Chapter 5

And for the first time in a long time, Nancy started to cry. The tears came as she stuffed her face with a handful of McNuggets that she found after she had polished off the BigMacs. She finished, wiping

her hands off on her shirt, and waddled over to the bed, dropping into it, curling up into a ball, sobbing, before she farted, sobbing louder, covering her face with her chubby hands.

Not five minutes later, the sliding noise. After all she had just eaten, how could he expect her to eat more? And how could she still be so hungry. She didn't even try to resist, tears still wet on her cheeks she went over to the table, and started unwrapping another BigMac, eating slower now, but a short while later, the table lay under the cover of wrappers, empty McNugget boxes, stray fries and

a few empty large cups. Nancy cupped her belly in her hands, that's what it was now, a belly. There were faint signs of stretch marks, and she rubbed it gently, full to the touch.

And so, the next few months passed, the same way. Not sure if it was night or day, when the table filled with food, she would eat, and eat. Dean never altered her menu, and the showering could do nothing for the amount of grease building up, her hair becoming thin and oily as Nancy's body ballooned. Her thighs now squished against each other whenever she waddled around in her large panties, at least three times the size of when she came in. Her ass had become soft and jiggled with every step, or when she passed gas, which was becoming more and more frequent. With every meal, she had to shift her belly a little more, until now at five and a half months, half it was squished under the bottom of the table, the other half bulged out onto the top.

And on top of her belly rested her bloated tits. They had grown into heavy sacks of flesh, stretched marked, barely contained by a bra that looked like it was meant to hold watermelons, vertically.

She was eating slower these days, he had reduced how much of the drug he gave her, but her natural hunger was taking over, the slower speed was caused by the difficulty she had in lifting her arms dropping with

fat, past her multiple chins, to her mouth. Her face was now completely round, but somehow still cute.

Dean let the routine continue another week, before putting enough tranquilizer to knock out an elephant in her morning feast. He walked into the room, for the first time, while she slept. He sunk his hand

into her stomach, and almost fell into her as his hand sunk several inches. He steadied himself, poking and prodding her to make sure she wouldn't wake up, and began the daunting task of dressing a very fat

woman.