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Katawa Shorts #4: Piggy’s Birthday (SFW Version)
🕑 Added 2022-03-31 23:18:45 +0000 UTCKS Shorts #4: Piggie’s Birthday
You kind of get used to being fat.
Kind of…
Okay, well… not… really. It’s like you know you’re supposed to only be eating three times a day, and you know you’re supposed to work out an hour each day. Eat a salad, run a mile. But your salad is a snack, your mile is a joke, and your ass doesn’t fit into any of your old shorts.
But you get used to it!
You don’t ever get used to sounding fat.
Emi made a sound somewhere between a starving seal and a cow that had just been punched in the gut. She was wheezing, hardly able to breathe much less keep her mind centered on this special moment, and she knew that her dumb stupid head was doing it on purpose, because this shitty bed made the same damned noise as her old running blades!!
Beneath her, impact struck her legs. It was the slap of the track against the bottom of her blades, a tender pain that burbled and mixed inside of her with all of its falsehoods, confusing her reality.
Up, down, up, down.
One foot in front of the other. She could almost feel the track, could almost feel the wind breezing through her twintailed hair as she raced around the circle, giddy and happy and cheered to first place.
Emi wasn’t wearing her braids. Her hair was down, and she could feel the fringes skating over the curve of her fatty buttshelf when she leaned her head back, gasping as she lifted up and down, feeling the sweat dribbling down her chin to impact against her breasts.
Up, down, up, down.
A part of her wished she could see straight, thinking maybe that’d help. The rest of her was glad that she couldn’t. That she could hear herself breaking the bed was bad enough. If she could see how much he was enjoying it, she’d probably lose her damn mind. Let him make her even worse.
Her senses struggled, overloaded and unclear, pictures of herself flashing through her mind like a terrible warning against the passage of time. Young, cute, teeny, soft, chubby, old, fat, fatter, fatter, fatter, fa-
But her body didn’t give a damn what her mind was thinking. The gushing, the wheezing, the gurgle and growl and the slap of her belly hitting his bare middle. Her thighs were ridiculous, her ass was ginormous, and her tummy was famished.
Up, down. Up, down. Wheezing, panting, squeezing, moaning. A delicious whiteness colored her mind when her hand pushed the nozzle of the can into her mouth, sucking the explosion of whipped cream down into her belly, along with her wandering thoughts.
Slap, slap, slap, slap, Emi’s love handles tucked into a soft, bubbly belly, pinches of fat on her shoulders leading down to a full moon of firm but fatty dough. Round cheeks quivered, bounced, her bright brown hair rocking back and forth, always keeping her grounded and aware of what she, what they, had done.
When the cream slapped into the strawberries in her stomach, forced to find room on the pile of sweet cookie dough ice cream, between the swallowed chunks of chocolate cake and the still-bubbling swirls of soda, Emi’s mind centered. She couldn’t hear the bed, only herself, and then him, moaning and pushing. Hands on her belly, claws gripping the straps of her bra, fingers digging into stretched band of her panties, pushing her up and dropping her down.
Again, and again, and again.
Her stomach was helplessly caught up in their passionate motion. Cake and cream and soda tumbled and bobbed inside of her, the weight of it straining her already-bloated middle with every heave and bounce. It almost made her sick, even as her thighs twitched and tingled from the pleasure when pushed up against her. Her stomach crooned, utterly out of room but begging for another mouthful.
She felt drunk on the pain, the sweet, heavenly, delicious pressure. The pleasure in her gasps and the salacious movement of her hips. She could feel the muscles in her thighs whining, spoiled rotten with sweets and such tasty delight, but her belly swirled and her heart pounded. He was kissing her, lapping at the dribbles of chocolate syrup which had tumbled from her mouth to scorch her gut, lapping at her like a chocolate-covered butterball.
Breathing was hard. It was making her hungry. She felt him buck, felt herself bounce, with all of her weight coming back down. She wanted to snap off her bra, break free from her panties, to tear his jeans down and to-
A snap up, a sudden drop. The fatass was startled from her ecstasy, falling forwards and catching herself with a bright, “Ouuwwaaah!”
She nearly hit her head into his, flabby full arms catching herself just before toppling completely over. The squish of warmth on her belly button spread her chocolate and her fat against her lover and, shamelessly, Emi’s body instantly rumbled. Wanting for more.
It lost out to her mind, her blushing, sweaty face and her bright green eyes as she looked into his.
“You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes sparkling though he too was panting for air.
Emi tried to respond, to wave off the concern. It came out as a strangled, “Yooghh,” followed by a tremble in her gut quivering up and she belched right into her boyfriend’s face.
A moment of purest pink horror passed before the pair burst into a fit of amorous laughter, with Emi crumpling forward as her cackle of giggles lifted into bright pudgy snorts, her belly suffocating his slim but strong center.
“I’m sorry!” she laughed, trying to hide her porky pink face in the nape of his neck. “I-it just came out!!”
“You dork,” he replied, shaking his hips and jiggling her body, leaning up to grab her by the roll of fat on her exposed back. “God. You even smell like dessert.”
“Shin!! Don’t you-” Emi started to push back, but he already had her.
Emi was supposedto be tiny, but Shin usually made the woman feel like a prize-winning sow. She was massive, round, heavy, and, though he was a few inches taller than her, Emi was nearly double his weight, so she was used to feeling HUGE, until Shin picked her up.
“Careful! Your back!!”
He pushed up off the bed, lifting the barely-clothed girl with his strong middle with her straddling him by her fatty thighs. Emi collapsed in a hug around him, giggling into a bright, chubby scream when he twisted, they rolled, and she fell to her back on the syrup-stained sheets.
“You jerk! My hair!!” Emi squirmed, but his hand squeezed her gut, his other going to her bra. With her heart hammering, they kissed.
Their foodie playtime was usually easier when she was on her back, his hands massaging her squishy center until it became taut and stuffed. It was beyond stuffed, now, a delicious burble of digestion and hedonistic pain quivering her gut and forcing an amorous shudder.
Filled with about three pounds of cake and nearly a whole bottle of soda, Emi could feel the fizz from the pop churning inside her, making her belly burble and groan with its bloaty fullness. She could also feel how excited the noise made him, and how his excitement only worsened her own, and so ignored the sensations begging her to stop, instead forcing herself to breathe, keep calm, and reach for the can that lay near her knee.
He slowed, pulling away and guiding her wrist back to her mouth. Her heart was hammering as she let him flick the nozzle, her eyes rolling back as she sucked and she sucked on the weighty whipped cream.
“You’re gonna need another shower after this anyways,” he breathed, going for her ear and gracing her skin with a tight lover’s bite. He pushed down to her, spreading her swelling against his strong abs. Emi felt herself squeal with pleasure around the mouth of the can as he spread her legs wider, her back sliding up on the fortress of pillows on the top of the squeaking bed.
The cream didn’t stop. There was hardly room for air inside Emi, covered with fat and filling out further, but there was still plenty more in the can. Swallowing, pushing, forcing herself further, the fatties hands dropped to her sides as if to force herself to take it all in.
Another gulp, then another. She didn’t know how much further she could go. She was sweating, filthy, her senses were filled with foodie lust and her legs were quivering with heady delight, but louder than her gasps and her moans and her grumbles and groans, Emi’s heart beat like fireworks filling a lovely night sky.
She forced him back, a chubby bicep pushing him up from her neck, and she blinked the sweat out of her eyes, trying to see those bright lovely blues.
That’s what pushed her over the edge.
It was more than her hunger, more than these lusts and filling urges. They were all foreplay, fun and sexy and, judging by her sweat, extremely damn hot, but it meant the world to see him, and know that he saw her.
She wanted more. They’d done it before. They’d do it again. But she wanted it now. She wanted to jiggle out of her cotton undies, to unhook the sopping wet bra. She smelled like sweat and like chocolate and like sex, and wanted to push further.
Soon. After, maybe. Another mouthful. Another can. She’d demand it. Place herself in his lap, feel him struggle to hold her. Tiny, but huge. Small, wide, heavy. Fat.
The girl was lost inside of his eyes.
They were both panting and sweating and breathing for one another, her green emeralds dancing with his bright azure orbs, and they giggled and hugged and leaned deep into a kiss.
“God…” Emi panted, lifting a hand into his deep black hair. She pinched her hand around his scalp, greedily taking another kiss, then another, before the warble from her belly warned her and she forced herself to look away before releasing another burp.
“Classy,” Shin joked, a hand making a divot into her gut. He jiggled her, making Emi moan a bright groan before lazily batting at him and he pulled away.
He looked like he was about to stand, but Emi snatched at his wrist, pulling him back to sink into the crook of her arm. “Cuddle me,” she demanded, looking up at the ceiling but comforted greatly by his warmth.
“You can be so spoiled,” he said, but he sounded pleased.
Emi was beyond happiness. But there was more than that. She was… elated, excited, but also terrified. In this bed, covered with sweat and pumped full of chocolate, Emi was more scared than she’d ever felt in her life.
She didn’t know what she was saying until she asked, “Is this ever… weird, for you?”
A moment passed before Shin leaned up on his elbow and asked, in a bewildered voice, “Huh???”
“I-I mean…” Emi blushed, looking down. Past her chocolate-stained bra and her pink-brown tummy, past the immensity of her hips and the roll of fat that layered over her knees… was nothing…
Emi Ibarazaki had no legs. She had thighs, and knees, but she didn’t have calves, nor ankles, nor feet. And, without her plus-sized prostheses, she felt even more naked than down to her skin.
“It’s the first time we… You know…”
Shin lifted an eyebrow. “I know you’re old, but I didn’t think you were already losing your memory, Grandma.”
“I told you not to call me that!!” Emi whined, half-heartedly slapping his shoulder while her boyfriend bounced in a bright, cheery laugh. “God! I’m only twenty-five!!”
Shin shrugged. “Still got six years on me.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Emi’s piggy hands became a flurry of weak, fatty slaps. “You’re turning twenty next week!!”
“Yup,” he grinned. “Remember how you said you wanted to wait until my birthday? Lets see, how many times have we done it already?” He lifted his knee over hers and Emi was very, very aware of how much bigger her leg was. “A teacher with a teenager. Wait until the reporters find out~”
“You’re not even a student! You- gaaaaah!!” Emi shoved him, grabbed him, pulled him back and then, with a lot of effort, brought her leg over his to sit on his hips before trying to become less than a third her size to bury herself into his neck.
“I can see the headline now,” he said, rubbing her back and squeezing her butt. “‘Shinjiro Yamata drawn into whale-woman’s orbit!’”
Emi perked up, pink face twinged with red. “That’s not funny!” she puffed while his laughter bounced off her belly. “That was an actual headline!! I saw my own face on a magazinebecause of you!!!”
Despite herself, despite her embarrassment and her worries and her teeniest spark of offended anger, she just couldn’t ignore that damned sound. The pounding of love from her fat girl heart.
“You know,” he said when he was coming down from the laugh, “I actually got a copy of that. It’s in the front room. I wanted to ask if you’d seen it.”
Emi blinked in surprise, then her cheeks lit up in a very bright blush. “I-I… got distracted…”
“I figured you might,” he sighed. Shin squeezed her legs around him in an improvised hug, leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling. “You saw the cake. I saw you in your dress. We were both distracted, eh?”
The girl perked up, then blushed warmer, then slowly lowered herself towards her lover.
She was quiet for a moment before lightly nibbling on his neck and then leaning up to give him a very serious look.
“Not a grandma. Or a whale-woman,” she said, pouting.
Shin tilted his head before smirking and waving a hand. “Of course you’re not. Whales aren’t half as cute as you are. You’re a piggy.”
“N-not a pig either,” grumbled the girl that was practically nude, dotted in chocolate, and almost entirely pink.
The boy rolled his eyes. “Awe, come on. Piggies are adorable, and you’re pretty damn adorable.”
“A-am not,” Emi continued to blush, though now she was looking down at him and wondering what in the hell the boy saw in her.
“Emi…”
His voice made her look up, trapping her in the deep blue of his eyes before she could pout or grumble or make another half-hearted denial.
“If that stuff really bothers you, then… well…” he frowned, looking down and thinking.
The youth showed on his face. He had hawkish features, a face with sharp eyes and a sharper grin. They usually made him seem so… mature. He could interject himself into almost any conversation and keep pace, was interested in others and always knew when to talk and when to listen. He owned his house, had his own lawyer, owned a car, rode upon jets… but he was only nineteen.
It hadn’t even been that long since they’d met and he’d asked her out on a date. She’d nearly broken the entire thing off when she found out his age, but he was charming, and funny, and… he looked at Emi. In a way she hadn’t felt anyone look at her in years.
A baseball player signed with the NPB, Shinjiro’s room was covered in sports trophies. His walls were lined with pendants. He even had a jersey signed by a whole team of champions from some team off in America.
And, in the center of the room, was a three-hundred-pound girl who was six-years his senior and who, she was pretty sure, had broken a few springs on his bed.
She was a teacher, who usually felt like an idiot. An adult, who felt like a teenager. A woman who felt like a girl. A butterball piggy who still remembered when she’d been fit and strong.
Emi hadn’t been strong in a long time. She’d been slowly rolling through life, hopping from spot to spot and meal to meal. She’d been putting on weight for years, not helped by the blonde butterball who’d become her best friend… and, on the day she’d declared she’d take back her own life, she’d literally fallen into Shin’s lap.
And then her weight had exploded.
“I-it doesn’t when…” Emi paused, trying to calm herself. “Not when you say it… when you do it, you make me laugh… you jerk.”
“That’s because I love my fat piggy,” he said, lowering to kiss the top of her chest in a way that made Emi’s spine quiver and her mouth gasp.
“Oough…” she breathed, trying to keep herself focused. She righted herself, looking down into his eyes. “It’s not the same when… other people… ugh!” she grunted, turning to her side and collapsing against the smaller man.
He held her as she had him, leaning on the pillows in the crick of his arm. She felt his hand lightly rubbing her back, playing with the mess they’d put in her hair. That made her pout harder. She felt sticky, hot, and beyond dirty. They’d gone overboard today… and she’d loved every moment, until it came time to clean up.
“T-that’s not even what I wanted to ask about,” she said, shaking her head, face filled by an immensely fat pout. “I wanted to ask about my legs.”
“Your legs? What about them?”
Emi looked up, saw the glint of his blues, then looked down. She felt her belly fold when she lifted her left leg and wobbled her fat stump. “It’s… well, we’ve never… it’s the first time we… been like this…” she mumbled, nervous. “Without my prostheses…”
A few breaths passed before he said, “Huh! I guess it was.”
Emi lifted, feeling like her wheelchair was just pulled from beneath her. “You mean you didn’t notice?!”
Author's Note:This is the SFW edit of the story! The original NSFW goes into a lot more detail and is a bit more explosively lewd! If you'd rather check that out, follow this link! https://www.patreon.com/posts/10-nsfw-katawa-4-63811983
**************************************************************************************************“I mean, not really,” Shin replied, curiosity turning into his familiar chuckle. “I am a bit busy enjoying myself. It’s not like there isn’t enough of you, right? And with how you’ve been going…”
Emi barely even registered the poke that came with his tease of her tummy. Relief, a weight she wasn’t wearing, came off of her shoulders. “I-I was worried that I might… weird you out, or something…” she said shyly.
“You’re more than enough for me as it is, Grandma,” Shin’s dark eyebrows danced until Emi hit him, then kissed him, then crawled back on top of him and let him hold her, as if she were only a third of her weight.
They stayed like that for a time, with her butt sitting atop of his lap. She had to be hurting him, but she just… sat with him. Breathed, and listen to him breathing. Listened to the noise inside of his chest.
“I guess piggies are… pretty cute…” she said after a time. “They’re pretty chubby, too…”
“You’re pretty chubby.”
Emi rolled her eyes, turning up to him. “Yeah, I got that part.”
“I like you chubby,” he grinned, a hand round her back and another lightly playing with her belly.
She rolled her eyes again, though her own face was pulled into a double-chinned grin. “I got that too, somehow.”
“I bet it was the cake.”
Emi’s smile turned from him, down to the bedsheets of his filthy bed. The can of whipped cream was still poking into her thigh, the empty container of strawberries at the foot of the bed. On a small table was the crumbling remains of a double-layer chocolate cake, decorated with little teal flags and topped with a tiara and a banner which read, ‘Happy birthday, Emi!’
“It didn’t help your case~”
“Really?” he asked, tightening his hand on her overfed belly. “I think it all played out just right.”
