Miss Piggy's Registration Progress

Chapter 1

"Stop being difficult, Miss Piggy! If you want to act like a stupid, normal porker, I can put you in a barn! Instead, enjoy your freedom and my little attentions while you go about your work and indulge your desires. I'm not going to let you put on such beautiful rolls of fat just to hide at home! Our mutual friend will check on you regularly to make sure you continue to put on fat and show off that magnificent body!

I will pick you up soon for a special treatment.


Your Master"

My words accompany you day and night. When you didn't show up for work for three days after the gala dinner, she was standing in your bedroom again—our mutual friend, as I like to call her. She delivered my message, forced you to devour a 5,000-calorie breakfast and three gainingshakes, and from then on, made sure you got on with your life and didn't fall out of step again.

She also regularly sends you fattening treats to your workplace and supplies you with clothes that emphasize your ample body. "Well deserved rewards", she calls it. "Those thick thighs want to be emphasized and your gorgeous, round belly needs to be shown off!" she regularly beams at you as she ushers you out the front door, you being bright red in the face and full of shame. You feel surrounded by the judgmental looks of those around you these days. And I love it when everyone looks at my sweet thriving piggy.

Three weeks later I wake you early on a saturday by lovingly kneading your underbelly. "Wakey, wakey, Miss Piggy. Big day for a big porky!" I feed you in bed an xxl-portion 'English Breakfast', slab and jiggle your cunt and then force you naked in a pink overall and pumps. At last I put a girdle around your protruding belly and squeeze it. You whimper miserably but endures your humiliation as usual submissively.

"Gorgeous!" With a pinch to your heavy bottom, I push you to the door. Confused, scared and overwhelmed, you let yourself be guided to the car and I buckle you in your seat. Then I longingly stroke your fat thighs and inject a sedative. While you drift of you hear me say: "They'll be proud to see you so well-fed!"

When you come around you are hunched in a chair and on a table in front of you waits a big plate with a silver cloche in the shape of a pig's head. A business woman approaches you. "Hello dear! Welcome to our community, where we are dedicated to caring for animals with special needs. Your fosterer wishes you plenty of nourishment while he registers your care. I'll stay with you until he returns." She lifts the cloche and you see yourself confronted with a mountain of maccaroni and cheese.
As you hesitate longer, looking around fearfully, she whispers threateningly, "Eat!" and pinches your ample breasts painfully. Tears well up in your eyes and you scream in pain. Without any hope of mercy, you begin to wolf down the greasy meal. When you slow down towards the end, she takes the spoon from you and impatiently feeds you the rest.

"Ah, good piggy." I wrap my arms around your bulging belly and check how stuffed you are. "Finished just in time for me to bring you to your first appointment. And thank you, for taking such good care of my pig." "You're welcome. See you, porker!" She strokes your breast and you twitch. We both laugh and I guide you out of the building.

While you waddle and stumble next to me on the community grounds, I notice you acknowledging the labels of the surrounding buildings. Poultry, Cows, Pigs, Horses, Dogs...

"We have some animals here that are kept in stables, for fattening, regular milking or training. I prefer free-range farming or house pets. I hope you do too, Miss Piggy." I tell you casually.

...training center, butcher.

As we pass the training center you start panicking and try to turn around. Begging with me you whimper "Please no, please! I'll be good. I won't hide myself at home anymore. I will stuff myself without restraint. Please, please have mercy!" I chuckle. "Relax, Miss Piggy. The butcher has to take a photo for your registration and opens a file for your fattening progress. He will keep track of your progress, so will I of course, and the community. It's up to you whether you will experience his other skills as well.

Shaking and sweating you let youself be brought inside. "Hi there. It's been a long time since I've seen you here at my place. I see you found yourself a new piglet. I assume you want me to portray the best parts of your fatty?" The butcher approaches us and starts stripping you off your overall as I nod encouragingly. "Tattoe or Edding?", he asks. "Well, first of all just Edding I think. My delicious Miss Piggy needs to see all of the precious parts I see. And when she remembers and treats them well enough, I might not need more."
While you stare between us, clueless and stiff with fear, and endure everything, the butcher tells you to "put your claws aside for now". When you don't understand I point at your pumps. You stumble out of them and out of the overall and he pushes you onto a silver table on all fours. I enjoy the sight of your curves, rolls of fat and bumps as I watch him draw lines on your skin and label your parts. You shudder under the tickling of this procedure. Then he makes three polaroid photos, one for the file, one for my pockets and one for you to keep.

I show you your labels and then call out individual parts. It's your task to slab each called out part with your flat hand so that your fat trembles: neck, clear plate, boston butt, picnic ham, back fat, loin, spare ribs, bacon, ham, hock.
With tears in your eyes and a bright red face, you slap your juicy flesh as being told. After a few repetitions, your skin is pink, and I'm pleased with how well your fat is already wobbling.
"Remember, Miss Piggy: Make sure that you always supply these valuable body parts with enough calories and you will be well cared for by me." I let you sit on the table and knead your bacon and ham a bit before I let you put your pink overall back on and put the polaroid in your breast pocket. I push your ass towards the door and shake hands with the butcher. "'Til next time. Thanks for your art! It always enlights my imagination." He laughs and wishes us a good stay.

Outside I shake your stiff body. "Get yourself together, Miss Piggy! That wasn't too bad, was it? We appreciate it when you nurture and care for your delicious hams and other body parts with the same dedication as we do. So, you should know them well to fulfill that. And now, my plump, good little pig, you're going to see the vet. I want to make sure you're fit for our continued fat-loving journey together." I guide you around the training center and enter with you our vet clinic. In the waiting room I sit down while you have to wait on all fours beside me. "You will be asked a few questions and get some tests done and afterwards you get to enjoy yourself again, Miss Piggy."

The assistant calls us out and you shyly enter the examination room. I follow and sit in the corner, delighted by your sweet insecurity and obedience.
"Strip down, Miss Piggy and sit on the examination desk!", Dr. Vet says from behind his office desk without looking up. The assistant helps you out and pushes your big ass up the table when you ungracefully try to get on the high table.

"Since when have you been in the mast?", Dr. Vet questions you, eyeing you over his clipboard and approaches the table. "M...Ma...Ma...Mast?", you stummer. I answer to your rescue. "For six month now. I found her at the last animal fair and have socialised her in free-range farming ever since. Miss Piggy, please answer the doctor's questions!" You look bewildered and shift around on the cold metaltable.
"Right. Let's move on! How long have you been fattening yourself before the fair?" "I...I...I...haven't."
"Where you on a diet?"
"N...No."
"How long have you been fat before the fair?"
"D...Don't know. I...I...wasn't really a thin kid. I've always been a bit bigger." I snort and you blush even deeper out of embarrassement.
"Are you enjoying being fat and gaining?"
"What?"
The doctor sighs, puts the clipboard aside and begins to grip different rolls of fat, weighs your breasts in his hands and pushes into your belly button with his index finger. "If you can't give proper answers, Miss Piggy, I will check for myself." "She's a shy one, doc. But I would clearly say yes!", I laugh. He kneeds your rolls and breasts for some time and makes absentmindedly comments about your well-fed appearance. Then he checks your intimate area. "A yes it is.", he says casual. You blush a deep red and I can't wait to play with you for myself when this is over.

"Let's see what we have. We will take your weight and size." Stripped from your clothes you present yourself with 318 lbs and 5.54 ft. I beam towards you and you look ashamed to the ground.

Dr. Vet addresses me. "I guess another free-ranging fattening of yours?" I nod proudly and join you at the table, stroking your resting belly. "Since our last checkup, my Miss Piggy's been having a bit of trouble fully enjoying and appreciating my form of husbandry. I think the usual treatments will help her get back to her old form, Doctor."
"Yes, no doubt. We will help your piglet shine bright again." He grabs your double chin and turns your head until you're looking into each other's eyes. "A pig can't hide its true nature. The desire to eat is too overwhelming and too arousing to suppress for long." He slabs your ramp hard and forces you to jump of the table. Tears of deep embarrassement burn in your eyes. Then you have to piss squatting into a shallow tub and get blood drawn for tests. It takes some time but it's worth the show.

"Has the pig seen the stables yet? I could take your Miss piggy if you wanna talk more about the treatment.", the assistant asks. "Thank you, but that's not necessary. I'd rather show it to you myself, Miss Piggy. I think it will help you process this and look forward to the little dinner party to celebrate your induction into the community. What do you say, my shaky waddling bacon?"
Only a feeble whimper escapes your lips.
"You certainly meant 'Yes, master'", I threaten sweetly. "Y...Ye...Yes, master."

"Did she even acknowledged her nature yet?", Dr. Vet asks, curious. "Miss Piggy, did you? What are you?"

Panicking and red in your chubby face you stare to the ground. I can see you struggling even with allowing the thought of you as a pig. My cute fatty porker. "Just repeat after me, Miss Piggy", I sweetly offer and put your chin up to me. "I am a piggy." A hint of struggle in my hand, I grib your chin tighter. "Repeat: I am a piggy." Tears run down your round cheeks, eyes still downwards. I pinch hard into your lower belly and shake your fat. "You are trying to be difficult with your master, Miss Piggy? I wanna hear you admitting it, now: I am a piggy." You stutter and whisper, your whole body shaking: "I...I...I am...a...a...p...pig...gy." "And again, louder!" "I..I a...I am a...pig...gy." "Clear and loud, again!" "I am...a...piggy." "And now without your stupid sobs, Miss Piggy. Look me in the eye and confess to me!" "I...I am...a piggy." "Again til I say you can stop, piggy!" "I am a...piggy. I am a pig...gy. I am a piggy. I am a piggy. I am a piggy. I ..." Satisfied I pat your fat squeezed cheek."Gooood Piggy. A piggy you are. Fattening you will. A juicy hog you might be at the end." Cold runs down your back. Dr. Vet and his assistant smile at you lovingly and shake your belly fat and ass. To end the examination finally I give you back your pink overall and we watch you redressing shakily. I tie up your belly myself with the girdle and we leave. "See you later!" You give me a quick frightened look.

"So now, Miss Piggy we will meet up with our mutual friend in the barn, where her own porker lives. Wait till you see this jiggling sow!" I enjoy the panicked helplessness in your eyes and stiffened body. But you remain submissive and let me guide you to it. We enter and I explain. "We have the shelter pigs of our community at the front boxes and the private porkers in the somewhat shielded boxes at the back. Ah look here, my last one. Got a bit boring at the end and I gave him up and into the shelter." I pat the big ass of a male over the grid. Almost immobile due to his hanging belly fat and lumpy extremities, he squeals and lifts his round face from the trough. "Well, how do you do, my greedy boar? I see you are eating your way inexorably to the placement in the slaughter box. Oink a greeting to my promising Miss Piggy, will you?" The fat, naked heap in front of us looks at you with sad, but also resigned, button eyes and grunts. "Now keep eating, fatso. I hope Miss Piggy doesn't become an immobile pig like you so quickly. I'm only good with mobile masses. And unlike you, she has a sense of her size. You should see how wonderfully she blushes when she feels humiliated." You blush even deeper and are trying to find a less scarier spot to look at. But this massive undefined body in front of us captures your gaze and increases your fear.

"Come, Miss Piggy. That mustn't be your fate if you keep up a good health and mobility. I like the cute piggy-condition, I get bored with dump hogs." Yeah, I know, it gives you no real advise for your future, but I like teasing you just too much. I push you down the row of boxes to the private ones.
Just beyond the barrier, we meet our mutual friend, who is happily driving her 450-pound sow around the pen with a cattle prod and addresses her with humiliating nicknames. She's completely focused on the sow, and I stop you to watch. Every now and then, she lets the sow catch her breath and then teases her with rhythmic fist thrusts in her cunt. But before she can cum, she drives her again with the cattle prod. Some minutes later she throws the cattle prod out. She soothingly strokes her panting and sweating fat pig and lets her fortify herself with a trough full of cola. Then she steps out of the box to greet us. We hug each other warmly, and you get your belly shaken with her hands grasping a full size of your rolls. "Don't look so shaken, Miss Piggy. Finally you're here. It's what you were made and prepared for!" I interrupt her. "Your sow is seeking your attention, I believe..." "That hot beast!", she whispers to us and winks mischievously. Then she reenters the box and fists her cunt til she oinks wild and cums. Slapping her cunt and saying goodbye she gets back to us and whipes of her hands with a towel. "Let's get Miss Piggy to dinner, shall we?"

We arrive on time back in the community hall and the dining hall where you had your lunch earlier. A group of the highest community members welcome us and each touches a bit of you, already excited to see how you will do in the official initiation ritual.

Then I place you in a stable box in the center of the room and explain the ritual to you loudly, so that everyone can hear it.
"We will now, in turn, promise you our care and feed you generously as a sign of our devotion. To each attendant who approaches you, you will introduce yourself: 'I am a piggy. I need plenty of treats to make the fat on my precious body grow and make my Master happy.' Then you show the attendant your Polaroid from the butcher and ask: 'Can you help me and feel if I'm getting fatter?' Then you devour the food the attendant feeds you and let yourself be checked. And so on through the rows. You may ask me for help from time to time. If you feel too full or your overall feels too tight, say: 'Master, can you help me be a good piggy?' Then I'll come and check. When you've eaten everything, you can rest, and the next day I'll drive you back. And then you can enjoy your happy piggy life. Ready, Miss Piggy? Don't embarrass us!"

The nasty woman from lunch approaches your crate. "She's making sure you do it right. I warn you, she's not as patient as I am."
Your nerves are obviously frayed, Miss Piggy. I know the day has already been overwhelming. But it's amazing how resilient beef cattle often are. While we sort ourselves out, me last, and the covered portions of food are brought in, you have time to grasp the essentials, and your supervisor repeats the procedures for you.

The first two rounds are a bit bumpy. Having to recite your lines continues to chip away at your small sense of self-worth. As soon as it's time to feed, you seem a bit more relaxed, and perhaps there's even some relief that you can silently endure the further humiliation of being touched to see how round and full you already are. After the fourth caregiver, you're already struggling hard and breathing shallowly. After a pleading look at your caregiver and a demanding one from her, you whisper in my direction: "Master, can you help me be a good piggy?"

I approach you, beaming with pride. "Of course, Miss Piggy! What is it you need?" "It's too tight. I can hardly breathe," you gasp, holding onto the cage railing for support. I allow you to continue without your girdle and remove it. Your characteristic item accentuated your stomach well again for me today. During the fifth round, you beg for my help again, and I allow your overseer to soothingly massage your strained stomach. You survive the sixth round only on all fours and have a tearful moment. When you remember to ask me for help, I massage your cunt through the overall and let the others praise you with words of appreciation. After a good quarter of an hour, it's your last feeding from your Master's hand. In memory of my first visit to you, I free your aching body finally from the overall and let you approach the food on your own. Burgers, fries, nuggets and a shake, of course. You're barely responsive and apathetic. When the last nugget has passed through your lips, we roll you onto your back together. You're unconscious, and with great excitement, I carefully feel your body. You're stuffed to the brim. While we celebrate you and I'm congratulated on finding such a magnificent pig, your tortured body works noisily to digest the calories into fat. In the early morning, all it takes is a small breakfast before you whimper again, still lying in the crate. I finally reward you and let you go back to sleep.

Dr. Vet takes you in for a little operation while you are still unconscious and you wake beside me in the car in front of your home. "Wasn't that a wonderful trip, Miss Piggy? Sure, it was very exciting for you. But you were very good and made me proud. I allow you another 48 hours rest and our friend will go on providing you with new clothes for work. Dr. Vet treated your little anxiety problem while you were out cold. You will enjoy stuffing yourself again, soon. Just listen to your graving body."
Tears still run down your fat cheeks.

I take you to bed and, for once, spoil you without feeding. But before you climax, I make you confess again and you whimmer and moan and cry: "I am a piggy. I am a piggy. I am a piggy."