Buffet S***: Chapter 3

Lyla barely acknowledged Sable’s departure and continued to gorge herself, polishing off the rest of the Chinese food and beginning on the pasta. The dish was so heavy, the cream sauce almost overwhelmingly decadent, and Lyla slowed down slightly for the first time since taking her first bite of pizza. She refused to acquiesce to her fullness, however, and continued to push herself, actually picking up speed and clearing the entire tray before Sable returned. 

Her waitress found her groaning in pain once more, burping uncontrollably as she made her way through her second loaf of garlic bread and Sable's eyes widened. 

“Wow. It looks like it's my lucky day,” Sable marveled. “I’ve never seen one like you. You might just break the record.”

Lyla burped, acutely aware of the way her double chin was pressing into her thick, fatty neck. She burped again, then once more, making no attempt to cover her mouth in a semblance of courtesy, and crammed the last of the bread into her mouth, chewing heavily. 

“More,” she grunted, and Sable grinned. 

“Good girl,” Sable cooed. “That's what I like to hear. We’re gonna have to roll you out of here, aren't we?”

Lyla burped again in response and Sable laughed, looking to their left as two more waitresses approached with trays. 

“And here's the entertainment,” Sable announced as the food approached. “Thanks girls! Keep ‘em coming.”

“Here's what you're gonna do fatty. I'm gonna place an assortment of food in front of you, and you tell me the holiday or occasion where you’d be most likely to eat that combination. Are you ready? We’ll start off easy. Eat everything, then tell me the spread. Go.”

A full turkey, a family-sized portion of mashed potatoes, a tray of mac and cheese, 12 buttered rolls, an entire pitcher full of gravy, and a sweet potato casserole sat in front of the now-obese Lyla, her body prominently displaying every stray calorie she’d forced down since first sitting in the booth. Her pants were now gripping her hips as tightly while unbuttoned as they’d gripped her belly when buttoned, and her shirt had given up on its task entirely, riding up her quickly developing double belly until it was tucked fully underneath her heavy sagging tits and cutting off her circulation in her fatty upper arms. Her belly was just inches away from pressing into the booth's table and her entire body felt so alien like she’d slipped on an impossibly weighty suit of blubber. 

She let out another low burp and grabbed the turkey in both hands, tearing into it like a carnivore on the prowl. She made quick work of the spread, her weight surging past 350 as she did so, and once it was completed she leaned back in her chair, trying to alleviate the pressure from the table pushing into the center of her gut, the fatty lower roll trapped beneath and pushing towards her thighs while the plush upper roll oozed onto the table. 

“God piggy, I barely recognize you,” Sable breathed. “You would barely recognize you. You’re nothing but a fat pile of useless blubber, aren't you? Too fat to resist, too fat to do anything besides stuff your face, huh?”

Lyla burped, her only consistent response as she grew fatter and lazier, and Sable laughed at her once more. 

“And what holiday was that piggy?” Sable asked. 

Lyla burped once more and gave the upper roll of her belly a few repositioning jiggles with her fat fingers, trying to alleviate some of the pressure brought on by her swollen, heavy tits resting on the crest of her gut. 

“Thanksgiving,” she responded, stifling another burp. 

“Perfect,” Sable praised. “Next?”

They worked their way through the year's notable events, Lyla putting away a mountain of barbeque for the 4th of July, an entire ham for Christmas, enough chocolate to supply Willy Wonka's factory for Valentines Day, and finally, to trip her up, a cake frosted like the globe, leaving her stumped until Sable finally revealed that the final holiday was earth day. 

The completion of those five separate feasts had blown Lyla up so quickly she was struggling to feed herself, and Sable pressed into the booth with her to rub and caress her ever-burgeoning blubber, the space desperately undersized for the two fatties. 

“Let's get you out of this tight little booth and onto the scale, huh piggy?”

“No,” Lyla panted, struggling to breathe. “No, I want more.” 

“Oh, I know you do porky. I’m not gonna let you go hungry,” Sable promised. “But first we have to get you out of here. Don't you realize you’re stuck?”

Lyla attempted to move and found that she couldn't budge an inch in either direction, her fat exploding underneath and above the table like it had been built around her. 

Fighting to free herself was like a bucket of cold water to the face and Lyla suddenly found herself frantic, desperate to extract her impossibly fattened body from the booth but helpless to actually do so. 

“Stay calm piggy, stay calm,” Sable chided. “This happens all the time. You just got a little too excited, didn't you? Let me call the girls.”

The same team of butter-wielding waitresses approached, each giggling lightly as they pressed their hands into the swell of Lyla’s fat and began to butter her up so she could slide out. Another waitress wheeled over the industrial-sized mobile scale that Lyla had seen earlier, and she realized they would be sliding her from the booth to the scale, her fatty body laying there for all to see like a lump of lard too overfed to move. 

She burped from the pressure of multiple hands and pressed her eyes shut, finally feeling the humiliation she knew she’d been suppressing the entire unlikely gorge. She felt so dirty, so ashamed, and as she felt the butter sticks beginning to work their magic, her fat slowly sliding past the table bound's inch by inch, she could no longer take the feelings, desperately needed the distraction of a full mouth in order to avoid reality. 

She opened her eyes, bit her lip in consideration, and finally grabbed a stick of butter directly from the hands of the closest waitress just as the fatty she’d been observing before had done. She nearly dropped the slippery slab of fat and then shoved it into her mouth in full, relishing the taste of pure greed. The girls surrounding her laughed, and another one held her stick up to Lyla's mouth as if feeding an animal, giggling when she devoured it as quickly as the first one. 

“Hey,” Sable cried, playfully authoritative. “Hands off. That's my pig.”

The girls giggled once more and continued to work the shiny grease all across the expanse of Lyla’s skin until she was finally, finally free, her heavy body plopping directly onto the scale once she’d forced her way out of the booth. 

“Look at that. 537," Sable reported, whistling. “I think you’re ready for the backroom.”

“No,” Lyla whined. “No, I'm still hungry.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sable promised. There's plenty of food in the back room. 

Lyla was entirely naked, the remnants of her clothes destroyed in the transfer process, and her body jiggled uncontrollably as the team of girls worked together to wheel her through the restaurant, the scale beeping a reading out her weight aloud every few seconds like an alarm. Sable reached down and attached a leash to Lyla's collar, grinning fit to beat the band. 

“It’s just for show,” Sable explained. “I know you're too fat to crawl. But a good pet pig needs a leash, right?”

A jostling of her makeshift vehicle produced a torrent of burps for the near immobile girl, and Lyla considered that all the response she was able to muster. They reached the back room and Lyla was rolled off of the mobile scale and onto the floor, her back against the wall for support and nothing but a cushiony mat beneath her. 

“Look at you. You can't move, you can't stand. God, I wish I could still get you on all fours so we can see just how much that belly presses into the floor.”

Lyla groaned in discomfort, attempting to shift her fatty thighs apart in order to make more room for her belly. 

“Don’t bother,” Sable advised, patting Lyla’s belly. “We’re about to make you even bigger.”

Two more waitresses entered, one holding a funnel and one balancing 6 gallons of melting ice cream in both arms. 

“Ready for your heavy ice cream? It's the most caloric recipe we’ve ever developed,” Sable asked.

Lyla balked, franticism rising within her once more. She wanted the funnel, she wanted it desperately, but she knew that this was the point of no return, that she had irreversibly destroyed her body at the whims of others. She stifled another burp, deciding to hold firm. 

“No,” she breathed, still panting. “No, I had the purple collar, remember? I wasn't supposed to-,” she paused for a loud burp, then continued. “I wasn't supposed to go past 300. I wasn't supposed to get this big.”

Sable grinned evilly, yanking the funnel from the other waitress’s grasp and advancing towards Lyla menacingly. 

“Now this is the part I really like,” she said, addressing the other waitress instead of Lyla. “The part where they try to fight back. Right before they realize that they're too far gone. I had to make a few…adjustments to your collar, remember?” she revealed, turning back to Lyla. “It must’ve somehow altered your collar's color,” she offered with feigned innocence. “I mean, I certainly don’t know what happened.”

“What did you do?” Lyla groaned. “What did you do to me? What color is my collar?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Sable asked, stepping forward and deftly shoving the tube down Lyla's throat in one quick motion. 

The sweet, cold, heavy liquid was already pouring into her stomach before she knew what had happened to her and Lyla began to swell up like never before, literally able to feel the pounds piling on, feel the expansion of her body as she chugged gulp after gulp. 

Her breathlessness became more and more unbearable until finally, her collar snapped off her fattened neck with a pop, the split piece of leather revealing the deep red hue of the immobile gainer designation. 

Lyla groaned, attempting to gesture at it, but Sable just patted her on the belly and kept pouring, actually needing to take a step back as Lyla's growing flab inched outwards and limited the space around her. She was nothing but a mound of blubber, a brainless, slobbish lump too hefty to do anything for herself anymore, and she had no idea how she would get out of there. 

Sable finally poured the last bit of Lyla's ice cream down her throat and gave the girl a gentle belly rub as a reward, cooing encouragements as the now 650+ pound pile of fat in front of her alternated between burps and moans. 

“Piggy?” Sable was calling, Lyla lost in her own bloated ache. “Earth to piggy. Aren't you forgetting something?”

Lyla burped, too lazy and full to form a response. 

“Why did you come here in the first place?”

Lyla focused hard, trying to think. Why had she come there in the first place? What had brought her to a place where they did things like this to people, where they tricked and drugged and teased unwilling and unexpecting participants into immobility. 

“Stumped?” Sable asked pleasantly. “Let me give you a little hint,” she offered, flicking on the lights in the dim room to reveal that what Lyla had assumed was the backroom furthest most wall was actually a curtain. 

Sable stepped to the center of it, grabbed one side, and yanked it back dramatically to reveal May. 

May was enormous, far larger than Lyla although Lyla hadn't thought that possible, and she was bound into a wooden stock clearly custom-made for a captive of her size, the holes for her wrist the size of the average woman's thigh. Her face was sunken into the fat working its way up her neck and fighting to swallow her quadruple chins, and the rest of her body, her knees and belly affixing her firmly to the floor, was almost indiscernible as human, her form so shapeless and hedonistic that many would struggle to see the women underneath all the lard. 

“May?” Lyla cried, her own face now too fat for her jaw to drop properly. “May, what did they do to you?” she wailed. 

“Lyla?” May blubbered out in return, only recognizing the helpless mound of fat stuck on the floor as her fiance once she heard the familiar voice. “Lyla, what are you doing here, what did they…oh my god. What happened to you?”

“Oh please,” Sable interrupted with a scoff. “Girls, let's be real with ourselves, shall we? It's not what we did to you. It's what you did to yourselves. It's what you both wanted. It's what you still want. You’re hungry right now, aren't you? she accused, turning to May with a point. “You haven't been fed in almost a full 30 minutes, I know your fat ass is staving. Well, maybe your lover can help you out with that.”

She turned to Lyla. 

“Don't you wanna help May? Don’t you want to earn some more food for the both of you?”

Lyla nodded slowly, mortified at her own admission, and Sable smacked her gut sharply for the infraction. 

“Use. Your. Words,” she reminded. “I’m not going to say it again.”

“Yes,” Lyla squeaked out. 

“Yes, what?” Sable led.

“Yes, I want to earn us more food,” she mumbled.

“Good piggy,” said Sable, removing a folded slip of paper from another waitress's apron pocket. 

“All you have to do is admit what you’ve become.”

“I got fa-,” Lyla began, ready to admit whatever she needed to for another taste of the buffet. 

“No, no,” Sable corrected. “On camera. Read the script.”

She handed a smartphone to another waitress who pointed the camera at them and began rolling as Sable held the script in Lyla's piggish face. 

“Go ahead,” Sable urged, and Lyla sighed and began.

“I’m nothing but a pig. I’ve always been a pig, I've always been an insatiable glutton who can't control herself around food. I've always tried to fight it but there's no use anymore. I did this to myself. I did this to myself because deep down I secretly wanted it, I wanted to become an immobile pile of blubber too fat to move my body of my own free will. I want to get fatter and fatter, and I know I won't be able to stop. 

I can't believe how enormous my body has grown. I can't believe I'm too fat to sit up on my own, too fat to feed myself. I can’t believe I'll be dependent on the buffet slut weightresses for the rest of my life. 

I love every minute of this. I want more. I want to eat until I'm too enormous to be lifted out of the building by crane. I want to eat until I'm big enough to be in two rooms at once. I wanna eat until I'm unrecognizable as human, until I look like a mountain of lard with hands and feet. I want my arms and legs to become even more useless than they are now. I need to gain more weight. 

I give Buffet Slut and the team of weightresses total control over my body and diet. They have complete control over my figure and total control over what happens to me from this point on. I'll always be an impossibly fat, behemoth of a woman, and I'll never be thin again.”

Lyla stuttered through the last lines and looked up, eager for Sable’s approval. 

“Can we eat now?” she pleaded, and Sable grinned. 

“C’mon girls,” she called to the other weightresses. “We’ve got two pretty big piggies to feed.”