Chapter 1: Temptation at the Table
Damien had barely unpacked the last box in his new house when he caught sight of Liam through the kitchen window. The boy next door was a vision—18 years old, with wide hips, a tiny waist, and a fat ass that strained against his tight jeans. His thighs were thick, his belly soft and slightly rounded, and those plush, soft lips looked like they were made for sin. Liam’s high-pitched, baby-like voice floated over as he sang a hymn while watering the garden, oblivious to the predator watching him. Damien, 32 and hardened by life, felt a dark hunger stir. He wanted to ruin that innocent little Christian boy.
That evening, their families gathered for a welcome dinner. Liam sat across from Damien, his cheeks flushed as he piled his plate high with seconds, then thirds. The boy loved to eat—loved the feeling of being stuffed, bloated, overfull. His tight little belly pressed against his shirt, and Damien couldn’t tear his eyes away. Under the table, he shifted, already hard at the thought of that swollen tummy bouncing on him later.
‘Slow down, piggy,’ Damien teased, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the polite chatter. ‘You’re gonna pop if you keep stuffing that cute gut of yours.’
Liam’s wide eyes snapped up, a blush creeping over his chubby cheeks. ‘I-I can’t help it, sir,’ he stammered in that slutty, high-pitched whine. ‘I just love feeling… full.’ The way he lingered on the word made Damien’s grip tighten on his fork.
‘Careful, kid,’ Damien shot back, a wicked smirk curling his lips. ‘Keep talking like that, and I’ll give you something else to feel full with.’
Liam’s breath hitched, his thick thighs squirming under the table. ‘You’re… you’re awful,’ he whispered, but his eyes were dark with something far from innocent. ‘Bet you say that to all the boys.’
‘Only the ones who look like they’d beg for it,’ Damien replied, his tone dripping with challenge. ‘What’s your deal, huh? All pure and holy ‘til someone offers you a real taste of sin?’
Liam bit his lip, a nervous giggle escaping. ‘I’m a good boy, Mr. Damien. I go to church every Sunday.’ But the way he leaned forward, letting his shirt ride up to show a sliver of that tight, bloated belly, told a different story.
Dinner ended, and the families lingered over coffee, but Liam’s gaze kept darting to Damien. Finally, the boy made his move. ‘Can I show you my room?’ he asked, voice trembling with fake innocence. ‘I’ve got some… cool stuff.’
Damien followed, his blood already pounding. The second the door to Liam’s pastel-colored bedroom clicked shut, the boy turned, pressing himself against Damien with desperate need. ‘Please,’ Liam begged, his baby voice cracking. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said. I want it. I want you to… to fill me up even more.’
Damien growled, grabbing Liam’s hips and pulling him close. ‘You little slut,’ he hissed, eyeing that swollen belly with raw lust. ‘Look at you, so fucking stuffed already, and you still want my cock? Greedy little whore.’
Liam whimpered, grinding against him. ‘Yes, Daddy, please. I need it. I’m so horny, I’m dripping for you.’
Damien’s hands slid down to grip that fat ass, squeezing hard as he backed Liam toward the bed. The boy’s shirt rode up, revealing that perfect, tight tummy, and Damien couldn’t resist. He pushed Liam down, looming over him, ready to claim every inch of that willing, trembling body. Sweat already beaded on Liam’s forehead, his panting breaths filling the room as Damien’s fingers worked at his belt, promising an explosive release neither of them could resist.
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