G R O W
the darkness was always there, it was just a matter of letting it take control.
515 Words
[Musings on an unraveling into obesity.]
http://www.furaffinity.net/user/deltacoon/ https://deltacoon.sofurry.com/
Have you ever eaten so much it kinda hurts to breathe?
He would ask it over a drink.
Casually. As your cheeks flushed and you nervously tugged at your one-size-too-small shirt.
As if everyone discusses weight as brashly.
Drinks would turn into late night pizza.
Maybe a few burgers.
Well when you'd get to that point - groaning and feeling as though puking is the only solution, the nice, charming guy you met at the bar would sort of take a back seat...
His real self would appear. Just as the evening had unfurled itself.
And every waking moment until he left for the airport or train station would be designed to keep you at that point.
And you think you can make it. Just ride through the pain, squirming, and panting... but the secret is once you hit that for several days your body goes 'this is the new normal' and you begin to crave that fullness.
So he's gone. He's heading home and all you can think about is keeping yourself at that point.
Phone calls and texts go unanswered.
Work suffers.
Life seems like it's muted.
Grayed out.
Each meal is super sized. Drive thru employees always give you two... Then three sets of cutlery.
Obviously the meal is for more than you. Even at your size. Right? No one could eat that much.
Except you.
The glutton.
The slave to your stomach.
As soon as you move from the window your paw is in a bag.
Grabbing for whatever it can find. Nutritional labels and warnings don't exist to you anymore.
Just a constant urge to be full.
The spare cutlery joins all the other extemporaneous plasticware on the floor of your shrinking car.
Your paw is back in the bag. Desperate for more.
Gorge.
Chew.
Pant.
Pass out.
Wake up and do it over again.
And he would come back and visit a few months later and wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't even get out of bed without a paw or two.
Those talented paws pressed into your back fat to try to stabilize you enough that you could pretend to be anything less than elephantine...
Porcine.
Immobilized.
Though his paws once again knead and squeeze physically they were always there.
Guiding your own paws into bags and cartons. His grasp on you ushering you to your eventual prison.
Where you find yourself now.
Stuck.
Trapped.
Just imagine at that size you'd feel the need to get constantly.
Yet you'd be helpless to do anything about it.
Just way too much weight to even get at it anymore.
And the endless horniness would just make you want more food. And just a little bit more... and more...
That's the only way you could get off at that point:
Exceptional fullness.
Shock over your gluttony.
The stares if you ever managed to make it outside again.
And then it would be what happens first: he finds your member and jostles your body until you explode or you pass out from fullness.
His money is always gonna be on the latter.