Dungeons and Drive Thrus - Part 8

Written and illustrated by myself, Jenny makes a move in her life that ends with, well, expanding options >u>

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Am I fat?

The question had resonated with Jenny for some time of course, even before she had managed to consult her feathered friend Loretta. With the raven’s confirmation it felt as though everything made more sense, but she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the details. Fat and cute? Her? No way. But Loretta wasn’t known to lie.

And that was how she spent most of the next week. Fat and cute jostled about in her mind while her obese belly jostled for space in her home. When she found herself panting and puffing walking down the hall to the bathroom the words ‘fat and cute’ crossed her mind. When she found herself tugging down her ill fitting shirt she recalled them. After an embarrassing moment where she accidentally bumped a plate of scones off her desk with her love handle, ‘fat and cute’ was about all that kept her from getting too upset over the expense.

Clearly, ‘fat and cute’ would take some adjusting to.

Cleaning up the mess of scones and plate was another endeavor that reminded her of just how big she had become. Kneeling on the floor was a chore that started with her knees protesting at the sheer amount of weight they had to carefully lower, the swollen expanse of her lower gut creeping inch by inch towards the ground until the pull of gravity tipped her forward. The donkey fell onto her knees, the carpeted ground thankfully absorbing a large amount of the impact but unable to mask the ‘thump’ and ‘slosh’ of her knees and gut hitting the ground at roughly the same time. While she was recovering from the momentary shock, the obese donkey was assailed with the sensation of her gut, ponderous and huge like a furry cauldron filled with fat attached to her front, settling on the ground before her. It jiggled and sloshed and displaced gasses forced a belch to her lips and a blush to her face. Of course, now she was on her knees, Jenny had another problem - she had to pick up the remains of the plate. Easy enough for her maybe four hundred pounds ago but now? Her gut weighed firmly on the ground in front of her, rising almost to the level of her chest. It was far too wide to reach around, she had to push into it, smothering herself against her own furry mass as she reached with pillowy arms that felt far too heavy. When all the pieces of the broken plate were collected and the errant scones scooped up, Jenny realised, red faced and panting, that she still had to get up. Just lowering herself down without hurting herself (drastically) had been an effort that left her almost breathless, getting back up again was more than she felt she could handle.

With a grunt, the donkey gripped the side of her computer desk, where her monitor now rocked perilously, and started heaving herself to her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was her knees, her back or the desk which was groaning the loudest protest as, legs wobbling, the morbidly obese donkey slowly pulled herself upright. It didn’t matter. She had neither the breath nor the strength of muscle in the end. With a startled squeak, Jenny fell back to the floor.

FLOMP.

“Everything alright?” A voice came from the hallway.

Jenny sat, panting, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face to join the small collection forming beneath her wobbling chins. The rest of her body fared little better, she felt like she was inside a furnace, only the furnace was herself. Every extra pound, every little ripple her blubber made, she felt like she could feel it keenly even as her knees cried out with pain. Clearly, ‘fat and cute’ would require some adjusting to, but in the meantime she would make a call.

“Yeah... I mean no, but... yeah.” Came Jenny’s absent minded reply, words pushed out between huffing pants as she reached around in her pocket for her phone. That act had become more difficult since her love handles had ballooned like marshmallows left in a microwave, she felt like she had to dig through her own blubber just to find her pockets. Finally her fattened up sausage like fingers closed around her mobile phone and she pulled it out, wiped sweat off the screen and dialed a number.

“Hey, Vic? I uh... can we talk?”

Moving in with Vic seemed the most logical choice and really. Her cow-kitsune hybrid girlfriend had offered some time ago, expressing equal parts concern and admiration for Jenny’s inflated figure and wondering if there was some way to help. Jenny didn’t want to be a bother especially, but if she was fat and cute, maybe she wouldn’t be?

Certainly, Vic didn’t seem to think the donkey a bother. The cowsune of course had to do most of the moving, but she never said a cross word about it. Jenny didn’t have a lot of possessions but she watched, spilling out of the front of Vic’s jeep, as the cowsune huffed and panted and carried her belongings. The cowsune hadn’t been spared the fattening that seemed to be going around these days, where once she had a nice pot belly and plump thighs, now her gut seemed like it was making its own journey towards her knees. She hadn’t had the time to build the muscle needed to be dragging around an extra person’s worth of weight, much of it now hanging off of her front, so she was red faced and coated in sweat by the time she had managed to move even half of Jenny’s stuff to the new house. Jenny didn’t mind the wait, and she certainly didn’t mind watching her girlfriend panting and wobbling back and forth across her front lawn, but she more than understood when Vic ended up collapsing in the car seat beside her and looking through her phone for movers. It had been nice of her to offer moving all that stuff herself, but who could be bothered with it, in the end?

The cowsune had a nice apartment, an extra room for Jenny and her computer and most importantly of all a rather impressive dining space that would suit the tabletop group well. As the donkey huffed and waddled her way around the apartment, a now familiar place to her, she gave a few silent thankful words that the bathroom was next door to her room. No more waddling down long hallways for her.

When the last of her bags had been moved into the cowsune’s apartment, the toilet was the last thing on her mind. Instead, as she opened the door with the key Vic had just handed to her, trying to ignore the way it practically bounced off of her gut, she was all too focused on the delicious scents that infused the room. Blinking, Jenny stumbled into the apartment and looked around, Vic closing the door behind her with a hip and waddling towards the lounge area. She was grinning one of those knowing grins of hers, which persisted until Jenny, guided by her nose and the delightful scents she followed, found the kitchen jam packed with take out. On every counter, on the stovetop, even spilling out of the microwave were bags of fast food from her favourite burger joint. Turning to face Vic, cheek fat bunching up as she looked over her shoulder, the cowsune simply shrugged and grinned again.

“I can’t promise every night will be like this,” Vic said, the swing of her tail indicating an excitement she barely kept from her voice, “but I can try.” Something in her eyes said she meant it, as well.

It was a testament both to the amount of food and how slow the pair were that it took nearly half an hour to have everything set up in Vic’s dining space. The grand looking table that would do so well for tabletop games seemed to groan under the weight of the feast upon it, though that might well have been Jenny’s stomach. She sat herself down on a wobbling chair as fast as she could, eager now that everything was in front of her to get started. It seemed like there were mountains of burgers, platters of french fries, onion rings, chicken nuggets (some with cheese!), and whole pitchers of milkshake and soda.

She chowed down without restraint, a treat like this only comes around every now and then. Her long donkey tail lashed happily as it poked out of a hole in the back of her wooden chair, her cheeks stuffed with those first few bites, bulging obscenely as she reached for a pitcher of soda to wash it down with. Though Jenny didn’t notice, Vic couldn’t help but stare as her girlfriend hefted the sizable pitcher to her mouth and began to drain it in large swallows. Every gulp, every glug sent an obscene bulge of fluid down her throat to sit in her stomach which the cowsune could imagine began to expand then and there. She would have fun with this new living arrangement.

The massive donkey let out an equally massive belch as she drained the last of the soda from that pitcher, letting it clank onto the table before she reached for another burger which was unwrapped and demolished as though it were a piece of candy. Were it anybody else it would have been a spectacle worthy of comment, but Vic was used to this kind of display from nights sitting around a dungeon map. Jenny was used to it too for that matter, though the sheer quantity was something new and fun for her. Never before had she seen so much food assembled with the promise that she could eat what she wanted. It was only a matter of minutes before she had crammed enough of it into her donkey snout that she had filled her stomach to the point it visibly bulged with every bite, every gulp, every chomp.

Jenny’s gut, which had hung down to her knees even before sitting at the table, began to inflate as though attached to an air hose. The doughy folds and plush rolls of blubber that made the fatty boulder she lugged around in front of her were slowly giving way to the sheer amount of food she was able to cram inside herself. Her chair groaned and her chins and cheeks were coated with milkshake and burger scraps but she didn’t notice, she wouldn’t have cared if she did. There was food to be eaten. She reached for a plate of chicken nuggets and her chair groaned loudly at the sudden shift in weight, her gut, which had pushed past her knees and was compressing against the table, churned and gurgled as it spread out beneath the wooden surface like expanding dough. As the donkey tilted her head back and tipped the chicken nuggets into her waiting maw, that stomach gurgled and grew a matter of inches, slowly creeping towards the floor, pushing her legs apart with its new mass.

Vic might well have been hypnotised by the gluttonous display in front of her had she not been a glutton herself. Between stealing looks at her oblivious girlfriend inflating like a parade float, she grabbed what she could of the feast and stuffed it into her mouth while she still had time. The cowsune had no allusions, if she didn’t eat what she could and fast, Jenny would eat it for her. Once she got started, the donkey barely seemed able to stop. So the cow-kitsune hybrid tried, at least at first, to keep pace with Jenny, grabbing burgers and downing pitchers with as much gusto as her girlfriend. Her fat belly grew and churned, expanding quickly with the sheer amount being stuffed into it. It pushed her not inconsiderable chest upwards and threatened to obscure the food in front of her as it rounded out like a balloon. But Vic just wasn’t as practised at gorging as Jenny was, at the halfway point of the feast she began to flag and minutes after she sat still, a string of drool stretching from her mouth as she panted and rubbed her gurgling, sloshing gut.

Of course, the donkey didn’t notice. She didn’t tend to notice anything but food when it was time to eat, and there was more than enough. Jenny had had to hunch, leaning forward with her legs spread wide so her gut could push between them and beneath the table just so she could reach the next course. She was reaching over her own bulk, wobbling arms smooshing against her gut and breasts just to try and grab the next platter. She would have failed if Vic hadn’t slid on over to help out, but that was part of the plan anyway. Vic had never planned to keep pace with Jenny - not yet at least. She wanted to watch her girlfriend grow.

And grow she did. That furry mass of her gut tore out of her shirt and it glorped and sloshed away, ballooning under the table. When it hit the floor, still growing, it began to lift her side of the table up with every laboured breath, every pant, every pushing motion for the next morsel. Jenny was fat. Had she been able to stand, and that was certainly up for debate, the donkey’s gut would no doubt brush the floor and certainly rest against it if she didn’t expend every ounce of her energy to hold it up. She was so big, Vic thought she could see her ass growing in real time as though in an effort to keep up. Her sweatpants struggled to hold the bulk of her, splits appearing along the seams. The cowsune never exactly worried for her girlfriend’s chance of splitting open but there was almost a moment of relief when, as the feast began to near its end, Jenny’s chair collapsed beneath her.

The donkey gave a surprised squeal as she found herself rolling backwards onto her ass, fragments of wooden chair skittering across the tiled floor. In front of her loomed her stomach, pushing her legs apart and her breasts and chins up. Sitting down, slumped against it, it was as tall as she was, maybe taller. The new surprise must have interrupted whatever gorge instinct she possessed because suddenly Jenny felt taken by an extreme sense of fullness. She stifled a belch before a louder one could push its way between her lips and looked embarrassed.

“I... I think I broke your chair...” the donkey mumbled, blushing bright red.

“First of many.” Vic replied, grin unseen from her position on the other side of Jenny’s massive, churning stomach.