Work Text:
You'd never expect the likes of Fairlie to be one to work for the government. Shy, quiet, and rather reclusive, the common opinion was that he was a lackadaisical slacker. However, his lacking of a social life did keep him married to to his job, so as far as Lane County officials were concerned, Fairlie was a star employee.
Though, it's not like it was exactly difficult for Fairlie to cultivate such respect from his fellow kushy government office coworkers. Disregarding his ample time for his job, Fairlie's line of work was quite easy for the sleepy mountain county. He was the sole monitor for the county's air traffic, and his main job was to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. Though, because of the remote locale and impressive mountain ranges, all that ever came about was the infrequent drone hobbyist piloting their doohickeys a little too close to government zones. So, Fairlie often spent most days sporadically checking the radar between his napping and snacking…which were generously provided to him via his own mini fridge in his office, considering he was the only occupant of the far-flung aviation wing.
Of course, Fairlie wasn't blind to his obligations. He was just knowledgeable about how to keep any managers off his back. If he just kept his headset on, it'd appear as though he's working. He got pretty used to it sitting on his head to keep up with his high-maintenance sleep schedule. Though, he was startled awake this particular day.
"Check check, this is Esmeralda County traffic control, do you read me, Highlands County?" an unfamiliar voice spoke into Fairlie's headset.
He let out a pathetically embarrassing yelp and gasped in surprise. His cheeks burned. He…certainly wasn't expecting this. Esmeralda County is on the other side of the country. His sleep addled mind was able to put together the communication codes he had studied in university, and came to realize Lane County's was just one digit off of Highlands'. Someone must've made a typo.
"Check, Check, thi-"
Shaken from his thoughts, Fairlie breathlessly responded, "I read you! This is, uh, Lane County traffic control, I, uh, do believe you have contacted the i-incorrect station," To recover from his blunder, Fairlie sought comfort through his most preferred of means. That being, snaking a hand to the side of his desk and pulling himself out a tall, cold can of soda and a box of donuts perched atop his fridge.
"I read you, Lane County. I do apologize for the inconvenience. I am working with Esmeralda County tech support to swap my communication lines. I'll be out of your hair shortly."
Fairlie barely registered the response. He was too lost in covering up his embarrassment to say much. In hindsight, scarfing down half a baker's dozen of donuts right after sleeping off a particularly heavy lunch wasn't the smartest choice. Any refuge Fairlie got from confectionary splendor was shattered when he went in to respond.
"I read you, Esmeralda County. Thank you for bbBBBUUUUUAAAAAARPPPPPPP!!!"
A belch, perhaps the loudest sound Fairlie's ever made in his life, tore out of his mouth and went right into the puffy microphone hung inches from his lips. Entirely caught off guard by the noise, the line went silent. Fairlie went crimson in the face. Fairlie angled his microphone away from himself, while his other hand scrambled for purchase on his nearby snack table for anything to stuff his mouth and mind with. He'd been so busy chasing calorie-laden comfort and fighting off tears stinging at his eyes to notice his communication line had been switched.
After devouring the rest of the donuts and a cold pizza slice or two, Fairlie found the dignity to respond to this poor monitor on the other side of the line. "Check, check, Esmeralda County…I-I do deeply a-apologize for-"
"No need for professionalism anymore. We're on a private line now, you see? Nobody but you or I to listen in…and to me it seems like your gut's got quite a bit to say."
Fairlie felt scandalized, even if he wasn't quite too sure what exactly this operator was getting at. He mulled responding over another pizza slice. "I…what?" Was all he could manage before clamming up once more.
"Don't play dumb with me, cutie. A sound like that only comes from the greediest among us. And you, my dear, sound famished."
The softer tone of voice was welcome, though the undertone of teasing and condescension wasn't doing much to soothe the bright pink flush on Fairlie's face…nor his increasingly raising body temperature and it's accompanying confusing feelings.
"You were already stuffing your face, sounds to me like you're doing this pretty often. Why stop now that you've got an audience? I thought your type would be…encouraged to continue, if given clearance."
Fairlie felt a shiver light up his spine. The sultry manner his behavior was being described as did…something to him. He knew full well what this operator was implying.
"N-No! I, uh, j-just…like to eat, o-okay?"
That certainly was the case fifteen minutes ago. Now though…
"Oh? Is that so, tubbs? Then please do tell, why were you stuffing your face while I was on the line? Couldn't resist one more bite, hm? I can already picture your face, flushed red with with crumbs dotting your cheeks like stars. It's quite the adorable sight, really. So please, be a good boy for me and eat to your heart's content."
An honest to God whimper left Fairlie's lips before he could even think about stopping it. He reached for the rest of the pizza, more than half of it left. Though at this point, Fairlie himself didn't know if he was doing it out of obedience for his exceptionally inflammatory operator on the line, or to distract himself from the sudden tightening at the front of his pants.
"I-I, you- this is so…un-unprofessional!" Fairlie attempted to weakly argue. He flushed harder when a loud bark of laughter came through his headset.
"Oh, and I suppose chugging a soda and belching over the intercom is? Dear, why even try and stop this? I know you're getting as much enjoyment out of this as I am, sweetheart."
That skilled intertwining of praise and teasing unlocked a part of Fairlie's mind he didn't wish to confront at the moment. So naturally, he reached for another distraction, this one being chocolate and raspberry filled pastries. He's not even sure what they are, he just knows he needs to eat. The airwaves are filled only with the intermittent sounds of Fairlie's chewing, and the peppering of praise and derision from the other side of the line.
Unwittingly, Fairlie's eaten himself through his entire mini-fridge. Sodas, chilled pizzas and fried chicken, a few chocolates, spaghetti and marinara, and breadsticks all disappeared into his overfull belly. After a few moments of shallow breathing, a loud ping filled the air. Not from the many computer screens in front of Fairlie, no, it was the button on his pants giving way to his incredibly round and swollen belly. Fairlie somehow went redder still. He whimpered again.
"Ah, I think I know what just happened," the intoxicating voice teased, "poor thing. You were just that hungry, huh? No need to fret, you've done very well! Such a good boy eating for me like that, such an obedient, gluttonous pet for me."
Fairlie, this time, at least at the forethought to clamp a sluggish hand over his mouth to muffle the high-pitched moan that erupted from him. Pinching his legs together to try and manage the increasingly insistent throbbing below his straining belt only jostled his overpacked tank.
"BWWOOOOOUUUUUUHHHRPPPPP!!!" came another guttural burp from Fairlie. The operator chuckled again.
"Simply adorable," the monitor cooed, "such a sweet, stuffed thing you are."
Fairlie could only whimper once again, though he fought his way through his now strangely warm, fuzzy, hazed mind to respond properly.
"Wh…wh-what are y-you...doing to m-me…?"
"Nothing, sweetheart, only playing to our shared interest. You'd be stuffing your face for anyone if they said the magic words, and I wanted to stake my claim on this cute fatty before anyone else could. And it seems to me like you take very well to my orders. Just as a good pet should."
Fairlie keened, then a sound that can only be described as a mewl sputtered out of him.
"Aw, darling, I bet you'd be inclined to say I've given you a new kink…but we both know that's not the case. It was always there, latent, waiting to be uncovered. Lucky for you, you've found yourself an excellent trainer."
Suddenly, Fairlie's sheer embarrassment and shame seemed to take on a new role. Now, those feelings were his bliss.
"P-please…keep talking to me l-like that…" All that followed was a stuffed sounding hiccup.
"Resorting to begging now? Well, my dear, I think you've well earned some demands. Fine then, just keep a hand on your tender belly, rubbing slowly and gently. Forget the communication lines, pets don't need to think about things like that. That's not your environment. You belong on a plush, comfy couch. Pampered and spoiled to no end. All by my hand, of course. Imagine that hand that's been unconsciously soothing your aching tummy is mine, that's just as real as the sweet nothings you're hearing now. You've done so well, darling. Such a good boy. You're so brave for brazenly stuffing yourself like this, in public, for someone you don't even know. That burning shame you feel has been turned to pleasure now, hasn't it? Good, that means your training is nearly complete. I can't say anyone has been quite so easy as you, doll, but that makes this all the sweeter. Do yourself a favor, and feel the pressing of my hand on your packed belly as you finally release."
That entire time, Fairlie had been rendered silent. Unthinkingly, obediently, following the instructions and nodding along to each and every truthful accusation. Mewls and whines spilled from his plump, caked lips, even a small burp or two. Fairlie was shaking, desperate to maintain his last shred of dignity at his work, before even that became just as tattered as the operator's final command came through. With a small, desperate sounding whimper, Fairlie's pants were ruined further with an embarrassingly large load.
Fairlie was left panting, leaning back in his chair, which squeaked dangerously. Even after a few moments, the desperation and high of the feeling of being stuffed hadn't left him. Belatedly, the thought occurred to him that they were both still at work. And that this operator was still dealing with a situation. He jumped back up in his seat and scrambled for his phone.
"Hic-BWUUERP!!"
Maybe, Fairlie considered, he shouldn't be moving so much on such an oppressively full stomach.
Though, relief flooded him, as opposed to his earlier mottled shame, when the monitor responded.
"Tummy still as vocal as ever, hm?"
Fairlie acknowledged the teasing with a short whine, but pressed on with a more urgent matter. Still communicated sluggishly, that is.
"C-Can…I get…your number…?"
"I never thought you'd ask, sunshine."