Undertaker33
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[$20] Obesity Breached (Beta Copy)
🕑 Added 2022-01-02 21:24:19 +0000 UTCThere is a child that lives in my mind.
I can’t feel her there, but I know that she is. I can almost here her laughing, a bright high-pitched giggle that sounds so strange, because it’s my voice. My legs, my arms, my articulation, my song.
But my body is mine.
My name is Vanessa, and my shirt doesn’t fit.
Vanessa staired at the bright white background of her word document, trying but unable to think of the next line to write. Her breathing was slow, already strained, but through the aching, the young blonde woman felt something so much better.
Control.
The beauty of life, brought on through pain.
She moved, sitting back in her seat, and felt the pressure lift ever so slightly, then made worse when she lowered her hand and dug her long nails into the flesh that was her fattened stomach.
Just as she could feel the entity inside of her, Vanessa could feel her former body buried inside of her new weight. Her mind was still skinny, even if Vanessa had gotten so flippin’ fat.
She hissed, shutting her eyes and feeling the point of pressure rise as her fingers pushed further, lifting her weight upward and inward, before a tumultuous burble lifted up from her belly, into her throat, and was released as a husky, “‘Urrp… Ough…”
Green eyes blinked slowly, turning down from the desktop to see the body she’d sculpted over these last few months.
Her belly sagged over her thighs, even with it tucked into her new pair of pants that were already outdated. The waistband sliced into her middle to create an extreme muffintop overhang, with creamy white flesh peeking through numerous holes that popped buttons had created in her too-tiny white top.
Another rumble of bloated digestion had her tighten her lips, but she swallowed this one, wanting the bloat to feel heavier and to keep her stomach as full as she could.
The moment passed and Vanessa allowed herself a labored sigh before her wrist thunked onto the desk and she plucked out the next slice of the pizza.
She could almost hear the child sigh from disappointment, or boredom, or perhaps that was the noise of her waistband holding on for dear life as she brought the meat and cheese and grease-soaked triangle up to her maw, before snapping her teeth shut.
The child hated her. She was pretty sure her stomach hated her too, ironic as she’d once figured it should be the part that was most pleased with things. Free pizza, free nachos, as many tortillas as a fat girl could eat, but Vanessa’s stomach delt with a far larger load than a normal fat girl. It had to be bloated, she had to be stuffed, so rather than enjoying its expanding plate, Vanessa’s belly just felt overworked.
Her tastebuds were far more gracious, enjoying the desserts of cupcakes and pies. To them, it made no difference if she was on her first slice, or pushing herself through the last crumbs of a fat birthday cake.
Another bite and her tastebuds sang. Even if the pizza had become lukewarm from sitting so long while she devoured the rest, it was still Fazbear pizza. The recipe was practically the only reason this place was still open.
Another swallow and her belly screamed, a horrible squelch followed by an impressive *BAP!* that had Vanessa nearly explode with relief as she sagged back in her chair, moaning into her next bite with a delectable, “Unnngggghhhhh…”
Her pant button *tinged* as it hit the white screen of her desktop, flying off to God-knows-where, but she didn’t care. Vanessa leaned back in her adjustable seat as far as it reached, dropping the slice to rest on her chest while her hands went to the stretched-pink blush that was her overweight drum.
She couldn’t focus her sight, feeling her eyes cross while the wonderful alleviation rippled like a jiggle over her overweight body, but she could feel the gaps. Two other buttons had come free as well, the lowest where her uniform squeezed her the tightest, but the rest still held for now. She’d get to them later.
The next pizza was waiting patiently inside of the warming bag.
Vanessa mindlessly chewed down on the next bite, cheese and sauce clinging to her lip and sliding down her softened chin as the rest of the slice fell to rest on her perked breasts while she focused on the touch that coursed over her body.
It was enough to make her feel drunk with power. The bloat, the weight, she could feel it everywhere. The way that her pants still pinched at her hips, how her shirt was pulled tight around her fat breasts. She could barely fit her arms in the sleeves now, and it felt like the best thing that had ever happened to her, because she was alive, and her body was hers.
The company would give her hell about ordering new uniforms again. ‘Not in the budget,’ ‘Far too many expenses,’ and maybe they’d once more offer that discount to use Chica’s Mazercise after hours.
If they did, she might take it this time, if only to access the area’s food-stocks and raid them until they had nothing come morning. That’s where they kept the cookie machine. Chocolate sounded like hell to her stomach, but it sounded perfect to the spite in her brain.
Thinking about that made her laugh. Not a giggle, a chortle of obese amusement that was made all the heavier when she felt the girl bubble with frustration.
It wanted her to do something. To serve someone. It had called him Daddy, but it wasn’t Vanessa’s father. It was the father of the girl inside.
Vanessa’s laugh became a sigh and she breathed more easily, her uncrossed eyes slowly watching her stomach puff up and down, in and out. She never thought she’d get fat. Then again, she didn’t think someone would try to hijack her body.
The blackouts, the purchases, the phone calls, the messages. The traces of her existence outside of her awareness. Vanessa could barely remember what her old job had been. Something with technology, games or robots. Then, apparently, she’d applied for a transfer. She was given a job she was in no way qualified for, by people she never talked to, who called her the name that wasn’t her own.
The bunny costume was what sealed the deal. The mask, the outfit, the girl would take over her body and do things. It tried to change her, to steal her control, and nobody listened. The girl had taken her phone, she had taken her friends, her therapists, and almost her life.
But Vanessa had found a way to keep the thing inside of her locked up, turning her own body into a prison of unknown sensation, an unknowable maze of impulse and feeling. The bloated feeling dulled her mind, made her feel lazy and full, but it made her more aware then ever of her own flesh.
It took more and more each time she did it, but as long as Vanessa’s belly was full, as long as she could feel herself growing rounder with fat, she’d hold onto herself.
And so she took another bite more.
Her breath came like the noise of a dying car, her tummy so swollen that she wondered how long until she’d break this desk chair. She felt the heat on her cheeks as the oven that was her gut broiled in digestion, bubbles mixing and grease burning up to be let out as another fat belch.
“Oggghh…” she groaned to herself, a hand slapping softly over her fatty potbelly. “I need to start bringing tums…”
That’s when she felt it. Not the child’s curiosity, or reverence, or even her annoyance.
Something else, like a breath of frost over the young woman’s neck. She felt the goosebumps forming beneath the sweat of digestion, felt herself shiver into the final cheese-filled bite. Now, only the crust remained.
The lights flickered. The cameras did not, but each of the monitors showed similar twinkles throughout the mega pizzaplex.
The lobby, which she was closest to, was the first to flicker, bright neon lights easily seen oscillating on the black-and-white floors. Then was the gallery, then the green rooms, then the daycare. Fazer Blast, Gator Golf, even Roxy’s Raceway. The circuit seemed to circle the entire complex before centering in the atrium.
When the lights dimmed there, the gigantic projections of each of the characters seemed to warp. For a moment, in place of her keyboard Roxy now held a girl by the neck, her other hand clawing at an exposed belly. Monty’s bass was the same, as was Chika’s guitar, while at the center of the stage, Glamrock Freddy had both of his hands on what had been his mic stand, but was now the neck of a ponytailed projection.
Vanessa recognized herself in each of the lights, but the moment faded, and they all had returned to their cheerful demeanors with their glamorous instruments. The blonde woman blinked, letting her eyes look over each of the cameras before falling down to the clock that was on her desktop.
It was 4:15AM, and someone was typing to her.
Vanessa bit down on the crust of her pizza, feeling the tingles of bloat stabbing the overworked and underappreciated muscles in her abdomen and her chest before she lifted herself in the chair and watched the text appear on her document.
Written beneath her small declaration came a new script, drafted in deep purple ink.
How long do you believe this can continue? the document asked. You cannot resist me for long.
Vanessa perked a blonde eyebrow before idly tossing the last bite of the pizza’s crust into her mouth.
This is a game to you, then? Do you like to play games?
“I like to win,” Vanessa said. She groaned, sitting up in her chair as the computer continued to type words that it couldn’t possibly type. It took her a moment to pop her hips free from the seat, and the woman had to lean on the desk for support as she pulled herself up.
The broken engine wheezed louder as she blinked the lethargy out of her eyes and went to the side, where the next pizza still steamed from inside of the ready bag, and the next two-liter of soda waited for her to test how much more she could take.
She opened it. The spicy scent of Dr. Pepper filled the room, made all the more lovely due to the absolute knowledge that the foreign soda was considered illegal contraband inside the mega pizzaplex, and she lifted it up to her mouth then and there.
Wave after wave after sugary wave, Vanessa forced herself to swallow two, three, four gulps of fresh bubbling soda, her belly throbbing with each pull as if it were desperate to find the room.
It didn’t seem as if there’d be enough, but a new tear appeared near the seams of her pants, another button near her sternum *POPPED*clear, and Venessa lowered the bottle to release her most powerful, “Uuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrp!”
She felt her knees wobble and caught herself, nearly dropping the soda but managing to place it back down closer to her station. Her stomach whined in horror as she opened the bag and the steam from the pizza swam down to her lungs, but Vanessa opened the top of that too before taking that back to her seat and slapping the box down on top of the keyboard.
The blonde collapsed into the chair, wheezing and gurgling and burping again, her once-slender stomach rolling onto plush thighs and then sagging back until she risked flipping over.
I like to play, too. I used to be quite good, read the text on her screen. You cannot possibly continue with this strategy. You will fail, soon, and then it will be game over.
“I think I’ll surprise you,” Vanessa breathed, lifting the first slice free. “I can get as fat as I please. That doesn’t matter. As long as I’m me.”
