Heavyset (Random Writing for Araidian)

TAGS: Weight Gain, Blob, Hyper, Implied Macro

---===---

It had been precisely three weeks to the day since the first incident with overeating, and things hadn’t gotten any better since.

While at first the husky was happy to pretend like it had just been a one-off thing that would never come to pass again, it quickly became clear to him that this was so far away from the truth that it wasn’t even on the same planet anymore; no more than a week had passed when he felt that gnawing void develop inside of his stomach once more, and he barely lasted an hour past that before the fridge door had been swung wide open and he parked his fat (and fattening) ass right in front of it, both hands shoveling armfuls of food down his gullet, while his lip ring compressor kept warning him that he was quickly approaching the safety limit. Past a certain point, the device simply stopped working altogether, allowing any extra pudge to start seeping into the real world, and with a whole ceiling-high fridge to empty out, there was quite a lot of it to go around. By the time Arai came back to his senses, he was sitting on a sofa-sized pair of cheeks with a belly big enough to be taller than he was, blocking the view of the completely empty fridge racks behind it. However, and despite the overwhelming sensation of stuffiness, despite the gurgling, despite the knowledge that he should be feeling so thoroughly full that not a single item more could fit down his throat… he was still hungry.

In fact, he was hungrier than ever before, and had to resort to calling for take-out to be delivered to his home before finally managing to wrest some self-control out of the hands of his gluttony and putting the phone down; he was already a blob of fat and he hadn’t even begun to digest it all properly, he did not need anything else in him… something that was far easier said than done. He couldn’t even distract himself properly, given that moving from where he was sitting at was effectively impossible until his lip ring got done readjusting its internal dimensions in order to compress him back down to a proper size; even when this took place, he ended up significantly bigger and wider than even he had expected, a true testament to how much of a binge his second incident had been, now unable to walk through doors without getting stuck, or walking more than ten steps before becoming drenched in waterfalls of sweat. It would’ve been wonderful, and indeed Arai managed to extract some enjoyment out of it… if not for the fact that he was still hungry.

The husky hadn’t cooked a single meal since then, resorting to local restaurants and fast-food joints for his multiple daily fixes and becoming well-known to the delivery personnel; these courageous folks braved the house of the ravenous husky day in and day in, knowing that one false step might very well spell their doom unless they knew to keep their distance. They, more than anyone else, got to admire as their most prized customer progressed from being merely big enough to classify as morbidly obese, to turning into a small mountain of flabby pudge, unable to move, unable to do anything but sit in the place and become an ever-larger blob of pure gluttony, constantly demanding more food be shovelled into his mouth, eternally devouring anything edible that came within range. What they didn’t know was that this wasn’t simple desire, or poor eating habits gone completely wild, but a true need, a true necessity; for despite all appearances, Arai was still hungry, ravenous even, and every bite they took only further fueled this growing black hole that his stomach had turned into.

After a certain point, it became clear that just ordering regular food just wasn’t going to cut it; more was needed, and for that to be the case, Arai was going to have to put in some effort himself if he wanted to get to the real meals waiting for him. Using a couple of friends as intermediaries, given that he was more or less stuck in his own living room, the husky ordered an extra-strength compressor trinket, essentially an improved version of the lip ring he wore already. As soon as he put it on, it was like magic: from a room-dominating, undulating blob to… an enormously, outrageously fat husky whose belly still scraped against the ground, whose feet were enveloped by their rotund legs, and whose breasts, were they not propped against the biggest stomach the world had ever seen, would be able to fully wrap around anyone they knew a couple of times over. Despite this, they were mobile once again, if only technically, and thus could get started on heading to their favourite places.

Or, well, would, if they didn’t immediately go overboard in the first restaurant they visited. Every customer knew with some time in advance that something big was coming their way, courtesy of the very ground shaking with each of the husky’s steps; a couple of tons were hidden away in that compressor of his, making it easy for him to crack open the pavement each time he moved forward, all while his custom-made clothes barely hung on for dear life. Right after shoving himself through the double-wide doors, completely shattering them in the process, Arai parked himself near a table and loudly asked for a waiter to come serve them, before throwing back the menu and declaring they’d have everything in it.

Thrice.

It wasn’t greed or gluttony, he was just… hungry. Hungry beyond his ability to describe it, hungry to the point where every person staring at him looked like a potential snack if things got perilous and desperate enough. So hungry that, even after the kitchen was emptied out and Arai demanded seconds of even larger volume, even after their compressor threatened to break when its safety limit was exceeded and half of the restaurant’s dining room area was now husky fat, he still needed more. He wasn’t done, he wasn’t satisfied; he was still hungry. And being hungry, the only thing he could think to do was demand more food for him to eat, more sustenance to fill the ravenous void that had formed inside of him; the husky no longer cared about such insignificant things as safety, or fitting inside houses, or being normal-sized, or even about how far he could take himself. Long gone were the days where he did anything for the sake of being big, with his base desires having been overtaken by a true and very real need that he could no longer ignore.

As for everyone else around him, there wasn’t a lot they could do about a hyper-sized husky that couldn’t move from his spot and kept begging for them to fill him up even more, a seemingly impossible task given that he basically took up a whole floor just by himself; yet, despite this, their body didn’t seem like it was ready to stop just yet, especially not when the new set of compressors showed up. As soon as the third lip ring was placed on him, Arai was… well, not really mobile per se, but just wiggly enough that he could drag himself out of the door and into the streets, where a large crane was waiting to haul his fat ass onto a moving truck, one that barely managed to starts its engines after the canine was carefully placed onto the cargo space. Anyone looking at them from the streets wouldn’t even be able to see their head, despite all the work the compressor was doing, and Arai fully intended to make that a permanent feature as soon as he got back home. With a few, strategically-chosen phone calls, it didn’t take too long before he had set up what was probably the most important delivery of his entire life: a long-haul truck filled with delicious, nutritious ice-cream and equipped with both a feeding tube and vacuum pump. With minimal work on the part of the drivers, the storage unit was dropped on Arai’s front lawn and the tube was both shoved into his mouth and strapped onto his head via the use of a mask. With a flick of a switch, the contents of the refrigerated storage were pumped directly into the husky’s mouth.

And not a moment too soon; the half an hour or so that he had spent without eating anything had been some of the worst moments of his time on Earth, the closest he had ever gotten to truly giving up on life and succumbing to despair. The mere idea of not constantly scarfing down on something was bad enough as it was, but to actually go through with it and experience the dreadful, horrible reality that was not eating at every waking moment? Why, Arai could barely fathom the concept that he had once been capable of such a thing, for it was nothing short of blasphemy in this new normalcy he had created for himself; really, all he had done was expose the truth that lay beneath, the one he had been denying all of his life. What he was going through right then and there wasn’t the result of gluttony, but what he was meant to be, and everything else had merely been a fanciful fiction he had created for everyone else’s sake. Now though? Now he no longer cared; all he wanted was to eat, and eat, and consume and grow fatter, bigger, wider, every second of every minute of every hour spent doing nothing but feeling the constant, unending infusion of fat being pumped into his body, a body that slorshed and glorped and rumbled and quaked, inches added onto its gut with each gulp, until the growth rate was measured in feet per hour rather than per day. A second truck was already lined up for when the first one ran dry, the crew hard at work adjusting the pump so that Arai wouldn’t have to spend even half a second without having something shoved down his throat; good thing too, because the husky had effectively given himself up to the foodlust that had been creeping up on him for the past few days, his eyes closed and his arms limp as more and more of him was enveloped by a belly that seemed intent on consuming everything that could possibly exist.

His life thus turned into a series of rhythms. The rhythm of the pump, shaking and quaking, its contents forced along an increasingly-longer tube in order to reach the eternally-hungry maw of the growing husky. The rhythm of his belly, gurgling and expanding each time he swallowed anything, encompassing more and more of his surroundings until the very structure he used to call a house could barely fit his bellybutton. The rhythm of his compressor, forced to deal with sizes and weights that it had no clue how to, until it simply spilled over, broke and had to be replaced. The rhythm of the workers and crews tending to him and his growing body, now that he had become a state-wide problem. Everything was a rhythm and a routine, and nothing else mattered but his ability to keep the feedstock coming in; it wasn’t even ice-cream anymore, but some sort of hyper-caloric nutrient paste that tasted remarkably like all of his favorite meals put together. It made it easier to swallow, even easier still to demand more of it at any given moment. He’d never be satisfied until the flow was so fast that even his fattening cheeks couldn’t take all of it without spilling onto his many, many chins. He probably should’ve stopped once the crewmembers had to build scaffolding around his face, just to keep it from being swallowed up by his neck’s fat, but he didn’t care; as far as Arai was concerned, this only meant things were going in the right direction.

From there, things took a turn for the immobile, as it became more and more obvious that, no matter how much the husky might’ve wanted to started barrelling through entire storage warehouses’ worth of food, there was no way he was ever getting off from his house-sized ass anymore; even with the compressor working at maximum capacity, his body was still immense, so much that scaffolding had to be erected in order for the crews tending to him to be able to reach their head to begin with. Even then, these had to constantly be readjusted and replaced, with whole sections sinking into the growing ocean of husky fat that his body had turned into, the sounds of metal creaking and bending as flabby rolls engulfed it filling the air almost as much as the rhythmic, pulsating throbs of the feeding tube keeping him fed… and not just the one in his mouth either; after all, there were two ends to his digestive system, so why not get stuffed from both of them? It’s not as if he wasn’t already a mountain of lard, might as well go the full mile in truly destroying everything around him.

Unfortunately, this did mean that the husky’s face was eventually consumed completely by the rest of his body, and if not for the support struts creating an access tunnel from the surface, he would’ve probably drowned in his own neck; instead, the final destination for the biggest, most powerful of the two feeding tubes was situated at the end of a long, soft, pudgy cave, precariously held open by increasingly bent support beams. At the very end, jutting out from a canvas of fat, was Arai’s face, engorged beyond belief, his beady black eyes lined on both sides by a pair of cheeks so colossal that they alone could’ve given his old belly a run for its money. He was stuck looking at a screen that had been haphazardly set up with a mess of wires and support frames, just barely holding onto the organic tunnel it was made to service; on it, displayed in bright bold letters, were two numbers, both of them rising so much that their odometer-like interface had most of its digits moving too quickly to be properly seen: Arai’s real weight, and his compressed weight. While at first one might be confused as to why the former was identical to the latter, any confusion would be cleared up after realizing that his real heft was being measured in tons, not pounds, and not a single day went by that the system didn’t alert the crews that the lip ring compressor was about to give in, and they had to issue a replacement.

Arai lost track of time after the light of day became distant, his body so utterly massive that even the scaffolding wasn’t enough to keep it from folding over his head; the most powerful struts were reserved for the area immediately in front of his face, where the display monitor was still visible, but everything from there to the great outdoors was kept “open” purely by virtue of the feeding tube still being busy pumping increasingly high amounts of nutrient feed into the husky’s mouth. This did eventually pose a problem, as the ability for the crewmembers to remove and replace the husky giant’s compressors was quickly reaching a breaking point; not only did they have to crawl through a mile-long tunnel just to get to the damned thing in the first place, wriggling through a warm tightness that nearly consumed them both mentally and physically, but they had to effectively climb a literal mountain just to get to the entrance of the passage, albeit a very fluffy, pudgy one that required no proper climbing gear. It wasn’t at all surprising that, past a certain point, they simply gave up trying to replace it at all, leaving the husky to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Of course, this didn’t mean they just stopped feeding him; if anything, after realizing that things were headed straight for disaster, there was no reason not to make it come sooner so they could get it over with. Truck fleet upon truck fleet were driven in just so they could add to the growing pile of discarded storage units, the machinery producing the nutrient feedstock overclocked to nearly its melting point. Inside of his warm, damp cave, Arai could do nothing but watch as the display monitor’s numbers quite literally maxed out their meters and went out of bounds, the whole thing flashing a bright red “ERROR!” message for what felt like days before finally giving in and just breaking down completely. He could feel his body rumbling, quaking even, as shockwaves coursed through the sections of it that the lip ring was starting to give up on, millions of tons of husky allowed to slip out from the compressor dimension and into the real world, engulfing entire neighborhoods, whole downtown areas even, as the husky’s body blobbed out over everything in its path. But still he ate, still he gulped down far more food than anyone rightfully could, only worsening their path of destruction; to do otherwise would be to deny his true nature, to deny himself, and he wasn’t going to do that, not now, not in a million years.

Mouthful after mouthful, mile after mile, the lip ring was vibrating intensely as it tried and failed to contain the blubbery mountain of husky fat spilling out from inside of it. And yet it was still in one piece, still desperately attempting to hang on, despite being woefully inadequate for the kind of job it was being made to do. For a few moments, Arai believed that things could keep going like this forever, that he’d just keep eating for as long as he lived.

And then he heard it.

The lip ring shattering into pieces.

And the planet soon after.