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Story / Fat Furs
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A speed write that demanded to be written when I was supposed to playing through mass effect again, the following story contains:
Weight gain!
IMmobility!
Gorging!
And...GASP. THE MOST VILE FETISH OF THEM ALL.
>_>
<_<
WORDS.
I REPEAT. THERE ARE WORDS IN THIS STORY. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE WORDS, TURN BACK NOW.
verything happens for a reason.
Not that there is a grand purpose behind every victory, or tragedy, simply that there is a reason for why things happen. You do not do your homework, so you fail your class. You win the lottery because you chanced upon the winning numbers for that day, and so on. There is a reasoning behind everything, and it occurs to you, that the reason you are bound to your bed by an immovable mass of flesh and fat is because you chose to eat fast food. You were stuck here, your bulk pinning you to the bedside. Man-breasts rolled atop the rolling dome of flesh that was your stomach; a sack of lard that had hence been filled each and every day with enough fast food to satisfy a small country several times over. Thighs large enough to smuggle children under supported your absurdly rotund gut--usually-- and apart from that served no other purpose than to squish and squash together underneath your round backside-- a gargantuan mound of flesh that forced you to permanently sit up on the pair of naturally formed cushions. Some might have found themselves upset in this predicament. After all, you were a wolf who had lost his physique, and not to famine or war, or anything besides your inherent greed and gluttony, and that would have been a tragedy to most. Not to you, however. No, even now, after hours of ridiculous feasting, with first breakfast, second breakfast, and a third breakfast sitting inside you, only to segway towards a “Mid-meal snack” consisting of several gallons melted ice cream, which in turn was followed up by several other “snacks”, which inevitably led to an equally ridiculous lunch schedule. You were a class-act hog, no doubt about it. But still, you hadn’t always been this way. In fact, you could recall a time when you weren’t so morbidly obese. A time when you could in fact have been called skinny. Unfortunately it all went downhill when you had your first taste of fast food...
----
You were a forest wolf. Nothing strange about that really. Your kind preferred the open woods, and the scent of the pines at night, waltzing around the trails blazed by your ancestors hundreds of years before hand. It was a natural calling, really. It was something that was in your blood, in your bones; something that would drag you to the moon and leave you screaming in your own heated energy as it drove you to pound--paw to earth as you tested your body in every way imaginable. Of course, such things couldn’t last forever. Eventually the call of society beckoned, and the forest you spent your days in was soon overtaken by the laying down of concrete and pavement. Trees old enough to have watched your species grow out of the muck were replaced by skyscrapers and towers. And old hunting grounds? Old hunting grounds were replaced by these...”Fast food restaurants” everyone was always ranting and raving about. Honestly, you didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. As someone who had come from a very practical family, with a very practical mindset, food was just food to you. One way or another, so long as you didn’t starve, and your limbs--powerful muscles covered in lines of magnificent gray fur--stayed capable of getting that food, you didn’t care. So of course, when the time came, and you knew you could no longer hunt, you took it upon yourself to visit one such restaurant.
It was a burger place, of dull colors, and duller staff. Still, as you waltzed in, the place smelled...delicious. The smells of fresh, fatty meat sizzling underneath a blend of spices and sauces appealed to you in ways you didn’t quite understand. When you got to the counter, you ordered whatever was recommended. Some “cheese burger” with “fries and soda”, whatever that was. You took your meal, and sat down, prepared to simply eat and be on your way. However, when you took your first bite of that burger--that delicious, greasy, fatty burger, you were overwhelmed. You had never tasted anything like it in your life. Before you knew it, you were tearing through it and the fries too with a reckless abandon you’d usually reserved for days driven by fury and bloodlust. Soon enough, your meal was gone, and yet? It wasn’t enough. You went back up to the counter, ordering seconds, and when that wasn’t enough, thirds. Before the day was over, you’d consumed the same meal four times over, your bloated stomach peaking out from underneath what otherwise would have been a form-fitting shirt.
After that day, you found yourself helplessly attracted to any place with “Junk food”, thinking that if one establishment could be that good, what other wonders must these restaurants hold? And you were right too. Fried chicken had to have been designed by some crazy southern genius, and pizza? Ambrosia from the gods themselves. You spent every day you could, just relentlessly hunting down food to satiate this new beast in your stomach, a fact that would be made quite apparent soon enough. After all, when you spent your days needlessly shoving down empty calories into your body, your metabolism could only hold out so long. Sure enough, your washboard six pack was traded out for a snack pack. Your limbs went from muscled to doughy, your thighs soft and pliable, and your backside chunky and bubbly--bouncing against the tight and binding constraints of your pants as you gorged yourself silly. Still, you didn’t care. What need did you have to be the fastest or the strongest anymore? And besides, it felt...good to be big.. Like you had a constant layer of warmth; a feeling that was only magnified whenever you ate, as meal after meal would slide down your fat gullet. It was a good feeling, one you wouldn’t readily pass up. Besides. It wasn’t that bad....
And it wasn’t.
At least not at first.
Yet as the days continued onwards, your hide only continued to get wider. Where you might have once passed for a solid 160lbs, that soon changed. You never could say no to a fourth helping of fries, and gods help you if a place had some good dessert. No wolf had ever had such a weakness for chocolate cake as you had, and anytime you came across the stuff--it didn’t matter how much you had eaten just before. You would need at least half a cake, and an hour to yourself. So on and on you gorged yourself, hunting down more and more food, as you swelled more and more. Before you knew it, you were past two-hundred pounds, ripping your poor shirt down the middle as you glutted on a gallon of milk and a platter of cookies. Then and there, another might have considered that a sign. Perhaps you should cut back, maybe go on a diet, join a gym. Not you, however. No, you looked on your belly, with its newly burgeoning love-handles, slowly but surely becoming thick and juicy as it bunched up against your rounded pectorals, your man-boobs. You looked at your soft, cuddly arms, your bloated thighs, and jiggly backside, and said to yourself: I need more.
So you moved on, ignoring the warning signs. You just moved on to buy new clothing. XX-L shirts, stretchy sweats so you didn’t have to worry about replacing them anytime soon, and boxers to fit your lard-ass. And you went right back to doing what you did best: Eating. At this stage in your journey, you took to serious binge fests more than anything else. There were days where you would just order take out. Pizza, chinese food, bakeries! Any place that was willing to deliver to your humble abode was good enough, and once you had that food you’d spend the whole day fixated on your food, attempting to get as much of it into your body as you could handle before passing out into a food coma. That kind of eating really took its toll on your body, boosting your already rapid weight gain yet again. You passed the 300lb and 400lb marks without little ceremony over the next few years. Yet when you hit the 500lb mark, you were forced to contend with that fated look in the mirror.
You woke up like you always did, reaching to the side of your bed where you kept a snack waiting for you. This morning it appeared you had left a dozen donuts for yourself. These would keep you satisfied while you went through the daily struggle of sitting up. Snatching up a few of the golden glistening rings, you stuffed them into your porky maw as you started to roll around in your bed, panting and wheezing as you fought to get the momentum you needed to sit forward. It took awhile. This was indeed a heated battle to get up! But in the end you triumphed like you always did, and as a reward, you swung your meaty legs over the edge of your bed, and focused on those tasty donuts. Devouring them in record time, you let out a meaty “BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAP”, spraying donut bits everywhere as you stood up with a stretch and a yawn.
Before you could enjoy yourself further, or see to the most important part of your day(Which was breakfast), you felt a calling to the bathroom. You waddled off to your bathroom, taking care of nature’s call. Of course the big dilemma came forth when you were getting ready to squeeze sideways through the door. Just as you were getting ready to turn, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror over the sink. This was the first real look you had gotten in some time, and you were shocked to say the least, to see the gargantuan beast before you. Your stomach was a collection of fat rolls, all melding into the split-sack that slung well over your waist, and served to hide your crotch from view. Sitting on top of it was a pair of breasts; so filled with fat that they slid across the breadth and length of your chest. If they weren’t so flabby they would have made women across the world jealous with how large they were. Still, that was hardly anything to joke about. Your thighs made you practically spherical, and your backside was a shelf--good to hold food on it, and act as your own personal couch cushion as your cheeks fought and wobbled against one another for dominance of space in your ill-fitting boxers--the likes of which were ripped and tearing at the seams. Your arms were little better. You attempted to flex them and got little but jiggling flesh for all your trouble. Hell, even your face was fat: An assortment of chins that rushed to meet with the fatty slope of your man-breaths anytime you breathed.
Simply put? You were fat. Overweight. Morbidly obese.
Surely this couldn’t continue. This had to be the breaking point. You could turn it all around right now. Return to being the lithe, and viciously powerful wolf you once were. But as you thought about all the effort that would go into that your stomach growled. It seemed you didn’t want to put in the effort to do all that exercise. And frankly you were fine with that. You had trouble getting out of bed. You could barely see yourself climbing a set of steps, let alone running something like a mile. Still. This couldn’t continue would it? No, no it couldn’t. That was it then, you decided. You would go on a diet--
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOORGH.”
...Tomorrow. After all, you deserved one last day to pig out didn’t you? Cutting cold turkey was a bad way to start a diet you rationalized. That thin line of reasoning seated firmly in your brain, you smiled and banished all thoughts of dieting to the back of your head, deciding to focus on what you wanted to have for breakfast.
Of course, as was always the case with these stories, tomorrow never came. There was always another reason to put it off. A local restaurant was having a two-for-one sale, or the pizza parlor had offered you a special all-you-can-eat buffet as a reward for your loyalty to their business, etcetera. No matter the case, you continued to eat to your greedy piggish heart’s contents, forgetting all about your diet. As a result your gain continued unabated for the next several months, regardless of the consequences. When your furniture broke beneath your record-shattering flabby ass you had your furniture upgraded. When you couldn’t go outside your house to pick up food, too big to get out the doors, you had all the doors in your home widened, and your groceries and fast-food delivered from then on. And when you were too big to do things like cook and clean, you hired a maid to take care of you. Whenever an obstacle to your constant gorging came up, you shoved it out of your way. Just as long as you got to continue eating, it you didn’t care.
And now here you were. At half a ton, you hadn’t been able to leave your bed in weeks. Frankly, even if you wanted to quit, which you didn’t, you were addicted to food now. Another lazy slob hooked on the wonders of quick and easy food. It wasn’t all bad you supposed. Your maid, Anna, was a kindly feline. Brown-furred with mismatched eyes, and short whiskers, the kitty held a certain bubbly demeanor as she carried food to and from your rom so you could continue to gorge yourself. One day, you would be too fat feed yourself, and Anna would have to take care of you. But, you told yourself, as long as you got the food, you decided you really didn’t care.
And besides.
No one wanted to diet and exercise, right?
Weight gain!
IMmobility!
Gorging!
And...GASP. THE MOST VILE FETISH OF THEM ALL.
>_>
<_<
WORDS.
I REPEAT. THERE ARE WORDS IN THIS STORY. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE WORDS, TURN BACK NOW.
verything happens for a reason.
Not that there is a grand purpose behind every victory, or tragedy, simply that there is a reason for why things happen. You do not do your homework, so you fail your class. You win the lottery because you chanced upon the winning numbers for that day, and so on. There is a reasoning behind everything, and it occurs to you, that the reason you are bound to your bed by an immovable mass of flesh and fat is because you chose to eat fast food. You were stuck here, your bulk pinning you to the bedside. Man-breasts rolled atop the rolling dome of flesh that was your stomach; a sack of lard that had hence been filled each and every day with enough fast food to satisfy a small country several times over. Thighs large enough to smuggle children under supported your absurdly rotund gut--usually-- and apart from that served no other purpose than to squish and squash together underneath your round backside-- a gargantuan mound of flesh that forced you to permanently sit up on the pair of naturally formed cushions. Some might have found themselves upset in this predicament. After all, you were a wolf who had lost his physique, and not to famine or war, or anything besides your inherent greed and gluttony, and that would have been a tragedy to most. Not to you, however. No, even now, after hours of ridiculous feasting, with first breakfast, second breakfast, and a third breakfast sitting inside you, only to segway towards a “Mid-meal snack” consisting of several gallons melted ice cream, which in turn was followed up by several other “snacks”, which inevitably led to an equally ridiculous lunch schedule. You were a class-act hog, no doubt about it. But still, you hadn’t always been this way. In fact, you could recall a time when you weren’t so morbidly obese. A time when you could in fact have been called skinny. Unfortunately it all went downhill when you had your first taste of fast food...
----
You were a forest wolf. Nothing strange about that really. Your kind preferred the open woods, and the scent of the pines at night, waltzing around the trails blazed by your ancestors hundreds of years before hand. It was a natural calling, really. It was something that was in your blood, in your bones; something that would drag you to the moon and leave you screaming in your own heated energy as it drove you to pound--paw to earth as you tested your body in every way imaginable. Of course, such things couldn’t last forever. Eventually the call of society beckoned, and the forest you spent your days in was soon overtaken by the laying down of concrete and pavement. Trees old enough to have watched your species grow out of the muck were replaced by skyscrapers and towers. And old hunting grounds? Old hunting grounds were replaced by these...”Fast food restaurants” everyone was always ranting and raving about. Honestly, you didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. As someone who had come from a very practical family, with a very practical mindset, food was just food to you. One way or another, so long as you didn’t starve, and your limbs--powerful muscles covered in lines of magnificent gray fur--stayed capable of getting that food, you didn’t care. So of course, when the time came, and you knew you could no longer hunt, you took it upon yourself to visit one such restaurant.
It was a burger place, of dull colors, and duller staff. Still, as you waltzed in, the place smelled...delicious. The smells of fresh, fatty meat sizzling underneath a blend of spices and sauces appealed to you in ways you didn’t quite understand. When you got to the counter, you ordered whatever was recommended. Some “cheese burger” with “fries and soda”, whatever that was. You took your meal, and sat down, prepared to simply eat and be on your way. However, when you took your first bite of that burger--that delicious, greasy, fatty burger, you were overwhelmed. You had never tasted anything like it in your life. Before you knew it, you were tearing through it and the fries too with a reckless abandon you’d usually reserved for days driven by fury and bloodlust. Soon enough, your meal was gone, and yet? It wasn’t enough. You went back up to the counter, ordering seconds, and when that wasn’t enough, thirds. Before the day was over, you’d consumed the same meal four times over, your bloated stomach peaking out from underneath what otherwise would have been a form-fitting shirt.
After that day, you found yourself helplessly attracted to any place with “Junk food”, thinking that if one establishment could be that good, what other wonders must these restaurants hold? And you were right too. Fried chicken had to have been designed by some crazy southern genius, and pizza? Ambrosia from the gods themselves. You spent every day you could, just relentlessly hunting down food to satiate this new beast in your stomach, a fact that would be made quite apparent soon enough. After all, when you spent your days needlessly shoving down empty calories into your body, your metabolism could only hold out so long. Sure enough, your washboard six pack was traded out for a snack pack. Your limbs went from muscled to doughy, your thighs soft and pliable, and your backside chunky and bubbly--bouncing against the tight and binding constraints of your pants as you gorged yourself silly. Still, you didn’t care. What need did you have to be the fastest or the strongest anymore? And besides, it felt...good to be big.. Like you had a constant layer of warmth; a feeling that was only magnified whenever you ate, as meal after meal would slide down your fat gullet. It was a good feeling, one you wouldn’t readily pass up. Besides. It wasn’t that bad....
And it wasn’t.
At least not at first.
Yet as the days continued onwards, your hide only continued to get wider. Where you might have once passed for a solid 160lbs, that soon changed. You never could say no to a fourth helping of fries, and gods help you if a place had some good dessert. No wolf had ever had such a weakness for chocolate cake as you had, and anytime you came across the stuff--it didn’t matter how much you had eaten just before. You would need at least half a cake, and an hour to yourself. So on and on you gorged yourself, hunting down more and more food, as you swelled more and more. Before you knew it, you were past two-hundred pounds, ripping your poor shirt down the middle as you glutted on a gallon of milk and a platter of cookies. Then and there, another might have considered that a sign. Perhaps you should cut back, maybe go on a diet, join a gym. Not you, however. No, you looked on your belly, with its newly burgeoning love-handles, slowly but surely becoming thick and juicy as it bunched up against your rounded pectorals, your man-boobs. You looked at your soft, cuddly arms, your bloated thighs, and jiggly backside, and said to yourself: I need more.
So you moved on, ignoring the warning signs. You just moved on to buy new clothing. XX-L shirts, stretchy sweats so you didn’t have to worry about replacing them anytime soon, and boxers to fit your lard-ass. And you went right back to doing what you did best: Eating. At this stage in your journey, you took to serious binge fests more than anything else. There were days where you would just order take out. Pizza, chinese food, bakeries! Any place that was willing to deliver to your humble abode was good enough, and once you had that food you’d spend the whole day fixated on your food, attempting to get as much of it into your body as you could handle before passing out into a food coma. That kind of eating really took its toll on your body, boosting your already rapid weight gain yet again. You passed the 300lb and 400lb marks without little ceremony over the next few years. Yet when you hit the 500lb mark, you were forced to contend with that fated look in the mirror.
You woke up like you always did, reaching to the side of your bed where you kept a snack waiting for you. This morning it appeared you had left a dozen donuts for yourself. These would keep you satisfied while you went through the daily struggle of sitting up. Snatching up a few of the golden glistening rings, you stuffed them into your porky maw as you started to roll around in your bed, panting and wheezing as you fought to get the momentum you needed to sit forward. It took awhile. This was indeed a heated battle to get up! But in the end you triumphed like you always did, and as a reward, you swung your meaty legs over the edge of your bed, and focused on those tasty donuts. Devouring them in record time, you let out a meaty “BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAP”, spraying donut bits everywhere as you stood up with a stretch and a yawn.
Before you could enjoy yourself further, or see to the most important part of your day(Which was breakfast), you felt a calling to the bathroom. You waddled off to your bathroom, taking care of nature’s call. Of course the big dilemma came forth when you were getting ready to squeeze sideways through the door. Just as you were getting ready to turn, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror over the sink. This was the first real look you had gotten in some time, and you were shocked to say the least, to see the gargantuan beast before you. Your stomach was a collection of fat rolls, all melding into the split-sack that slung well over your waist, and served to hide your crotch from view. Sitting on top of it was a pair of breasts; so filled with fat that they slid across the breadth and length of your chest. If they weren’t so flabby they would have made women across the world jealous with how large they were. Still, that was hardly anything to joke about. Your thighs made you practically spherical, and your backside was a shelf--good to hold food on it, and act as your own personal couch cushion as your cheeks fought and wobbled against one another for dominance of space in your ill-fitting boxers--the likes of which were ripped and tearing at the seams. Your arms were little better. You attempted to flex them and got little but jiggling flesh for all your trouble. Hell, even your face was fat: An assortment of chins that rushed to meet with the fatty slope of your man-breaths anytime you breathed.
Simply put? You were fat. Overweight. Morbidly obese.
Surely this couldn’t continue. This had to be the breaking point. You could turn it all around right now. Return to being the lithe, and viciously powerful wolf you once were. But as you thought about all the effort that would go into that your stomach growled. It seemed you didn’t want to put in the effort to do all that exercise. And frankly you were fine with that. You had trouble getting out of bed. You could barely see yourself climbing a set of steps, let alone running something like a mile. Still. This couldn’t continue would it? No, no it couldn’t. That was it then, you decided. You would go on a diet--
“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOORGH.”
...Tomorrow. After all, you deserved one last day to pig out didn’t you? Cutting cold turkey was a bad way to start a diet you rationalized. That thin line of reasoning seated firmly in your brain, you smiled and banished all thoughts of dieting to the back of your head, deciding to focus on what you wanted to have for breakfast.
Of course, as was always the case with these stories, tomorrow never came. There was always another reason to put it off. A local restaurant was having a two-for-one sale, or the pizza parlor had offered you a special all-you-can-eat buffet as a reward for your loyalty to their business, etcetera. No matter the case, you continued to eat to your greedy piggish heart’s contents, forgetting all about your diet. As a result your gain continued unabated for the next several months, regardless of the consequences. When your furniture broke beneath your record-shattering flabby ass you had your furniture upgraded. When you couldn’t go outside your house to pick up food, too big to get out the doors, you had all the doors in your home widened, and your groceries and fast-food delivered from then on. And when you were too big to do things like cook and clean, you hired a maid to take care of you. Whenever an obstacle to your constant gorging came up, you shoved it out of your way. Just as long as you got to continue eating, it you didn’t care.
And now here you were. At half a ton, you hadn’t been able to leave your bed in weeks. Frankly, even if you wanted to quit, which you didn’t, you were addicted to food now. Another lazy slob hooked on the wonders of quick and easy food. It wasn’t all bad you supposed. Your maid, Anna, was a kindly feline. Brown-furred with mismatched eyes, and short whiskers, the kitty held a certain bubbly demeanor as she carried food to and from your rom so you could continue to gorge yourself. One day, you would be too fat feed yourself, and Anna would have to take care of you. But, you told yourself, as long as you got the food, you decided you really didn’t care.
And besides.
No one wanted to diet and exercise, right?
Category Story / Fat Furs
Species Wolf
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 13.1 kB
Comments