Ron rolled his eyes at the stream of threats flowing from his customer's mouth.
". . . you better get me out of here soon. I'm in no mood for this. I'm here as a paying customer. I gave you my $12.35 and this is the service I get in return," Gloria excoriated Ron, "I demand to have my full hour at the buffet, no matter how long this takes."
Her soprano voice might be pleasant if it were used for anything other than a shrill nagging. And how he hated her Long Island accent. Ronald never dealt with this before, though he should have predicted it from her. He analyzed the situation: Gloria was so goddamn fat that she was literally wedged in his restaurant's entrance. His two best waiters, fairly large men, were on the other side of the door, trying to push her through, but her big ass would yield no quarter.
". . . I should contact the Better Business Bureau. In fact, if I'm not out of here right now I'm gonna . . ."
For the past month Gloria would come to his Sunday morning All-You-Can-Eat-Hour buffet and complain about this and that. No matter how bad she said the food was, she always ate seconds, thirds, or fourths of it. She didn't tip. She left a mess. She broke two chairs. She ate more food than his other customers combined. Over four weeks, she had blimped to her current size, and by now, Ron had hoped she would be too big to walk, but again, here she was.
". . . no way to treat a paying customer. Wait until I tell the papers . . ." He tried to think, but she wouldn't shut up.
Each time the two men pushed, they just sank into the ample flesh of her posterior; her flab would spread, and her hips would flare even wider. So they couldn't just push her through.
". . . a poor, hungry woman, and you've trapped me, bonded me, in your door. Bondage, you pervert! You . . ."
He tried to grab a roll of belly flesh and pull, but her round stomach was soft and swollen, as though she was already full. Curious. She had love handles over her enormous hips, but no real hand holds. He couldn't grab her breasts; she'd scream bloody murder and he might hurt her, as much as he relished the thought. Alright, a new idea . . .
"My husband is a lawyer. I will sue you, no doubt about it . . ."
He used the back exit to trade places with his waiters. They each held one of Gloria's arms and pulled, while Ron, now at her back, held her butt, and instead of pushing, he squeezed her flabby ass cheeks together. Gloria's ass stuck out so far that he had to in a bear hug it, like holding on to two overstuffed bean bag chairs. Ron feared for his back. He heaved armfuls of quivering blubber together, and compressed her butt just enough to slide it through. She slowly but surely became free of the doorway with the pull of the waiters.
Letting her buttock flesh drop and bounce, Ron rounded Gloria and faced her yammering maw once more.
". . . I will take you to court, except under one condition. I've decided this for your sake, Roger, because your poor establishment couldn't take the legal pounding it deserves. I'm a patient woman, Robert, and forgiving, when it's deserved. So if you allow me to eat here for free until I say I'm full, every Sunday, I'll let this go. There, I knew we'd reach an agreement. Show me to my seat, Roland."
Her gluttony would put him in a difficult financial situation, but he wanted her to just stop talking already!
She slowly waddled to her seating area, a specially cleared space nearest the buffets and dessert carousels. Under the din of her complaining about the furniture and chairs, customers and service, Ron thought he could hear her body sloshing and digesting, as each barrel-like thigh struggled to pass by the other, and he realized that she had glutted very recently. Even between her complaints, her round body filled the air with its quivers and jiggles, sloshing and groaning.
He set her at a special bench supported by bricks that he made after she broke his chairs last week. Oh, how Gloria bitched when those chairs broke. His compromise then was to allow her to be waited on for the price of a buffet. Flab billowed onto the bench and she prepared herself for her meal, straightening out her dress. "Just begin with some of everything, as usual. Hopefully you can get at least that right."
Ron placed a platter of his fattiest foods in front of her, weighing down the table and occupying its surface. He didn't bother with plates anymore, because he would have to make more trips. She began shoveling the pile of greasy comestibles into her waiting maw. She ate through the first platter brazenly, but began slowing down before the second platter was halfway done. Those pounds of food she ingested didn't seem to agree with her. As she finished tray two slowly, she placed her hands on her stomach in front of her and cradled its blubbery mass, leaving small grease prints on the hemisphere of her belly. Her body was visibly fatter and audibly trying to deal with the many pounds of food just ingested.
"I *uuuuuurrrp* should have known, Reginald, that this food would give me indigestion. Why just earlier I sated myself at another buffet and I felt fine. If I can't be satisfied here *gurgle* then I shall indeed bring the authorities down on you for your behavior- *beeellllllch*" Ron tuned her out as it dawned on him: he knew how to shut her up! "As I *gurgle* was saying about indiges-"
Before he even set it down, she was digging into the heaping tray of steaks, sausages, and bacon. Ron saw that her hips widened under her bulk as she slowly finished the tray. She once more cradled her growing belly gingerly, as though in pain.
"How positively dissatisfying. *burrp* I can't say I've . . ." Ron realized that as long as food was within reach, she wouldn't speak, complain, nag, and yell. Oh, and how shrill her voice was when she raised it!
He piled more food onto the trays and troughs and made sure there was no intermission between each one. She fell to, eating through four, five, six heaping platters. Gloria, for her part, ate faster and faster, forcing food into her craw even when her mouth was full. She pushed waffles and bread rolls into her mouth with one hand and steaks and pot pies with the other. Pancakes, omelettes, pastries, pasta, all forced down her throat. She consumed prodigiously and with no decorum. Utensils were used sparingly, and napkins never. Ron was pleased with one thing: when her mouth was full, she couldn't speak.
She was simply dressed for the season, as usual. Her knee-length dress buttoned in front and hugged her expansive curves. But today her dress was tighter than usual, and each mouthful tightened it that much more. Her buttons strained and some popped on her sixth platter, revealing a skirt-length slip.
Ron gaped as he saw her physically grow. Pound after pound of food literally piled on pounds of fat. Her hips spread and butt filled further with each swallow. Her breasts protruded before her, distending slowly. They rested on her bloated belly and began interfering as she reached the table in front of her.
The experience was audiovisual. Gloria's body gurgled with each influx of greasy food. Her thighs were a sea of fat, rippling under their own growth, lapping against each other with each jiggling expansion. Her thighs thickened along with her widening hips, curving back into a billowing rump. Her butt wasn't just jutting out further, in fact, it was filling up and making her taller as her weight spread out above it. Food splashed onto her burgeoning breasts, grease rolling down her cleavage. Her belly squealed and flowed outward as she gorged. Were its whines protests or pangs? As she fattened, her dress tore asunder, leaving her in her slip, taut and audibly stretching.
Now on her twelfth platter, her belly surged and knocked the table forward. "Reginald, I thought we had an agreement! I need to eat or--" Ron placed two more trays on her gut, and she instinctively stuffed her mouth, cutting herself off mid-sentence. Her rate of comsumption was increasing beyond what she could easily swallow, so she force-fed herself. Instead of spending time chewing, she merely placed her hands on the food spilling out and shoved it down her throat. She mercilessly packed her face, now covered in grease and splattered with creams and sauces from jamming so much into her jaws.
Tray fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Ron stared, transfixed and a tad disgusted. Hundreds of pounds of food entered her body, converting her into a mountain of flesh. Her haunches were so vast that her bench was lost beneath them. Her massive ass made her almost as tall as her 5'7" height, but kept her wider then even that. Gloria's thighs were each larger in girth than she was before her meal. They were so swollen that her feet barely projected from their quivering bulk, merging her calves and ankles to their hemispherical masses.
Ron worried that she would complain, and supplied more food from a catered lunch for two hundred. Her cleavage was a natural trough and she merely had to use her fat arms to funnel the food toward her. She seemed to have no reaction to her body's changes. Gloria was oblivious to the fact that her chin rested between her breasts and that her belly could have fit two of her former selves inside of it.
Each new food item seemed to add excess weight to her form. Gloria swelled into hemispheres of different sizes, resting on her inhumanly gargantuan rump. Beneath her forgiving slip, her body ballooned, preserving the curves of her breasts, buttocks and thighs as though surface features on a small, hilly planet. Her enormous thighs were barely distinguishable from her haunches, and her posterior expansion raised her and widened her further. Her belly was so full that it could not sag and though it projected past the mounds of her outstretched legs, it did not cover them. In fact, as she consumed, her body began growing rounder. The rolls and folds typical of the obese curved out. Presumably, every inch of skin was needed to contain the size of her burgeoning form.
Her arms were so swollen and heavy that Ron realized she hadn't been able to feed herself for some time now. She was merely swallowing whole the last two parties' worth of food. Her belly groaned with each attempt at chewing. She suddenly seemed to realize the implications of her predicament. Her brow creased and she fretted, immobile. Her body was so stuffed that even its natural jiggling was stifled. Her face was over-filled with food, spilling onto her cleavage, but she could not swallow under her own power. Painfully stuffed, she seemed unable to fill herself further. Gloria's shrill moaning was drowned out by the complaining squeals of her body. She suddenly was aware of the fat squeezing into every available inch of her form, threatening her integrity. She couldn't even reach forward to rub her pained belly; her arms were pinned by their own roundness.
Over the rise of her breasts, she saw Ron's face appear. Standing on a table in front of her gut, he leaned onto her and smiled. She was suddenly aware of the pressure of his thin weight on her belly and her eyes widened at the possibilities.
"Well now," said Ron, over the creaking protests of her body. "You still haven't said if you're full." Gloria's eyebrows rose in panic. "Let's hear what you have to say..."
Ron slowly pushed the sandwiches, burgers, and other foodstuffs into Gloria's maw. Her body complained and Gloria followed suit. Hot tears welled onto her fat cheeks, as Ron struggled to force the remaining food past her lips. Slowly, slowly, she consumed the excess, until she squeezed her full lips into a pout between her puffed cheeks. Ron's effort had merely filled her face; she hadn't swallowed everything yet. With a long, slow gulp, she heard a tear, and realized that it was her slip that gave out, not her belly. She could not even purse her lips, for her cheeks were so round that they afforded no such flexibility. Slowly, slowly, her body swelled outwards in all directions. She could feel the tingling pressure, but was unable to see the skin so tight that she no longer jiggled, but pulsated with each bite swallowed.
She could barely move her lips, but she parted them ever so slightly to speak, and belched instead, for her gut was trying to relieve pressure in any way possible. It was all she could do to sit, lolling in the nude. Her body was still growing around her. She could see her cheeks slowly swelling and beyond them the curves of her breasts rising. She opened her mouth once more to speak, but instead gurgled and burped again.
She focused on Ron, whom she suddenly noticed was holding a piece of cake, heaped with whipped cream. Her eyes widened again and she belched in fear.
Ron looked at her belly, stretched out before him, subtly, almost unnoticeably distending further. He grinned, "Are you full? I have to hear you say it." The pressure against her cheeks and breasts caused her to wince as Gloria tried in vain to move any part of her. She felt that any sudden move could push her past her limit, and her body, still slowly growing, squealed in agreement.
"I think you could hold some more, Gloria." Ron gingerly poked his finger into her belly ever so slightly. Gloria felt the pressure increase and subside as he prodded his finger into and out of her fat, and she tried deperately to scream. He could no longer reach her mouth past her gut, though, even on the table. He descended and disappeared from her view.
Suddenly, Gloria felt the pressure of hands on her planetary ass. She panicked again as she found herself slowly rolling forward. While moving, she heard and felt the sloshing of her lard rearranging and feared the worst. She was like a vastly over-filled water balloon, and her pulpy blubber filling moved freely within her expanded form. The pressure of her bulk was now mostly on her thighs and belly, but her fatty insides shifted into her haunches and pushed her buttocks farther outwards and upwards, taking the strain from her belly. She felt her towering ass push the ceiling tiles upwards, thankfully allowing her room to grow.
Her face was now just above eye level with a smiling Ron, standing just beyond her gigantic boobs. "I hope you saved room for dessert."
He placed the healthy serving of pie just in front of her lips. She tried to move her face back, to avoid fate in some way, but the tasty cream loomed before her mouth. Mouth watering, she could not help but open her lips as barely as she could to just taste the confection. Ron pulled it away.
"I think you've had enough, Gloria. You're right. I wouldn't want to give you indigestion." Gloria moaned louder than her belly. Her desire for the dessert fought against the painful throb of her body and she was caught in a catch-22.
But before she could decide, Ron pushed the pie between her lips. "Oh, Gloria, you know what's best. Here, I knew you had room."
Gloria's full lips parted, and though she couldn't take any more food in, she was powerless to refuse the treat, even desirous of it. She felt . . . tight. Her eyes watered at the strain of her skin as Ron pushed the pie into her lips, smearing her face and filling her mouth with this last fattening bite. Fattening still, her cheeks and chin no longer appeared to be rolls, but rather simply rose out of her round body. Her cheeks strained to contain this mouthful, so she pursed her lips to prevent it from spewing out of her. She didn't notice Ron escape from her view as her surging of new fat had no room to sag or quarter to yield to gravity, and her form rose as a swelling balloon.
She slowly, carefully, and painfully began swallowing her dessert. Droplets of cream escaped her lips until she finally managed to mush the pie down her throat and into her body.
Gloria's eyes widened as the feeling of satiety set in for a brief moment. Her body ceased being able to bloat any further. She felt a sharp strain stretching from her butt, across her hips, around her belly, down her thighs, and around her nipples. The sound of moaning and gurgling was drowned out by the rubbery squeal of her skin reaching its breaking point. Gloria's face registered surprise as whipped cream welled back up and escaped her lips under the intense pressure. With a deafening pop, Gloria burst, her body rupturing under the internal pressure of her tonnage.
The explosive sound dissipated into the fury of fatty globules impacting on walls, floors, and ceilings. The wet sound of heavy sponges echoed in the room and slowly quieted down as her innards settled. Ron emerged from the back room, surveying the gruesome scene. He stepped out between splatters of lard and heaping mounds of food. The husk of Gloria's frame slowly collapsed into itself at the epicenter of the mess. Ron smiled and finally enjoyed the serene quiet.