C.E.O Piggy

⇠Sweating Sugar⇢

Three loud knocks jarred me awake, and with a snort, I jolted straight up, staring down at the sloppy excrement. "Damn it, fuck it..." I mumbled rapidly as I turned around, seeing the door handle quiver.

"Good morning, sir, did you sleep here? I noticed your car out in the parking lot." Christopher questioned setting a large mocha and three doughnuts on the desk.

"Yeah, I had extra work last night and stayed after," I replied.

"You should have gone home, sir; sleeping in your chair is bad for your back." Christopher objected.

"I don't pay you to care about my well-being; I pay you to do what I say." Now get out of here and back to work before I fire you." I threatened.

"O-Of course sir, I'll make sure to bring you the papers for today's meetings and lunch." He answered lowly, before leaving the room.

I let out a sigh as I spun around in my chair. Finally, I looked down at my stomach. Last night's stuffing had left a little muffin top spilling over the waistline of my jeans, and my shirt had been undone and pushed to the sides. I hastily removed the garment, balling it up tightly and tossing it into the corner. As I returned my gaze to the door, a little wave of shame washed over me. I didn't mean to be so harsh on Christopher; the child had been working for me for eight years, and while I confess there was a little sense of appreciation toward him, I wouldn't say I loved him. No matter how much I try to deny it, if I tried anything, it would jeopardize my status as both an employer and a Morningstar. 'Morningstar falls for an employee; will this endanger the family line?' I couldn't imagine the news.

No, like everything else in my life, my feelings for Christopher would be suppressed. Embedded in the lowest recesses of my psyche, never to be opened. Like this desire to get larger, or the desire to have Christopher hand-feed me while caressing my stomach. As I got larger for him, he whispered sweet nothings into my ear. I took my bag from the corner of the room, put on my exercise shirt, and then put on my jacket. I pulled myself out of my chair and dashed out of the office toward the elevators. Ignoring everyone's gaze burning into the back of my head, I pushed the whispers' thoughts out of my head.

I kept my eyes down on the ground as I sped toward my car, opened the door, and threw my bag into the passenger seat before climbing in myself. I set my head against the steering wheel gulping down a large amount of air. I wiped the sweat from either side of my head, slamming my fist against the passenger seat. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as my phone buzzed next to me, scooping it up from the seat I wiped the tears from my eyes turning on my phone.

Christopher: Sir are you all, right? I just saw you leave. -6:00

Me: Fine, just not feeling good today, I will be in the office tomorrow. -6:03

Christopher: Okay Sir.... -6:05

I buckled my seatbelt and drove toward the gym, tossing my phone back onto the seat. My cheeks burned as I walked into the building, tightening my grasp on my bag's strap as I got closer. My trainer scanned me for a few minutes shaking his head, "You want to explain to me how this happened?" He questioned smacking my stomach.

An employee brought in sweets, I made sure to extinguish that fast sir." I lied, technically it wasn't a lie it was more of beating around the bush of the real problem, but I can't exactly tell my trainer that I was in love with one of my employees, loved their baking, and wanted to get fat for them just so they can message my belly and force hand feed me.

"Good, your father pays me to keep you in shape. We don't need you to ruin the Morningstar brand by being a fat ass." He insulted me. We entered a small private room, and I tossed my sack into the corner, keeping my gaze fixed on my feet. I didn't want to stare into the floor-to-ceiling mirrors because I was ashamed, ashamed of liking this weight and wanting more, ashamed of loving someone younger, ashamed of loathing myself. "Now, I have some other people to tend to, I want you to do ten reps of push-ups and five curl-ups." He ordered, clapping his hand on my shoulder before walking out of the room.

"It should be simple," I mumbled as I moved into position. After a half-hour, sweat was streaming down either side of my face, forming a tiny puddle beneath me as I panted heavily. 'How could a tiny muffin top make push-ups so difficult?' I panted; my arms shook only to give out minutes later. I glanced at the small lump of flesh gripping my restrictive shorts as I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up into a sitting position. My thoughts returned to Christopher. Was he aware of my weight gain? That's inconceivable; the only way he'd know is if he saw me in this new form. That was not something I was going to allow to happen. My stomach grumbled violently, and I quickly pushed the ideas to the back of my mind with a hand on my stomach. I had to go back to the way I was I wasn't happy, but these thoughts about me and Christopher were sealed in a box that could never be opened.

Another hour passed, and I gulped down substantial amounts of air, while my heart beat against my chest. Squeezing my eyes shut, "G-G-Going to die." I panted as my trainer rolled his eyes.

"See, this is what happens when you allow yourself to become tubby." He yelled, softly kicking my side. "Who are you, Prince Tubby? No, you're Prince of Greed now act like it." He shouted.

"C-Can we do something that doesn't make it feel like I am having a heart attack," I whined.

"Stop moaning; do you think whining will make you thin again? No! If you want to get back into shape, you must follow my instructions." My coach yelled once more.

"I'm too hot, my arms ache, and I'm afraid I'm going to die of a heart attack." I persisted in sitting up.

"Awe, do you want me to give the spoon-fed baby a break, no! You are here to lose this pudge now stop whining like a bitch and get up." My trainer yelled, jabbing me in the side once more.

We continued working out for another hour, pushing myself to my feet, when my trainer became exhausted and decided to stop. As I walked back to my car, I felt tears rise in my eyes, and as they streamed down my cheeks and across my eyes, I smashed my head down onto the steering wheel. Looking down at the muffin top. Grunting at its size, humiliation dusted my cheek, I hated how much more I craved, how much I liked my trainer calling me those things, but it wasn't out of the mouth I wanted. I was looking for Christopher. I wanted my assistant, whom I had abused for the past eight years.

I leaned back against the seat and ran my hands down my face. My hands made their way to my tummy, which rumbled hungrily as I took a few deep breaths. As much as I tried to resist the desires. The weight felt good, but for the first time in my life, I wasn't being told what to do, and I wasn't having to watch my frame because of my parents' preparation for him taking over. Nobody was urging me to stop, which was good since it meant I could finally relax. I could eat whatever I wanted in my workplace, and no one would tell me to stop because I was the boss now. I oversaw my own life.