[Author's Note: I tried to be ambiguous as far as the genders of the characters go. I wanted it to appeal as wide a group of readers as possible. Also why I was a little more vague about one of the more consistent elements of my stories. But this is a short one, uploaded in its entirety. Enjoy!)
THE HUNGER
by Coyote Wild
It's so simple! Just take Lipoprofen and the pounds melt away! the woman on the television says.
Oh yes. Simple. So very simple.
My chubby fingers slide against my river of flesh; finding a good spot, they press deep. So much Me these days. So many pounds to lose. If all it took was a pill, I would still be able to get around on my own.
I don't know if I want to be this big anymore. The journey was fun but after a certain point, it kind of becomes a one-way trip. What point was that for me? 400? 500? Eventually, your body just kind of gives up and says: You win. I guess we're going to get fat.
Then, I feel it. The very sensation that got me here. The Hunger.
I first notice my olfactory system kick into overdrive. I feel like I can taste with my nose, the imagined flavors streaming through my nostrils like ribbons of silk. My breathing becomes shallow. I have to start taking in air through my mouth, licking my lips for both lubrication and to heighten sensitivity.
Then slowly, the bottom of my stomach begins to sink. I feel the emptiness spreading.
My belly begins to awaken and it is vocal in its grogginess. It gives slight moans at first, but when it isn't immediately satiated, it starts to growl. Then my ass gets involved.
The growing emptiness has now engulfed my entire torso and even into my nethers. I can hear my belly whisper insults to my ass, which my ass then says aloud. Every sound that slides between my cheeks is a stark reminder of how fat I had let myself become.
By now, the Hunger is quite powerful. It has my beanbag of a belly ensnared in its tightening grip. I have fed it and given it strength all this time. And now I have made it unbeatable.
It uses the memory of past meals to entice me to gorge. It again uses my ass to speak.
But it is no longer only making fun of me. It is reminding me of delicious meals. I can sense them within the context it its language. I can smell it.
I have to eat. I am now moaning audibly and squirming in my bed. If this goes on any longer, I'll start attempting to get up. Who knows, maybe I still can. I just haven't tried in a while. Maybe I could do it. How much did I weigh the month before I stopped walking? Eight...something-something?
I can do this. I have to. My belly groans in agreement.
I lie there and begin to formulate a plan. My eyes bounce between my body and the bed, at all angles. I feel my second chin roll against my chest as I turn my head to get varying vantage points. Every time my head stops moving, my face jiggles for a beat afterward. It wasn't that long ago that my cheeks began to encroach on my field of vision when gazing downward.
I decide to start rocking to my left. I wiggle against the sheets, but I don't budge an inch. I try to roll, but can't. I shimmy, I rock, I strain and sweat. I cannot. Leave. The bed.
I whimper and stop trying. The exertion upsets my belly and it whispers about me to my ass again, but my ass can't keep secrets. It speaks the insults loud and at great length.
The door opens and my enabler enters. After a few sniffs, they speak.
Smells like a pig in here. You must be hungry.
I nod at the silhouette, back lit by the light from the hall.
Good. Because I brought treats.
I hear the the wheel squeak. The dessert cart.
Each cart has its own audible characteristics. The dessert cart squeaks. The burger cart rattles. The pasta cart does this clicking thing every few rotations of the back right wheel.
And they brought the dessert cart.
With a clang and a click, the cart is locked in place at my bedside. My breathing intensifies and I'm starting to sweat. My eyes gaze at the selection, causing me to lubricate my lips again in anticipation. I watch as the first slice of cheesecake is brought to my mouth. My lips tremble as the confection approaches. They spread wide as the cheesecake slides past them.
The flavor explodes on my tongue and I feel it ripple throughout my soul. My stomach buzzes and my toes wiggle.
I rest my hands on what part of my belly I can reach, comforting it as things return to normal. This meal will go on for hours, at the end of which, the Hunger will be gone entirely. But the longest it's been away in the past year has been ninety minutes.
Because it always comes back stronger. Its grip, tighter. And its resolve, unyielding.
The Hunger knows what I'm thinking. It is within me and it has become me. Before accepting the final bite of my enormous meal as my offering, it sends me another message by way of my fat ass. It uses my enormous butt to remind me who's in charge.
Such a pig, my Feeder translates the sounds of my monumental rear.
I lie back at the end of the feast. The door closes and so do my eyes. I moan, rubbing every inch of myself I can still access. It is here that one of my prime regrets of letting the Hunger take me emerges.
I can no longer provide myself with sexual relief. It had been so long since my last orgasm. But it's okay. My Feeder promised daily orgasms once I reach 1,400 pounds. Surely, I'm not too far off. They wouldn't let me pass that point without telling me, would they?
Would they?
My ass roars with laughter.
THE HUNGER
by Coyote Wild
It's so simple! Just take Lipoprofen and the pounds melt away! the woman on the television says.
Oh yes. Simple. So very simple.
My chubby fingers slide against my river of flesh; finding a good spot, they press deep. So much Me these days. So many pounds to lose. If all it took was a pill, I would still be able to get around on my own.
I don't know if I want to be this big anymore. The journey was fun but after a certain point, it kind of becomes a one-way trip. What point was that for me? 400? 500? Eventually, your body just kind of gives up and says: You win. I guess we're going to get fat.
Then, I feel it. The very sensation that got me here. The Hunger.
I first notice my olfactory system kick into overdrive. I feel like I can taste with my nose, the imagined flavors streaming through my nostrils like ribbons of silk. My breathing becomes shallow. I have to start taking in air through my mouth, licking my lips for both lubrication and to heighten sensitivity.
Then slowly, the bottom of my stomach begins to sink. I feel the emptiness spreading.
My belly begins to awaken and it is vocal in its grogginess. It gives slight moans at first, but when it isn't immediately satiated, it starts to growl. Then my ass gets involved.
The growing emptiness has now engulfed my entire torso and even into my nethers. I can hear my belly whisper insults to my ass, which my ass then says aloud. Every sound that slides between my cheeks is a stark reminder of how fat I had let myself become.
By now, the Hunger is quite powerful. It has my beanbag of a belly ensnared in its tightening grip. I have fed it and given it strength all this time. And now I have made it unbeatable.
It uses the memory of past meals to entice me to gorge. It again uses my ass to speak.
But it is no longer only making fun of me. It is reminding me of delicious meals. I can sense them within the context it its language. I can smell it.
I have to eat. I am now moaning audibly and squirming in my bed. If this goes on any longer, I'll start attempting to get up. Who knows, maybe I still can. I just haven't tried in a while. Maybe I could do it. How much did I weigh the month before I stopped walking? Eight...something-something?
I can do this. I have to. My belly groans in agreement.
I lie there and begin to formulate a plan. My eyes bounce between my body and the bed, at all angles. I feel my second chin roll against my chest as I turn my head to get varying vantage points. Every time my head stops moving, my face jiggles for a beat afterward. It wasn't that long ago that my cheeks began to encroach on my field of vision when gazing downward.
I decide to start rocking to my left. I wiggle against the sheets, but I don't budge an inch. I try to roll, but can't. I shimmy, I rock, I strain and sweat. I cannot. Leave. The bed.
I whimper and stop trying. The exertion upsets my belly and it whispers about me to my ass again, but my ass can't keep secrets. It speaks the insults loud and at great length.
The door opens and my enabler enters. After a few sniffs, they speak.
Smells like a pig in here. You must be hungry.
I nod at the silhouette, back lit by the light from the hall.
Good. Because I brought treats.
I hear the the wheel squeak. The dessert cart.
Each cart has its own audible characteristics. The dessert cart squeaks. The burger cart rattles. The pasta cart does this clicking thing every few rotations of the back right wheel.
And they brought the dessert cart.
With a clang and a click, the cart is locked in place at my bedside. My breathing intensifies and I'm starting to sweat. My eyes gaze at the selection, causing me to lubricate my lips again in anticipation. I watch as the first slice of cheesecake is brought to my mouth. My lips tremble as the confection approaches. They spread wide as the cheesecake slides past them.
The flavor explodes on my tongue and I feel it ripple throughout my soul. My stomach buzzes and my toes wiggle.
I rest my hands on what part of my belly I can reach, comforting it as things return to normal. This meal will go on for hours, at the end of which, the Hunger will be gone entirely. But the longest it's been away in the past year has been ninety minutes.
Because it always comes back stronger. Its grip, tighter. And its resolve, unyielding.
The Hunger knows what I'm thinking. It is within me and it has become me. Before accepting the final bite of my enormous meal as my offering, it sends me another message by way of my fat ass. It uses my enormous butt to remind me who's in charge.
Such a pig, my Feeder translates the sounds of my monumental rear.
I lie back at the end of the feast. The door closes and so do my eyes. I moan, rubbing every inch of myself I can still access. It is here that one of my prime regrets of letting the Hunger take me emerges.
I can no longer provide myself with sexual relief. It had been so long since my last orgasm. But it's okay. My Feeder promised daily orgasms once I reach 1,400 pounds. Surely, I'm not too far off. They wouldn't let me pass that point without telling me, would they?
Would they?
My ass roars with laughter.
