Paid By The Pound

Sandy was feeling nervous. She was so worked up the anxious bovine felt as if she might throw up! Overwhelmed with nervous energy, Sandy bounced her hoof up and down. She was filled with an urge to pace, consternation seeming to consume her from the inside, but there was barely enough room to stand in the cramped line, let alone pace. Sandy and her fellow diners were packed in like cattle as they waited for their turn at the 'trough', shuffling forward with slow steps as another group waddled through the gate. So, instead of pacing, Sandy kept nervously cracking her knuckles while casting fitful, wary glances around the restaurant; terrified she might see a familiar face in the crowd as they waited for their turn to enter the buffet.

Not that Sandy really expected to see anyone she knew here, it wasn't the type of joint her friends and family would hang out. However, there were a few of her clients that she could imagine coming to a place like this; Sandy didn't think it would be a good look to run into your personal trainer while she was in line to load her plate with some of the unhealthiest food imaginable! And standing at least three feet above the next tallest person, Sandy didn't exactly 'blend into the crowd' either. If anyone she knew was there, they'd almost undoubtedly spot her! The bovine's cheeks grew hot and her insides cold as she considered the embarrassment of getting recognized in a place like this. Sandy was sure she'd rather die than get spotted at an all you can eat buffet. Not only did she take pride in taking good care of her body, she often encouraged (some might even say 'berated') her friends into making better life choices as well. Thus, she could only imagine how gleeful some of them would be if they caught her doing one of the most unhealthy things in the world. It made Sandy extremely skittish. She wished she'd had the foresight to request her... well, he insisted on being called her 'benefactor', but the term most people would recognize was 'sugar daddy', a lot farther away from home.

After another nervous glance around, her nerves finally got the better of her. "I don't think I can do this..." Sandy said, leaning down to whisper directly into her benefactor's ear. She spoke in a soft voice, her tail wrapped around her waist like some sort of security blanket.

His response was quick and decisive. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want but, if you don't do it, you and me are through." Her benefactor spoke in a flat tone, neither comforting nor overtly threatening, just a statement of fact.

He did not bother to whisper, speaking in a tone loud enough a dozen people probably heard them. Sandy looked around worriedly, but none even batted an eye. As she was slowly starting to learn, people really didn't care or even notice what the people around them were up to. Her benefactor, however, didn't care what the people around them thought. He was shameless, Sandy supposed you almost had to be in order to be a sugar daddy to girls less than half your age.

Shameless or not, Mr. Fletcher's words caused a cold chill to run down Sandy's spine. Properly scolded, she stood back up and began to crack her knuckles again as she considered his promise. She had always told herself that she didn't really need her sugar daddy, that she could leave him in an instant if things got too heavy. After all, she was fully employed, with a small yet consistent side income from her OnlyFans. Enough for her to afford a single bedroom apartment with a few luxuries here and there. But the reality was this man had given Sandy a taste of the 'good life', and she couldn't bring herself to let that go.

...

Six months ago, her 'benefactor' had reached out via her OnlyFans page, going by the name "Mr. Fletcher."

She wasn't convinced that was his real name, as she'd heard a few people call him a few different names in the short time they'd known each other. Once, she'd asked him for his real name but he'd scoffed and asked why the hell she needed to know that just to look pretty and suck his cock.

Mr. Fletcher had first caught her attention by donating a hundred dollars a month, ten times more than anyone else had. He also was by far the least amount of effort of all her 'fans', while most men seemed to demand constant attention in exchange for their meager sums, he hadn't even sent her a single message. He'd just liked a few of her pictures, and responded with a simple 'You're welcome' when she'd sent him a DM gushing over his generous donation. Yet, as her most lucrative client, he certainly drew his fair share of her attention.

This changed after a few months of this generosity, when the shoe finally dropped. Mr. Fletcher messaged her, explaining that he was a businessman looking for some 'arm candy' at a business function. He offered her 2500 dollars for just one evening of her time, promising that no sex would be required. "But I'll hardly say no if you want to roll around in the hay!" He joked.

Sandy was interested, of course, Sandy thought there were few women that wouldn't be tempted by such an offer. Yet, she was also hesitant, wondering what exactly she'd be getting herself into if she said yes? Throwing half naked pictures of herself online and flirting with bored, lonely guys online for as little extra cash was as far as the original plan had gone. She was a personal trainer, not a call girl! Could she believe his promise that no sex was required? In the end, Sandy's greed outweighed her caution and she accepted the deal.

To Sandy's surprise, her first night as a sugar baby was actually kind of fun! It was hardly the way she'd seen her life going, but she couldn't help but enjoy herself  as Mr. Fletcher had splurged on her, buying the thick bovine a sexy yet classy evening dress, which he allowed her to keep after the dinner. She then got paid to spend the evening pretending like she was someone important while politely snacking on delicious food and drinking booze well beyond anything she'd be able to afford. As a bonus, Mr. Fletcher surprised her in person. She'd been expecting some grossly overweight, boring, thoroughly unattractive man. Yet, despite the exceptions she'd had for a man who seemingly had to pay for a woman's attention, Mr. Fletcher had turned out to be surprisingly funny, witty, charming, and even a little handsome fellow... at least by human standards. Sandy would never debase herself by having a romantic relationship with a puny human, but for a man that paid her to 'look pretty' he was alright.

However, just as Sandy had been worried about before accepting the arrangement, as their relationship continued, things began to escalate.

Later that evening, when he dropped her off at her apartment, sitting in the back seat of his Maybach while they were driven around by a surely looking man in an impeccable suit, her benefactor invited her on a week-long business trip to Miami. Again, it had been a great deal for Sandy: he'd promised her ten thousand dollars for the week, plus expenses. She spent most of the week lounging around the beach, even hooking up with a few hot locals. Her tight yet voluptuous body and brilliant mane of blonde hair attracted lots of attention on the beach. She did, as requested, make a few sporadic appearances when her benefactor needed his 'arm candy'. Holding it arm and politely giggling as her and his coworkers small talked.

Not a bad way to earn ten grand and a free vacation, right? Only... it was at those parties where Sandy received her first warning over what was about to happen. Unfortunately, Sandy would only put it together when it was too late.

During those parties, Mr. Fletcher and his friends were... assholes, really. It was clear, listening to the way they spoke and watching the way they acted, these rich men didn't think much of women beyond objects. Objects that could be bought and sold for trivial amounts of money. Sandy found it supremely demeaning; her and a bunch of other girls standing around awkwardly, keeping their mouths shut while they were verbally abused for the money, while men twice their age groped, ogled, and discussed who brought the 'hottest bitch' as if they were sports cars. It was off putting enough that Sandy thought now was probably the time to take her $12,500 plus the memories of a great vacation and split before things could get any crazier. Sandy's resolve crumbled, however, when her benefactor mentioned his next business trip would be in Maui. She'd always wanted to go to Maui! And wasn't a few hours of uncomfortableness worth it? If these pigs were sexist enough to treat women like commodities, why shouldn't she profit from their misogyny?

And that's how things had gone, her benefactor making increasingly demanding requests for increasing extravagant rewards until Sandy was hooked on his money and couldn't bring herself to say 'no'. Mr. Fletcher expected her to check in at least three times a day, and sex had gone from an 'option' to a strict requirement; which in turn had quickly escalated from missionary to kinky shit Sandy wasn't sure she was comfortable with.

Yet, the true depths of Mr. Fletcher's interests had yet to be relieved to her as she lay hog tied on the floor of his bedroom while he used her ass as a footstool. None of this compared to today's request...

Mr. Fletcher had brought it up to her the night before. They were in his bedroom again, her sizable chest pressed against the glass of his penthouse on the east side as he filled her from behind. It wasn't 'making love', the sex was too rough and not to mention transactional for that. Every time Fletcher thrusted forward, brought his hand against her ass, or pulled on her long blonde hair, he seemed to be doing it with all his power. Luckily, for Sandy, there was too big of a size and strength imbalance for his blows to cause anything more than slight annoyance. If anything, she was bored and his balls slapped noisily against her dry, unaroused pussy as grunted and groaned from behind the disinterested cowgirl while she stared out the floor to ceiling windows. Sandy hated yet also loved getting pressed up against the glass like this. The view of the city below was incredible, and there was something erotic and powerful about getting fucked while staring out at the city like this. Yet, it also felt like Fletcher was trying to make some sort of display out of her, and that she didn't care for. Even if they were too high up from the ground and far away from the other high rises for anyone to notice what they were doing, the anonymity of just being one in the crowd.

After they had, or at least Fletcher had, finished, he began to explain his plans for the next day with her. He wanted to pick her up from her place, and take her on one of their 'dates' so he could stuff her. "You want to 'stuff' me?" Sandy asked, while she cleaned herself up in the bathroom. She looked at him through the open door to where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, cocking her head in confusion.

Fletcher nodded and explained further. He told her that tomorrow he was going to take her on a dinner date to a buffet, instead of her flat 2500 dollar payment he would pay for one of their dates, he'd give her a dollar for every calorie she consumed. Sandy wondered if Fletcher was too used to human girls, she took in ten thousand calories a day just to maintain her weight! At a dollar a calorie, she was confident she could scarf down twenty or even thirty thousand in without breaking stride. Then again, nothing about Fletcher's life implied he couldn't afford to drop fifty grand on a dinner date. Hell, he'd probably lost fifty grand in the laundry without even breaking stride.

Sure, it might set her back on her fitness goals and make her feel gross for a few days... but not so much thirty grand wasn't adequate compensation for. What really concerned her, now that she was here; down from rubbing shoulders 'The Sentinel' to now rubbing guts at Golden Corral, was what Fletcher had planned next. How much more extreme could he go?

...

"So what's it going to be?" Even though the restaurant was loud, the question broke Sandy's deep revelry as she considered the events of the past six months. She startled slightly and suddenly realized they had finally reached the front of the line. The older couple standing in front had just paid and were now being led to their table. "Money or your figure?" Mr. Fletcher asked.

Sandy swallowed nervously, and just nodded her head. She figured that Mr. Fletcher would push for a 'proper' response, but before he could press her for an answer, the pimple-faced kid standing at the desk broke into a wide smile at the sight of them. Truthfully, Sandy wasn't sure of his age. Young twenties? While Sandy herself was only twenty-five, she found the older she got, the younger twenty-one-year-olds looked. "Breaking in another one tonight, Mr. Fletcher?" Which caused a fresh wave of embarrassment, confusion, and nervousness to crash against Sandy.

"Yes indeed Ben!" Mr. Fletcher laughed back, aggressively and possessively slapping her ass. The height difference between the two was so great, that he had to reach up to smack her ass. He was a short guy, even by human standards and she a tall lady, even by fur standards.

Ben and Fletcher exchange a little small talk, only the type between an employee and a frequent customer. Still, although perhaps it was just a sign of her paranoia, she thought she kept a knowing grin flashing between the two men. Before long, though, Ben turned to face her and instructed. "Please stand on the scale, ma'am."

"The scale?" Sandy asked in a hollow voice.

As if she didn't feel enough like livestock already, apparently the buffet had a different entry procedure for furs than it did humans. Given how much extra food furs ate, each hybrid had to be weighed and measured so the register knew how much to charge. Ben was polite enough about it, but it still made her feel more like feral cattle than a human with fur. "10'5, 1,375 pounds." Ben said out loud as he punched the numbers into the register.

"Of all muscle..." Sandy felt keen to defend herself. Even if she had the excuse of being 10'5 feet tall, she didn't like the fact she weighed over half a ton and liked that fact being advertised to the world even less. Her sugar daddy placed what she supposed was intended to be a comforting hand on her arm, but merely served to piss her off, while Ben pretty much ignored her.

"And that brings your grand total to... one-hundred and twenty-nine dollars."

The two men quickly settled the bill, 'Mr. Fletcher' paying cash as always, Sandy couldn't help but notice he'd slipped Ben a crisp looking hundred for Ben's personal pocket. This gave her pause, wondering why would he need to bribe the buffet wait staff? That made her feel increasingly anxious for some reason.

"Take Mr. Fletcher to his table, please?" Ben said, speaking to one of his coworkers. She was an older woman who looked exhausted, yet she perked up when she noticed it was Mr. Fletcher, and nodded as if accepting an unspoken request. It made Sandy wonder how many other women had been brought here just like her.

Wordlessly, the old woman gestured for them to follow her, but led the two a very short distance. Just past the front desk where people paid was a big empty space. No tables or chairs, just room for the hoards of people that constantly flowed through the building; entering, exiting, and heading up to the buffet to fill their plates once again. Everyone in the entire place passed by this very spot, multiple times in all likelihood. Sandy stood awkwardly, staring at the woman for further instruction, assuming she would lead them further into the restaurant, but none came. Instead, a small group of employees seemed to appear from nowhere with a table and two chairs special for Mr. Fletcher and his guest. As they set the table and chairs down, more money got dispersed among the employees. Clearly, her sugar daddy had wanted them to sit here... but why? As Sandy looked up to see a fresh wave of people coming through the gate and into the buffet, she felt like she was settling down to eat in the middle of a freeway! Surely this wasn't comfortable for him? But then she thought over it more, now thinking of last night; how he'd pressed her tits against the cold glass as if he wanted the entire world to see her. Sandy felt stuipid it had taken her this long, but she had put it together. Her 'benefactor' was trying to make a display out of her.

"Take a seat, dear." Mr. Fletcher said, pulling out a chair for her with a winning smile, as if he were just the perfect gentleman. It made Sandy freeze up, questioning if she was really willing to do this? But the truth was she was too hooked on old man money to say no, and however hesitantly, she took a seat.

The moment her ass cheeks touched the chair, food seemed to appear from nowhere, as the same four employees who had brought out the chairs now began to load the big table up with food. Sandy's eyes bugged out of her head over the sheer selection, some animalistic survival instinct from when humans were hunter gatherers, and you had to eat food when it was available. All and every type of food seemed to be represented, from heart clogging barbecue to actually somewhat tasty looking salad, although even the lettuce had been drowned in salad dressing; just in case someone might have confused it for something healthy. An entire meal represented from appetizers to dessert. "Dig in!" Mr. Fletcher proudly proclaimed, taking a small plate for himself, but he seemed to be much more invested in Sandy's dinner than his own.

For a moment, Sandy hesitated. As she stared at all the fattening food, all she could really see was a vision in her head; her perfect figure swelling up like a blimp. She cursed in frustration to herself, this damned fetish. It made no fucking sense to her, Fletcher had power and control to make her do all sorts of humiliating things. Why did he want to take someone perfect like her and ruin her? Again, she cursed to herself, as Sandy was pretty sure she already knew the answer to her own question. Damn this fucking bastard!

Yet despite her reservations, Sandy was greedy for money, and it was in that greedy spirit she took a bread stick and shoved the whole thing in her mouth with one big bite. This might not be her fetish, but she still knew how to turn a man's crank. Sure enough, as she worked her jaw struggling to chew the carb laden started, Sandy saw what could only be described as sinister lust in the smile on her benefactor's face. It was extremely off putting, making her feel like some sort of prey, but she remembered the money and downed the bread stick with a difficult, almighty sallow before picking up another. Sandy was doing it, she was stuffing herself.

The first bites were undoubtedly the hardest, fighting every basic instinct she had. Yet, with some small encouragement from her feeder, Sandy managed to push through it and began eating with gusto that surprised everyone at the table it seemed, even Fletcher. He was getting the type of performance he'd only dream of before today. For an hour and a half Sandy ate, and every time she managed to clear a plate a replacement was instantly delivered to the table, although the dirty plates weren't brought back to the kitchen. They were allowed to pile up on the floor, helping to show just how much the bovine had eaten. She stayed away from the red meat, for obvious reasons, but still ate more than enough food to shock everyone in the restaurant. At first, none really seemed to care what she was doing. Perhaps only a few annoyed looks from her fellow diners as they were forced to work their way around them, nothing drew people's attention like personal inconvenience. Yet, as the stack of plates mounted, sneering indifference soon changed to amazement as dirty plates mounted around the table until even the regulars at a buffet couldn't believe the sheer gluttony on display. Some seemed embarrassed on her behalf, others jealous, and at least a little impressed.