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Off The Scales (Random Writing for Araidian)
🕑 Added 2020-06-30 19:06:03 +0000 UTCNine hundred.
Yet another record he managed to beat, after successfully shaving off about twenty pounds over the past month by following a strict diet⌠which probably explained why heâd ballooned to that size on the rebound, considering how much he gorged himself in the past few days. It wasnât his fault really; having to control his caloric intake so much left him famished, and surely if his body was demanding that he eat something, then he should⌠eat something, no? He knew that his doctor kept saying otherwise, and the fact that heâd spent a small fortune on scales in the last year alone should probably be an indicator that things werenât supposed to pan out that way, but it was hard to ignore his belly when it grumbled and growled for something to stuff itself with.
It was only natural!
Still, it was plain as day that the husky had seriously outgrown any kind of weight goal that should realistically be set for anyone, courtesy of both their incredibly unhealthy eating habits and some spectacularly-effective hyper genes that seemed content with all the work they were being given. Anyone else wouldâve had to stop and do something about being so large that they regularly got stuck in doorframes and busted most chairs they sat on; those select few that powered on regardless would still probably stop gorging on multiple meals a day once they had to buy reinforced seats from a company specializing in heavy-duty industrial equipment.
But then there was Arai.
Typically, a good day had three meals: breakfast, lunch and dinner. You began your day, gave yourself a top-up, then capped it all off before going to bed. Even for plus-sized hypers, this didnât really change all that much; maybe add a couple of meals into the plan, supersizing them of course, but still keep some semblance of sense to it. A routine, if you will.
Meanwhile, the husky had long-since accustomed himself to simply eating whenever he felt like. Quite literally so, in fact; not simply getting up to eat a snack, or having a bowl of cereal, but preparing and eating a meal whenever the thought of being slightly peckish strolled into the outskirts of his mind. The kind of errant notion that almost anyone else would ignore instead made Arai keep his fridge stocked with dozens of spare meals at any given point, knowing that, at any moment, he might want to chow down on something to keep himself going. There was no dinner or lunch in the huskyâs schedule, not even a âbreakfastâ per se, even if he did eat a good two pounds of TV dinners first thing in the morning; he simply ate whenever he wanted, called that a meal, and went along with his day.
Naturally, this turned his daily âroutineâ into a chaotic, messy jumble that even he had problems dealing with most of the time; if not for the fact that he could work from home, Arai doubted heâd be able to keep a regular job, what with want-no, needing to get up every half an hour or so to get his third lunch or the fifth pre-dinner. Just the preparation alone usually took about fifteen minutes, the huffing and puffing required to move from wherever he was seated to the kitchen being so intense that he felt the need to shower whenever he opened his fridge door; oftentimes he ended up doing just that, elongating what were already long feeding sessions into an hour-long affair that only got worse when getting out of the shower provoked the exact same reaction. He was slightly ashamed to admit it, but there were days where he was stuck in that cycle: getting up, tiring himself out, eating, bathing, tiring himself out doing so, rinse and repeat. Hours and hours where heâd gain a dozen or more pounds and end up just as exhausted as he started, if not more so.
No wonder, then, that he went right by the nine hundred pound mark like it was nothing, when just the same time the past year heâd barely be considered pudgy. It was honestly a wake-up call, of sorts; his diet had gone completely off the rails after moving to his own place and being able to afford⌠basically whatever food he wanted, but much like the proverbial frog in a pan wouldnât notice himself being boiled alive, the husky carried on day after day, not really thinking about how much more room he was taking up. Every day was a new normal, even if it shouldâve stopped being such a thing weeks before, until of course he woke up, measured himself, and found he was a short hundred pounds away from breaking the four-digit barrier.
Frankly, something needed to be done about it. But what?
There were two options, far as the husky could see it. The best one, and the one that offered the best long-term relief, was to buckle down and start properly dieting. Not one of those fad things, not just intermittent fasting, actually talking to a specialized doctor and getting something going in terms of a schedule and calorie control method. Finally establish dominance over his own, ravenous appetite and putting in some effort, even if it did mean not eating as much.
Arai was going to formulate what the second option was, but just the remote possibility of having to reduce his food intake had left him in such a state of blind panic that he didnât even notice heâd flopped off the chair and blobbed onto the ground, already halfway to the kitchen and drooling copiously from the burning need to gorge on something. Even when he realized what he was doing, even when he knew that it was just an immediate, automatic reaction to a perceived threat, he couldnât help himself; the next couple of hours or so turned into what he liked to call ârelaxationâ eating, when heâd park his fat rear in front of the open fridge and just eat. Eat, eat, gorge and feast, growing rounder and fuller with each mouthful. Every bite was a reminder of what heâd be losing if he went on a diet, and each gulp was a nail in the coffin for that idea; how could he possibly give up what he loved doing the most? It was unthinkable!
No, no, something else had to be done about it. Something that he thought about in between his seventh and eighth meal (or was it tenth and eleventh?); it wasnât the best of solutions, nor the most long-lasting one⌠nor even a solution at all, the more he thought about it. At best it was a metaphorical band-aid, slapped onto an infected wound in the hopes it would go away on its own if he just covered it up, but the mere idea of having to eat less was impossible to fathom.
Waddling back to his desk, getting stuck in the door for a good ten minutes after gaining a good ten inches in every direction from eating half his fridgeâs contents, Arai searched the most convenient online store for a compressor he could use, something that was fashionable, yet capable of containing the vast amounts of husky needed to make him more mobile again. He found his answer in a series of trinkets produced by one company called Rivtech, ranging from earrings to necklaces and even nipple piercings for the brave and the bold. Blushing wildly while perusing the catalog, he ended up purchasing a single, high-grade lip ring gauged for sizes that so far outstripped his own that Arai was left thinking if his âproblemâ was really all that bad, considering; some of those things were in the tens of thousands, and heâd barely reached the first one!
The package arrived a couple of days later, along with a safety booklet meant to instruct on its proper usage. It was surprisingly in-depth for what amounted to a simple clip-on ring, carrying notes on proper maintenance, what to do (or not do, mostly) in case of âemergency bingingâ and even a final warning not to stack multiple compressors at the same time. Figuring that he shouldnât worry about such trivial details so early, Arai put the thing on and watched as it worked its magic⌠instantaneously.
Disappointing was a word, and certainly an adequate one; part of him wanted to see his enormous, body-encompassing belly slowly shrink back into him, rather than vanishing into some absurd pocket space contained by the thing on his lip. At the very least, it had the nice surprise of not doing a damn thing to hide his breasts or ass! It certainly reduced his apparent weight to where he could easily move around, but that was just for the belly; his bosom and bottom half, significantly heavier than they used to be thanks to all the fat in his body, had remained at the same size. In an instant, heâd gone from an overweight blob to possessing a stunningly obscene hourglass figureâŚ
⌠and he loved it.
He loved it so much, in fact, that he forgot what the compressor was supposed to be for, if he had ever known it at all. The husky hadnât really given it much thought besides âcompress, worry about it laterâ, with the simple fact that his stomach was flat again being enough for him to consider the problem solved⌠at least to some degree. Maybe some part of him assumed heâd go on a diet or something like that, or maybe the whole compressor thing was just an excuse for him to gorge even harder; none of it mattered much when he was just given the best new kind of motivation he could possibly ask for.
With a pair of tits that covered most of his chest and an ass just as wide and capable of destroying doors, Arai thought it was finally time to do something out of the house, explore the surroundings, maybe hit a bar or two, who knows? Anything to serve as an excuse to flaunt his ânewâ body in the skimpiest clothing he could fit onto himself: a pair of pants that allowed half his ass to overflow and a shirt that hid maybe half of his nipples and left such an immense amount of perked-up underboob that Arai himself felt the need to squish it.
As did the many, many lucky people he bumped into on the way to the closest nightclub, to say nothing of the patrons themselves, or the poor bastards who happened to be on the dance floor when the husky decided he was going to flail around trying to dance. While he did end up becoming the center of attention, it wasnât for the smooth moves; took the clubâs staff about ten minutes longer than it should to remind them they were supposed to keep their clothes on, and if the husky couldnât find something that would resist some bouncing, he wouldnât be welcome there anymore.
He ran home very quickly after that, blushing brighter than the lights outside.
Despite the initial reception, there was no denying that the new compressor had the exact opposite effect it should have; rather than mitigating or at least maintaining Araiâs eating habits, it instead spurned him to consume even more, knowing he was safe from any kind of mobility issues as long as he kept within the limits of the trinket. And the damned thing was rated for tens of thousands of pounds,and itâs not like he was in any risk of getting anywhere near that any time soon.
That is, of course, until he stumbled onto another odd effect the gear had on him. It seemed so obvious in retrospect that he actually felt kind of stupid for never having guessed it, but put some thought into it and it becomes clear as day: his tits and lower body hadnât been compressed.
They hadnât been compressed.
Of course they were still massive; they were the exact same size they were before his belly vanished into the compressor, meaning its distortion field most likely didnât affect his assets at all. Which made it even better when Arai woke up after a particularly long binge and noticed that heâd gained a couple of cup sizes and at least three or four handfuls more on his thighs. With his brain tired and filled with the need to eat even more, it was only after his tenth bowl of cereal that the puzzle pieces clicked into place and the husky realized what was going on. Poor pupper actually stopped eating for once when he looked down at his immense chest, only to lunge for the fridge in order to empty it out as fast as he could.
That day alone, he ate more than he normally did even during his biggest binges, phone constantly by his side so he could demand more and more take-out, no longer caring about his bank account or savings. The one thing in his mind were size goals, the mental image of how big he wanted to be. It didnât occur to him that what he was doing was just making an already severe problem even worse; seeing his tits and ass expand to one and a half times their already gargantuan size over the course of a single day obliterated any sense of modesty or moderation they mightâve had, not to mention their ability to put more than two things together.
Had the husky not thrown himself under the bus of indulgent growthlust, he mightâve realized that the only thing he was doing was fattening up even more; underneath the compressorâs dimensional distortion, his real body was becoming a true mountain of fat unto itself, rolls on rolls on soft, doughy pudge, big enough that, should it ever escape, it would pin the husky down wherever he happened to be standing. But Arai didnât see that; all his eyes feasted upon was the fortunate side-effect of his trinket only removing his belly: the constantly-swelling, endlessly-growing pair of tits in front of him, and a rear that was about as tall as he was by that point taking up room behind. Squished between two burgeoning mounds of flesh that tore through the walls of his kitchen and ended up immobilizing him anyway, the husky was so lost in the throes of self-inflicted passion that he quite literally passed out a few seconds after reaching climax, body simply too tired to deal with it after the hours of mindless feasting.
He came to⌠sometime later. Hard to tell what time it was when the clock was poked off the kitchen wall and his tits and ass had both become too big to let any hypothetical sunlight through. Still, it was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he desired. All the pleasure and mind-numbing ecstasy of a body that few hypers could carry, with none of the hassle of having to deal with the apartment-block-sized stomach that made it all happen. Why, Arai could barely tell how his true self could give every building around him a run for its money all at the same time⌠if it werenât for the ring on his lip vibrating.
It was such a tiny little thing, and yet it scared Arai more than anything else ever did. The vibration was meant to signal that he was approaching the weight limit for the compressor, a desperate warning sign designed to be impossible to miss. But the ring was gauged for the tens of thousands⌠and it had only been a day, hadnât it?
Surely, he couldnâtâŚ
⌠or maybeâŚ
⌠well, there was always that possibility. Normal people probably wouldnât consider it, abnormal people probably wouldnât either.
But then there was Arai.
Moving back to his room took at least two hours, wrecking most of his apartment in the process. Miraculously, enough of the electrical work remained that he could log onto Rivtechâs website and order up a second lip ring; how exactly he managed to live through those two days while only eating the bare minimum hundred or so pounds per meal was anybodyâs guess, but the fact of the matter was, he broke through to the other side, yanked the ring right out of the delivery manâs hands and immediately put it on.
The effects were as immediate as the first oneâs had been, except that time, it wasnât his belly shrinking, but the colossal tits and rear end heâd spent so much food cultivating. In an instant, they went from apartment-sized to merely floor-dragging, an instant that Arai would forever remember as the one time in his life he experienced true despair.
Ignoring the Rivtech employeeâs offer to help, the husky slammed the door shut and immediately headed towards the kitchen, finding it⌠empty.
Of course it was empty. Heâd been ordering take-out the whole day. And considering it was sunlight outside, it probably had been a day.
More food. More take-out. More phone calls to every restaurant in a five mile radius, creating a line that stretched from his door all the way down to the street below. More eager delivery personnel wanting to feed him the copious amounts of food they were told to bring him, bloating the huskyâs hidden belly to even more gigantic proportions, breaking through the double-stacked compressor layer and managing to return some of the proportions robbed from his chest and bottom.
More. More and more and more, forever and always, until his tits were bumping against one wall, his ass against another, and both lip rings were vibrating so hard they were having a hard time staying on. The rumbling all around him grew stronger as the compressors began to fail, the husky unable to comprehend the kind of damage he was about to inflict to the city in just a few momentsâ time. Even the delivery personnel fled, leaving Arai alone to hunt for scraps of food hidden in his cleavage.
A clink.
The first ring broke. His lower lip, suddenly turned into a massive smoocher of a pillow, grew enough to break through the second one.
The building began to rumble. Arai gulped.
