Chapter 4 - fourms

That was only if I couldn’t find a way to sign out. If I could manage to do that, I could keep my trim physique and free myself of the entourage of voyeurs watching my life. I sucked the last of the chocolate off my fingertips and got back to work. I returned to forum page and actually got to work scrolling. There were all manner of topics and pages that caught my eye as I did so. Some were discussing the websites point economy. Complaining about monetary conversion rates and the expensiveness of certain items or poll submissions. It revealed to me just how deep the disparity was between what the viewers were seeing and what I was seeing. For them they could seemingly see every single available girl on the website. There was a store where they could buy items to gift their favorite girls usually with side effects. Anything resembling a help forum was far from easy to find. But along the way I was beginning to feel a tingle of curiosity. As much as it pissed me off, the site was like nothing I knew of and it even seemed to hold a strange supernatural component.

The only forum post I actually clicked on while scrolling was one that caught my eye titled simply “How Polls Work?”. It was a simply post with the question in the title, but it was the answer that had me curious. As far as I could tell from the answer, polls were how the viewers could force me to do things. It was through them that I had been stuffing myself stupid almost nonstop. The person replying didn't have a username, which I found more than a little mysterious. But they were plenty helpful. Apparently polling periods would occur either on a timer or when a moderator triggered one. People in chat could submit polling options they had purchased from the store. Then either at random or the whims of a moderator a number of the options would be selected and put to a poll for the general public. It helped to clear some of my confusion. It made sense why all the options were so vaguely worded, and why the basic bitches in my chat seemed to have so many eating options. The only issue was it didn't really hold a solution. One hand drifted to my bloated middle protectively as I began to wonder how long it would be till the next polling timer.

I knew I had to keep looking. I scrolled through a few different sections devoted to different aspects of the sites many nefarious services. Before finally I found a section labeled “For Live-Girls". The term had been thrown around on other posts so it seemed it was the official term for girls like me. I found myself a little concerned as I scrolled through the posts in that section. None of them seemed all that worried at all. There was banter about new items that had come on the market. Requests for collaborations. One particular thread even offered tips. I found myself rolling my eyes at that one. I was pretty sure I didn't need tips. The other thing that concerned me was that there were zero mentions of a sign out feature. It wasn’t just that nobody was mentioning one. But that none of the posts even referred to time spent offline or any mentions of signing in or out of the website. As I felt a tiny bit of panic rising, I finally found what I needed. “Assistance for New Live-Girls Experiencing Technical Difficulties” it read in bold text.

The section was flooded with conversation. There was some talk about things pertaining to the site, complaints about gifting lag and other more benign topics. But sprinkled intermit those lines were girls like me. Confused stranger asking what the hell was going on and why they couldn’t stop eating. A few were threatening to sue. Others seemed a bit more timid. I however needed to pick which approach I was going to make. As far as I could tell none of the posts were getting traction so I considered how to word my post. I settled on something that bent the truth a little. “New Live Girl Who Doesn’t Know How Any of This Works” I titled it. The waiting was torturous and I almost wished I could snack on something to distract myself. Luckily less than a second later I got a startling surprise. The response I got was simple and concerningly brief it said “Meet me at the Punkish Café in downtown at 5pm”. I was somewhat familiar with that particular café. But I wasn’t sure how exactly this stranger knew we were in the same city. The only thing I really had to go off was a name “Black-Corset” and a little title dubbing her an administrator. The meeting was approximately as mysterious and off putting as the rest of the website but I didn't feel like I had a huge amount of choice in the matter.

As I clicked back to my chat however I found things in the same state of chaos they had been when I had left. The anarchy continued but the biggest problem was situated at the top of the chat box. A poll. The options were “Gift: Text Shirt Regular” “Digestion Nap” “Beer Chug”. I stifled a derisive snort as I saw the options. Having seen an advertisement for the shirt on the forums I knew it was just a shirt with some custom text on it. The issue was the other two. “Listen you pervs I need to head out later, and I can’t do that if I’m wasted or asleep” I informed them my annoyance bleeding through. “Too bad tubby” “That’s not really a convincing argument” “Sorry, you’re still way too small to ease up on the stuffing” “Bigger”. The chat responded seemingly not finding my point compelling. I leaned back in the chair a little with a hand on my middle. I needed to convince them to do it. “Well...I’m going out to this café, they do pastries there, those are worth way more calories than anything in this house” I told them. On the screen it was clear I was blushing out of annoyance. The last thing I wanted was them forcing me to pig out in public. But I needed the meeting. While most of the chat still insisted I should stuff myself right that second, I could see the results starts to shift. Until finally the shirt won out by a handful of votes. I let out a relieved sigh. It seemed they weren’t completely unreasonable.

A few hours passed and I inevitably found myself sitting snuggly into a café chair. Without a poll to mess with me the chat had been forced to behave themselves. I was glad, since with stuffing me off the table, I was concerned they’d go for some more serious changes. I was mostly dozing off in my chair till I heard the rattle of a plate being placed on the table in front of me. I had ordered a coffee and little else. As a result, the presence of a slice of cake was a surprise. I glanced at the waitress curiously but all I got was a wink. “A little joke at my expense” she said with a chuckle and pointed at my shirt. I immediately felt a surge of blood to my cheeks as I started to blush. The shirt I had been gifted was a crop top which simply said “Insert ice cream here” with a handy arrow that pointed down to my bared midriff. As soon as the poll went through it had just replaced what I had been wearing. With the slightly ragged sweater appearing at my feet. The shirt having formed out of thin air. I couldn’t take it off either for a one-day period according to some forum research. Which meant I was stuck in public with such an embarrassing show offish outfit.

The waitress wandered off before I could get a word in edgewise. Leaving only the decadent treat behind. It was a relatively small slice, a very innocent one at that. I reasoned it would be pretty rude to pass up free cake and took a bite. I squealed audibly with joy. It was ice cream cake and a very delicious one at that. It admittedly didn't taste quite as good as food had when the chat was forcing me to eat it. But I wrote that off as more of that website's supernatural trickery. In a few bites the rest of it disappeared leaving an almost entirely clean plate. With my heavy breakfast mostly digested...and likely already having damaged my figure. I couldn’t help but feel a slight yearning for more. In order to steel myself I did the thing most likely to deter me and pulled up the chat reaction to my willful eating. “Seriously I’m telling you she can complain all she likes but this girl is a natural hog” “That shirt was so worth it” “Did you guys catch her butt when she changed into those jeans...it was pretty nice” several messages in chat read. Most of the lines however were various demeaning cake commentary. There was no way I was going to give them the satisfaction.

I had reassured myself of that but then watched in horror as they switched to posting numbers again. It was poll time. All three options were some variations of wording that effectively said I’d be snacking. It was no surprise they’d want me overeating. I leaned back in my chair and sighed derisively. With any luck I’d be free of them soon. However, first, it seemed I’d be eating cake. A bell rung from my phone as the poll result passed and I sound found myself making my way across the room to the counter. “I figured you’d want more” the waitress from earlier informed me and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of bluster. “I’d actually like to try the chocolate cake...” I told her in a tone that tried to sound confident. It was fairly obvious the chocolate would be much worse for my figure. But the shirt was on my brain. The waitress simply laughed and pulled the chocolate cake up. Shoving it onto my hands as I handed over cash. On the way back to the table I sampled the icing and wondered if they could force me to eat myself out of house and home. If they could force me to turn every dollar in my account into more calories to fill my belly. However back at my table I noticed something had changed. Namely that the other chair was occupied. It seemed the admin had arrived and that I’d be snacking through our meeting.