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The following contains: Female forced weight gain, sci-fi scenarios, humiliation, bondage, slight slob/mess. Viewer discretion is advised.

Part 2: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/21709462/


This is a lil' story I did up in my free time, between FOBoJ and before the move! I've since finished a part two that deals with the after effects of the events of the story, and is fully illustrated, lined and shaded. It's up on Patreon at the moment! ^^

Regular posts of Maple's Story will resume! I'm writing those too, don't worry <3

I'd love you to let me know what you think about this story and picture combo!

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The picture above is drawn by me, although composition, pose, lighting and other elements are credited to: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/engineskye/ whose work I was examining closely and whose effects I was attempting to incorporate in the production of this picture )

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Chapter 1

Pre Chapter-Status:
Occupation: Trader/Scavenger
Build: Chubby
Mental Health: Fine
Medical Conditions: below average metabolic rate

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Jenny gulped – something she got the feeling she would be doing a lot of in the next few hours. From the look of the heavy duty hose that had been securely lodged down her throat she wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. Not that she’d expected much in the way of choice when she woke up with her hands cuffed behind her to the back of a chair, barely a few seconds ago. Blinking, looking around the cramped, filled, closet of a room she saw only a damp, inky darkness filled with blinking lights and the drip of coolant. Probably coolant.

Hopefully coolant.

As weird as it might sound to the outside, it’s not the first time Jenny had found herself with a hose tucked securely down her throat. She’d even employed the use of a strap to tie around her snout now and then, but that was mostly theatrics. Without a gag reflex the hose really wasn’t too much of an issue and although it left her feeling a little sore in the aftermath it was all for the views. Views meant money, right? Because when it came down to it, at the end of the day, Jenny was a performer. At least on top of her job as low-class goods hauler. Or Space-Truckie, for short.

PEEP shows were a legitimate way to make a little money on the side, especially considering the free time that Jenny had between stop-offs. PEEPs, or Personal Experience Entertainment Packs, were made possible by the neural digitalisation of some bygone age and essentially recorded every sensation, sight, sound, scent and taste that a person was experiencing at any given point. That recording could then be uploaded to the Network and sold, individually or part of a monthly subscription like Jenny had set up. Some people recorded PEEP shows of extreme mountain climbing, exploring foreign planets or even arena combat. Jenny? She recorded PEEP shows of her eating. It was surprising to her at first, how many people were willing to pay to watch a pig stuff her face. Feel her stomach stretching beneath her blouse. Feel her hands run over the bulge of her gut as it strained the buttons of her top. But when it grew to be that she had four or five hundred people subscribed to watch her stuff her face on a regular basis she took it more for what it was, a much needed additional source of income.

It didn’t hurt that she liked to replay the PEEP shows to herself at night, every now and then.

But that’s just what they were. Shows. Sure they’d had an unforeseen effect on her waistline (initially Jenny had been naïve enough to believe that she would exercise to keep from gaining weight after her binges) but the hoses and ties were just performance. Even if the weight gain got out of hand she could still reign it in with appetite control meds. At no point did she ever feel like she was in any danger.

Unlike now.

Feeling her muscles starting to cramp, Jenny squirmed a little. Her eyes had adjusted to the low light and she repressed a little shiver as she saw that she was sharing her tiny closet with a high-tech hovercam. It looked like something she’d wanted to get - something to record her progress from an outside perspective. She could link it up the footage over a neural network and watch herself get fatter as she stuffed herself. Another shiver ran down her spine and she craned her neck as much as she could to look around. From the low humming beneath the ground she could assume she was on a spaceship. Perhaps a station. She recognised the hum of a cheap grav-gen drive when she felt it. Although that didn’t help, considering she had no idea how she got here. The last thing she remembered was stopping for a quick bite to eat after her latest drop-off. After that everything went blank and she woke up here, cuffed to the chair with an increasingly sore back.

“Hello pig.” The voice was digitized, it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. The way it echoed made Jenny’s skin crawl. “We’ve been watching your show for some time. Watching the way you stuff yourself. Feeling the way you feel, when you give in to what you were always meant to be.”

Jenny shivered again and started to struggle, yanking at her arms in an attempt to dislodge the cuffs. The tube in her throat tugged angrily at the roof of her mouth, a thin trickle of drool adding to her discomfort as it cooled on her second chin. How did these people know who she was? She’d always taken every precaution to censor anything that might give information about her identity - an especially prudent measure as a person’s career was often subject to their rep on the Network.

“We watched as you ‘tied’ yourself to a chair, stuffed a hose down your throat. Did you think we couldn’t feel the security you felt? Couldn’t feel the safety you felt, in the knowledge of your complete control? Well pig. We’ve come to liberate you from your control.”

The blue haired pig started struggling even harder, her pleas for help, for mercy, muffled by the tube lodged so firmly in her mouth she doubted she could pull it free even /with/ the use of her hands.

“We’ve come to liberate you from your inhibitions. Always unsure about when enough is enough. Tonight, Jennifer, there is no enough. Tonight we’re going to make a real PEEP show. Tonight, you become what you’ve always wanted but never had the guts to be. Tonight, you become a pig.”

As soon as the poignant (although over-dramatic) monologue was over, a switch was audibly flipped and the tube in Jenny’s mouth began to shake. A drop of something foul smelling splashed her on the nose and she looked up to see that the roof was practically covered in snakes of thin tubing - all converging into the central pipe that ended in her mouth. In the gloom she couldn’t see what was being pushed down the pipes, but from the various droplets that bloomed out of the darkness and splashed across her face and clothes, she could make several educated guesses about their contents. The air quickly took on the alkaline scent of nutrient paste that had been left to sit for too long. Beneath the scent of the moulded paste danced several other scents that she couldn’t place, somewhat similar to sort she had typically smelled in the less well maintained parts of stations. As she saw a multicoloured ooze pushing towards her through the pipe she almost considered herself lucky that she would never know the full extent of what she was going to be forced to ingest, and even more so that she wouldn’t be able to taste any of it. Smelling it was bad enough.

She felt, rather than tasted, the sludge as it passed her tongue and pushed its way down the clear plastic tube where it was offloaded into her stomach. For the first couple of seconds the sensations were almost pleasurable. The familiar pressure of a gut being filled to capacity (albeit much faster than any of her previous PEEP shows had ever managed) was one that almost managed to calm her. But the sticky dribble of gods-knows-what from the roof was enough to bring her back to fear. The scent of it was driven far up her nose by the frantic panting of her panic. She longed to scream:

“Let me out! Let me go! You’re going to KILL me!” But her words died, muffled by the chugging of the hose before they made it out of her throat.

Her stomach was getting really tight now. As she looked on, a screen popped up in her neural interface. It was the camera that was staring at her from the gloom. She could see herself, sitting in the wide chair, struggling as her stomach inflated like a round, pink balloon. Already her top had slid far enough to reveal a slither of flesh, a tube of pink gut that was growing with every forced gulp, every second she was hooked up to the machine. She watched in horror, screaming behind the tube as her shirt slid further and further up her rounding stomach.

It was hurting now. It looked like she’d swallowed a basketball. She hadn’t been slender to begin with, but now her chubby padding was stretched taut over an amount of food that she wouldn’t in her wildest of dreams have begun to think about eating. It felt as though she were going to burst, and with tears gathering in her eyes she tensed and wondered how she would inevitably explode. Would it be a dramatic pop, bursting her innards across the walls? Or would it be a gentle rupture, coupled by the spilling of her guts and everything inside. Eyes clenched shut, she felt the pain reach its crescendo and was sure her stomach could take no more, waiting for her inevitable conclusion.

But she did not burst.

“Like we told you, Jennifer,” She squirmed at the use of her name. Nobody was supposed to know about this. Nobody was supposed to know her shame. “Tonight, there is no ‘enough’. There is no ‘too much’. It was high time you had your body altered to match your sick, depraved mind. You will never burst. Consider it our gift.”

As he spoke, Jenny felt the pain start to lesson. With a sickening internal lurch it felt like a valve had been opened up inside her. The massive amount of nutrient-paste she’d been forced to swallow was moving, flowing. And to her horror, she realised that the pace of her growth had all but doubled. Her stomach was now a massive ball, lurching out across her thighs. To the sound of splitting threads, she realised her pants were being shredded under the weight of her growing legs. She was gaining weight right before her eyes! As she watched herself, her features softening and drooping, Jenny felt perhaps the most terror she had all night.

Up until now, this awful experience had a sick kind of transiency, as though as soon as the ‘show’ were over she could just hurl up everything she’d swallowed and forget about it. With the sight of her stomach blubber rising like dough in an oven she realised that today would have a sickly sort of permanence; consequences that would haunt her for a long time, if not forever.

“That’s right,” The voice echoed around her like it had been reading her thoughts. If they were making a PEEP show out of this, it was disturbingly possible that they were. “We’ve made use of some rather black market nanomeds to alter not only the elasticity of that sack of lard you call a stomach, but also the rate at which your body reacts to and absorbs foreign matter. That’s not even fat you’re bloating with, it’s the closest thing your body can come up with when forced to store so much, in such a short amount of time.”

Jenny squirmed again. What was happening to her?! As her body bucked she heard an audible slosh in her stomach and an almost alien feeling as her gut rolled in her lap. She hoped against hope that the sloshing had come from the fluid in her stomach and not the fat-like padding that was quickly consuming her body. She watched herself from the view of the camera as her double chin became three before her neck was lost beneath a roll of blubber that bloated and encroached upon her thickening shoulders, snapping the collar of her shirt. Her pants were all but completely destroyed at this point, loose fabric hanging from her ballooning rear. Her whole body reminded her of a water-balloon she’d seen being filled with fire-fighting foam once. At first it had sagged under its own weight, but then as more and more was crammed into it, it began to round out. If it had had arms and legs she had no doubt it would have very much resembled her right now.

“You see,” The voice continued, ignoring the panicked little grunts and squeals that the pig emitted as her body was ruined before her eyes. “Fat cells are used to store energy. They can be worked off during exercise. In this way, a body bloated with fat can be redeemed. What you are becoming is something more than fat. Beyond redemption. The cells saturating your flesh, ballooning your stomach, are useless. They will never be burned during exercise, and no surgeon would dare risk his licence performing on such a hideously over-modified creature as yourself.”

Jenny bit back tears, her throat convulsing as she began to start weeping, despite the hose lodged within her. If what they’d said about the modifications to her body was true then they were also right about the doctors not risking their licence on operating on unapproved gene-modded bodies. Sure, special cases existed, but Jenny had nowhere near the funds to even think about hiring a specialist doctor. Watching as her top split and her massive, doughy gut pushed aside her legs and rested heavily on her knees, she realised just how permanent this situation was going to be. Gods, would she even be able to walk when they were done? By now her stomach was a massive, lard filled balloon. It surged over her legs and pushed her breasts up against the thick ring of flab that collared her neck. She could still see over it at the accusing glare of the camera lens, but not by much. Every second that she spent gulping the thick, disgusting slurry, her stomach pushed upwards, pulsing rhythmically as it began to dominate her field of vision. Her own horrible, pink, blubbery horizon.

Although though she could no longer see her legs (even with the assistance of the camera feed) she could feel her ass cheeks ballooning, enveloping the sides of the chair and sagging down around it. She could feel the fetid, warm air of the tiny cupboard she was locked in, brushing against her exposed, growing, sensitive skin. But more than that, her mind was flooded with the sheer pressure of everything that was inside of her, everything that was being forced to digest. As though her body were unable to process the new material into fat fast enough, she seemed to have a great, heavy ball of muck in her stomach at all times, a massive load of raw nutrients that was weighing her down and becoming bigger with every moment. Every gulp. She fancied she could hear her stomach stretching and groaning around this enormous load in ways that her flab bearing skin never could. It sounded, she felt, like a balloon being inflated. Squeaking. Creaking. Groaning. It was strange, but the feeling brought back memories of when she’d used to do this for fun. She had wondered back then, why it made her feel so hot to stretch her stomach so. The heat of embarrassment as she tried to hide her gravid swell in public. These things had turned her on - was her current predicament anything more than an extension of what had come before?

As her gut pushed past her knees, now a huge blob of lard that had begun to droop downwards towards the ground, another noise joined the cacophony that echoed about the small, muggy little cubicle. At first Jenny feared it was her gut reaching some sort of capacity (although she couldn’t feel the horrific pressure she’d felt before - perhaps she’d become numbed to it?). But as she strained to listen, her weeping dying down and her folded pig ears perking to attention, Jenny realised that this groaning didn’t coincide with any sensation of her body, rather it was a metallic kind of noise. The twisting of metal, or cheap plasteel under a load it could not stand. It took Jenny longer than she’d have cared to admit before she realised that the sounds were coming from the tortured base of her chair - her camera revealing that only one sturdy pillar of metal was holding her up. It would have been enough to hold most people, but Jenny was more than most people now. About five hundred pounds more.

From the perspective of the camera, all Jenny could see was her stomach. She could no longer see her face atop the crest of it - it had grown far too large. However, if she strained, she could only just see her legs making indents in the side of the colossal slab of blubber. That’s not to say these other extremities didn’t exist, she knew that her legs, rear and arms were becoming massive, blubber-ringed sacks of useless, wobbling lard, but it appeared for the moment her stomach had stolen the show.

At least until the chair broke. With a loud snap and a painful, shocking, wrench to her shoulders, the chair’s base broke beneath her and bowled the massive pig onto her wobbling side. Cuffs undone by the chair’s demise, her arms (thankfully!) were unbound and although one was all but smothered beneath her as she fell, the other sprang up to her side to rest on the growing boulder of her stomach.

Now Jenny could see everything. The camera turned on its axis, following the spectacle with speed and accuracy that no human could match. The image was instantly burned into her mind. Now looking from the top down, Jenny was lying on her side. She had one arm resting on her growing hill of a stomach, feeling the way it rose with every chug. Her gut was now so big that were she able to stand (which from her struggling it seemed for now she could not) it would rest heavily on the floor, grounding her efforts to move. She could feel one of her legs resting on the lower part of her stomach, and saw the way it bent to accommodate the massive blob that she was becoming. Behind her, and making a break for the walls, her ass cheeks swelled, shedding the last remains of her pants and underwear and wobbling to keep the rhythm of the pump, as though the pump were directly inflating her body with fat. Her cheeks had grown to be massive lumps, they engulfed so much of her sight she practically relied on the camera’s view to see herself now. Likewise, she could see her arms and legs (or at least the ones not being crushed beneath the weight of her gut) were so swaddled with fat that they had been rendered barely functional. She wasn’t sure if she could bend her arms anymore, and although she didn’t want to find out, it looked that if she were standing her ass cheeks might brush the ground behind her.

Just as she was wondering how many hover-pads she’d have to buy and attach to herself to remain mobile, the pump shut off. There was a miserable moment, tears drying on her cheeks, where Jenny sucked down the last few mouthfuls of gulp out of sheer reflex before she realised that everything had been shut off. Even the camera stopped filming, its feed going dark.

“Ah, Jennifer... now we see who you truly are. The true goal of all of those PEEP shows. What you never had the courage to do.”

Jenny lay there, in the dark. She couldn’t remember how long ago it had been since she stopped crying. Was she used to this torment already? Or had the stretching of her stomach awoken something inside of her?

“It was a pleasure to taste your fear,” The voice continued. She didn’t even bother replying, nothing she said would make any sense with the tube in her mouth. “Those first few moments where everything was new and scary, wasn’t that so much more delicious than any theatrics could be? To feel your body grow and swell, over time, I think we both knew you would come to accept this state as one you were born into. The start, of something grand.”

“To see you continue to suck down the gruel, even as your restraints failed around you? You surprised even me, at your readiness to embrace your new life.”

The pig squeaked, blinking. She realised that now that she was unbound she could reach for the pipe around her throat. How long had she been able to stop this, and done nothing? Jenny fell silent in her groans and her struggles, notwithstanding the heart-pounding effort it took to lift her massive arm up to her mouth and fiddle with the clasp around her snout with chubby fingers. After a while she just gave up, wincing as her arm returned to her wobbling, sloshing flank with an audible SLAP of skin against skin. It didn’t matter anymore. The tank was no doubt empty. She resumed panting, trying not to drool around the hose, not eager to add anything more to the mess that littered her tiny closet. It was bad enough that droplets of whatever she was drinking continued to spill around her, impacting on her colossal gut with splashes like musical notes. The room, tiny to begin with, now felt like a cage. She could feel herself pressing up against all sides of it. The tiny, bent chair was like a thorn plunged into the adipose of her asscheeks. But she knew she’d never muster the willpower to get up and remove it.

“You’re going to go to sleep now Jenny, and you’re going to wake up on your ship, much like you woke up on mine just half an hour ago. Already I feel like I’m going to miss our time together, but I will have this PEEP show to look back on. And don’t worry, the rest of the Network will have it too. Everyone will know what happened today. Everyone will experience the glory of your transformation.”

The pig winced, she could just about make out the sound of gas hissing into her tiny little room, above the sound of her beating heart and panting breath.

“But don’t worry, Jenny. I don’t think this will be the last we see of each other. I look forward to your next show.”

Her next show? Jenny wondered if she would ever be able to do anything but eat. She could perhaps outfit her cockpit to be more compatible with her current size. It would be cheaper than any surgery, that’s for sure. Thinking about it, she knew in her heart she would return to PEEP shows. She’d probably get more views, as this giant, hulking behemoth. And with medical science what it was, the health hazards of being so big could be managed. She might even be comfortable.

With such thoughts in her head, and plans for the next performance, Jenny drifted into unconsciousness, and the next chapter of her life.

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Pre Chapter-Status:
Occupation: Trader/Scavenger (subject relies increasingly on PEEP show revenue for income)
Build: Immobile Without Assistant Technology (922lb)
Mental Health: Shaken (subject is experiencing issues attempting to pursue companionship with others, due to her increased volume)
Medical Conditions:

Subject’s weight inhibits normal mobility, requiring the assistance of several hover-pads or, at times, a hover-sled.

Subject has been advised to limit her exposure to ‘earth standard’. Her ship’s grav drive has been adjusted by technicians and she is comfortable at two thirds of her ‘earth standard’ weight. Prolonged effects of stepping outside of this gravity field and into a higher one include: incredible shortness of breath and an irresponsible strain on her heart.

Subject’s fat-storage system has been irrevocably altered - 93.59% of her body fat is in a non-removable state, indicating that exertion and diet will NOT reduce the subject’s size. Her medical records have been flagged, warning any prospective doctors NOT to attempt to remove, or reduce the subject’s weight, as it could have dire and unforeseen effects on her health. These changed fat cells are 1.2% heavier than their standard counterparts, forming in thick sacks that have a faint yet audible ‘slosh’ to their movement.

Subject’s body is ‘healthy’. This term is used loosely, for while her heart has undergone (and continues to undergo) excessive strain, along with her respiratory and circulatory system, with minimal changes to her body the subject does not appear to be in danger of expiration. Whatever alterations were made to her have enabled her to live without fear of her weight being a fatal factor. For now.

Subject’s independence has been maintained with the use of one neural linked hoverdrone. This drone has an exceedingly limited range, however it helps the subject interact with objects beyond the horizon of her own volume which her arms might not otherwise be able to reach and her hands might be too bloated to precisely interact with.


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