It sounded disrespectful. 

“My weight,” finished Sarah, smiling. 

“Yes.” 

“Well,” said Sarah casually, gesturing to the corner of the kitchen near the pantry, “the scale’s over there. Why don’t we go and see?” They went over and stood next to the scale. Jeff just stood there, waiting for her to get on. 

“God, you’re no fun Jeff!” teased Sarah, bending down to prod him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t you wanna guess before we actually find out? You brought this up, after all!” 

“Uh…” said Jeff, caught off guard, “Uh…I — I don’t know.”

“Well, try to guess,” laughed Sarah as she took off her heels. “Make it fun!” 

Jeff stood there, leaning against his crutches, trying to think. 

“Here,” said Sarah suddenly, and she retrieved a fold-up chair from the pantry and set it out, indicating for Jeff to sit down. “I don’t want you on your feet for too long, even if you’re following the rules and using your crutches.” She winked at him as he obligingly sat down, his feet barely managing to reach the floor. 

“So,” said Sarah, spreading her arms out wide and turning around slowly for him, “what do you think Jeff? How much do you think I weigh?” She performed a few slow circles for him with her arms outstretched, looking at him earnestly each time she came around to face him again. 

Jeff sat in the chair, feeling stupider and stupider by the second. He had no clue what Sarah weighed…only that it was a lot more than he did. What did he weigh again? 102…just over 102.

‘Well, maybe more after that huge dinner,’ he thought, and then realized that his dinner hadn’t been “huge” at all, at least not compared to Sarah’s. He suddenly grew terrified, thinking of how much she had eaten without even breaking a sweat. He looked at how substantial her arms looked, how unbelievably solid and shapely her legs were, how inflated and curved her ass was, how fluid and flowing and strikingly wide her hips were…everything…just…everything about her was so, so big. But to scale, because she was so tall. She was a goddess — there was no other word for it. And yet here she was, turning around for him like she was about to try on a school uniform. He felt utterly absurd. 

“C’mon Jeff!” she whined at him playfully, “Give me a guess!” 

“I—I don’t know, I don’t know!” said Jeff, starting to panic. “Uh…I don’t know…300 pounds?” 

Sarah stopped rotating and turned to face him, her mouth agape. “300 pounds??” she cried, advancing on him, “300?? What kind of guess is that?? What are you trying to say, Jeff?!?” 

“I don’t know!! I-I don’t know!!” exclaimed Jeff, in a real panic now, cowering in the chair. He actually brought his legs up to his chest, bunching himself up into a protective ball in the wake of Sarah’s advance. It was all instinctual. 

Sarah reached him and looked down on him for a moment with fire in her eyes. And then all at once she softened herself and burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god, Jeff! It’s so hard to play with you! You’re like a scared little child!” She turned her back to him and marched up to the scale, her butt and hips bouncing and swaying in expectation. “Ok,” she said out loud, “Mr. Jeff Stintum says I weigh 300 pounds.”

“N-no, I take it back, I — really have no idea what you weigh,” he pleaded with her. 

“I know, Jeff,” she laughed, “I know you have no idea.” She stepped on the scale. “I’m just having fun — you’re so fun to play with…that’s all. She waited a moment, smiling at Jeff with eyes wide in mock anticipation, and then she looked down at the number on the scale. Her eyebrows went up immediately, and she slowly, sensually puckered her lips and blew a thin stream of air out of her mouth. 

“What?” asked Jeff, breathless. “What does it say?” Sarah turned to him, looking pleased, like a cat who had just caught and eaten a bird. She blinked at him slowly, lushly. “Why don’t you come and see for yourself…little guy?” She smiled widely. She couldn’t help it…she was thrilled. Jeff approached on his crutches, independent knots working in his throat and stomach. He looked down at the scale, having to ignore Sarah’s pretty feet for a moment. Her toenails were painted that same deep red. The same as her fingernails. And lips. The number…soft blue… something-6.7…what was it? He blinked and made an effort to read it carefully. 

236.7.