The Feeders Grimm
New Member
~BBW (Multiple), Extreme Eating, ~XWG - A contestant in an eating competition loses for the first time - by gaining weight.
And remember, the orientation aide finished with a mischievous little grin, you dont actually have to eat anything.
And with that, the cameras came on, the contest began, and the doors to the House of Gluttony were flung wide.
The women with me, all the rest of them first-time contestants, let out a collective gasp not just at the sight of all those food-laden crisscrossing tables filling the enormous cavern of a room, you understand, but at the smell that agonizingly delicious smell that swept into the antechamber, embraced us, and beckoned us forward. The women moved almost hypnotically, I among them, the two previous wins I had under my belt, so to speak, apparently still insufficient to prepare me for these first few moments even though I knew that it was here, on the first day, that the game was won or lost.
The object of the game was simple: be the woman who gained the least weight. Although, the creators of the game and producers of the House of Gluttony show being what they were, there was plenty of money given to the woman who gained the most weight as well, on top of the generous $10,000 given to each contestant simply for participating.
The duration of the game well, that was the tricky part. Basically we were all locked into a set of rooms resplendent dormitory-style living quarters and a luxury spa off the main feasting chamber until one of us ate her way into a 4x plus-size costume. Except for our first outfit, which was required to be skintight, all successive outfits were provided for us, and there was a catch there, as well: no contestant could change outfits until she had literally gotten too fat to fit into what she was wearing. The official rules read, "contestant must burst a strap, pop a seam, break a button, etc." And believe me the larger the size you needed, the skimpier the outfit was sure to be.
The game was, of course, stacked against us. All of the food was laced with protein powder and an additive which, again according to the official rules, had the following properties: "a cumulative effect of decreased metabolism, increased appetite and stomach capacity, heightening of the senses of taste and smell to near-euphoric levels, and mild addiction."
As you can guess, everyone playing this game gained weight generally a lot. There had only been three rounds to date, and I had won the first round with a 92-pound gain, which was some 30 pounds fewer than the second-place girl. I had worked out hard after that round to lose the weight, and succeeded. By the second round I had refined my strategy and brought the win record down to a mere 68-pound gain, twenty of which I was still carrying.
This third round had come hard on the heels of the second, and I wouldnt have entered if they hadnt asked me so politely a $30,000 bonus is enough courtesy to change anyones plans, I daresay.
Not every woman looks good fat. I do. My body stays firm, retains its shape, and I gain pretty evenly and the extra that goes to my booty and breasts, Im not complaining about. Ive also figured out the system: the key to beating the additive is in that all-important word: cumulative. If you can keep yourself eating irregularly and infrequently, it doesnt stay in your system long enough to have an accelerated effect. To do this, you have to distract yourself from the food, and I do that by watching my competition.
I looked around, laughing to myself immediately at the two women with sculpted figures, obviously personal trainers, who had elected to start the day by exercising on the floor of the feast hall. Exercise sharpens your appetite, and I think it accelerates the additive; it wouldnt be long at all before their once-toned bodies were gushing out of their spandex booty shorts and sports bra crop-tops.
The other women, mostly wearing tight jogging outfits or bodysuits except for the three in jeans and lingerie tops spread out around the hall, eyeing the tables of food and eyeing each other, hungry (theyd hardly given us anything to eat during the two-day orientation prior, to make sure wed be primed for this moment), interested, but unwilling to take the first bite.
Snickering evilly to myself, I strode determinedly to the nearest table, found something that looked good, put a huge helping of it on my plate, and took a bite.
There was no immediate, dramatic effect on my competitors. But they looked at me, and I could tell they were thinking that I, two-time champion, must know something they didnt, and one by one began to sample for themselves.
I, of course, managed to eat just a few bites all day, all the while hiding food and passing off mostly-full plates to the slender, glitz-bikini-clad serving girls who had been hired to see to our every need. These girls were under contract not to eat any of the food themselves, though inevitably a few would be tempted and give in, to the glee of the shows producers. The wayward serving girls would not, of course, be stopped from eating; standbys would simply be brought in later, as needed, to take their place. Lets just say that once the effects of the Hall of Gluttony began to be evident, it was a lot easier for the new girls to keep to their contracts.
Within a matter of days, it seemed to me that all of my fellow contestants had more or less forgotten about the game, and were happily fattening themselves. Besides giving occasional camera interviews and trying to avoid the innumerable mini-dramas that inevitably arose when women were forced to live in close proximity, there was nothing to do but eat, sleep, and be massaged; and the additive was hard at work. Mealtimes had lengthened considerably, and many of the women were now eating four times a day. At night the women lay in their beds, bellies distended, groaning with a mixture of pain and pleasure until they fell asleep.
All over the hall bodies had softened and widened; and I, though I was among the smallest, was no exception despite my caution. I had outgrown my first outfit, and was now wearing a set of open-backed denim overall shorts, outfitted with plenty of elastic in all the right places. I needed a new diversion from the food, and found one, in the shape of two of the serving girls.
I had pegged one of the girls who worked the tables near me for a nibbler on the first day, and by the fourth it was obvious that I had been right. Her bare legs and butt in particular looked chubbier than the other girls, and once I saw her shove a whole slice of cake off one of the outgoing trays into her mouth right before taking it into the kitchens. "Karen" was the name printed across the generously expanding butt of her bikini bottom.
Her counterpart food thief, Tammy, took me longer to spot; this girl was putting her weight up top, in her arms and especially in her breasts. Her growing bosoms jiggled and bounced behind her overstraining bikini top as she moved around the tables with a cheery, dimpled smile. To slow down my own eating, I took note of which types of leftovers these two girls could least resist, and made sure that they cleared plenty of those barely-touched items from my spot.
Early into the second week I could hardly believe it when Karen sat down against the wall by the kitchen door, plump legs spread wide, with a whole tray of nearly-full leftovers on the floor between them. As she bent forward to reach for the food, I could see her softened belly folding over the top of her bikini bottom, and her top was showing far more cleavage than it had the first day. It wasnt long before Tammy followed her example, and the two girls began to take long breaks, sitting spread-legged on either side of the kitchen door to polish off the contents of a tray. They were soon growing fatter at a rate comparable to the actual contestants.
By the end of the third week, the womens eating was nearing a point of critical acceleration. There were now five "meals" a day and constant snacking, so that each meal ran into the next. The women became obsessed with the food: everyone I saw was bulging or swelling out of her outfit, and some of them even had to be led away by the serving girls to change when their clothes tore. Even I was eating more, out of necessity of keeping up appearances as I sat at the tables all day with them.
Karen had long since caught on to the fact that I was passing her food, and seemed happy about it. She would take a near-full tray from me with a smile, flipping her long dark hair over her plump shoulders as she turned away, her round fat butt jiggling merrily all the way over to her spot by the kitchen door. Now when she sat down, even with her chubby legs spread wide, any glimpse of her bikini bottom was hidden behind her large thighs and larger belly.
Meanwhile, the rest of Tammys body was starting to catch up to her breasts, though it would be awhile yet before they ceased to be her most eye-catching feature. The other serving girls had, of course, noticed their compatriots expansion by now, and thought it was funny. They started referring to the two plump, greedy thieves as CK and BT, which I later found out stood for Chubby Karen and Buxom Tammy.
It was early in the fourth week when it happened. I had just opened my mouth to comment on a snide remark one of the still-slender serving girls (though all of them had definitely gotten softer and sleeker in the past weeks) had made when someone shoved a spoonful of food in it. The flavor exploded in my mouth with the force of dynamite it was a rich, decadent, dark chocolate raspberry mousse.
I reached up, took the spoon out of my mouth, and began to protest this breach of rules (I never did find out who had done it, or whether they were acting out of competitiveness or unofficially sanctioned by the HoG itself) when, to my astonishment, I found my mouth full again. By the time I realized that I had gotten the second spoonful myself, half-consciously, I was eating a third. The sensation was amazing. I later realized that there must have been an overdose of additive in this bowl, and it was probably prepared specially for me.
The next ten days are a blur. I really dont remember much of anything; I do remember abandoning myself wholly to the food, pampering my growing appetite I ate, and ate, and ate. I also have a vague recollection though this might have been a gluttony-induced dream of being surrounded by three or four giggling serving girls, who were alternately stroking various parts of my increasingly plump body and taking turns feeding me.
When I came to myself towards the end of the fifth week, the girls were literally pealing my ruined clothes off of me, helping me to my feet, and leading me to a changing room behind the finale exhibit stage. At first I didnt understand, and then it hit me: they were helping me change into the game-ending outfit. Oversized size tags were hanging from various parts of it, so that the audience could plainly see what my measurements were.
The outfit was a fully laced-backed bustier and matching G-string that looked enormous to me on the rack, but the girls had struggled to get me into it. My breasts were so heavy with fat that they had burst the straps on the bustiers GG cups (which were themselves a little small), and I needed both my plump hands to cover myself.
Left a few minutes of privacy in the changing room before the finale curtain call, I lowered my hands and explored my new body as best I could, wishing desperately that they had put a mirror in this room. I was huge. This was absurd. My hips were so fat that they bulged and bunched down the entirety of their enormous curves from fleshy love handles to chubby thighs whenever I took a step. I was used to my breasts bouncing they had always been large and my belly usually did after one of these rounds, but my butt was bouncing now. I could feel it jiggling somewhere much farther behind me than I remembered at the slightest movement, and when I stepped forward each cheek moved in one slow, ponderous undulation. I put my hands on my what do you call this part of your body, when youve been fattened until theres a space between the front of your hips and the back of your butt? My sides of my butt? My flanks? and felt the muscles shift beneath inches of soft flesh.
They called me on stage and I walked on boldly, determined to give them a good show. Pinning on my Prize Pig sash was a little awkward, given that I had to keep my hands before my stout breasts, but we managed. My legs were too thick for me to catwalk, but I did what I could I as I walked down the runway in front of the studio audience. I posed facing forward, all my weight on one hip (that finally smoothed it out). Then I turned around, and arched my plump back, which further accentuated all of my already emphatic curves.
There were oohs and aahs, whistles and catcalls. I discovered by feel as the audience did by sight, that my back folded four times beneath my soft shoulders and the swell of my butt. Before walking off stage, I gave the cameras a treat: bending over at the knees until the bottom of my soft thighs touched the tops of my corpulent calves, and at the waist until my swollen potbelly rested on my knees, so they could see just how big my butt was. Judging from the applause, I guessed it had to be absolutely huge. Why couldnt they have put a full-size mirror in that dressing room?
I walked to the side of the stage, and waited as they brought out the rounds winner, the Prize Piglet. They announced her winning gain at 111 pounds. I blinked. This woman was the fattest winner by far, which probably made this round the most gluttonous to date. Id missed it if theyd announced how much Id gained; I couldnt remember if theyd even weighed me. Kerri, the winner, was dressed in a black fishnet bodysuit that was totally revealing. She was very tall and had a strange, pear-shaped body with overdeveloped breasts; every inch of her jiggled as she strutted around stage.
Lastly, the two surprise prizes went, as I knew they would, to the two gluttonous serving girls, Karen and Tammy. They had taken away the girls bikinis and dressed them in matching booty short/halter top combinations, and as they brought them on stage it was evident to me that during my stupor they, too, had been eating with wild abandon.
Karen had ballooned until she was roly-poly plump, all soft fat and heavy curves. She had gained evenly everywhere except for her butt, which was obviously carrying most of the weight: as Karen walked on stage, it was fighting a battle for freedom with her booty shorts that I would not have put money on the shorts to win.
Tammys breasts, meanwhile, had continued to swell disproportionately to the rest of her curvaceous figure. Her halter top was overtaxed, allowing her enormous mammaries to droop almost to her belly button. Her back, shoulders, and butt had clearly packed on extra muscle and fat in an attempt to compensate, and she moved slowly, with one hand fluttering under her bosom, as if afraid her outfit might give way at any moment.
And the show was done the private taxi dropped me off, along with a check for fifty thousand, at my house at 2:30 am. I was still wearing the bustier, and as I walked up to my house I was only too conscious of how small it was against my overfed body. I struggled out of it as soon as I closed the door, and meandered naked into the bedroom. I had nothing to wear. Finally I pulled an oversized T-shirt of my husbands over my head. My breasts pulled its fabric so far forward that it stopped just above the curve of my underbelly in the front, and halfway down my enormous butt in the back. I still hadnt weighed myself. I curled up on the couch, as much as I could, and went to sleep.
The Hall of Gluttony
by The Feeders Grimm
And remember, the orientation aide finished with a mischievous little grin, you dont actually have to eat anything.
And with that, the cameras came on, the contest began, and the doors to the House of Gluttony were flung wide.
The women with me, all the rest of them first-time contestants, let out a collective gasp not just at the sight of all those food-laden crisscrossing tables filling the enormous cavern of a room, you understand, but at the smell that agonizingly delicious smell that swept into the antechamber, embraced us, and beckoned us forward. The women moved almost hypnotically, I among them, the two previous wins I had under my belt, so to speak, apparently still insufficient to prepare me for these first few moments even though I knew that it was here, on the first day, that the game was won or lost.
The object of the game was simple: be the woman who gained the least weight. Although, the creators of the game and producers of the House of Gluttony show being what they were, there was plenty of money given to the woman who gained the most weight as well, on top of the generous $10,000 given to each contestant simply for participating.
The duration of the game well, that was the tricky part. Basically we were all locked into a set of rooms resplendent dormitory-style living quarters and a luxury spa off the main feasting chamber until one of us ate her way into a 4x plus-size costume. Except for our first outfit, which was required to be skintight, all successive outfits were provided for us, and there was a catch there, as well: no contestant could change outfits until she had literally gotten too fat to fit into what she was wearing. The official rules read, "contestant must burst a strap, pop a seam, break a button, etc." And believe me the larger the size you needed, the skimpier the outfit was sure to be.
The game was, of course, stacked against us. All of the food was laced with protein powder and an additive which, again according to the official rules, had the following properties: "a cumulative effect of decreased metabolism, increased appetite and stomach capacity, heightening of the senses of taste and smell to near-euphoric levels, and mild addiction."
As you can guess, everyone playing this game gained weight generally a lot. There had only been three rounds to date, and I had won the first round with a 92-pound gain, which was some 30 pounds fewer than the second-place girl. I had worked out hard after that round to lose the weight, and succeeded. By the second round I had refined my strategy and brought the win record down to a mere 68-pound gain, twenty of which I was still carrying.
This third round had come hard on the heels of the second, and I wouldnt have entered if they hadnt asked me so politely a $30,000 bonus is enough courtesy to change anyones plans, I daresay.
Not every woman looks good fat. I do. My body stays firm, retains its shape, and I gain pretty evenly and the extra that goes to my booty and breasts, Im not complaining about. Ive also figured out the system: the key to beating the additive is in that all-important word: cumulative. If you can keep yourself eating irregularly and infrequently, it doesnt stay in your system long enough to have an accelerated effect. To do this, you have to distract yourself from the food, and I do that by watching my competition.
I looked around, laughing to myself immediately at the two women with sculpted figures, obviously personal trainers, who had elected to start the day by exercising on the floor of the feast hall. Exercise sharpens your appetite, and I think it accelerates the additive; it wouldnt be long at all before their once-toned bodies were gushing out of their spandex booty shorts and sports bra crop-tops.
The other women, mostly wearing tight jogging outfits or bodysuits except for the three in jeans and lingerie tops spread out around the hall, eyeing the tables of food and eyeing each other, hungry (theyd hardly given us anything to eat during the two-day orientation prior, to make sure wed be primed for this moment), interested, but unwilling to take the first bite.
Snickering evilly to myself, I strode determinedly to the nearest table, found something that looked good, put a huge helping of it on my plate, and took a bite.
There was no immediate, dramatic effect on my competitors. But they looked at me, and I could tell they were thinking that I, two-time champion, must know something they didnt, and one by one began to sample for themselves.
I, of course, managed to eat just a few bites all day, all the while hiding food and passing off mostly-full plates to the slender, glitz-bikini-clad serving girls who had been hired to see to our every need. These girls were under contract not to eat any of the food themselves, though inevitably a few would be tempted and give in, to the glee of the shows producers. The wayward serving girls would not, of course, be stopped from eating; standbys would simply be brought in later, as needed, to take their place. Lets just say that once the effects of the Hall of Gluttony began to be evident, it was a lot easier for the new girls to keep to their contracts.
Within a matter of days, it seemed to me that all of my fellow contestants had more or less forgotten about the game, and were happily fattening themselves. Besides giving occasional camera interviews and trying to avoid the innumerable mini-dramas that inevitably arose when women were forced to live in close proximity, there was nothing to do but eat, sleep, and be massaged; and the additive was hard at work. Mealtimes had lengthened considerably, and many of the women were now eating four times a day. At night the women lay in their beds, bellies distended, groaning with a mixture of pain and pleasure until they fell asleep.
All over the hall bodies had softened and widened; and I, though I was among the smallest, was no exception despite my caution. I had outgrown my first outfit, and was now wearing a set of open-backed denim overall shorts, outfitted with plenty of elastic in all the right places. I needed a new diversion from the food, and found one, in the shape of two of the serving girls.
I had pegged one of the girls who worked the tables near me for a nibbler on the first day, and by the fourth it was obvious that I had been right. Her bare legs and butt in particular looked chubbier than the other girls, and once I saw her shove a whole slice of cake off one of the outgoing trays into her mouth right before taking it into the kitchens. "Karen" was the name printed across the generously expanding butt of her bikini bottom.
Her counterpart food thief, Tammy, took me longer to spot; this girl was putting her weight up top, in her arms and especially in her breasts. Her growing bosoms jiggled and bounced behind her overstraining bikini top as she moved around the tables with a cheery, dimpled smile. To slow down my own eating, I took note of which types of leftovers these two girls could least resist, and made sure that they cleared plenty of those barely-touched items from my spot.
Early into the second week I could hardly believe it when Karen sat down against the wall by the kitchen door, plump legs spread wide, with a whole tray of nearly-full leftovers on the floor between them. As she bent forward to reach for the food, I could see her softened belly folding over the top of her bikini bottom, and her top was showing far more cleavage than it had the first day. It wasnt long before Tammy followed her example, and the two girls began to take long breaks, sitting spread-legged on either side of the kitchen door to polish off the contents of a tray. They were soon growing fatter at a rate comparable to the actual contestants.
By the end of the third week, the womens eating was nearing a point of critical acceleration. There were now five "meals" a day and constant snacking, so that each meal ran into the next. The women became obsessed with the food: everyone I saw was bulging or swelling out of her outfit, and some of them even had to be led away by the serving girls to change when their clothes tore. Even I was eating more, out of necessity of keeping up appearances as I sat at the tables all day with them.
Karen had long since caught on to the fact that I was passing her food, and seemed happy about it. She would take a near-full tray from me with a smile, flipping her long dark hair over her plump shoulders as she turned away, her round fat butt jiggling merrily all the way over to her spot by the kitchen door. Now when she sat down, even with her chubby legs spread wide, any glimpse of her bikini bottom was hidden behind her large thighs and larger belly.
Meanwhile, the rest of Tammys body was starting to catch up to her breasts, though it would be awhile yet before they ceased to be her most eye-catching feature. The other serving girls had, of course, noticed their compatriots expansion by now, and thought it was funny. They started referring to the two plump, greedy thieves as CK and BT, which I later found out stood for Chubby Karen and Buxom Tammy.
It was early in the fourth week when it happened. I had just opened my mouth to comment on a snide remark one of the still-slender serving girls (though all of them had definitely gotten softer and sleeker in the past weeks) had made when someone shoved a spoonful of food in it. The flavor exploded in my mouth with the force of dynamite it was a rich, decadent, dark chocolate raspberry mousse.
I reached up, took the spoon out of my mouth, and began to protest this breach of rules (I never did find out who had done it, or whether they were acting out of competitiveness or unofficially sanctioned by the HoG itself) when, to my astonishment, I found my mouth full again. By the time I realized that I had gotten the second spoonful myself, half-consciously, I was eating a third. The sensation was amazing. I later realized that there must have been an overdose of additive in this bowl, and it was probably prepared specially for me.
The next ten days are a blur. I really dont remember much of anything; I do remember abandoning myself wholly to the food, pampering my growing appetite I ate, and ate, and ate. I also have a vague recollection though this might have been a gluttony-induced dream of being surrounded by three or four giggling serving girls, who were alternately stroking various parts of my increasingly plump body and taking turns feeding me.
When I came to myself towards the end of the fifth week, the girls were literally pealing my ruined clothes off of me, helping me to my feet, and leading me to a changing room behind the finale exhibit stage. At first I didnt understand, and then it hit me: they were helping me change into the game-ending outfit. Oversized size tags were hanging from various parts of it, so that the audience could plainly see what my measurements were.
The outfit was a fully laced-backed bustier and matching G-string that looked enormous to me on the rack, but the girls had struggled to get me into it. My breasts were so heavy with fat that they had burst the straps on the bustiers GG cups (which were themselves a little small), and I needed both my plump hands to cover myself.
Left a few minutes of privacy in the changing room before the finale curtain call, I lowered my hands and explored my new body as best I could, wishing desperately that they had put a mirror in this room. I was huge. This was absurd. My hips were so fat that they bulged and bunched down the entirety of their enormous curves from fleshy love handles to chubby thighs whenever I took a step. I was used to my breasts bouncing they had always been large and my belly usually did after one of these rounds, but my butt was bouncing now. I could feel it jiggling somewhere much farther behind me than I remembered at the slightest movement, and when I stepped forward each cheek moved in one slow, ponderous undulation. I put my hands on my what do you call this part of your body, when youve been fattened until theres a space between the front of your hips and the back of your butt? My sides of my butt? My flanks? and felt the muscles shift beneath inches of soft flesh.
They called me on stage and I walked on boldly, determined to give them a good show. Pinning on my Prize Pig sash was a little awkward, given that I had to keep my hands before my stout breasts, but we managed. My legs were too thick for me to catwalk, but I did what I could I as I walked down the runway in front of the studio audience. I posed facing forward, all my weight on one hip (that finally smoothed it out). Then I turned around, and arched my plump back, which further accentuated all of my already emphatic curves.
There were oohs and aahs, whistles and catcalls. I discovered by feel as the audience did by sight, that my back folded four times beneath my soft shoulders and the swell of my butt. Before walking off stage, I gave the cameras a treat: bending over at the knees until the bottom of my soft thighs touched the tops of my corpulent calves, and at the waist until my swollen potbelly rested on my knees, so they could see just how big my butt was. Judging from the applause, I guessed it had to be absolutely huge. Why couldnt they have put a full-size mirror in that dressing room?
I walked to the side of the stage, and waited as they brought out the rounds winner, the Prize Piglet. They announced her winning gain at 111 pounds. I blinked. This woman was the fattest winner by far, which probably made this round the most gluttonous to date. Id missed it if theyd announced how much Id gained; I couldnt remember if theyd even weighed me. Kerri, the winner, was dressed in a black fishnet bodysuit that was totally revealing. She was very tall and had a strange, pear-shaped body with overdeveloped breasts; every inch of her jiggled as she strutted around stage.
Lastly, the two surprise prizes went, as I knew they would, to the two gluttonous serving girls, Karen and Tammy. They had taken away the girls bikinis and dressed them in matching booty short/halter top combinations, and as they brought them on stage it was evident to me that during my stupor they, too, had been eating with wild abandon.
Karen had ballooned until she was roly-poly plump, all soft fat and heavy curves. She had gained evenly everywhere except for her butt, which was obviously carrying most of the weight: as Karen walked on stage, it was fighting a battle for freedom with her booty shorts that I would not have put money on the shorts to win.
Tammys breasts, meanwhile, had continued to swell disproportionately to the rest of her curvaceous figure. Her halter top was overtaxed, allowing her enormous mammaries to droop almost to her belly button. Her back, shoulders, and butt had clearly packed on extra muscle and fat in an attempt to compensate, and she moved slowly, with one hand fluttering under her bosom, as if afraid her outfit might give way at any moment.
And the show was done the private taxi dropped me off, along with a check for fifty thousand, at my house at 2:30 am. I was still wearing the bustier, and as I walked up to my house I was only too conscious of how small it was against my overfed body. I struggled out of it as soon as I closed the door, and meandered naked into the bedroom. I had nothing to wear. Finally I pulled an oversized T-shirt of my husbands over my head. My breasts pulled its fabric so far forward that it stopped just above the curve of my underbelly in the front, and halfway down my enormous butt in the back. I still hadnt weighed myself. I curled up on the couch, as much as I could, and went to sleep.
