Delicacy Pt. 8

Delicacy

Part 8

The clacks of its clawed feet on the floor gave the entry of yet another snake away. Since his head was pinned to the pillows behind it, Tyler wasn't able to see the alien till he entered his periphery from the right. This Zul wore a surprisingly bright and pristine white coat and had a gleam in his eyes similar to the one Serse often sported. The gleam quickly faded and his eyes narrowed when he stopped ravenous staring at Tyler and noticed how he was being fed.

“You idiot!” He hissed. “Are you TRYING to bursst it?! Go sslower!” He instructed. “I want to get as much into the bitch as we can but I need him alive and in one piece!” He huffed before turning back to Tyler and silently assessing him, his gaze becoming more pleased again as his thin lips formed a wry grin.

Who is this alien? Tyler wondered as he stared back. Obviously, he was someone of importance given how quickly the Zul feeding him had complied. Tyler released a small sigh of relief through his nose as the flow of slop reduced to a more manageable pace.

“Lord Sserse wassn't lying when he ssaid you were a big one!” The new alien chuckled as he eyed the fecund human up, down and all around. “You have no idea how excited I've been to get my handss on you!” He said as he drummed his nails together. “I am the palace's head chef and you will ssoon be my greatest meal!”

Normally, it would be considered quite an honor to meet a chef, especially the head chef of a head of state, but needless to say, this wasn't one of those times. This esteemed chef was the one responsible for Tyler's own final preparations.

“Thiss issn't even necesssary,” the chef informed Tyler over his slower but still loud gulps, sucks and snorts. “You are more than big enough to feed everyone, sso thiss…” he gestured to the Zul feeding him. “Iss jusst for sseassoning purposses, sspeaking of which…” he trailed off as he turned to another Zul and said, “Go get the the equipment.”

Equipment? What the hell are they going to do to me now?! Tyler wondered, eyes going wide again as he tried to turn his head, which of course, he couldn't.

Oh please, gods! He silently prayed as his eyes darted about the room. If ANY of you are listening, PLEASE, FINALLY HAVE MERCY ON ME! Either put me out of my misery now, or grant me the strength to bear everything till it comes! He begged as he felt his core start to clench again, indicating another contraction was soon to hit.

As the chef waited for his equipment, he walked slowly around the laboring human, around being the key word. Once he made it back to where he'd started, he reached his right hand out and gently prodded the human's increasingly bulging and gleaming midsection, slightly to the left of his navel. Tyler couldn't see down there, so he released a muffled grunt of surprise at the touch.

At the same time, the last bit of slop was tipped into the funnel. Once he'd swallowed it, the deep gasp of air he took in (which wasn't very deep at all) echoed through it, creating somewhat of a whistle. Tyler started to pant, his now larger still belly feeling like it was squeezing and squishing the rest of him as it contracted.

He groaned in anguished disbelief as the Zul who'd just fed him stepped back and the next took his place, dragging along its full bucket. Even if his last feeding continued at this slower pace, Tyler was all but certain he wouldn't make it through the second bucket of slop in one piece.

As he struggled to take enough air in through the funnel, drool, sweat and tears ran down his chin onto his heaving, leaking and throbbing breasts, which suddenly, the chef seemed to be eyeing more intently. Tyler didn't want to think about why…

Finally, one of his captors not only noticed, but actually seemed to care about how much he was struggling to merely continue to exist. Ironically, it was the chef.

“Not yet,” he shook his head at the alien preparing to continue Tyler's feeding. “And take that thing out!” He pointed at the funnel. “Let it breathe.”

With a nod and slight bow, the other Zulian complied. Tyler gagged as the funnel was pulled from his mouth, then quickly took in as much air as he could, causing his strained, abused throat to burn.

“Thank… you,” he rasped as he slowly rolled his stiff neck from side to side.

The chef laughed. “I wouldn't be thanking me if I were you, but you're welcome,” he nodded. “As I told Sserse, not only iss it important you remain whole, it iss important we keep you as untroubled as posssible. It will make your flavor sso much more enjoyable!” He said as he raised his left hand to his lips and gave it a chef's kiss. “Now any quesstionss for me while we wait?”

Tyler had many questions. He was sure he didn't want the answer to any of them, yet he still asked.

“You mentioned… equipment?”

The chef nodded.

“F-for what?”

“You'll ssee and feel ssoon enough,” he replied with a wink before promising, “You're in for quite the sssurprise!”

A surprise was third on the list of last things Tyler wanted at the moment, the first being not dying, the second, more slop. As such, even though he'd been granted a (temporary?) reprieve from more food, the soon-to-be food himself, human, remained as scared and worried as ever.

As he awaited whatever was to happen to him next, Tyler couldn't stop moaning. At some point, his hands had fallen to the sides of the bed so now, he raised them. Tentatively, genuinely and justifiably worried if he applied even an ounce too much pressure it would burst, he moved his hands to his belly.

They didn't have to go far. Large and wide as the bed had first seemed, one bucket of slop in and he was closing in on matching its width.

My gods… I can't possibly get much bigger, can I?! Tyler silently wondered.

Though he was mindful with his touch, he was now so tightly packed, he groaned again as the tips of his fingers lightly touched down. Tyler's skin ached, burned and itched as it struggled to remain whole. As he ever so lightly ghosted his fingers across what was in their reach of his massive, taut and sweaty middle, the sound they made was akin to someone running their fingers over an overinflated latex balloon.

“My gods…” Tyler moaned aloud this time as he lifted his head from the pillows and looked down and out.

Unsurprisingly, all he saw at first were his breasts and belly. Gaze clouded with tears, fear and pain, it took Tyler another moment to realize he was also seeing his hands, and then another still ro realize how miniscule they looked compared to the three orbs, most especially the one they were touching.

“Oooof!” He suddenly grunted as his enormous tits simultaneously spurted, sending milk high into the air above them, most of which rained back down on him.

Just like his pregnancy, Tyler's breasts were super tight and pressurized, as well as bigger than ever… His nipples seemed to have once again expanded as well and poked out high but now slightly to the sides, his surely record-breaking half-human pregnancy forcing his tits not only up towards his chin, but out as the three orbs clamored for space.

Aside from eventually being eaten, nearly the rest of Tyler's body had become nothing more than an afterthought. His fattened ass remained quite important since rump was the snake lord's preferred cut of human, but more importantly, Tyler's ass would soon become the entryway into the world for the undetermined number of babies he contained. He didn't know it yet, but his ass would also soon become an entryway of a different variety, but more on that a little later…

Belly, breasts and butt aside, the only other part of Tyler that remained important was his head. This had nothing to do with the fact he was a linguistic expert as the Zulians all still considered him nothing more than a stupid animal. The main reason Tyler's head remained important was much more simple: it housed his mouth, which so far, had been the entryway for all that food he'd been fattened up with.

As he anxiously awaited what was to come before he met his end, Tyler lay there truly struggling to breathe. Between his best attempts, he suddenly started to release almost continuous belches because once again, he had to release something.

Now that he actually had the chance to process it, he noticed the flavor coming back up his throat tasted good. For the first time since arriving on Zul, Tyler actually liked what he'd been fed, and understood why Serse had selected this chef. With such masterfully mixed seasonings, disturbing and disgusting as it was to admit, even the only human left on the planet had no doubt his captors were in for a treat. He and his babies were going to taste delicious.

*****

After a few more minutes, the snake tasked with retrieving the equipment for the chef returned. He entered the room pushing a large cart, which Tyler stared at as he and it approached the bed, but didn't recognize exactly what he was looking at?

On the cart's top shelf, there were two clear plastic cylinders which were almost as tall as a slop bucket but only about ⅔ as wide and thankfully, didn't contain anything. Their bases were ringed with thick rubber while their other ends were rounded and capped with a funnel of sorts that ended in a hose. After several feet of separation, the two hoses joined and became one.

At the far end of that wider hose, there was some sort of rubber or silicone contraption that resembled a human sex toy someone either very adventurous or “hungry” might like to use… It was about a foot in length and its base was about four or five inches in diameter, while its rounded tip, that tapered down to about two and a half inches, had a hole in the center about the size of an old American nickel.

The bottom shelf of the cart housed some sort of machinery that had a hose bit sticking out of one side, and a large, presently empty holding tank attached to the other. There were also at least a dozen jars that contained some sort of clear, jelly-like substance. As Tyler looked at everything, try as he might, he still couldn't figure out what any of it was going to do to him?

“The two of you!” The chef clapped his hands twice before pointing to the third and fourth alien in line to feed Tyler. “Help me adjusst the bitch,” he said as he walked to the foot of the bed, where Tyler's swollen feet were dangling from.

When the three of them were in their initial position, Tyler was only able to see them from their shoulders up beyond his belly. For a few moments, they all just stood there, lecherously staring and licking their lips, then the chef stepped forward, leaned in, and started fiddling with something under the foot of the bed, creating a lot of metallic clanging as he did.

Oh gods, what now?! Tyler silently worried, and rightfully so.

After some more fiddling and several curses muttered under his breath, the chef succeeded in getting the two heavy-duty stirrups he'd been messing with up and out. He looked up and out at the human's massive middle, gauging how wide he was going to have to set them…

It only took a second and another lick of his lips to know he was going to have to set the stirrups as wide as they went. Once he had, he moved from the foot of the bed around to one side at a time and set them about a third of the way up, each bracket framing the base of Tyler's taut underbelly.

“You, take that leg,” the chef pointed to the kitchen staff to his left. “You, take that one,” he said to the one to his right. “Be careful!” He warned in a very serious tone. “They're heavy. Move them in unisson, and mind how much presssure you put on the bitch'ss belly.”

“Yess, chef,” the guards hissed back as one before each took hold of their assigned swollen ankle and foot and set to work.

“Oooh!” Tyler grunted, reflexively wriggling his ticklish feet when they were grabbed but for understandable and obvious reasons, he didn't laugh. “W-what're you…” he started to ask before his question was cut off by another inadvertent grunt, this one caused by (additional) discomfort as the Zuls began slowly spreading his legs and pushing them back.

“OoooOooooh!!!” He shakily groaned, wincing as his fattened inner thighs and then knees came in contact with his belly and were forced up and around it.

While he was being repositioned for whatever purpose, Tyler grunted, groaned, moaned and panted. He felt like he was being folded in half, which was hardly possible seeing as he couldn't bend at the waist anymore since he didn't have one! Per the chef's instructions, the kitchen staff were as careful as possible, but they still caused the laboring human great agony, alone with another contraction. His most painful one yet…

“GODS!!!” Tyler screamed, tits jiggling and spurting, belly heaving as it was squeezed from the inside and out. “STOPPP!!!” He wailed as his face went beet red and his forehead poured sweat.

“Careful now,” the chef reminded as he stepped back. “Sslow and ssteady,” he coached. “Almosst there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and moved his head repeatedly from left to right, watching with great focus to ensure Tyler's thick legs were being moved at the same pace and equal pressure was being applied to both sides of his mammoth middle. They simply couldn't afford a mishap now. While they were close to completing the repositioning, the unfortunate truth (for their soon-to-be main course, anyway) was that his final preparation process was really only just getting started…

If there was anything good about Tyler's most painful contraction (yet,) it was that it helped. The Zuls tasked with moving his legs, that is. As his belly clenched in, they were able to get his thighs the rest of the way up and around it.

“There!” The chef shouted and clapped. “Now hurry and lock itss feet in!” He hastily directed, suddenly not seeming at all concerned about being careful.

The kitchen staff raced to finish their assignment before the wailing human's current contraction ended and his belly puffed all the way back out. Once his swollen feet were in the stirrups, Tyler's heels were shoved back against the metal braces and straps were fastened around his ankles and calves. After, the two panting Zuls stepped back to allow the chef to assess their work.

So as not to cause harm (from them, anyway,) the straps were made of a very soft material. Said material was also very strong, which the moaning, groaning and now also blubbering Tyler discovered as he put them to the test. Between the braces, straps, and the hyper-extention of his hips, he wasn't going to be moving his painfully spread lower extremities again till if and when the Zulians undid the straps and did so themselves or commanded him to.

Including everything he'd already been through, Tyler still hadn't experienced as much pain as he now was. He hoped (against hope) that he'd finally hit his max, but still had just enough of his wits about him to know that unfortunately, he probably hadn't. He soon proved himself correct…

“MmmMMM!!! Mmmmmmmpppppfffhhh!!!” The ridiculously fattened and hyper-fertile human blubbered, unable to form a word let alone a sentence at the moment.

Aside from his face, which remained beet red, each and every inch of his bloated body was now bright pink and pouring sweat. Perspiration ran down the bed under him to such a degree that all of a sudden, even though he was so incredibly heavy and even though his legs were tightly secured in place, Tyler's body started sliding down towards the foot of the bed, forcing his legs even wider apart.

“Yesss!!! That's abssolutely perfect!” The chef shouted over his latest wail. He clapped in triumph as he watched his soon-to-be masterpiece's inordinately fattened rump settle into the position he'd hoped it would: slightly lower than his knees.

For maybe all of half a second, Tyler experienced relief as his belly stopped contracting, but things quickly changed for the worse… As the painful clenching tapered off, his pregnancy “relaxed,” returning to its “normal size.” As it did, Tyler's thighs and knees were forced further to the sides, which hurt so much, he almost would've rathered if his belly never stopped contracting again.

“MMMMMMPPPPPFFFHHH!!!” He bellowed as he reached yet another level of pain, sure his legs were about to pop from their strained sockets.

A few ligaments tore but overall, Tyler remained in one piece. As if he hadn't already proven so, “simple and crude” (but delicious) as Zulians considered it to be, the human body was obviously capable of not only meeting, but exceeding some quite remarkable feats.

“GAAAHHH!!!” Tyler wailed, voice breaking as his hands flew to his shoulders, which he dug his nails into in an attempt to distract himself from all the other pain.

It didn't work. It didn't even come close despite the fact a few nails drew blood.

“Oh, ssettle down!” The chef tutted at him as he gave Tyler a condescending shake of his head he wasn't able to see through his tear and pain-clouded vision. “We're only jusst getting ssstarted!” He finally admitted to the first preparation of human tartar he'd made in a long time. Too long, in his book of delicacies, but the wait was most certainly going to be worth it!

*****

Unsurprisingly, Tyler didn't settle down. He couldn't possibly. What parts of his body he was still able to move, he did so vigorously, writhing in agony as he released a hoarse scream. His arms failed, his feet squirmed in the stirrups, and his head thrashed against the bed, all of which caused his mountain of a belly and ginormous tits to wobble, bobble and spurt, the most latter of which really drew the chef's already rapt attention.

“Hurry!” He shouted. “Get the pumpss attached!” He frantically gestured at those around. “Guardsss! I need two guardsss! Big and strong oness!” He yelled. “Obvioussly, the bitch producess more than enough, but I don't want to wasste! Hurry! Hurry!” He gesticulated more as he waited for the guards he'd requested.

After staring at the fecund feast-to-be for a few moments, the guards who'd hurried back into the room rushed along with the chef over to the cart. Even though he was having trouble seeing, Tyler turned his head to watch as best he could.

Each guard grabbed a cylinder, the weight of which seemed to take them by surprise as they carried them over, “big and strong” as they supposedly were. The chef directed them to either side of Tyler but told them to move further up his bloated body than the kitchen staff who'd secured his feet.

The guard to his left grunted and bared his fangs as he hefted the cylinder higher, then held it over Tyler's steadily leaking, heaving left breast, seeming to try and get it perfectly centered. Large as the cylinder was, the human's tit was a good deal wider than its base. As a result, when the guard suddenly slammed the tube down against the mound, it caused it to immediately compress, and it's already too pressurized and squished, owner to moan again in agony.

Through blurry eyes that bulged almost as much as his left breast now was, Tyler watched very slowly and painfully, more and more of his pumpkin-sized breast was forced into the tube. As it was, he grunted and groaned and his sweat-slickened flesh produced a squelching sound as it squeezed through the rubber ring.

The added pressure caused his left nipple to go from leaking milk to releasing it like a geyser. It sprayed against the inside of the cylinder with such force, the splashing noise it made just about evenly mixed with the squelching and Tyler's now deeply pained and labored, increasingly rapid and shallow, breaths. As all this was happening, his recently comically round tit, gradually took on the cylinder's shape: increasingly long and narrow, but still plenty, no, over abundantly fat.

Once the guard had worked about a quarter of his gushing breast into his cylinder, he looked up and gave his comrade a single nod. The other alien returned it, then grunted as he hefted his cylinder up from where he'd been holding it at waist level. He obviously tried to get it centered over the leaking (but for the moment anyway, to a lesser degree) breast he'd been charged with, but quickly encountered an issue and released an annoyed hiss.

Because of all the commotion Tyler was experiencing, including the reaction he gave as he felt another contraction starting to build, the bulging breast the guard was attempting to center the cylinder over, kept moving, rocking and swaying in every direction but mostly to the left as the first guard continued his forceful work on that side.

“Godss! Mussst I do everything?!” The chef groused as he hurried around the bed. “Move!” He shouted as he pushed the guard aside some, not caring if that made his task any more difficult to perform. “On my count of three…” he said he reached out, pushed down and took a tight hold on either side of Tyler's tit, sending a jet of precious milk shooting from it as he steadied and then held it in place.

“Ooof!” Tyler grunted as his right shoulder slammed back onto the bed.

Given all that was happening, he hadn't realized he'd been leaning to the left so much till his right shoulder touched back down on the sweat-soaked mattress. Gasping for breath he knew he'd probably never fully catch again, Tyler looked at the chef and slowly shook his head.

“P-p-please, stop! I… I need a…” he started to plead as the chef began his count, but before he could finish, a rapid series of events transpired all at once, causing him to all but forget about what he was going to say/ask for next.

“Three!” The chef shouted over him as he further compressed the sides of the mammoth tit in his hand, causing it too to gush.

Then it really, really did when the guard slammed the cylinder onto it. Tyler screamed, his voice finally totally breaking. All that came from his mouth was a loud but very raspy hiss that sounded similar to one a Zul might make.

“Gah!” The chef grunted as the cylinder above his hands came to a stop. “Keep pusshing!!!” He yelled as he did the same to Tyler's tit.

“I am… chef!” The guard next to him grunted back.

“WELL PUSSSH HARDER!!!”

The guard put everything he had into the command, including as much of his body weight as he could, but Tyler's compacted, now obscenely spurting breast remained too fat. It simply refused to budge. On his other side, the same process had come to a halt as well despite that guard's singular best effort.

Now, the three aliens were all panting and perspiring as well. Not as much as their next meal, but panting and perspiring nonetheless.

“Itsss teatss are… too fat!” The chef breathlessly declared as he released his grip, the bloated base of Tyler's fat breath immediately exploding out not only to its full girth, but more from the weight and pressure of the cylinder and the guard still pressing down on it. “Take them… off,” he instructed the guards as he stepped back to catch his breath and wipe his brow.

“But chef…” the one on his side of Tyler began to protest.

“TAKE THEM OFF!!!” The chef yelled as he headed for the cart, wiping his brow again as he made his way. “I have an idea.”

Before complying with the chef's latest demand, the guards carefully leaned their cylinders against their torsos, pulling/letting Tyler's breasts to the sides. Knowing they were going to need a very good grip to undo their work, the snakes thoroughly wiped their scaly hands on their pants to rid them of sweat.

Once they had, they returned them to their cylinders and took as firm a hold on them as they could. The guards nodded at each other again, then both grunted as instead of pushing, they started to pull.

Tyler opened his mouth to howl but once again, only produced a hiss, this one barely even audible. Now, there wasn't pressure (at least not at his chest,) but a terribly painful suction as slowly, what relatively little of his breasts had made it into the tubes, exited them by force.

The stretching of his mammaries resulted in another deluge of milk from his nipples as they too stretched and elongated by the intense suction. As all this was happening, the squelching sound returned, as did the chef's commentary.

“Teatss too damn fat to fit in a mursspig'ss pump!” He mused as he carefully loaded the crook of his left arm with as many jars of the translucent jelly as he could carry. “Thiss iss even better than I'd hoped!” He grinned as he headed back from the cart. “Sso long as my idea workss and I can MAKE them fit!” He chuckled as he started carefully setting the jars down on the floor in front of him.

As he was doing this, both guards were still busy pulling… Slowly, centimeter by too fat centimeter, Tyler's tits emerged as they continued to rapidly fill both cylinders with more milk. Not wanting to be accused of waste, the guard to the human's left silently wondered if he should ask the chef what to do about it, but then wisely decided that since the chef didn't seem to have anything to say about it, then neither should he.

When his next contraction hit, for the next few moments anyway, Tyler forgot about the painful pulling and stretching his tits and nipples were being subjected to. It hit with such force, it left him entirely breathless, but it at least gave him something else to focus on…

He let out a hoarse groan, arms and hands flailing as he tried not to touch himself, worried if he did in the moment, he might send himself over the edge, which by then, was sounding more and more like the better option… Tyler's face went from bright red to a deep purple as he went without enough air for a few too many seconds.

He didn't know where to look or not look? Where to touch or not touch? There didn't seem to be a good choice for either. Over his rapid panting, the guards grunts and the incessant squelching, the laboring human heard the chef mutter something about how “thiss better work!” when all of a sudden, there was a loud pop, which was immediately followed by a second.

The pops were so powerful and loud, they sounded more like explosions. Once again, Tyler opened his mouth and released a silent scream, afraid for the next few seconds that he'd exploded, which in a way, he had…

Fortunately, or maybe, unfortunately, it wasn't his belly that had exploded… It was his breasts which had all of a sudden, exploded free of the cylinders at almost the same time, his right first (since less progress had been made there,) followed by his left.

As a result, all of a sudden, milk was everywhere, mostly on Tyler, but the chef and the two guards all got pretty soaked in the process of his breasts’ extraction as well. The moment they were free of their too tight confines, his still spewing mammaries bloated back up and rounded back out to their “normal” pumpkin-esque shape.

For the next several seconds, as he lay there panting, shocked he was somehow still intact, his breasts continued to bobble and wobble as their output gradually went back to being just a leak.

“Oooh….” He moaned, suddenly feeling super dizzy from his prolonged lack of oxygen.

Another moment later, Tyler's eyes rolled back into his head and once again, he passed out.

*****

As he came to, Tyler was unsure how long he'd been out? As his senses slowly returned and he started to process what was currently happening, he knew he couldn't have been out for that long…

The room, which was now spinning around him, was once again alive with activity, making it all the more difficult for him to focus on any one thing in particular. That he wasn't able to support his head and keep it lolling from side to side didn't help, nor did the fact he seemed to be experiencing double vision… At least he hoped he was, because by the looks of it, he was now surrounded by countless alien snakes.

Oh gods… Is this the feast?! He wondered as he looked around, still beyond confused. Am I about to be eaten?! I’m still pregnant though, aren't I?

The prospect and uncertainty were as worrying as they were relieving, but ultimately, the answer was no. Yes, Tyler was still pregnant, but no, he and his babies were not about to be eaten. Not just yet, anyway…

Ultimately, what brought the still laboring man back to as full of focus as he could muster, was what he was feeling… This time, it wasn't a contraction that got his immediate attention, but a different kind of pressure, at a different point of his body. Points, rather, but then again, not exactly… Quite the opposite, actually…

Tyler was experiencing pressure at his second and third biggest mounds. After several more blinks, he was finally able to focus his gaze and fully contemplate what he was seeing and feeling.

Yes, he was surrounded by alien snakes, but thankfully, not as many as he'd thought he was when he came to. As the room stopped spinning and his vision became slightly less blurry and more singular, Tyler slowly looked from left to right and counted just four Zuls standing over him, two to each side, each of whom had their hands on his still leaking, but no longer spurting, still/again, pumpkin-sized breasts.

Every few seconds, a hand or two (and sometimes, three,) would leave the mound they were rubbing and dip back into one of the many jars of jelly the chef had brought over to the bed. After over-abundantly greasing their appendage back up, the Zulian would return it to their respective teat and continue to massage and lather it.

“Yesss…” the chef hissed as he watched from the foot of the bed. “A few more coatss and thosse fat teatss sshould ssslide right back in!” He nodded before turning and walking back over to the cart.

Though there was plenty else for him to look at, Tyler followed the chef with his eyes and watched as he took not one or two, but three more jars from the cart and then returned to his spot at the base of his belly. After twisting off two of the three lids and then setting those jars down within easy reach, the chef dipped a clawed hand in each and thoroughly coated them, making a special point to thoroughly fill each of his palms.

As the four snakes higher up his body continued doing their job, the chef set to work on Tyler's belly… He started at what he could reach of the base, just above the human's fattened pubic pad, smearing the jelly up and out to the sides. Given how much area he had to cover, it wasn't long before the chef had to refill his hands from their corresponding jar.

“That sshould be enough,” he finally said to the staff working Tyler's chest as he continued to work his belly. “Now, try and get the pumpsss on.”

It was only as the four sets of hands left his now greasy tits, that Tyler realized he'd actually been enjoying their touch… He didn't want it to stop.

“W-what? N-no!” He hoarsely protested/begged. “Don't stop!” He said as he looked out as his now glistening breasts.

The chef chuckled. “Of coursse, the bitch wantss more! As if it itss greed didn't already sshow!” He said as he took his hands from his belly and re-lubed them in the jars he'd already half emptied. “Don't worry, bitch… You will have more…” he promised as he went back to rubbing. “Much, much more!”