Lara Croft Lives Large (Patreon)

Made it before the bell! Hope you all enjoy this last story from a month with INCREDIBLE prompts.

“Enough on your plate there, Lara?” Roderick Cane said as he wandered poolside. As befitting her retirement, Lara was lounging by the pool. The famed treasure hunter, now nearing 36, Lara had traded dungeon diving for buffet poaching. Her days were spent enjoying the warm breeze of Greece and the spacious pool that had recently been installed in her second mansion. She was a woman with wealth beyond compare. She had bet against her own life many times, and each of those bets had paid off. Now, entering the middle portion of her life, she had decided to stop gambling and cash out on her winnings. She had purchased several estates, found a boy toy (Roderick), and began to ease into a life of comfort. Perhaps, just a bit too much comfort.

“Roderick, my mouth is either going to be full of food or full of you.” Lara retorted, taking a large bite out of an exquisitely prepared burger. The centerpiece of trashy American food was elevated by the 5 star chefs that she had hired. She launched into the burger, filling her mouth with the tender meat and garnishing. Her long braid whipped as she moved back to a resting position on the chair. “And. . .mmmpghg. . .currently. . .food schoundsch. . .mussh more. . .appealing.” Lara chewed, letting the grease and sauce slide down the corners of her mouth. Here, in the privacy of her villa, she might finally relax. Years of having to be the world’s premiere femme fatale had worn on her. The constant pressure to be society’s definition of sexy and refined had been wearing on her more as the years had gone by. As her status and cash flow reached absurd levels, it no longer seemed necessary to maintain such rigorous standards. It might be good to relax a bit and let the world pass by. “Letsch jussccht. . .mmmggph. . .enjoy the. . .mmmpggh. . .scenery.” She said, continuing to take large bites from the fluffy bun. Her stomach rose, the ten pounds worth of pudge she had put on becoming more noticeable as her belly filled.

“Certainly, Lara.” Roderick said, eyes drinking in her curves. “I could do with a little scenery appreciation. Though I like to be a little more hands on.” He knelt down beside her pool chair, kissing her cheeks and neck. He felt her jaw working as she ate. Ever single minded on a task, Lara did not stop her feasting. She ate intensely, drinking in every sensation possible. While she was like that with most things, food had been developing an allure to her lately.

---

Lara waddled through the house, her stomach bouncing up and down as she slowly made her way across the polished tiles. In one hand she held a mug of beer and in the other was a plate of pure, fluffy, fried cheese. Lara knew she could have anything in the world. From the finest lamb to the most succulent oysters, there was no culture or palette that she did not have access to. Yet, she could not stay away from the more shallow end of the culinary pool. Her meals had continued to degrade in quality as her stomach had upgraded in bulk and capacity. Lara wanted to gorge on bar food as she watched her body ascend to new heights of obesity.

She wore nothing besides underwear and a silk kimono. Her stomach hung outwards, sloping forward as a u-shaped glob of blubber. From the lowest bow to the point where it started to slope out from her chest, Lara’s gut was an unbroken boulder of flab. She had no extra rolls and no hint of subdivision. It was a clear and clean paunch. Well, it would have been clean had it not been stained and smeared by grease and beer droplets. Lara had not bothered to watch her table manners. What did politeness matter to the woman that could buy three houses on separate continents? Lara was well and truly above having to watch herself. Rather, it was the world that should watch her. Namely, she would invite it to keenly observe the low swing of her breasts and constant bounce of her buttcheeks. Lara’s most treasured assets had grown by leaps and bounds. Her breasts crushed the upper portions of her gut, pressing their soft but unyielding weight down. Even from the short walk from the kitchen back outside, the underside of her boobs were slick with sweat; her stomach sopping up most of it. Lara made a mental note to tell Roderick to swab her down again.

“Ah, I see someone has found their way back to the alcohol cabinet.” The young man said from his seat by the pool. He watched Lara waddle her way over to him. She was no less than 300 pounds. The minor indulgences had led to major lifestyle changes. There were few times when his British lover was without food. She was constantly snacking, eating, or feasting. To make things fun, she had recently started adding alcohol to the mix. The pounds had come even quicker after that. Seemingly, her breasts had sucked up the calories from the continued indulgence of wine and beer. It was a wonder, in their engorged state, how they managed to stay so damn perky. “You know, Lara, some people like to save their fine drink for rainy days and parties.” Roderick offered, hoping his banter might draw out some misbehavior. He was not wrong.

“Some people. . .” Lara started before stopping in order to take a long gulp. The gulp turned into a guzzle as the strong beer hit her tongue. It was not particularly well made, but it was great at going to her head. She chugged the large mug, quaffing her drink. Her right arm lifted higher, trying to find a better vantage. Lara truly succeeded in spilling beer over herself. It poured around her rounded face, rushing down onto her bulging belly. She continued to drink, transforming herself into a fountain. Her kimono was splattered from the drink, a near priceless bedwear piece that had belonged to an emperor’s consort. The woman who had worn it ages ago had not looked half as slovenly as the piggish woman currently wearing it, nor half as beautiful. Though untied, she filled the silken piece with her flab. A few more meals would see her arms becoming too fat to fit in the sleeves or her belly becoming big enough to push the fluttering tails to the sides fully. Already, her butt generously lifted it up and let it ride on a shelf of succulent fat. However, by the time the garment met its end, it would be doused in a thousand different stains; if Lara’s current behavior was anything to go on. She finished the beer mug with a long slurp, the front of her gut and the kimono drenched. Lara looked at Roderick with hazy, drunken eyes as she spoke. “. . .are rather bbboooooOOOOORRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUP. Boring.” She finished.

“Lara, you’re a mess.” Roderick said, his voice filled with approval. A smile touched his face as she started to waddle over to him. 300 pounds of drunken, obscene woman teetered and tottered her way over to her younger boy toy. The kimono was picked up by the wind, revealing the extent of her obesity. Her gut rolled atop hips too wide to be stuffed into anything other than custom dresses and pants. The famed gymnastics talent was an utter wreck, incapable of waddling in a straight line. Her gut sloshed back and forth, filled with beer and fried cheese yet begging for more of both. When she reached him, Lara practically fell into the chair. Laughing, she started to squat down, shoving her immense ass into Roderick’s face. Her ass was wider than his chest was and more than able to fill his lap. Lara tried to dance a little, instead just falling backwards. The wind was knocked out of him and he was left gasping as Lara settled herself. One enormous buttcheek rolled seamlessly into the other as she scooted backwards. Clad in only the barest of thongs, Roderick’s lap was filled with warm booty blubber.

“I’ve. . .I’ve been known to take the wind out of people.” Lara laughed, still able to apply wit despite her drunkenness. “Usually though. . .” She lost her train of thought for a moment, slave to the alcohol pumping through her body. She scarfed down a few hunks of fried cheese before remembering she had been speaking. “. . .but it’s usually. . .usually. . .not so fun for them.” She laughed, hiccuping a little. It felt good to be out of control. She bounced from high to high. If food did not satisfy her, then alcohol was close by, and there was always Roderick. “Come on, love, stop being a baby. . .oooh. . .and give me a little attention.” She reached back, squeezing his thigh. She felt him stiffen underneath her.

“Guess I’ve got another mess to clean up.” Roderick quipped, pulling Lara’s unbraided hair back and kissing her on the lips.

“Please. . .I haven’t even begun to make a mess.”

---

“I had hoped I was going to be the only one wearing a suit tonight.” Roderick said, watching Lara slowly make her way out of the bedroom. It had taken nearly 40 minutes, but her cadre of maids had finally gotten her ready for the night’s gala. Roderick had expected Lara to wear a scintillatingly small, tight dress. One that exposed her expansive body to the world. At nearly 600 pounds, there was plenty of Lara to expose. He had longed to see her breasts filling her neckline, drooping down into exaggerated tear drops which rolled and sloshed as she waddled or moved. He had been marginally disappointed to find Lara coming out in a black pantsuit. It was obviously feminine and well tailored, but did little to expose her body in the way he had dreamed of. While the sag of her monumental gut was obvious, filling both her shirt and the front of her pants, there was not a drop of fat on naked display. Her breasts swang under her shirt, bouncing up and down like watermelon-sized water balloons, but they hardly strained her buttons. Roderick was sure that the pants were fitted and hemmed just enough to prevent her panty line from being shown. While Lara always looked beautiful, he could not help but feel disappointed.

“Oh Roddy. . .huuuffff. . .so. . .behind . . .haass always.” Lara wheezed as she waddled out, fat hand gripping the wall for stability. She stopped to pat his cheek, adding to the sense of puppy dog condescension that marked their relationship. She then kept waddling, making her way towards the elevator. It had been installed when she passed 400, Lara knowing that she would need help soon to even get out of bed. “Sometimes. . .it’s good. . .whooo. . .to leave things. . .to the imagination.” Her voice was determined, but utterly hampered by the weight pressing down on her chest. It was hard to talk and waddle when gravity was tugging on atrophied muscles. Lara had considered using a cane, at least for this event, but decided that would be too easy. She wanted the world to see her as she was without aid, a hardly mobile mass of wheezes and pants. Sweat started to drip across her second chin, rolling down from her fat cheeks. “You. . .haaah.. . see plenty. . .of me. . .anyways.” Lara chanced falling to pat a massive buttcheek. Her hand, so fat that her resized rings were beginning to bite, slapped on an ass that could have been used as a beanbag.

Roderick rolled his eyes. Lara never lost her willingness to play games and toy with him. He wondered if pushing his buttons was her true fetish. She was the most beautiful, frustrating woman he had ever met. “Believe me, Madame Bovine, I’m quite capable of applying my imagination.” He ran ahead, an easy feat, and held the elevator for her. Lara lumbered through slowly, her vast bulk passing with all the grace and dignity of a barge. She puffed and panted, face turning red from one of the most basic functions of the human body. She had become so morbidly obese that walking 100 feet was a dedicated challenge. She could not even stand the entire ride down the elevator. Within the conveyance rested a small stool, small for Lara that was. “I just don’t think imagination should come at the cost of appreciating true beauty. . .in the flesh and folds.” Roderick played his own game, swinging down a broad hand in the middle of his sentence. It hit home, slapping and grabbing the thickest part of Lara’s left asscheek. He gave it a firm jiggle, working to push her forward. It was obvious that she was going to collapse if she did not reach the stool soon.

“Oh!” Lara gasped in surprise, trying to reach a bulky arm backwards to stop her lover. She was surprised to find that her arm was too fat to reach. Another shining example of how far the athletic, limber woman had deteriorated. She stumbled forward, grabbing stool she waited on with hands fat enough that they had begun to lose dexterity. “My kitten. . .seems to. . .have become a. . .lion.” Lara purred. She used the stool as a means to balance her preposterous lower half, shaking and jiggling it. Even through her pantsuit, the slap and clap of blubber could be heard. Lara breathed deeply, willing to sacrifice her precious endurance and strength for a bit of elevator play time. “Come on. . .then. . .see if. . .you’re big enough.” Her invitation was breathy, but scintillating.  She hopped a bit, knowing that the old her would never have been so forward. Old Lara’s sexuality was a thing to be put on a pedestal and displayed. However, new Lara took a different approach. “Clock’s. . .whhheeew. . .ticking.” She huffed, bouncing. The elevator shook under her heavy rhythm. If anything, that only inflamed Lara more. She liked to live on the edge.

“A show before dinner.” Roderick started to speak as he slid between Lara’s gigantic ass and the wall. However, he was not allowed to say any more. He was shoved backwards by Lara’s bouncing asscheeks, bullied and pushed by the enormous sacks of flab. The silky smooth fabric of her pantsuit rubbed against his own, causing sparks of static electricity to spring up. Dominant as always, Lara forced Roderick up against the side of the elevator. The tall man was trapped, most of his torso and pelvis swallowed by Lara’s cavernous ass. She thrust and bumped, gyrated and heaved; anything to keep her momentum going. She put her face into the stool, resting a cheek where her ass had rested on numerous voyages down to the lower floors of the house. Her stomach drooped forward, gravity pulling its sloshing form out of her pants and onto her shirt. Her breasts fought with her doughy arms for space on the stool. Lara might have teased Roderick, but she felt two firm hands slap to either side of her butt.

“A. . .challenger. . .approaches.” She shook her hips as violently as she was able. Her fat moved on a delay, lagging behind any motion she made. She would raise one hip, a herculean effort, and counted until her voluminous folds followed suit. “Let’s. . .oooh. . .see if. . .I can. . .ruin that. . .suit.” Lara couldn’t stop talking, enjoying the press of fat upon her lungs. The strain to speak grew ever more intense as she moved. It was a race against her own endurance. She would pleasure Roderick until that elevator door opened again, or she would pass out. Her ass moved in a circle, her fat swinging around in a whip pattern. Roderick grew stiff under her jerky, awkward dance. One of his hands loosened its grip to seek out stability from the wall, whilst the other squeezed tighter. While Roderick’s hands were large, they could never hope to grasp the full extent of Lara’s soft, warm asscheeks. Constant indulgence had seen her various parts and assets grow beyond any hope of a single hand or pair of hands being enough to truly stimulate them. Instead, Lara had to make her own fun.

“Come. . .ooon. . .loook. . .aaalive.” Her voice slowed and the room started to spin. She was dizzy from the movement, muscles fatigued, and her lungs burning. Her head slumped on the stool. Her butt dropped, sliding slowly down Roderick’s pants as her muscles and joints gave out. Lara started to fall forward, her body uncontrolled.

“Woah there.” Roderick’s smooth voice echoed out. He caught Lara and held her as best he could. She was more than twice his size. While fit and active, there was little hope he could hold 600 pounds worth of blubber. “Come on now, no time for passing out.” He pinched her butt, trying to stir Lara into action. “Think of all the food you have to eat later.” Groggily, Lara shuffled forward, walking a hand along the elevator wall to help balance. She ended up in the stool, red faced and sweaty. Her suit was in disarray, gut hanging out and the suspenders bowed around her breasts. Lara’s hair was a mess, spread about her shoulders in a chaotic tumble. Yet, she was alive and awake.

“Ooh. . .look. . .who’s. . .” Lara paused and fanned her flabby face. “. . .concerned.” She smiled, enjoying the weakness which had crippled her body. She was a slave to her appetites and her body’s inability to take care of itself. She rolled upon waves of fate beyond her control. It was the same sort of excitement she got from feats of daring acrobatics and her many misadventures, now localized entirely within her body. Every day was a gamble, and Lara planned to keep rolling the dice. “Just. . .get me. . .to the. . .food.” She smiled, a strand of hair dipping down in front of a wild eye.

----

“Mmmmpppggh. . .OOOORRRRRRUUUP. . .they call thiscch. . . mmmppggh. . .beef tartare?” Lara, having been safely deposited at the gala, pounded her way through expensive meals. The rare and hardly cooked meat was packed into her already overstuffed face. She had made a mockery of the event and meal, leveraging her appetite to disrupt the night’s events and draw stares from all. Lara was sat upon two chairs, both struggling to hold up her immensity. She had to lean forward in order to eat, her stomach drooping between her widespread legs. The chairs had begun to buckle under her weight, each movement sinking them towards the floor. Her breasts lay upon the table, their heft on full display for the people around her. While still tucked in her dress shirt, Lara’s enormous boobs left nothing to the imagination. She sloshed like udders whenever she moved. They were more on display that the food was. While offensive to the assembled crowd of socialites, Lara seemed more like a living art installation than a person. An attempt at satirizing contemporary gluttony. In reality, she was just starving.

“Utterly. . . AWFUL. . .BLBBLOOORRRUUPP. . .woudn’t you. . .ooooh. . .agree?” Lara leaned over to Roderick, not bashful about belching in his direction. Flecks of food sprayed onto his coat, nothing compared to the tapestry that Lara’s suit had become. She was covered head to toe in grease, sweat, and food stains. The suit had once been modest, but the extended meal had seen it ripping in every key area. Her gut had burst the buttons on her shirt, shoving the hopelessly stained flaps in either direction. Sauce smeared her naked stomach as well as the shirt. In the back, her butt had split her pants to reveal her lacey black panties. Each and every bite did more damage to the suit. “hoOOORRRUUUUP. . .at leassccht. . .theresch. . .a. . .bbbllrrreeeerrrp. . .lot.” Lara picked up another plate, forgetting her fork entirely, and simply pushed the mass of meat and egg towards her waiting face. She then wiped a hand on her shirt whilst guzzling down more wine. She was not shy about sloshing the glass around. Lines of crimson soon traced their way down her belly, pooling in her navel.

“Is this your last meal?” Roderick asked, at the same time pushing another free plate over to Lara. It belonged to a woman that had been sitting with them. She had left in disgust. “You are certainly eating like it.”

Rather than answer right away, Lara leaned over and kissed Roderick. He tasted everything she had eaten, his face pulled under the sway of her plump lips. The two kissed, with Roderick’s hand reaching up her ruined shirt. He squeezed breasts that were fat enough to win fair prizes. One Lara’s hands traced over her sagging gut, wanting to reach under and pilfer her own buried treasure. It was hunger that finally made Lara stop. She broke and continued her feast. “Ooh. . .Roderick. . .BBBBLLLURRRUUUP. . .one never. . .mmmpggh. . .knowssscch. . .when. . . one. . .might. . .end up. . .OOOORRUP. . .scchhtuuck in. . .bed.” She stopped speaking to concentrate fully on devouring the food before her. She had to heave her arms forward in order to grab plates and bring them back. Her face reddened with the exertion, and she breathed heavily. Her ass swamped the chairs, causing their metal legs to bend at odd angles. It would not be long before she was forced to waddle her bulk to a new table and plop down. She wanted this meal to count. She wanted every meal away from the house to be an orgy of food and poor table manners. Immobility was quickly gaining on her and meals out were becoming more difficult. While one day she would be stuck in doors, filling a bed built for hospital usage, she wanted to treat the world to her piggish behavior before then. She wanted the last memories the world had of her to be a true reflection of what she had become. The world should remember her as a pig. An unrepentant glutton. A hedonist without competition.

The next course came out. The servers were almost scared to put it in front of Lara. They knew it would only be used to cause further disruption during the dinner. Yet, there had been no official orders to refuse her. Gritting their teeth, they began to set plates down, trying to avoid the fat which pooled upon the table. The archaeologist turned glutton-behemoth leaned on the ruined tablecloth, even a portion of her bulk enough to tip the legs. “Another. . .BBBLLLEEEERRRPP. . .course? My, I’m beginning to feel spoiled.” Lara patted her gut. Her ability to switch from rapacious gluttony to sober minded commentary was nearly as impressive as her appetite. For as much as Lara loved to play the hog, she had not lost any of her intellect and wit. “Hows a girl. . .HOOOORRRUUUPP. . .supposed to leave with her. . .BBBLLLRRRUUUP. . .pants on?” Lara continued to taunt the staff, trying to shove a thumb under her waistband. Her gut was too tightly packed in her pants to allow for her thumb to penetrate the stitched barrier.

“I was pretty sure that it was my job to get the pants off of you.” Roderick commented, eyes rolling with practiced sarcasm. Though he tried to maintain a facade of calm control, his hands were aching to touch and explore Lara’s body. She had ballooned through the dinner, her stomach more full than he had seen it in a long time. It surged forward, stuffed to its brim. He could see the exact point where the taut core of her gut melted into soft flab. Perspiration had started to build across the scope and breadth of Lara’s body, a true mark of how much the current gorging had taken out of her. What was left of her clothes clung to her tightly, the whites becoming transparent. Sweat dripped from her forehead, her braid winding around her thick neck like a python slithering out of a jungle river. While Lara could put up a calm and reserved front, there was a simmering madness lurking deep within her breast and gut. A beast to be unleashed upon whatever food was brought to her. “Don’t let them do all the work.” Roderick said, understanding his role in stoking that beast.

Lara chuckled, taking a carafe of water that had been set down. She turned it upwards, chugging down the refreshing liquid. Proper hydration was important, even for gorging. Her stomach grew bigger as she drank, its reddened point biting deeper and deeper into her waistband. Not content with finishing off the water, Lara fumbled forward and reached for a gravy boat. Made clumsy by the copious amount of food she had eaten, wine she had drunk, and fat handing from her body Lara’s first attempt at grabbing the fine china ended with gravy sluicing across the table. Undeterred, she heaved her fat body forward, gut shoving the table at the same time. While several glasses of wine were knocked over and the flowers on the table were overturned, she ended with her prize in hand. Lara sucked the thick, creamy, mushroom based gravy down. Her stomach inflated with each gulp, the jiggles slowing as it became tauter and more distended. Finally, the buttons on her pants burst. Her stomach fell out in a wet slap, nearly touching the floor. Feeling exhaustion more than ever before, Lara let the gravy boat drop the to the floor. She looked at Roderick and belched.

“BBBBBLLLLOORRRUEEERRUUUP.” She was going to speak afterwards, but found her voice stolen. Gravy clotted her throat, not meant to be drank in such a manner. As always, when a point was to be made, Lara powered through after seconds of panting. “I rather think I. . .BBBBOROOOOOP. . . will be the one. . .who decides. . . when my pants are coming off.” She winked at Roderick, ready to delve back into her meal. With many more to follow after that.

---

“Rooood. . .sccchhoooo. . .wherescch. . .ffffsssuuuucch. . .tha. . .food?” Lara said, many months later, from her bariatric bed. She had, perhaps, the nicest hospital room of all time. Lodged within a mansion she could no longer walk through, Lara’s room had every bit of comfort and medical tool necessary to sustain a woman verging on three quarters of a ton. She rested upon two bariatric beds, with even their support not being enough to hold her crushing weight adequately. Her flab flowed off the bed, dripping sweat onto the ground. She was naked, save for medical monitors. These suction cups dotted her body like little jewels, shining in the bright lights of her room. Lara had insisted that spotlights be placed in the ceiling. She wanted her body to be displayed as if it was in a museum. Incidentally, the lights also heated the room, allowing Lara to be in a constant state of heavy sweating. “Roooood.” Lara called, sucking deeply from her nasal oxygen tubes and hammering the call button her hand. Lara’s hands were fat to the point where their only real functions were pushing that button and dragging food towards her mouth.

“The massive maiden of the house, always willing and able to call on her humble servant.” Roderick appeared, bringing with him a cart with a sheet over it. He pushed it in slowly, struggling with the weight. Lara grew excited as she heard the sloshing under the sheet. Her heartbeat quickened, sending nervous tremors through some of her machines. The perma-glutton needed constant supervision from health devices that ordinary people didn't know existed. Lara flushed, feeling her under-gut grow slick with excitement. The marriage of gluttony and lust had been her finest accomplishment. One fed into the other in a never ceasing cycle of debauchery. A play of emotions and sensation ran across the flabby plateau that was her body. These moments before a feeding began were when she could hit her peak. Tension would fill her, the anticipation of slaking her desires provoking her heat to dance and beat erratically. Lara loved to lose control, to let her stoic nature crack and delve into pure desire. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, drooping onto her chins.

“Too excited even for a quip? You act like I’m starving you.” Roderick said, preparing the feeding. He drew back the sheet, revealing a large drum container with an internal pumping mechanism. A hose rose out of the top and terminated in a mask. Lara was about to be pumped full for the next hour. By her own request, once the mask came on only the sound of the pump running dry meant that it could be removed.

“Doesssch. . shhhooo. . sha help. . .whooosssh. . . need to be sssscchpoken to?” Lara popped out of her hunger trance for a final ribbing. She was about to be imprisoned in a feeding mask, her world dominated by the constant surge of thick feeding fluid and the sound of the pump working; she could spare a small amount of time for conversation. She had to wheeze the words out, now forced to work her wit in between sucks upon oxygen masks and nasal plugs. There was pleasure in that too. Lara had worked hard to amass so much breast fat that her lungs started to falter, she needed to find as many ways to enjoy it as possible. Her breasts rolled back and forth as she panted and coughed words out, fatter than juvenile pigs. “They. . .whhhoo. . .ssccchould. . .jusss. . .do scheir. . .shhoooo. . job.” She smiled weakly, happy with banter and actively lusting over watching her heart monitor tick up.

“On second thought, maybe I am happy this is going on.” Roderick winked and kissed Lara before starting to slip the mask on. Her face was bathed and swaddled in fat. Her once angular and defined features now lay submerged under sweaty fat. Roderick had to squish the mask over cheeks fatter than softballs and chins as thick around as a man’s wrist. Wet squelching and little pops came from her neck rolls as Roderick massaged the mask on. Lara’s cheeks flowed over its edges, absorbing it in a decidedly amoebic manner. Fitted snugly in, Lara licked and lubricated the tube opening; mostly for her own perverse enjoyment. “Come on, Big and Beautiful, let’s see what that gut of yours can do.” Roderick said before flipping the pump to maximum. The big tank vibrated, shaking with building intensity.

Lara came close to hyperventilating as she felt pressure build. Though a former fighter and acrobat, there was no tension greater than feeding cream pumping slowly through the tubing of her mask. She forced oxygen into her over burdened chest, never having felt fatter or more useless. She was stuck, forced to eat like a pig. Her arms were too heavy and fat to remove the mask on her own power. Her legs, bigger around that tractor tires, could no longer stand and certainly couldn’t walk her to help. She had no choice but to eat and slurp fluid. She couldn’t even speak to Roderick, her mask and tube was on too tight for that. Her hands slapped at her breast clumsily, squeezing nipples that were forming into diamond cutting points. Light shone down on her sweaty body, little rainbows and halos drifting up. She was about to put a show on for herself and Roderick.

The fluid hit her face hard, almost instantly filling the mask. Lara jerked in pleasure and fear. The start of each tube feeding was the same. There was a moment of doubt where she wondered if she was able to power through the food coursing into her mouth. Then, her conscious mind died away. Lara would be swept away on deep seated and unconscious desires. The need to gorge, the need to push her body further, the need to force more fat onto her body. She began to chug the food, summoning muscles throughout her body that had fallen into disrepair otherwise. Monitors beeping out blood pressure and heart rate steadily went up, reaching critical levels as Lara threw herself into the feeding. She was unhealthy to the point where every feeding took a little more from her. Her pale face flushed and sweat began to pour down from her forehead. Grease and sweat seeped from her rolls, coating her in a slick lubrication. Her hands massaged her breasts for as long as they could stand to be held up, a pitifully short time. They then fell down, slumping onto her billowing buttcheeks. Lara sank into her neck and back folds, letting them blanket her. As if chasing further massages, Lara’s breasts slumped off of her filling gut, rolling towards her limp hands.

“Go on.” Roderick said simply, taking over fondling duties. He knew that Lara couldn’t hear him. She was too entranced by the feeding. To the immobile woman, the only thing that mattered was sucking down every last morsel. She would splutter on occasion, coughing as her lungs cried out for oxygen. Often torn between breathing and eating, Lara sided with the latter until her body forced the matter. Some of the sugary slop pumping through the mask would then slip around the sides. Streams of the chocolate cream, yogurt, and butter concoction trailed down her body. A feeding wasn’t a feeding unless Lara was a mess. On occasion she would tug the tube, signaling for Roderick to turn up the pressure. He would just fondle her more, rubbing her wet hair. There was no more pressure to be applied to the machine, the pump operated at the highest strength possible. Yet, Lara always asked for more. Thin and hungry for adventure or immobile and on the break of health catastrophe; her true desire was always for more. Especially if it came at the cost of her own body.

When the feeding was finally over, the pump drained again, Lara would cough and belch for a while. It took time to adjust back to reality. She would come down from her high, crashing like a plane with its engines shot out. Her face slumping as blood sugar spiked and a coma loomed over her. She’d drain her oxygen tank, letting her lungs refresh themselves. Slowly, the ability to speak would return to her. As always, her first words to Roderick were: “That. . .it?”