The clinic could wait; Andrew felt like looking for something useful in the houses. He waited for the paperboy to pass yet again before jogging around to the back of the house, having to jump a tiny white fence to get to the back door. He reached down and turned the silver knob, pushing the door away as he stepped inside to a spacious kitchen. He let the door swing back shut behind him, too transfixed by the sight before him: pie after steaming pie covered the table before him in a massive tower of delicious treats.
“W-Woah… secret room on the first try? What if all the houses are this loaded? I’d better up my score fast and move onto the next, I’ll win this dumb game easy!” he cheered to himself, reaching a hand across the table to nab a thick slice. Just as he pushed the treat halfway into his mouth, the front door opened, the muscular outline of the milkman appearing at the threshold.
“Woah there big boy, didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.” he chuckled, walking into the house, carrying a metal basket of milk bottles that clanked as he turned to shut the door.
“Who are youmph?” Andrew slurred, his chubby mouth too full of treat to speak properly.
“The milkman, here to drop off your milk… go ahead, keep eating.” he said, setting the crate down, brushing the carefully combed blonde hair out of his face. Andrew felt tense as he advanced, clearly more than a routine NPC.
“I said…” he started, grabbing Andrew by the fat wrist, spinning him around to face the table. “…keep eating, fatty.”
Andrew felt faced with two clear options: struggle, or give into his demands. Lacking the strength, he reached for another slice, only to have his other arm yanked back behind him.
“With your face, piggy.” the milkman chuckled, holding his two hands in his one beefy grip, sliding off his own belt with the other. Andrew winced as his hands were bound together with the belt, then felt a hard push on his back, his mouth mashed into a pie.
“Eat. Now.” he urged, and the tone was enough to make him start to gorge. He ate with reckless abandon, stuffing his mouth full of crust and filling. In no time at all, he had finished another, the telltale *ding* signaling a change in his form. He felt his belly round out and sag against the table, his butt doing the same within his jeans. The basketball cheeks swelled and swelled, the retro fabric quickly giving up the ghost as the seams of the seat popped right down his bloated crack. His underwear exposed, he couldn’t help but shudder in embarrassment, though he didn’t have much time to dwell as his face was pushed into another pie. As he ate, he felt himself continuing to fill out all over, from his chipmunk cheeks to his fat thighs. He grunted as his pants shredded free, pushing his wobbling ass right back against the milkman… and against a raging hard-on.
“Mmm, good combo…” he coo’d, sliding a hand around the side of his cerulean flesh, tugging his underwear down over his thick thighs, exposing him in totality. Andrew huffed and kept eating, his face hot with embarrassment and soft fear…
“Hnn!” Andrew moaned out as he felt the mailman’s cock slam into his tight ass, his balls patting against his jiggling rump as he pulled back and thrusted again. Andrew’s face was splattered with pie as he was forced down harder against the table.
“Don’t,*hnnf*, stop eating, you fat little slut! You’ll be my fuckberry soon enough!” he grunted, slick pre-cum coating Andrew’s juicy blue rim.
‘T-This is insane! My character is getting wrecked, what do I do?…’
He contemplated escape, knowing this wasn’t the way to win; yet feeling his character bloat and eat, getting boned by a sexy stud with a nine-inch dick as he devolved into a gluttonous, juice-filled slob fulfilled one of his favorite perverted fantasies…
‘What do I do?’