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The Fast Track - Part 3 (Commission for Anonymous)
🕑 Added 2022-06-04 16:46:08 +0000 UTCTAGS: Weight Gain, Hyper Weight/Blob, Gluttony/Endless Hunger
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Getting up was even more of a chore than the last time, not helped by how she’d stacked her latest gorging atop an already-swollen frame. Getting out of the dormitory required her to break through the door, causing most of those outside to nearly snap their necks in their attempt to locate the source of the impromptu demolition work; this was followed by plentiful cackling once the tigress’ colossal self more or less rolled out of the building she was in, looking less like a person and more like a gargantuan ball of fat made to flop downhill.
She only stopped because there was something in the way: a Humvee. It still rocked to the side with enough force to have its left side wheels fully lift from the ground, and for a few seconds there, it looked as if Sandra would actually manage to tip it over; thankfully, the vehicle was heavy enough to stop that from happening, as well as large enough that it provided the tigress with something to hold onto in order to get back up.
Sweating, panting, gasping for breath even, Sandra nearly ripped one of the doors off the damned thing in her haste to get inside. She didn’t know why she wanted to stuff herself into such a tiny space; any sane person would tell her that she simply wouldn’t fit in there, if she even managed to get through the door at all. But the mere exercise of moving her body around was so tiring that Sandra couldn’t imagine walking all around the base, not now; she needed the doctors to take a look at her and fix whatever was wrong with her metabolism, and until then, she needed assistance.
Unfortunately for her, Humvees weren’t built to handle people who couldn’t control their urges, and were certainly not possessed of nearly enough interior space to house someone like herself, at least in her then-current form. The officer did manage to get some parts of herself through the door: a single breast, a couple of fat rolls, an arm… but not much more. Any attempt to push her entire frame into it was met with failure, and the dangerously loud groaning of the vehicle’s suspension as they struggled to handle all the weight being placed on them.
Sandra, however, didn’t stop trying. She didn’t get any close to a success, but she did try, and honestly, that was all that mattered: at least then, she was too distracted to notice how the rest of the trainees hadn’t been told off or ordered to do something else, but had gone back to the mess hall to get the kitchen workers on their side in order to fatten their superior officer up even more. Plenty of dishes, none of which were remotely appetitizing, but Sandra wasn’t looking for quality anymore; after such a harsh workout trying to stuff herself into the Humvee, all she wanted to do was stuff herself, period, and to that end, anything would do.
Up to and including the trainees themselves, actually. An odd thought to have, for sure, but as the tigress sat back down, causing the ground to visibly tremble as she did so, she took a good, long look at the people trying to force food down her throat and wondered whether she should be waiting until she was fixed before reestablishing a proper chain of command. Surely, if she just made an example out of one of them, it should be enough to get the rest to fall into line, even if it meant having to act a tad bit harsher than she usually did.
But to whom? That was the big question there: with her mind mostly occupied opening her mouth, chewing, and swallowing the colossal quantities of food being handed to her, it was difficult for the tigress to really pick who she wanted to devour. From the available selection, no one truly stood out, a small moment of pride for Sandra as she knew this was due to the trainees all being in tip-top shape: she could eat any one of them and it wouldn’t really make a difference.
So why bother picking? In fact, why bother worrying at all? If they wanted to mock her, then it stood to reason they would remain by her side, deliberately trying to get her to fatten up as much as possible, meaning that they’d still be there when she was done and demanding dessert; therefore, the simplest way of acquiring a delicious treat for herself was, quite fortuitously, to just keep eating whatever she was given, and not worry about why her mind was telling her to eat someone.
It was past the point of questioning herself, even if part of her mind still did. That unfortunately loud voice inside of her head that demanded to know what the tigress was thinking, the same voice that Sandra had to expend a ludicrous amount of willpower ignoring, as it simply couldn’t be silenced. Occasionally it would break through, causing her to truly wonder whether what she was doing was right, acceptable, even moral at times… but it was easily pushed back down when the hunger pains began anew, letting the tigress focus on what was important: eating.
She felt her back crawling up the side of the Humvee as she ate, a metabolism so hyperactive that she wouldn’t be surprised if she was getting more mass out of the food she was eating than what the food itself had to offer. The line of plausibility had been crossed so long ago that Sandra genuinely wasn’t even surprised when she heard the vehicle behind her tipping over, the sound of broken glass accompanying that of bent metal as her body caused the whole thing to crumple like a used soda can.
And she kept eating, until even this sounded and felt insignificant; after a certain point, inches were no longer meaningful enough to quantify, or at least she had so many of them that it felt pointless to waste her time tracking how many more she was getting with each bite. After a certain point, what used to be a Humvee had been turned into a thin, metallic pancake, somewhere underneath her right cheek. After a certain point, the trainees had to start climbing onto her in order to shove food down her throat… and that’s when the real fun began.
Sandra couldn’t move anymore, but this was fine; she didn’t need to move, only be there for people to give her something to devour, even if this something were themselves. She need only open her mouth, and something would be placed inside of it; not her fault if this something was an unlucky pair of arms, letting her slurp down whoever they were attached to and fill herself with a proper meal. It was even worth the hassle and indignity of what some of the trainees were doing to her body further down below; she wouldn’t have imagined they were into that, but apparently a handful really enjoyed her collection of fat rolls.
No matter. They would learn soon. Once they were done feeding her, they’d learn, when they saw one of their own be lifted bodily and shoved down her gullet like so much of the crap they’d been feeding her. Let them think they had a victory, let them believe they had turned things around, for it would only make the inevitable revenge that much sweeter; best not think about the implications of what she was about to do though, lest that voice in the back of her head come back and object.
Ultimately, it happened too quickly for there to be any obstacle powerful enough to hold her. One moment the trainees were sneering at her, calling her by whatever juvenile appellation they could think of that happened to be related to fat, and the next, all of them bar one were looking up, terrified, wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open, as one lucky volunteer was taken by the shoulder and unceremoniously lifted upwards… only to then be thrown down into Sandra’s waiting gullet. The last thing they saw was damp darkness straight ahead, and the last thing they heard was a loud, almost whorish gulp; outside, the tigress’ eyes rolled upwards into her skull as the taste finally hit her, and from there, it was just a matter of time.
It was difficult to tell how the body managed to get through her jaw, but by then, her form was so immense that the concept of logic no longer applied to her. She was hungry, the group needed disciplining, and this is how she married those two concepts; it wasn’t her problem that they’d made her too fat to be moved, but it was her responsibility, and thus, she had to offload it onto those who created the issue to begin with.
They certainly stopped sneering at her, that much was certain. All it took was one of their own being devoured, the poor guy’s frame perfectly visible as it struggled against the tight lining of the tigress’ throat, the bulge squirming and writhing on the way down before vanishing into the giant blob’s stomach with a wet splash, audible even from the outside. Sandra licked her lips, rubbing her belly as she felt her victim try to escape from its prison, clambering up from an oubliette that had no real way out of it beyond the obvious.
Her body seemed to enjoy it as well. She’d barely even begun to break down the poor guy and already she felt herself bloating, moaning loudly enough to be heard across the base as her form expanded in every direction, gaining a good foot of width… and another, then another, arms and legs becoming fat sausages, her neck rolling up over her head, belly slung out as a colossal waterbed of pudge, oozing over the ground until she finally stabilised. Her hands and feet were gone, vanished underneath an avalanche of tigress, leaving her fully unable to do anything other than just… be. Be, and sit there, loudly complaining about how hungry she was, waiting for more to be delivered straight to her.
Sadly, a line had been crossed. Losing her ability to control her eating impulses was one thing; outright devouring a trainee was quite another. It was just Sandra’s luck that, by then, her mind had been fully insulated from the outside world, kept blanketed from the reality of what she’d done by her “knowing” she did a good job… and the copious amounts of serotonin released every time she took a bite out of anything. It was simple enough for her to miss on how most of the base’s senior personnel had congregated around her, trying to figure out just what they were supposed to do with… whatever Sandra had become.
Clearly, medical analysis was required, and for that, she needed relocation; they couldn’t just run tests on the tigress with her sitting out there in the open, and they had been looking for a reason not to demolish old Hangar Twelve. So, through the combined efforts of every forklift they had on-site, as well as a dozen or so handtrucks and a great deal of elbow grease, the immense feline was hoisted up from where she’d plopped her ass down and very slowly moved towards her new resting place.
Once there, there would be no more leaving. Maybe in some remote corner of her mind, Sandra assumed that maybe she could go back to normal at some point; maybe, if everything went right, her extra fat could be syphoned out, the devouring could be explained away as a freak incident, and everything would be fine in the end. Or, maybe, she had become a medical curiosity, and thus had become nothing more than a guinea pig for the curious and unconcerned physicians called in to diagnose her.
The military establishment in general was left with something of a pickle when it came to what to do with their former officer. On the one hand, she had literally just eaten someone, and they couldn’t exactly ignore that; compensations were due, legal procedure had to be followed, and the headaches that came from it would have to be treated with copious amounts of blame-shifting and finger-pointing until an adequate scapegoat could be found.
On the other hand, what they had was some sort of genetic monstrosity who could consume calories on a scale never before seen while metabolising them almost instantly. A freak of nature, created by their own research program, who’d broken every parameter and become something they couldn’t even begin to classify, let alone put to work doing anything they wanted it to do. The other test subjects had all been improved in accordance with the plan: better stamina, increased strength, everything they’d want in a soldier. But Sandra?
Sandra had gone from one of their best, if hardass, officers into being nothing short of a blob, a ravenous creature of pure hunger who wanted nothing more than to devour whatever was placed in front of her mouth, only to then beg for more as their bottomless pit of a stomach yet desired more sustenance. And the top brass would be lying if they said they couldn’t see the raw potential in this, even if said potential was more directed towards unconventional operations rather than whatever they had in mind for the tigress.
She was an inconvenience more than anything, but a convenient way of getting rid of other people who got themselves stuck on the shitlist. Strictly off the record, of course; no one could really know they were even thinking of using a tigress-shaped black hole as a way of quietly getting rid of people who were no longer deemed necessary, lest the media make a whole thing out the “illegality” and “immorality” of it. As if everything else wasn’t equally barbaric; at least with Sandra, the people she devoured could be given a more dignified end, maybe even enjoy it if they were into that sort of thing.
The issue still remained of how to feed her conventionally, however. There weren’t nearly enough inconvenient people of interest to make for a steady supply of nutrients, and that blob was hungry, hungry enough that it wouldn’t be satisfied with a single person once every few months. Thankfully, through the dedication and hard work of their research team, the base’s officers made the startling discovery that, contrary to what they expected, the beast that used to be Sandra wasn’t actually picky.
In fact, as long as it was somewhat edible, then she’d happily eat it… though, devour might be a better verb, given there was very little chewing and swallowing and far more gulping down, slurping, and then shouting the word “MORE” at maximum volume. Past a certain point, it wasn’t even necessarily food as much as it was a thick, pasty nutrient slurry, blended together from whatever cheap ingredients the military could budget for and fed to the tigress through a tube connected to her mouth on a nearly twenty-four hour basis.
Of course, none of this took place in short succession; in between Sandra being taken away after eating the trainee and the first slurry pump being put in place, there were a good couple of months where she had to be hand-fed, requiring an absurd amount of manpower and energy dedicated exclusively to her while the top brass figured out what to do with the former officer. But for the tigress herself, timed had ceased meaning anything at all; the voice in her head complaining about how she was throwing her life away had been silenced, and, lacking any way to move or do anything other than eat, she rapidly fell into a fugue state from which she refused to awaken from.
It was possible as well, she could sense it. Sandra knew that, if she really wanted to, she could come back from it all; maybe not return to the way she used to be, definitely not have a body like the one she spent years cultivating, but the ability to be conscious, be aware of her surroundings, was entirely within her grasp. The question, in that case, became one of why, not one of if: why should she bother doing anything, when it was all being done for her? Why spend even the slightest smidgeon of energy getting something done when she could, instead, just sit there and let other people do it for her?
Especially when she had so many little ones eager to feed her, sometimes with things she actually wanted! Not that the tigress would say no to anything offered, in so far as it was edible, but she still had preferential tastes, and having them attended to made an already fantastic experience into a truly transcendent one. Then again, what these “tastes” were varied wildly from day to day, depending mostly on how she was feeling on any given point in time, with the catalogue increasing until it effectively encompassed every flavour known to mortalkind; hard to leave her unsatisfied when what used to be a craving became the default, yet never once lost any ounce of enjoyment to it.
Thus, her life devolved into one of mindless consumption and effectively endless gorging, provided to her by a military establishment who seemed more than happy to make good use of their experimental reject in more unconventional ways. Sandra didn’t object to the first person thrown down her gullet by a hand other than hers; a couple of attendants had already vanished into her by way of her very rare movement episodes, but at one point, her caretakers apparently decided to feed her someone… and she couldn’t have been more delighted.
In fact, she was so happy that she recalled she spent most of that day outright moaning, rather than just whining for more food. Sandra vaguely recalled seeing a great many red faces, noise protection equipment firmly placed on their ears as they went about their daily tasks; she recalled a few choice words, given to her by a man in a very sharp uniform, even if she didn’t remember which words they were, exactly. And she recalled the frantic panic that came from her opening her mouth and having said man fall into it, along with the ensuing, ultimately futile recovery effort.
But it was all little more than a foggy sequence of events that might not even have happened as far as she was aware. Maybe they were real, maybe they were a distant dream of hers that the tigress had confused for reality; maybe she’d fallen into a coma as a result of the injections all those months ago and had never truly come out of it, everything that had taken place being the result of her mind trying to come up with some form of rationalisation for what she was experiencing.
Or, perhaps, it was real, and she had better things to do than keep track of time or think about such silly notions as linearity or causality or whatever else existed beyond her own need to gorge herself until she couldn’t eat any more. Not that she’d ever reach this mythical state, but every bite taken was a bite closer and three bites further away, leaving the tigress convinced that she was destined to eat, destined to consume until there was nothing more to be thrown down her gullet, leaving only herself and her colossal form to dominate a planet sacrificed to appease her endless appetite.
She’d get there. In the meantime, her physical self was sustained almost entirely via the use of a large-scale nutrient slurry dispenser, continuously pumping gallon upon gallon of the thick paste into her mouth, causing her gargantuan form to wobble like half-molten gelatin with each gulp. Sandra didn’t know when it was installed; she had a vague notion that it happened at some point, in that she knew there was a “before” and an “after”, but with the days blending together as much as they were, trying to pinpoint any given event was… difficult.
Everything blended together after a while, much like the food making her increasingly bigger. Even her surroundings became mutable: the tigress knew that her “first” big housing unit was a random hangar the base she operated from happened to have, but after a while, she was moved elsewhere, to a much larger facility; this one was covered in proper tiling, seemed to be fully indoors given the presence of a regular ceiling, and was kept meticulously clean by dozens of little ones all scurrying about.
Here she would spend the few months in between the first big move and, eventually, growing too large for even whatever that place was; despite the best efforts of her attendants, or at least what Sandra assumed were best efforts, her body continued to bloat and swell with each mouthful, inexorably advancing in every direction. It didn’t matter where they put her: just as long as she was fed, she would continue to grow, requiring more and better containment measures just to keep her from oozing onto the outside world like the blob of fat she was.
And she could stop it too. She could control herself. It took a long while and a great deal of self-discipline, but eventually, the sheer overload of pleasure responses was enough to get Sandra to circle back around to an odd, almost enlightened form of self-awareness. Almost as if the amount of information being processed was so high that it was pushed back into a subconscious level, where the tigress was somewhat aware of it on a deeper level, but could still think normally at the same time… only to see herself for what she was.
She wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. Months? A year? More than just one? Normally one wouldn’t be able to reach her size ever, no matter how much one tried, leaving her without a proper frame of reference for… whatever had happened to her. She couldn’t even see the ground either: through a combination of enough neckfat that her head was effectively sunk into it, and a body so gargantuan that it was impossible for her to tell which part was which, she was stuck in a physical form that gave her no useful information about the outside world.
All she saw was the tube, coming down from above, as well as the metal struts keeping her pudge from closing up over her head and crushing the piping in the process. She was at the bottom of a pit, a cave made of her own body, where her face was embedded in the wall and served no purpose other than to be an entry point for yet more food to be pumped into her.
Maybe there was a world out there… or rather, there definitely was, given that she was still being fed with slurry, but, maybe there was still a world out there that existed without it being entirely dedicated to her and the feeding of her eternal, ravenous hunger. And if that was the case, then this had to be remedied.
There shouldn’t be anything out there but an existence wholly and fully tuned to feed her, and nothing else. All the woes that came from modern life were clearly a result of a lack of discipline, so the best way to make sure everything worked out just fine was for everyone to just accept the simple fact that she wasn’t going to stop eating, or growing, or bloating, and to get in line to help; it was her own form of training, a passive one that was made true by virtue of her mere existence. Much like with her old trainees, this new form of hers would compel others to improve themselves… just, in the pursuit of improving her.
After all, there was still room to grow there.
