but the second i press the button to clock in, i feel my gut twist. i'm stopped in my tracks for a few seconds, but the feeling passes and i walk to my station.

hour one

i feel bloated. my nipples feel like they're chafing against my binder, and my usually-baggy work shirt clings to my sweaty skin. i assume i just neglected to notice a flare-up, and i pop a couple tylenol.

hour two

i'm rocking side to side at my station. a customer asked me how far along i was while i was ringing up their items. my binder feels so incredibly tight, and my shirt has begun riding up. i touched my belly earlier and it felt hard and unyielding. my back is forced to arch to accommodate this new weight, and my hips feel too small all of a sudden.

hour three

every time i look down at myself, my stomach has ballooned out further. i can't see my feet anymore because of the swell. there's so much pressure on my bladder, and while taking a bathroom break, i removed my binder, unable to take the rubbing on my sensitive nipples anymore. the areola are large and dark brown, and the gentlest brush of my fingertips against them made me moan in an unearthly combination of pain and pleasure. standing up from the toilet was a difficult endeavor, and my walk back from the bathroom had become a pronounced waddle.

hour four

standing at my station for any longer feels impossible. i can barely reach the customers' items around the massive growth at my front. a couple of them have asked me when this place will put me on leave. i fake laugh, pretending that this protuberance is the result of overdue triplets, rather than some unknown circumstance. my hips feel far too tight for this incredible weight, and my rocking from side to side is the only thing easing some of the pressure.

hour five

my work shirt is nothing more than a too-small sports bra for my massive tits at this point, having long been outgrown by my belly. i catch myself rubbing it more and more, trying desperately to relieve some of the constant pressure. every time i move, the material of my shirt rubs against my nipples, and it's all i can do to hold back moans. everything feels too much right now. my stomach takes up all of the spare room at my till, and i have to reach more and more to continue doing my job. i don't even know how i'm still standing, and i wonder how i'll manage the waddle to the break room.

hour six

my entire body aches from the strain of my swollen belly. it took me ages to maneuver my heavy body back to the break room, and i feared the cheap plastic chair would break when i lowered myself into it. when i sit, my stomach forces my legs wide apart, and it protrudes out past my knees. i'm so hungry, but my belly feels so full that i can't eat anything. i asked my manager if i could go home and he laughed, seemingly blind to the way my body has grown and morphed in such a short time.

hour seven

my manager yelled at me for how slow i was going from the break room to my station. i stayed silent, not knowing how to explain my situation to someone who seems so blind to it. every step i take is slow and labored, and i am forced to support my towering belly with both hands. every step sends a shockwave through my hips and back, and even standing feels like too much. my body aches. i'm nearly brought to tears from the unending strain on my back.

hour eight

my work shirt has two twin stains on the front, and my tits feel so full that i can't even think. i have to stand a little bit out of my till because of how large the torpedo-shaped belly in front of me is. some customers look at me with concern, while others don't even hide their hungry stares. i can barely rock from side to side anymore with the weight in my tummy. i can feel movement deep inside me, and the pressure as it pushes out against my womb makes me shudder and moan quietly.

hour nine

i fled my station, waddling at a sloth's pace to the "family" restroom, where i lock the door and collapse onto the ground. i pull up my shirt and reach for my tits, intending on milking myself. the first brush of my fingers on my milky nipples makes me cry out in pain, but i fight through it. my inexperienced hands slowly knead my overflowing tits, sending showers of warm milk down my taut belly. when i can't take anymore, i lean back against the wall and rub my full stomach. i know for a fact that i have no chance of standing up, the weight of my overburdened womb keeping me pinned to the ground.

hour ten

now that i'm not doing any work, i can watch my belly continue its constant growth. it touches the ground and spreads my legs more with every passing minute. i can't keep my hands off it, constantly rubbing the tight expanse. moans fall from my lips as the skin continues stretching and growing more sensitive. my arms can't reach around it, and the weight sits heavy in my narrow pelvis, threatening to break me. the movement inside only increases, and i want to sob from the overstimulation.

hour eleven

if i get any bigger, i'm afraid i'll pop. my hips ache horribly from the weight on top of them. it's all i can do to rub the sides of the thrashing dome and moan. i must look comical now, nearly more belly than man. my tits feel like they're the size of my head, and the layer of dark hair on my body does nothing to obfuscate the stretch marks reaching across both breasts and belly. i haven't been able to stop sobbing for the past hour. it's all far too much.

hour twelve

Now every thought, every twitch, every ache in my cunt screams for Cock.

I ache to feel Cock press against me, stretch me, own me.