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Before long, Vorothrax is visiting you multiple times a day. Sometimes he even rouses you from slumber, too tired to reciprocate his attentions, and uses your throat as a fucktoy while you drift in and out of fitful sleep. Each little fling ends the same way - you get a new deposit of sperm, and your jiggly stomach stays swollen and full of warm cum. You’ve actually adapted to the weight quite well, although the way you have to arch your back to make your clothes fit makes it look like you’re thrusting your titties out for someone to stare at. At least it’s only Vorothrax looking, and you’ve grown to not really mind. In fact, you kinda wish he’d look at you more.