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Pizza Roadtrip (English) 2
🕑 Added 2025-06-22 15:42:31 +0000 UTC(WG, XWG, Blob, Feederism)
The bell above the door rang as they entered Joe's Pizza Palace. The place was a classic dive, with peeling paint on the walls and sticky floors. The owner, a stocky man with a thick mustache, looked up from the counter and grinned as he sized them up.
“Looks like you've come to the right place,” he said, wiping his hands on a dirty apron. “What can I get you?”
“Five of your biggest pizzas,” Ayo said firmly. “And garlic bread on the side.”
“Will do,” he said, turning toward the kitchen. Of course, he had been instructed beforehand by World Wide Pizza and Finch himself. It wouldn't be just one pizza for each of the young beauties that day.
While they waited for their food, the women chatted and laughed, ignoring the stares of the few locals scattered around the restaurant. They were used to the attention, the whispering, and the questioning looks. But something about the atmosphere at Joe's Pizza Palace was different. It was as if the air was charged with a strange energy, an electrical tension that gave them goose bumps. The pizzas arrived, steaming hot and covered with cheese. They dug in, their appetites insatiable.
But as they ate, the conversation became increasingly forced, the laughter increasingly hollow. They were aware of each other's efforts, the subtle twitches and gasps as their bodies stretched to accommodate the never-ending influx of food. The experiment had become drudgery, a marathon of gluttony that no one wanted to admit was taking its toll.
During this meal, the first crack in their unity appeared. Ayo, who was always the strategist, suggested that they start pacing themselves and mix in some salad and water to prevent their stomachs from rebelling. But Stacy, her eyes glazed over with the desire to eat, slammed her hand on the table.
“No!”
she said, “We're here to win. We can't stop now.”
The others looked at each other in confusion. Finally, Sofia said, “Stacy, there's no such thing as really winning here. We all get the money if we stick it out. It doesn't really matter to any of us what the others do.”
“For me, winning means doing everything Finch has planned for us,” replied Stacy determinedly, shoving another piece of greasy pizza into her sweet, full mouth.
The argument became heated, the tension palpable as they drove away from Joe's Pizza Palace. They had reached the turning point, the moment when the experiment was no longer just a fun challenge, but a battle of willpower. And as they drove further west, the burden of their decision grew heavier with every bite. Every bite, because even after the enormous amount of pizza, they continued to snack and drink energy drinks and cola.
They didn't leave the van. It had become their refuge, their fortress of gluttony. They drove past gas stations and fast-food restaurants and ordered everything on the menu and more, all to be consumed in the cramped space of their mobile home. The once immaculate seats were stained with grease and crumbs, the floor littered with empty soda cups and pizza boxes. The van was a testament to their commitment, a monument to their excess. And she actually started doing it. Relieving herself in the toilets built into the seats. Then washing herself with the small shower heads on the seats. They dried themselves off while driving with towels or simply the wind. At first, they all used the built-in curtains to create some semblance of privacy while washing on their seats. But they quickly abandoned this and even helped each other wash. The five women even began to enjoy lathering and rinsing off each other's grease.
The drive-ins and take-outs knew their van by now, and the sight of it elicited ridicule or pity from the employees. The five young women didn't care. They had become a unit, bound together by their shared obsession. They ate in shifts, one navigating while the others ate without stopping, without taking a break. The interior of the van became sticky from the condensation of their breath, the air thick with the smell of fried food and carbohydrates.
The weight gain was more than just physical; it was a burden that weighed on their minds. The five became increasingly sluggish, lazy, and unfit.
The van's engine groaned under the weight of their collective gluttony, the suspension groaning with every pothole they hit.
The world outside was also getting fatter as their eyes adjusted to seeing everything through the lens of their challenge. Every billboard, every roadside attraction, every person they passed reminded them of what they were doing to themselves and what they wanted to do to themselves.
And yet they kept going. Every state line they crossed was a victory, one less piece of their bloated stomachs. Finch and his colleagues were simply thrilled with the progress of his test subjects. Everything was clouded by just one question: How long could they keep this up? The medication and the van's equipment were working perfectly, and an endless supply of food was always available. Only the women's will and willingness set limits to the experiment.
But amid the chewing and swallowing, the laughter and the pain of overstretched stomachs, a feeling grew that something was wrong. That this was no longer just a game. That perhaps, just perhaps, they had taken on too much. And as they approached the Rocky Mountains and the van groaned under the strain of climbing the hills, they couldn't shake the feeling that their trip might take an unexpected turn. The five young women, getting fatter and fatter, felt how quickly their bodies were growing and what that was doing to their mobility, despite the medication. They also knew that the way they were behaving in the van was completely crazy. Washing each other and relieving themselves only inches apart. But just as Finch had planned, they didn't care about anything as long as they could keep eating and getting fatter.
The drive through the mountains was a grueling ordeal. The van's air conditioning had broken down, so they were sweating and stewing in their own fat. Only at the next stop would one of Finch's employees be able to fix the problem. They rolled down the windows and let the cool mountain air in, but it was only a brief respite. The weight of their bodies exerted constant pressure, pressing against the seats and making every movement torture. They had become more than just five women on a road trip; they were now five gluttonous goddesses, trapped in a metal cage of their own making. Or rather, a cage they had willingly entered.
One night, as they parked at the edge of a cliff and the stars above them looked like a glittering tapestry of indifference, Abby broke the silence that had lasted for a while.
“What if we just... stopped?” she asked in a quiet, fearful voice.
Maya looked at her, the neon lights of a distant fast-food restaurant reflected in her eyes. “You mean we should quit?”
Stacy nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Yes. Just stop and get out. We could walk the rest of the way. Get some fresh air.”
"Look at us. We probably couldn't even walk 20 meters,“ Ayo interjected, shoving more chicken nuggets into her greasy mouth, an extra helping from their previous stop.
”Yes, but you know what I mean. Just refuse to continue with this...thing," Abby continued, pointing with her fat arms into the space of the van.
The silence that followed was as wide as the canyon below them. They all knew it was a joke, a fleeting fantasy that none of them could entertain for long. They had come too far, eaten too much. There was no turning back now.
But the seed had been sown. As days turned into weeks, the cracks in their camaraderie grew wider. Arguments broke out over who was eating too fast or too slow, who was gaining too much or too little weight, who was taking the experiment too seriously or not seriously enough. The van, once a symbol of their friendship, had become a prison of fat and despair.
In fact, this was a social low point that Finch and Monroe had expected and taken into account. Both were certain that their five guinea pigs would make it through this metaphorical dry spell.
So the five continued, the lure of the twisted fame that Finch had bestowed upon them, despite their fattening bodies, keeping them in their seats. They ordered more food than ever before, their ever-growing hunger and a little frustration eating spurring them on to new heights of gluttony. They zigzagged across the country, visiting every fast food capital. The fried delicacies of the South, the giant burgers of the West. They tried everything and enjoyed every bite with a mixture of pleasure and horror. None of them felt real horror, on the contrary. Only a nagging doubt about what they were actually doing here remained in the back of their minds, but it was buried deeper and deeper every day with masses of greasy food.
Their bodies became so large that they could no longer leave the van without difficulty. Every meal was a logistical nightmare, with limbs and bellies tangled up and getting in the way as they reached for more. The five of them eventually had to take off all their clothes because the fabric was tearing under their ever-expanding forms. Naked and sweaty, they sat in a sea of empty containers, their skin sticky with grease and sugar.
Moving was a challenge. They had to roll themselves out of their seats, their massive bellies leading the way like overfilled water balloons. Even breathing was difficult as their lungs were compressed by layers of fat. But they had come too far to give up now. They were the fattened queens of the road, and they would conquer the culinary wasteland or die trying.
The van became a microcosm of their distorted world, a rolling monument to their excess. They had started out as five young women with a wild idea, or more accurately, Finch's idea, which he had planted in their heads, and now they were something else entirely.
Their skin was soft and jiggly with fat underneath, their movements sluggish and awkward. But in the quiet moments between binges, they found a twisted comfort in their shared struggle. They were a spectacle, a breathtaking story to watch unfold live, wrapped in a food coma, and they loved it.
When they finally reached the west coast and their destination came into view, the five realized that their journey had changed them in ways they could never have imagined. They were no longer just friends, enemies, or something in between on an adventure; they were proof of the limits of the human body and the power of the mind.
They had pushed themselves to the limit and beyond, all in the name of an experiment that no one had ever imagined before. The van, once their vehicle of pleasure, had turned into a claustrophobic cocoon of fat. Every inch was covered with a layer of grease and crumbs, a testament to their gluttonous odyssey.
The seats where they had once sat comfortably now groaned and creaked under the weight of their massive bodies. They could no longer move freely, their limbs entwined and immobilized by their own flesh.
The doors, once a gateway to the outside world, were now blocked by the impenetrable wall of their fat. The five had grown so large that the structure of the van had stretched and adapted around them, leaving no room to move properly. Even if they had wanted to breathe in the salty sea air that awaited them just a few kilometers away, they couldn't have done so.
They were trapped, not only by their own bodies, but also by the vehicle itself that had taken them on this absurd journey. Each woman weighed about 250 kilograms, their skin stretched over the soft curves of their bellies. The van had become a homemade prison, a rolling testament to the folly of excess.
They sat there, leaning against each other, their breathing laborious and shallow. The weight of their situation weighed on them as much as the actual weight they had gained from eating tons of fast food, a constant reminder of the gravity of their situation.
But even in their immobility, they found a strange kind of peace. They were all in the same boat, united by their shared experience.
The outside world had become a distant memory, replaced by the warm embrace of the van's interior and the soothing sounds of their own chewing, swallowing, and digesting. The last leg of their journey was tense. The van, now a gluttonous bastion on wheels, jolted and stuttered as it climbed the last hills before the coast. They watched the horizon with a mixture of anticipation and fear, knowing that their lives would never be the same once they reached their destination. Abby, who had once been so full of life, could barely lift her arms to grab another slice of pizza. Her breasts, once her pride and joy, had swollen so much that they threatened to suffocate her.
Nevertheless, she felt a strange satisfaction from her weight, the way it jiggled with every movement. The steering wheel in front of her colossal belly was almost impossible to turn, and countless rolls of fat blocked the driver's view of the dashboard and the many additional screens. Abby's arms had become so fat that they were now the diameter of a normal person's thighs. It was now almost impossible for her sausage fingers to reach around her bloated belly and get to the steering wheel. The overflowing hip fat from her and her passenger Sofia had completely flooded the center console. Between the two women was nothing but a sea of ass and thigh fat in two different skin tones, jiggling like pudding with every bump in the road. Of course, Finch had anticipated this and the most important functions of the van could all be operated by special buttons on the steering wheel, including changing gears. A bigger problem was Abby's increasingly fat lower legs, which were rolling over her feet more and more. Slowly but surely, the entire footwell of the driver was filling up with her own thigh fat like a bathtub running over.
Sofia, whose dark eyes were now submerged in a sea of flab, managed to put on a smile as she stuffed another cheeseburger into her mouth. The fat stuck to her fingers, which had become thick and bulky. Despite the slight discomfort, she enjoyed the feeling of absolute fullness, the way her belly stretched against the seat belt, which could only fit around her with three extensions. However, her belly had become so large that even if the extremely extended belt could still cope with its circumference, there was only one solution for the incredibly deep-hanging sack of fat that was her stomach. If she had still been able to stand, Sofia's belly would have sagged over her deformed knees, buried under rolls of fat. Now she could only sit comfortably by resting her colossal belly on her massive thighs and laying it on the dashboard in front of her. A mass of cellulite-covered fat was already pressing against the windshield, and every day, the young woman had to lay more and more of her belly in front of her, which increasingly blocked her view of the outside world. This also completely blocked the driver Abby's view to the right, because the gigantic belly completely covered the passenger door window and the side mirror. On top of this belly lay Sofia's pendulous monster breasts, which sloshed around sluggishly as the car drove along.
More and more often, they slapped against the enormous fat pads of Abby's upper arms. The driver and passenger grew steadily closer to each other, while the car's mobility and functions became more and more restricted with each passing day. Maya, whose once slightly soft belly was now a mountain range of rolls of fat, gasped for breath as she worked her way through a family-size bag of French fries.
Her hips had become so wide that she could barely fit in the seat and her buttocks spilled over the edges. However, this was more or less the case for all five of them. Nevertheless, she remained determined and kept her eyes on the road. Her ass grew wider and wider, piling up against that of her seatmate. Since her seatmate's fat was mainly concentrated on her belly, Maya was lucky with her butt-heavy fat distribution. Nevertheless, like everyone else, she was immobile in her seat and couldn't move her enormous, tanned, dimpled butt a millimeter in either direction. All the fat from her lower half was stuck there as if it had been poured into the van. However, this wasn't a major problem, at least not more than the individual weight gains of all the other passengers. Maya's left arm fat and shoulder slowly began to overgrow the window, no matter how far she leaned to the other side. In addition, her belly was increasingly wedged between the seat in front of her, making it harder and harder to breathe, especially when she stuffed herself to the point of fainting. Unlike her neighbor Ayo, Maya couldn't let her belly sag between her thighs into the footwell. Her tree trunk legs were spread as far apart as possible, but her inner thighs and the rolls of fat under which her knees had disappeared still touched. So the fat Latina had no choice but to let her belly rest on her thighs.
At least that gave her a nice place to put all the pizza and other food that was getting wider every day. Ayo, the planner, had become a gluttonous strategist.
Her mind, once razor-sharp, was now clouded by the lethargy caused by the food. She placed food orders from behind, her swollen fingers tapping away on a phone that looked like a toy in her hands. Her belly had grown so large that she could no longer see her toes, a fact she found both frightening and strangely satisfying. In fact, she couldn't see anything in front of her except an ocean of belly fat. Her ass was big, of course. Her thighs were massive and somewhere under her belly apron, of course. Her arms and tits were extremely fleshy, flabby, and saggy, like the rest of the ladies. But the Asian woman's belly was simply indescribable, a monument of fat. Ayo was undoubtedly the leader in this regard, her belly bulging in all directions, the fat seeming to find new ways to creep into every available crack in the van. Ayo's footwell was completely filled with her gigantic belly. Like expanding, pale foam, the tentacles of her enormous belly bulged over everything in the middle row of the van that wasn't already covered by Maya's hips or ass. The only thing the Asian woman's clever mind was focused on now was her belly and how she could stuff it even fuller than before, day after day. With every meal, she pumped her pot belly up to its maximum size until the Asian woman felt claustrophobic and could hardly breathe. Unlike Maya, she could let her apron of fat hang down to the floor of the footwell to at least have some space. The lowest part of her belly was already slowly growing under Sofia's seat and would eventually come into contact with her equally swelling calf fat.
Stacy, the one who had started it all, sat in the back row, her cheeks red with exertion. Of course, it had to be said that Finch had started it all, both figuratively and literally, but Stacy's ambition and interest in the reward at the end of the experiment had been a huge motivator for all the women. Somehow, the blonde's attitude toward it all had been contagious, but perhaps that was no surprise, given her former career as a cheerleader. It was all the more crazy, of course, that it was the sexy, somewhat conceited, and appearance-conscious Stacy who was working the hardest to get fatter. As the days and weeks of the trip passed, Finch and Monroe became increasingly convinced that the young blonde had always had a strong desire to stop obeying social constraints and just let go and enjoy herself. These were exactly the results, the groundbreaking insights into the human, pleasure-oriented psyche that Fatty Finch craved. He and his team had always bet on Ayo when it came to weight gain; after all, she had started the experiment as the fattest and had shown certain compulsive eating tendencies in her psychological profile. But Stacy eclipsed everything Finch had hoped for in terms of weight gain. Her belly was so bloated that it had become a tabletop for her feasts. This was nothing special, as all the women were eating like this by now, but the blonde's belly rivaled even Ayo's, even though the former cheerleader was the fattest in every other category. Her legs, thick and heavy, could hardly bend at the knees, although there wasn't enough room in the van to do so anyway. They were like huge, fat tree trunks. Stacy's hips stretched from one end of the back seat, which she now more than filled, to the other. On both sides, the huge cushions on which the rolls of fat under her armpits were piled up began to grow up the doors and up to the windows. The pressure of these masses of fat was already bending the paneling of the vehicle in several places. In the middle, Stacy's enormous belly extended to Maya and Ayo's seats. A bulge of light, wobbly flab, completely covered with dimples and stretch marks, spilled out between the gap between the two seats and began to swell onto the colliding hip fat of the ladies in the middle seat. The blonde's breasts, once firm, pretty C cups that had often turned the heads of the football and baseball stars at college, had become swollen, flabby sacks. Each breast twice as large and fat as a cow's udder, they hung limply over the ocean of jelly in front of her, which was Stacy's storage space for food, snacks, and devices for gaming and watching videos. Nevertheless, she was always the first to suggest ordering dessert, and her mouth watered at the thought of more sweet, sticky food. She took up the entire back of the van by herself. The once slim cheerleader had become the strongest and fastest swelling blob of them all. A single collection of huge, jiggling fat cushions with a blonde mop of hair in the middle. She far exceeded the approximate average weight of 250 kg that the other women had. The scale built into the back seat already showed an unbelievable 322 kg for the blonde colossus.
They had all become so big and heavy that just eating became an acrobatic feat. Their arms, now thick and plump, had to navigate the maze of fat that separated them from their food. Every bite was a victory, proof of their commitment to the experiment. They had overcome pure gluttony and entered a realm of even more extreme excess.
And yet, amid the chaos and noise of their feasting, there was a strange harmony. Their once healthy and sometimes athletic, but mostly normal-looking bodies had become tools of consumption, each one a symphony of stretched skin and groaning bones. They were a single, bloated entity, connected by their shared obsession.
The van had become their world, a universe of fast food and stretch marks. They had mastered every challenge that came their way and turned every obstacle into a reason to eat even more. They had become a real spectacle, especially for crazy geniuses like Fatty Finch.
Their once healthy bodies had become instruments of stuffing and growing.
Their hips had become so wide that they could no longer sit next to each other without touching. What's more, they were already covered in dozens of pounds of flab, with countless rolls of fat on top of each other.
Everyone was slowly covering themselves more and more with each other's fat, except perhaps Stacy, who was filling the back of the van all by herself, causing the rear of the van to scrape the asphalt on some bumps. The seats had been moved as far apart as possible, but it was never enough. Their thighs and buttocks pressed together, forming a warm, sticky barricade of flesh. It was both a source of discomfort and a strange feeling of security, a reminder that they were going through this together.
Their breasts had grown so large that they had to support them with pillows and seat belts. Each woman had developed her own technique for stuffing food into her ever-expanding stomach without knocking over the wobbly towers of grease-soaked treats on her lap, belly, or tits. The smell of food had become a comfort, a constant companion that lulled them into a food-induced coma.
The built-in devices were a stroke of genius, a way to maintain their secluded lives without the inconvenience of having to leave their seats. The tubes that were once cold and foreign had become extensions of their own bodies, a necessary part of their daily routine. They used them without shame, the hissing sound of the suction that absorbed their excretions was a soothing background music to their feasting. It was a strange kind of freedom, this ability to relieve themselves without moving, to focus solely on the act of eating and growing.
Their arms, once slim and toned, had become thick with fat, each bicep a testament to their devotion to gluttony. They wielded forks and knives like weapons, cutting pizza and sandwiches with surprising dexterity. Although this was mostly a thing of the past. It was a rather poetic image, but in reality, all five women had long since resorted to eating with their fingers and getting completely messy in the process. Afterwards, they could always clean themselves up with the built-in mini showers. Everything in the van had been retrofitted to be waterproof. They had long since ceased to be embarrassed about drying each other's fat, on the contrary.
Their stomachs were stretched and bulging almost every free minute, each one a monument to the sheer amount of food they had consumed. They had become so skilled at stuffing themselves that it was no surprise when one of them managed to squeeze in one more bite than she had at the previous meal. An act that was repeated daily by each of the five fat women. There was always a little more than each of them believed. Their bellies pressed against the steering wheel, the dashboard, the doors, the fat of their fellow passengers, simply against everything. A constant reminder of their goal.
The van's suspension groaned with every pothole, the engine whined under the weight of their combined mass as it struggled to climb a hill. But they remained undeterred, their eyes fixed on their destination: the West Coast and the end of their journey. The world outside blurred, the windows fogged up from the condensation of their breath and the heat of their enormous bodies.
Their thoughts were turned inward, a cacophony of doubt and determination. They knew that at the end of the road, they would have to face the consequences of their actions. But for now, all that mattered was the food in front of them, the next bite, the next state line they had to cross. They were the fattened queens of the highway, and their reign was far from over.
Weighing had become a daily ritual, as it was basically automatic anyway, a nice reminder of their progress. Another idea for the Fatty Finch to earn a medal. Integrating heavyweight scales into every seat of the van had been one of the first upgrades. They watched as the numbers passed 300 kilograms, each one a victory and a curse. While Stacy was already approaching 400 kilograms, the others were doing their best to catch up with the heaviest and by far the fattest in the van as quickly as possible. It was probably a matter of opinion and depended on the attitude of each of the five fat mountains whether it was good or bad to weigh so much. But whatever it was that drove the five of them, they were increasingly ambitious in their quest to get fatter and fatter. Whether they were aware of the possible consequences or not, or whether they liked their swelling bodies or not, they just wanted more and more. Bulimia at its finest, with no deeper reason than to fill their stomachs as quickly and as much as possible. It was a dream come true for Finch, who had wanted to create exactly this psychological situation for the five young women.
The van, once a bastion of freedom, had become a self-made prison. The windows, once a source of light and air, were now barriers against which their bloated bellies, arms, and breasts pressed, the glass already distorted by the pressure of their fat. Finch had ordered special glass with a plastic component and a safety film between the individual layers. Bend? Yes. Break? No.
They could barely turn their heads, their necks thick with layers of wobbly flesh. Yet they found a perverse comfort in the confines of their metal cage, the air thick with the smell of fat and sweat.
Their once lively banter had turned into indistinct speech and heavy breathing, punctuated by occasional moans of pleasure or pain as they consumed their next meal. They had become lumps of flesh, their personalities subordinated to the relentless need for food and growth.
Their world had shrunk to the size of their seats, the horizon of their vision filled with the stretched fabric of their clothes and the endless expanse of their stomachs. They were no longer five individuals, but a single, bloated mass, a testament to the power of their collective appetite. The once spacious van was now a cramped place, their bulging forms leaving little room to move.
Their bodies had become so fat and voluminous that they could no longer see the floor, their legs lost in a sea of cellulite. They had to be careful not to crush their food when they moved in their seats, because the slightest movement sent waves through their bodies and made everything jiggle. Breathing was torture, their lungs fighting for space against the ever-expanding layer of fat.
But they had gone too far to turn back. They had become celebrities of the road, their journey a twisted inspiration to those who watched them from afar. The outside world was a distant memory, replaced by the warm embrace of the van's interior and the comforting smell of fast food. They were the queens of excess, and their reign had only just begun, at least according to Finch and the changes he wanted to bring to the world with Monroe and Rose.
Their skin stretched to the limit, glistening with sweat and grease, every wrinkle and stretch mark a map of their journey. The five fat blobs had overcome simple weight gain and become something bigger, something monstrous but strangely beautiful. Their appetites had become so insatiable that they had to be fed constantly, an endless cycle of consumption that fueled their swelling bodies.
But it was good that the journey was nearing its end. Even if, to Finch's delight, all the ladies ate themselves ten times as fat as they were now, the aspect of deprivation of mobility, hygiene, and living together in such close quarters had to come to an end. The van had been a wonderful idea, but it was slowly but surely reaching its physical limits. Abby's legs had become so fat that she could hardly operate the pedals and could barely reach the steering wheel. She could still press the buttons with her swollen fingers, but her incredible belly bulged out on all sides of the wheel. The thing was practically buried under her belly and was almost impossible to turn. Abby could hardly see anything because her belly and breasts were blocking her view. Next to her, Sofia was even worse off. The entire windshield on that side was blocked by belly fat. On top of that, her belly was already growing over to the driver's side, blocking her last remaining view of her own voluminous fat breasts. Sofia da Luga was practically buried under her own belly, which stretched in every conceivable direction. The situation on the middle bench was not much different. The fat of the blobs named Maya and Ayo piled up against each other, spilled over all surfaces, screens, and fittings, and completely blocked their view outside.
This also made it increasingly difficult to get new food into the car through the windows or hatches in the outer wall. More and more often, the five used the feeding tubes, which they could keep comfortably in their mouths and didn't even have to use their almost immobile, fat-covered arms or fingers. Their eyes, which had once shone with excitement, had become dull from the burden of their actions.
Yet there was still a spark, a flicker of the friendship with which it had all begun. They knew that they had to get through this together, that no one could understand what had become of them except the four other women who shared their fate. They were connected by more than just the seat belts of the van; they were connected by the invisible chains of their shared obsession.
As they climbed the last hill, the sea spread out before them, wide and blue. The cool breeze kissed their sweaty faces, bringing with it the scent of salt and freedom. But the sight did not bring joy, only a deep, gnawing fear. For they knew that their journey would be over as soon as they reached the shore.
The van, their refuge, their prison, would no longer protect them from the harsh reality of what they had done to themselves. The engine sputtered one last time before dying, and the van came to a gentle stop. The agreed meeting place had been reached with squeaks, stutters, and wobbles.
The silence that followed was deafening, interrupted only by the sound of their heavy breathing and the distant crashing of the waves. They looked at each other. But that didn't mean much anymore, since almost the entire van was filled with differently colored masses of fat covered in stretch marks. It was almost impossible to make out each other's swollen faces in this sea of flab.
The unspoken question was written in their eyes: What now? Then, with a thunderous crash, one of the van's axles broke in half under the weight of the five incredibly obese, immobile, female blobs in the middle. Their bodies were so tightly entwined that it was almost impossible to move.
They sat there, the seats of the van groaning under their combined weight, wondering what to do next. The world outside was waiting for them, a world that had watched their transformation with a mixture of fascination and horror. A world for which none of the five women were made, with bellies that would sag to the floor if they could still stand.
They had pushed the boundaries of what was possible and discovered something profound in the process. The human spirit can adapt and thrive when faced with adversity. Even as they sat there, trapped in their own excess, they knew they had achieved something great. They had become more than just five young women on a road trip. They were a living, breathing, fat masterpiece. Their bodies had proven in this experiment how much fat a young woman's frame could hold, how much food an already stretched belly could still accommodate. People had seen what obstacles could be overcome in terms of mobility, cohabitation, and hygiene when an insatiable craving for food supplanted everything else.
Epilogue
It was an act that many onlookers had watched with their smartphones. Cutting the five overflowing heavyweights out of their damaged, bent vehicle. Rescue workers and technicians had already received sufficient information about the situation of his test subjects from Finch in advance, so everything went relatively smoothly and without a hitch. Nevertheless, it was a grotesque spectacle when all the freed masses of fat were spread out like rising dough when the metal paneling of the van was cut open. Fortunately, everything went off without injury or other mishaps. Each of the five female fat mountains was carried by 15 helpers on a huge rescue blanket to their own truck with a loading area. Nurses constantly fed the insatiable ladies pizza, burgers, and everything else they had become addicted to during their six-month journey. Finch, Monroe, and Rose watched the spectacle with amazement and enthusiasm.
After the five human whales had been loaded, they drove a few kilometers further in a convoy to a complex set up by Fatty Finch and operated and paid for by Dr. Rose's pharmaceutical company, where the test subjects would continue to be cared for. There was no chance that they would ever return to their old lives and their old forms. A fact that none of the women would have accepted at the beginning, but which had now become an irrevocable reality, just as Finch had planned.
A few weeks later...
“I can't believe it's Tuesday already,” groaned Maya, her voice muffled by the flab on her many chins and thick cheeks. The days in this modern, clean facility blurred together, especially considering what the five test subjects of Fatty Finch's latest stroke of genius did all day long. Basically, just one thing: eat.
“It's not like you have any plans you're missing,” Stacy teased her, her giggle echoing through the small, whitewashed room they shared. The former cheerleader was still at the top of her game when it came to weight and size.
However, genetics had given her a slightly more subtle distribution of fat in her face, allowing her to speak even more clearly and easily than the others. Sofia, who was lying on the bed next to Maya's, rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, because we all have such great lives here.”
Moments or statements like these, which called her current existence into question, were becoming increasingly rare.
They were triggered by memories of their old lives, when they had run around, perhaps even been athletic, and done everything that was normal for women their age. But these doubts were buried day after day under larger and larger amounts of food and silenced by the warm, fulfilling feeling of a belly stretched to its limits.
The five young women lay in their beds, each a mountain of soft, wobbly flesh that completely filled their space on the mattresses. It wouldn't be long before the actual room would become too small for the five enormous ladies when their fat bags and rolls grew down from the beds and toward the walls. Stacy's ocean of a potbelly had already found its way over the edge of the mattress and onto the floor, and it was getting bigger every day. But all five of them were well on their way to outgrowing everything there was, even rooms and eventually even buildings. Their arms and legs were barely visible under the huge mounds of their bodies. Their breasts were as big as water balloons. Their asses hung off the sides of the bed and their thighs were as thick as redwood trees. They had been friends since the experiment and now they were united by their shared love of food and their quest for something more extreme than the average diet and the average body. The doubts mentioned above were just brief reflections from their past, which couldn't stop this development and their desire for fat.
Ayo, the pretty Asian girl in the corner of the room, let out a satisfied sigh.
“I'm just so happy to have such great roommates.”
“And so much space to live in,” added blonde Abby with a grin.
“And enough food to actually fill us up,” said Stacy, and she was damn glad about that. Having to worry about the next meal in their condition, as immobile as they all were, would have been pure horror.
The room was indeed spacious, but not by traditional standards. It was a kind of infirmary tailored to their special circumstances. The beds were custom-made to support their enormous weight, which had risen to over 600 kilograms per person due to the experiment they had volunteered for. In Stacy's case, it was already close to 700 kilograms. A series of tubes covered the floor and led to machines that hummed quietly in the background, keeping them clean and ensuring that their bodies functioned as normally as possible given their size. Every excretion was sucked away, and if necessary, the devices, which could even stimulate their clitoris under the immeasurably thick fat aprons, could be adjusted so that the five could still experience orgasms when they needed a little variety in their diet.
The door opened with a soft hiss and a nurse in blue surgical clothing entered, pushing a cart loaded with food for an entire week. “Breakfast time, ladies!” she called happily, her cheerfulness belying the monotony of her task.
The eyes of the five lit up at the sight. Despite their immobility, their appetites had grown with each passing week. They couldn't get enough of the endless feast delivered to them by the research facility that had taken them in. It was a strange existence, but they had grown accustomed to it—and in a twisted way, they enjoyed the attention and care that came with their condition. The prison of the van had taught them to love immobility, slowly over months of driving, and now they couldn't live any other way. A mental re-education, a conditioning that Finch had intended to bring about with this experiment. But even his wildest expectations had been exceeded.
The nurse began attaching tubes to their mouths, the rubber-like nozzles sliding in easily. She winked at them as she started the flow of nutrients. “Bon appétit!”
They nodded in unison, their cheeks already swollen from the first few mouthfuls of food. They were addicted, not only to the food, but also to the drug that allowed them to indulge themselves without the burden of health problems that would plague everyone else. It was a strange life, but it was theirs, and they reveled in the feeling of fullness that overwhelmed them.
As the day progressed, and all the days and weeks and eventually months that followed, the room filled with the sounds of digestion and soft, contented sighs. Time blurred for the five, with no reference points for what was happening. They lived from one filling to the next. They watched movies and talked about their favorite foods, their conversations forming a gentle backdrop to the rhythmic hissing of the machines doing their work beneath and beside them. The weight of their situation never weighed heavily on their minds—they were too busy enjoying the sweet symphony of flavors filling their mouths and the warm, comforting feeling of being cared for.
It was a special experience for the five fat blobs when their seemingly endless bellies finally touched. They had all grown so incredibly large during their time in the facility that even Finch and Dr. Rose could hardly believe the results provided by the carts and sensors. When their bellies, which now resembled flabby, stretch-marked oceans of fat in various shades of skin, touched each other, it became clear to everyone what monstrous eating machines had been swelling day after day in that room. Like fleshy blankets, these bellies detached themselves from the women's almost spherical bodies, enveloped in endless layers of fat, and spilled over the mattress and floor. The outermost edges of these fat bags finally pressed together in the middle of the room.
“Now we're touching each other again,” said Stacy Conroy, panting and gasping, in one of the rare moments when she wasn't sucking on her feeding tube. She enjoyed the tickling sensation of the others touching her fat. In fact, the mass of her belly was pushing against the others and was already beginning to spill over the flab of the other women.
“It's almost like...” Abby began, then burped loudly, causing her triple chin and the fat on her face to shake. “Holding hands,” she added, giggling.
“That's true,” said Ayo, trying to move to make the masses of her gigantic body wobble, which was practically impossible.
Nevertheless, she managed to make the other women feel the movements on their fat bellies. Everyone laughed, which wasn't easy either, given all the fat on their faces, necks, and tits, which were as big as water balloons and weighed heavily on their chests. They were happy to feel each other, to be able to exchange their warmth and softness, even though they had otherwise given up all mobility. It was a sense of security and comfort they gave each other.
A while after they had bumped into each other with their expanding masses of fat and their bellies were already piling up in the center of the room, the five noticed something new and fascinating. In fact, all their fat was so incredibly soft and squishy that the vibrations from the devices continued through their loins, buried under several hundred pounds, to the outermost reaches of their bellies. Each of them could clearly feel when the vibrators were turned on again and did their work under the enormous blankets of fat. In fact, the five women first unintentionally and then intentionally stimulated each other. First they felt the vibrations of the devices, then the sluggish undulating and wobbling. The latter was all the movement that the fat-covered blobs could manage when a bloodcurdling orgasm overwhelmed them. They had all become a kind of sexual entity. A single breathing mountain of fat full of insatiable lust, repeatedly arousing itself through its own greed and excitement. They shared the feeling of stimulation, they shared their bodies' reactions to the climaxes, and they shared the orgasms that, apart from endless stuffing, were the only thing that could still satisfy them.
And so time passed and the fat grew and grew...
Their speech slowed, the effort to form words was forgotten as their mouths remained occupied with feeding tubes. They communicated with nods, smiles, and occasional muffled sounds of contentment. The burden grew heavier and heavier, and with it, their bodies became rounder and more immobile. But was it a burden? It was a strange kind of freedom, this inescapable embrace of food and flesh. Anyone who heard this would have shaken their head. Not just because of the grotesque sight, but because of the crude logic. But only someone who experienced what the five fat women went through could understand. Being locked up in a van, a room, or simply in their fat bodies was what gave them freedom. It was because they had been relieved of every worry, every thought, every duty and responsibility. The five simply WERE, floating motionless in the fat of their bodies as if on calm waters, filled with the constant stream of deliciousness that filled them.
Professor Finch visited them regularly, his eyes behind his thick glasses shining with excitement. He took notes on his clipboard, his expression a mixture of fascination and pride. He had never seen the drug work so effectively, and the results exceeded his wildest hopes. The change in their psyche and social behavior was simply incredible, not to mention the sheer biological mass of the mountains of flesh. The five women had become poster children for his research, living proof of the power of science and the human appetite.
One by one, they fell silent, and the only sounds in the room were the steady dripping of food and the rhythmic sucking of the tubes as they absorbed more and more liquid food. Their eyes became glassy, and their breathing deep and steady. They had reached a new level in their development, where the act of eating had become a silent, meditative experience. Their bellies, already stretched to the limits of human anatomy, bulged even further, pressing with a gentle, persistent pressure against the confines of their beds, against each other, and finally against the walls of the room.
The nurses moved around the room with practiced efficiency, ensuring that the tubes remained in place and the flow of food was not interrupted. They had grown accustomed to the sight of the five lumps of flesh, but every now and then one would pause to marvel at the sheer size of their existence. Professor Finch watched his subjects with a sense of awe as the implications of his work dawned on him. This was a breakthrough, a revolution in the understanding of the human body's capacity for growth.
In the weeks that followed, the five friends grew even fatter, their bodies swelling like overripe fruit. They were no longer individuals, but a single, sprawling mass of contented humanity. The tubes had become part of them, extensions of their mouths that gave them endless pleasure. They were living, breathing, eating machines, and they had never felt more alive. They did nothing but grow, and yet it was more fulfilling than their lives before the experiment and the crazy, fattening ride in the van.
Professor Finch monitored their progress with great care, occasionally adjusting their diet and ensuring that their bodies continued to expand. With each visit, his satisfaction grew, and his dreams of fame and a world full of happy, fat dream bodies came within reach.
