The New Job

Chapter 1

Clea waited nervously in bed, staring at the bedroom door, wondering who was going to enter. She bit her lips, and wondered how she had gotten herself to this state. Mid twenties, and grossly obese, this was the brunette's new job, to feed her food addiction while making income. Her old job, at a bakery, had fired her after the manager caught her taste-testing the baked goods.

Clea had heard from her fat friends about this "club" where fat was accepted. Almost like a strip club, but for the fat girls. She hadn't wanted to do this but after 2 months of not being able to find work, she realized this was her only option.

Today was her first day on the job. Leonard, the owner of the club, had taken one look at Clea when she waddled inside the dim club, in a too tight interview suit, and said she was a perfect fat candidate. He got her to start that evening, telling her that her job was to entertain the men that came in, in exchange, she would get paid and fed. Leonard called it every fat women's dream.

Clea looked at her body shamefully. Leonard had gotten her to wear a plus size pink lingerie set. The bra and underwear were too tight, but one wouldn't really notice, because the distraction was her multiple belly rolls, her sausage like arms, and jiggly thunder thighs.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and before Clea could say anything, it opened, and a tall, older man walked in, pushing with him a cart full of food - cakes, fried chicken, pizza, etc.

"I heard a fat whale was hungry," he said briskly, coming over to Clea, and sitting down on the bed with a cake.

Clea nodded silently, feeling some fear come over her. This was all new to her, and she wasn't sure what was going to happen.

"My name is K, and I'm here to feed you," K said, opening up one of the cakes - a double chocolate cake that Clea had seen had come from a high end bakery - and he took a handful and shoved it into Clea's mouth.

Sudden bliss washed over her, as her tongue hit the sweet sensation of the chocolates. K started to feed her more, shoveling the handful of cake into her mouth, causing Clea to chew faster. By the time Clea knew it, the first cake was gone and she was lying on her back, feeling content.

K poked her rising belly, seeing its softness. "You still have room in you," he said, and started feeding her the rest of the food with one hand, while with his other hand, he massaged her belly rolls, and getting some cake residue from the first one, onto her skin.

When on the food was gone, Clea heard herself breathing heavily, she was sweating, and her stomach felt tight as a drum. She looked at the empty cart, and tears started to form, as she realized with horror how she had just polished off food fit for a family of 20.

K slapped her stomach, so full and taunt, it did not sway. He admired his work, seeing this whale beached on the bed, too stuff to move. There was a round Lindt chocolate ball lying on the cart, something that Clea didn't eat yet. K unwrapped it, and put it squarely on Cleo's wide and indented belly button. He admired for a minute the chocolate resting on this young girl's stomach so packed, and literally resembling a dome.

He kissed her belly dome, tickled her double chin, and said "well, it's been a pleasure feeding you, my lovely blimp. Have a good time with the other men." With that, K got up, pushed the empty cart of of the room, and closed the door silently behind him.

Clea, still sweating and breathing heavily, while trying to rub her aching belly, tried to process what had just happened.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, and in walked another man, older, like in his 50s. He had gray hair, and looked uncertain.

He came up to Clea, looking down at her, and Clea followed his eyes, moving from her rounded face, to her rising stomach. His eyes stopped on the chocolate ball, and he took it, and put it in Clea's mouth, "My my," he said, "what a fatty we have here." he took his index finger, and traced the circumference of Clea's navel, and then suddenly jabbed his finger into her belly. She squealed in surprise and pain, almost choking on the last of the chocolate she was chewing.

Clea felt his finger hook in her navel. "Get up Fatty," the man commanded frowning, tugging at her belly.

Clea struggled to roll onto her side, with the man's finger still inside her. After some struggle of her heaving herself onto her feet, she finally did, red faced though and sweating more.

The man had taken his finger out of her by then, and taken out his phone, to show her a video of a slim belly dancer dancing.

"Look at the pretty girl, dancing," the man said. "She looks to be about your age. Too bad you can't dance like that in public. You don't have the belly for it!" and with that, he slapped her gut. The food had settled from the earlier feeding, and Clea's belly jiggled.

The man watched in disgust at Clea's belly jiggling. Clea looked away from her swaying belly, ashamed.

The man closed the video, and walked over to the chair by the door, settling in it.

"I want you to dance like how you saw that dancer danced. Feel your apron of a belly swaying in all the wrong ways, and maybe that will motivate you to lose the flubber belly blubber."

Clea was too scared and humiliated to disobey the old man, so she did as she was told.

She tried to lift her arms, like how the dancer did, and sway to the side, but her arms were heavy from her arm fat, and she could not move as effortlessly as her her body was tiring from the layers of fatty blubber weighing it down. It was a pathetic fat dance that Clea was even attempting, and no longer had a minute passed that she collapsed to the ground, on her back, exhausted. Her 400 plus body was too much for her 5 ft 3 inches frame to hold any more. All that movement had also gotten Clea sweating and breathing heavily again.


Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw the old man turn and press a button on the wall. In a moment, in walked Leonard. The two man walked over to Clea, looking down at her in pity and disgust, as she tried to get up, rolling from side to side unsuccessfully, .

"How much does this Macy Day parade blimp weigh?" the old man questioned Leonard.

"482 lbs," Leonard replied, taking out of his pocket a thick roll of bills. He fingered five bills, and let it flutter over Clea's giant belly, glistering with sweat, and rising up and down slowly. Cleo, given up trying to get up, breathed heavily, and watched, tears rolling down her fat cheeks, as the two men turned their back and walked out.

Leonard turn around before closing the door and said, "Sleep here tonight, Ms. Fatty. We'll do this again tomorrow." With that, he closed the door behind him.