Author's note to the editor: Please keep all formatting as it is. The italic, bolding, and capitalizations are essential to get the full effect.
"Gather 'round boys, the bidding is almost up!"
Chubbs and Roddy, a pair of army dropouts, huddled together behind the small, sickly, frame of their boss, Darryl. He was seated in front of a desktop computer, the glow from the monitor illuminating the three men in the darkness of the abandoned duplex which served as their hideout.
Iris was alone in a windowless, locked, room. The room was spacious and well furbished; far from a prison cell. And yet, Iris felt trapped like a rat.
No, not a rat,
the big bottomed girl thought to herself.
A cow. I'm just cattle now. And they've got me set up in a nice little pen, to eat and fuck and
BREED
to my heart's content.
The small part of her brain that was thrilled with that idea grew louder, and more dominant, with each passing moment.
* * * * *
Iris' had awoken in the room on the first day, still slightly sex-drunk, and yet fully aware of what had happened to her the day before. The bed was large and comfortable. "
For all the
breeding
that's going to happen there"
she realized, shuddering. Were they really planning to get her pregnant?!? To fatten her up even more?!? Iris rose from the mattress and faced herself in the mirror which made up the far wall. Three short, uniform black lines were etched parallel to each other far up on her fat left tit. She choked down a sob.
Each line represented an unwilling creampie, an attempt at impregnation. And unfortunately for Iris, the bastards had left plenty of room for more.
Iris caught the reflection of a door and wheeled towards it as quickly as her growing curves would allow. The cellulite pockmarked side of her wine barrel wide, pale, blubbery backside slid across the cool glass of the mirror as she spun. The poor girl yanked on the handle of the door; but the heavy wooden structure refused to budge. She thought about pounding on the damned thing, screaming for help or salvation, but she knew two things. One, her words would fall on deaf ears. And two, she needed to conserve her energy for the days, if not weeks in front of her.
Or nine months,
that demonic little voice inside her head whispered, excitedly.
Next to the door was a light switch, and Iris flicked it on. Her smooth, pale, skin was soon illuminated by bright lights from overhead. Iris studied the room that was going to become her new home.
There was of course the bed and the mirror. A padded chair and a medium sized desk in the corner, on the same wall as the mirror. On the desk was a small metal square that Iris realized was something like a walkie-talkie, except bolted to the table. She guessed Darryl and his cronies would eventually bark instructions at her through the damned thing.
On one side of the bed was a tall, well crafted armoire. Iris flung open one of the doors to reveal thousands of dollars worth of clothing. She reeled, slightly awed by the sheer amount of clothing within the armoire. But as she looked closer, the big bottomed girls heart dropped again. There were no underwear, naturally. And nearly everything was a matching outfit, with levels of depravity ranging from French maid to full gimp suit. At first Iris thought that nothing would have fit her; everything contained within the wardrobe was far too large for the average sized girl but would be easily several sizes too small for her massive rump and gigantic tits. Curious, Iris tugged at a pair of charcoal gray pants which looked like they belonged to a businesswoman's frumpy suit. The material was soft and pliable, and stretched easily within her fingers. These clothes would be tight, but Iris realized they would fit her thanks to their built-in stretchiness. But how had these men found these clothes for her so fast? Surely, they hadn't had time to purchase an entire wardrobe for in the time she was passed out? It dawned on Iris moments later.
They were maternity clothes, and many of them had probably been worn before.
Iris flopped on the bed in despair, the sturdy bedframe not even budging under her considerable girth. She took several deep, gasping, breaths; her great, wobbling, ass pointed up in the air and jiggling violently with every inhale and exhale. A whirring to the side of the bed caught her attention, and Iris crawled across the king-sized mattress, her fat, hanging tits dragging across the soft fabric as she did so. Set into the wall on the opposite side of the bed from the wardrobe was a humming refrigerator.
Iris, so used to downing thousands of calories a day in cum and protein, was downright ravenous. She swung open the door of the fridge to see what was inside, hoping for something, anything, that would sate her thirst and hunger. The big bottomed girl practically drooled as she was greeted with the sight of dozens of cupcakes, a lifetime's supply of high-calorie protein-bars, several bottles of chocolate syrup, and several gallons worth of the most fattening muscle milk money could buy. In the freezer was more ice cream and frozen yogurt than she could ever eat, all with little plastic spoons attached. Iris chose a chocolate cupcake and a bottle of vanilla muscle milk for her breakfast. She absently chewed on the delicious morsel as she stood and explored more of her new home.
Next to the door, behind the wall the fridge was set into, was a clean and sterile bathroom. The shower was stocked with all manner of soaps, shampoos, and sweet smelling body oils. Iris couldn't wait to feel the warm water cascading over her curvy frame. There was of course a toilet and sink, the sink had a toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorants and perfumes. A razor, to keep herself nicely trimmed. There was another mirror over the sink, and Iris caught a glimpse of herself with a mouthful of fattening chocolate cake. Feeling a weird sense of guilt at her gluttony, Iris wanted to turn and toss the food into the trash can beside the toilet, but her ever growing belly gave a hearty rumble and she scarfed down the last few bites; all while avoiding her own eyes in the mirror. Iris tossed the wrapper into the trash, and guzzled down the milkshake in big, thirsty, gulps, her heavy chest heaving as she did so. Finally, she tossed the drained milk bottle into the trash as well.
Iris' paunchy belly did feel somewhat full after her small meal.
Tasty,
she thought,
but not very nutritious.
She knew that her captors didn't really care about nutrition. They just wanted to fatten her up even more.
Eating for two, perhaps?
Iris shook her head and took a deep breath. There was a medicine cabinet set into the wall beside the bathroom mirror. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found a bottle of Tylenol inside. There was also a bottle of multi-vitamins, and a jar of ointment. Iris took the ointment and rubbed it into the three new tattooed lines on her pale tit-flesh. She took a multi-vitamin and a Tylenol, and retrieved another milkshake from the fridge. Iris opened it and swallowed the pills, and, still not quite feeling full, dusted off the bottle. When she walked back into the bathroom to throw away the second bottle, something on the floor caught her eye.
A digital scale.
Her entire jiggling body trembling, Iris stepped onto the scale. She watched as the bright red numbers whirled and calculated on the screen. One-hundred and ninety-eight point two pounds. She breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't quite at two hundred yet. But then she remembered that a day earlier, she had only weighed one-hundred ninety seven point seven. She shuddered.
Iris exited the bathroom and plopped down on the bed. She looked around again. No television. No laptop. Not even a notebook and some pencils. Bored, she stood and began rummaging through the armoire, looking for something to wear. She finally settled on a pair of seafoam green leggings and a pink sports bra, which she guessed were supposed to be some kind of "sporty girl" outfit. The spandex leggings stretched tight across Iris' massive ass, and every inch of her giant white rump was plainly visible through the harshly stretched fabric, including her
COW
tattoo. The pink sports bra did little to contain or hold up her heavy udders, and her nipples were plainly visible through the taut material. She plopped down on the bed again.
