“Do I move on to a new level?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
Andrew waited. “Well?”
“Meh…” A door opened in the floor and Andrew climbed in.
“Why’s my skin still blue?” he asked. There was no answer. His belly has stretched out a bit: just a little pot belly hanging over his belt. “I hope this isn’t permanent.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch…”
“Hey! I didn’t sign on for all this growth stuff.”
“Didn’t stop you from enjoying it.”
“I did not!”
“Oh no,” the voice mocked. “Please mister, don’t stick me with that big, fat, juicy cock. I’m so full I might pop. Oh, ah, oh, heavens: help, help.”
“At least I have a body.”
The voice paused.
“Got you there.”
“That was uncalled for…” she sniffed.
Andrew changed the subject. “I smell pies!”
They left the tunnel and discovered a farm with a rusted silo and a little white house. There was a pair of pants on the clothesline drying, more than ten feet wide.
“What is that smell?”
Suddenly a bell rang. “Ezekiel!” said a woman’s voice. “Time for dinner!”
He walked in from the orchard. Andrew didn’t believe it, but the closer the boy walked the more obvious it became: his ass was as wide as a tractor. His little feet shuffled him closer to the door like a penguin. He paused to gaze in Andrew’s direction, then he waddled inside and disappeared.
“Nice buns, eh Andrew?”
Andrew wiped the drool off his mouth.
“Oh my gosh,” the voice squealed. “You—“
“No I don’t!”
“Howdy!” called the old lady. “Y’all hungry?”
Andrew nodded.
“Then come on in: you and your disembodied-voice-friend.”
“Did that bitch just call me a disembodied—“
“We’ll be right there!”
Andrew burst through the swinging doors and found an entire kitchen full of pies, each one with a steaming lattice crust. Ezekiel sat at the table, his whole butt taking up one couch.
“You look like a kind boy. Thought you might like some of my famous pear pie.”
“Sure would!”
”But y’all can’t eat for free,” she warned. “You gotta out-eat Ezekiel in a pie-eating contest.”
Andrew sighed. “Another one?”
“Sure,” said the voice. “It’s a game, remember?”
Andrew glanced at Eziekel: his light, feathery hair, his big blue eyes, his monumental ass. “Let’s play.”
However, as Andrew ate he didn’t swell like a berry. His bottom widened like a pear. His hips stretched until the button popped off his pants. Andrew loved that feeling of tightness: the way the cloth stretched around his ass, molding to every contour and crevasse. His thighs were like trees. His buttocks felt like ripe fruit: firm and juicy. Andrew was ripening with every pie he ate.
“Had enough?”