Piggy is wrapped tight in rope, looping his tits and flushing them red. He's hooked up to his milking machine, and his boobies look a little bruised and irritated. He writhes on his bed as much as the collar rope attached to the bedframe allows him. His fat saggy arms look like sausage links, and his plump wrists are fastened to the rope denting the top of his belly and encircling the whole thing. His chubby fists face each other at the top of his engorged round gut, and the rope goes down, looping his thick, wobbly love handles. Encircling his swollen, spongey fupa, bunching it forward to give the mighty little milking machine enough room as it chugs and pumps on his still-hidden nub of a useless little piggy clit. The rope fastens it in place, connected to the rope hidden under the overhang of his gut and looping his thighs. It runs directly and tightly between his fat ass cheeks and around. The part between his ass cheeks firmly presses a large buttplug up into him.
It's been a long 8 hour shift for me, I hang up my jacket and I head into the kitchen to fetch the red velvet cake for Piggy, plus a nice chocolatey weight gain powder milkshake containing 1800 calories.
Entering his room with the tray, Piggy is lulled into a tense stupor, the steady sucking sounds coming from each cup attached to him mollifies him. When he hears the clatter of the knife on the tray and his blender full of milkshake, he gazes over and begins moaning with relief at the sight of me. I set the tray on his bedside table, and fetch my camera to get a nice video of my squirming pig.
Me: Hello Piggy. Such a good boy, baby. Look at you.
Piggy: [whimpers and moans, wincing up at me, every exhale shuddering]
Me: Such a good boy. Such a good boy! You're doing so well, baby. Not long now.
I grab a fistful of his sensitive tit, and pluck the suctioned cup off his swollen nipple with a pop.
Piggy: [gasps with relief, his big tree trunk legs shaking]
The sweat on his tit makes it sticky, it feels hot to the touch.
Me: Huh? Aren't you? You're such a beautiful, good boy.
Piggy: [moans and groans, his breathing growing more shallow] It sounds like he breathlessly says, "my tits... my tits..." but it's hard to be sure. His porky little fingers are trying to reach for them, though...
I pop the other suction cup off his teat and give both of his tits a nice rub.
Piggy: [moans and pants, almost going cross-eyed as his fat, jiggling body attempts to move around, his long-gone hips attempt to buck]
Me: Does Piggy want that off too?
Piggy looks at me in slow motion, he starts nodding and speaking incoherently.
The machine pumps on, the plastic clattering and forcing more rapid squelches and groggy groans from him. I zoom in on his face, his creased brow.
Piggy: [managing shakily and quietly] Yes, Daddy. Please...
I kneel on the bed and begin shifting the rope one-handed. The sheets beneath him are wet. I gently pull the sweaty machine off. My fingertips reach into the moist cove of his blubber and fiddle with it myself. Piggy whines and pants, his round face reddened as he makes a crying sound without tears. It makes his belly bounce and shudder.
Me: You okay, Piggy? You did so well. So beautiful.
Still flicking my thumb over his tiny piggy clit, I lean in to press a kiss to each of his tits and his belly.
Piggy starts to become genuinely glassy-eyed, catatonic except for his hunger, and I finally attach the camera to a tripod and crawl onto the bed with him.
Me: Time for your cake, my baby.
Me: Good boy. It's going to be so good. And you'll have your dinner later, alright? Baby still gets his dinner and supper, and everything. Okay?
I pet his tits and his belly, then begin slicing the cake.
Piggy opens his mouth readily. I curl a finger around the rope flush against his love handle and give him a few wobbles while I quickly reach into the nightstand for a vibrator. When he sees this he pants and he struggles a little, and he whines, but I know he's a very good boy, and he doesn't say no.
I part his flab as best as I can and slide the vibrator snugly between his thighs, until my hand is almost lost, and begin pushing it back and forth, holding it hard against his nub while he eats up his cake and squeals for me.
