WARNING: the following story contains elements of weight gain, feeding, sex, scat and… Fuck it. Just grow up. Seriously, if you don’t like what you see maybe, I ‘unno, DON’T look at it? Oh you got enough time to go online and complain about something you despised but read all the way through? Yeah I really value your opinion. I don’t remember taking your family hostage and making you pay attention to anything. If you don’t like it simply think of something else. Penguins! See, now you’re thinking of penguins. It’s that easy. Penguins, galloping gracefully through the penguin plains of Hoth. Those lovable little idiots, waddling about all scrumptious. Delicious, delicious penguins. Mmmmmm…
What? Oh, yeah, here’s the story.
Mrs. Banks adjusts her hair in the mirror. Tonight is the agency's big gala, executives and clients and sponsors all attending, she has to look her best. She and her husband have worked hard for their careers. They’re the only black family on the street, this area’s so nice in fact that her neighbors are racist in an “I don’t see color” way and not an “all lives matter” way. She may not have had it as easy as the spoiled white girls around here but Mrs. Banks is proud to say they’ve earned everything they have.
Mr. Banks comes down the stairs carrying their 6-year-old daughter Sophia in her little cupcake pajamas, her skinny frame clinging to daddy like a baby koala.
“Where’s Jayden?” Mr. Banks asks, kissing his wife.
“In the living room, honey” she answers, perfecting her eye shadow, “shouldn’t Mrs. Higginbottom be here by now?”
Mrs. Higginbottom is the kids’ babysitter, a woman so old her birth certificate is in Latin. So old she actually remembers before the flood, and she never shuts up about it. She often fills the many hours spent looking after Sophia and Jayden with tedious tales of former cats and former husbands.
“She couldn’t make it I’m afraid… she stood up too quickly and broke her leg.”
“Shit” Mrs. Banks mutters, pinning in her earrings, “Who did you get then?”
“Umm… Angelica.”
Mrs. Banks stabs herself. “What!? You got her AGAIN? After what she did last time?! The goldfish… and Sophia’s still barely eating!”
But it’s too late, for through the frosted windows either side of the door they spot Angelica, slowly making her way towards the house. The 16-year-old is easily five times the width of a normal girl and only 4’9”. Her giant midriff hangs so low it nearly skims the ground, swinging side to side like a broom with her labored walking. Her colossal ass is crammed snugly into a pair of pink booty shorts, almost swallowed between cheeks. A deliberately slutty thong emerges coquettishly above the butt crack before disappearing again beneath a dangling shelf of back flab. Angelica’s muffin-cap hips bulge over her waistband and her keg thighs caress and press against one another like squelching tectonic plates. Her shirt, which reads “Porn Star,” is so tight to her boulder breasts (braless) that they almost burst through, her perk, soft diamond nipples distractingly obvious. Her tits bounce side to side in a playful rubber-hose style dance as she struggles forwards. One meaty arm swinging with blubbery drapes manages to cradle an open, sploshing 4ltr jug of chocolate milk, the other a family bag of Cheetos. Her plump lips are powdered with an orange perimeter of cheddar flavored dust. Meanwhile her fat mitt digs into another bag, this one of Screamin’ Sriracha Doritos. Her triple chins jiggle with every greedy grunting smack of her ceaseless chawing jaw. Her tiny turned up nose wriggles like a kitten, crammed between two chipmunk cheeks. Emerald eyes obsessively focus on the handfuls of chips she messily smashes into her mouth like a crazed claw game. Fragments tumbling down her, leaving a trail of chip crumbs in her wake like Hansel and Gretel on crack. Her face is red and sweaty and with heroic effort she lifts a bloated arm to wipe her soaked beauty. Golden blondeness hangs over her shoulders in innocent pig tails.
Mr. Banks opens the door to welcome her as she waddles across their lawn, crushing a newly planted flowerbed. After an exhaustive 3 minute trek Angelica reaches the house and summits the few steps, grunting and struggling to shift her 410lbs the whole way. Finally making it to the front door she empties the Cheetos into her face (spilling a bunch across herself and the floor) and drops the bag, she slurps one huge final swig of her milk before letting that clank and bounce on the porch.
"Oh, Angelica… thanks for coming on such short notice” trembles Mr. Banks, wisely not mentioning she’s 20 minutes late.
“TAKE GOOD CARE OF MY LITTLE GIRL” the menacing voice BOOMS across the neighborhood, it’s Angelica’s father on his police cruiser PA. He’s dropped his adored daughter off so she didn’t have to make the exhausting walk from her house three doors away. Neighbors poke their heads out to see the commotion. “MAKE SURE YOU SHOW HER PLENTY OF RESPECT, BANKS!”
Intimidated, Mr. Banks waves back “Will do, Chief Lovato” as if Angelica isn’t there to work for them, “We’ll look after her!” but Angelica’s dad ignores him.
“BYE BYE, MY SWEET PRECIOUS ANGEL, HAVE FUN!”
Angelica giggles at this public admiration, blushing sweetly with Daddy’s love. He gives the Banks one last intimidating look before pulling away, siren CHIRPING.
Angelica steps through the door… almost. She gets wedged in the double wide entrance way, it hasn’t been let out to accommodate her size like her own home has.
“Stupid small poor-people homes!” she complains, struggling to fit her pasty pink vastness through the threshold.
“Honey, actually I don’t feel well,” Mrs. Banks prevaricates, “maybe we should stay in tonight instead…”
Her husband insists they leave for the all-important soirée and after 5 minutes of whispered shouting she reluctantly grabs her purse. Finally with Mr. Banks pushing from the other side and the amount she’s sweating, Angelica manages to pop through the door.
“Umm… ok, well, there are snacks in the fridge and money for pizza for ALL OF YOU for dinner. Make sure they’re in bed by 9 and that Jayden gets his heart medication and--”
“Yeah, yeah” Angelica dismisses the woman’s insufferable whining as she makes her way towards the kitchen, crunching a number of spilled Cheetos underfoot.
“Ok babies, come say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy.”
The kids rush in to hug their parents goodbye, stopping dead when they see Angelica in the kitchen. Sophia withdraws into herself, clutching daddy’s leg while Jayden gives an anxious glance towards the goldfish bowl.
“We’ll be home around midnight” Mr. Banks reassures his children, reminding them that technically Jesus is also looking after them tonight so don’t worry too too much.
The children wait at the door, watching until their parents’ car has completely disappeared in case there’s a change of plans. 10 minutes later they conclude there isn’t. Fearfully, they shuffle into the kitchen. Angelica is set up in front of the fridge, sitting on two chairs. They watch as she pulls out a mountain of snacks from the crammed shelves. She eats like this partly for immediacy but also because it helps keep her giant sweating, sweltering, scantily-clad body cool!
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRPHHPHHPHPPLPLPLPLPLPL
“Ahhhhhh that feels gooooood,” Angelica smirks as her high pitched FART escapes, immediately the whole room stinks like wet dog food, “man I’m hungry. Shame your dumbass parents have barely any food in the fridge.”
In fact there’s enough food to feed the family for a few weeks but it’s nothing compared to what Angelica’s parents keep stocked for her. The only reason Angelica ever agrees to babysit in fact is her parents think of her as a perfect angel (hence the name) who can do no wrong. Angelica wants to have fun without cluing them in on how bad she really is. Methodically, almost as if eating is her job rather than a passion, Angelica devours every snack that’s been left for the kids including 5 boxes each of Twinkies, bear paws, chocolate chip cookies, marshmallow puffs and 16 cartons of pudding. Next she starts in on the bigger items. She eats a full turkey, ripping shreds of its cold, crispy flesh away from the greasy skeleton, 3-dozen eggs whole, 2 blocks of cheddar cheese plus 6 packets of Kraft single slices, 15 cans of Coca-Cola, 2 giant jars of pickles and 4 trays of Chinese leftovers lashed in sweet and sour sauce. She selfishly gluts back the family’s entire stock of lunch meat including salami, bologna and pork, 3 cartons of OJ, 2 bottles of Fanta and a box of Cinnabons. As she works her way down the shelves (a task getting harder and harder as her belly grows fuller and more obstructive) she notices something that makes her eyes widen with wonderment as if someone has turned a light on inside of her. A beautiful birthday cake! It has blue icing with Dora the Explorer on it and a large number 6 in red frosting. Without thinking she grabs the delicious tribute and dollops it onto her exposed belly from where she may sit back and enjoy it. She tears out great hunks of cake, cramming it all into her face.
“But, Angelica, that’s my birthday cake for tomorrow…” little Sophia complains selfishly!
“Fuck off, I need it!” Angelica scolds, blue slathered around her lips and frosting slopping into her cleavage. When she’s finished she sits there in epicurean euphoria, sensuously rubbing her fat gut and smearing butter-cream across it. After 5 minutes she grabs a glazed ham from the fridge (the last thing in there that isn’t poisonously healthy) and arduously staggers over to the adjoining living room. She drops onto the couch like a wrestling move, sinking into and taxing its deep frame.
“Girl, go get me your daddy’s beers.” Sophia runs off. “Hey! Gimme the remote!”
Angelica is most used to getting her own way and doesn’t need please or thank you.
“Can I just beat this boss?” Jayden asks, playing Halo 4.
“NO! I’m your babysitter, do as I fucking say!!” she manages to scoop up one of the controllers on the floor next to her and hurls it at his head. With a loud THUNK it hits the 4-year-old’s skull and brakes. Angelica laughs.
“I WANNA WATCH TEEN MOM!!! And while you’re at it, bring me that money your dumb parents left for pizza.”
Jayden (rubbing his bruised head) runs to acquiesce.
“And remember, my boyfriend will beat you up if you tell your parents any of this!”
The kid quickly returns and Angelica counts the cash. $35? That’s all they’ve left for her? What a pair of stingy fucks! They’ve actually left $50 but Angelica never excelled at math or science or even showing up to school.
“Are you gonna order us pizza, Angelica?” Sophia asks meekly.
“HA!” the obese teen can’t help but fake-laugh, “No FUCKING way!! I need my strength to deal with you little assholes all night and YOU are fat enough already, you little slut.”
Tears roll down skinny Sophia’s face. She’s fast developing a number of hilarious eating disorders caused by Angelica’s constant taunting.
“There’s barely enough money here for ME so you’re gonna have to just stop being such a greedy pig all the time and go without. Don’t you know there are African kids starving in Asia? Idiots!”
She scrolls through her cell with chubby cake-smeared fingers, her favorite pizza joint saved at the top of her frequently contacted. She orders several extra-large stuffed-crust Hawaiian with anchovies, olives, double onions and hot sauce. She also requests 4 portions of onion rings and 6 of those Hershey’s chocolate pizzas with extra cheese. Every place in town knows the arrangement, they deliver wherever Angelica is then take the bill to her father. She stashes the $50 under a tit. While knocking back beers like sodas Angelica surfs the net on Mr. Banks’ laptop, munching on a loaf of bread and leaving crumbs haphazardly all over the keyboard. 10 minutes later Angelica’s show ends and the kids start pestering her.
“Can we watch the Smurfs movie?”Jayden asked with innocent optimism.
“That movies gay!” Angelica retorts, spraying the kid with a mouthful of food, “Katy Perry’s nowhere near as hot as me.” She grabs both sides of her enormous pasty gut, jiggling it like a sexy earthquake, becoming obsessed with herself and rolling on her side (the laptop tumbling to the laminate flooring) and running her fingers through her many rolls of flab, more folds than an origami convention.
The doorbell rings and Angelica’s beautiful face beams. A whining borborygmos grumbles from her gut.
“Well? Go answer the door, ugly idiot!” she yells at Sophia, not caring that it could very well be a child abductor. Sure enough though the pizza delivery guy walks in, carrying a huge stack of wide greasy boxes (by coincidence he is a child abductor, but is only here tonight in his capacity as pizza shepherd). He already knows the score and lets himself through to the living room where Angelica lays coquettishly.
“Heeeyy,” Angelica teases as she admires his handsome face and muscular frame. She splays herself seductively to give him the best view of her enormous body. She runs her hands up and down her hillock hips. “Are you gonna deliver those pizzas to me or what?”
The kids sit in awkward silence watching The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Fuck Where as Angelica’s satisfied moans emanate from behind them. The delivery guy, one of Angelica’s favorites, feeds her pizza while rubbing his hand further and further up her leg.
“KIDS!” she suddenly yells, “GO UPSTAIRS!!!”
“But Angelica, we’re really hun--”
But they never finish as Angelica lets loose the primal scream of an abandoned baby, much like she does whenever she doesn’t IMMEDIATELY get her own way at home or if there’s a line at the ice cream stand. They run, terrified, upstairs to hide in their parents’ bed as strange sounds come from downstairs. First it’s the sound of the couch bucking, like they’re trying to lift the thing but keep dropping it, then Angelica saying “Yes” and calling for her Daddy over and over, then her screaming again except an encouraging happy kind of screaming.
After 15 minutes delivery guy leaves. Knowing they’re now free to go down (Sophia walked in on it last time and had 2 months of nightmares about Angelica’s belly eating a happy man) they return to the living room. Angelica is still on the couch, struggling awkwardly to pull her shorts up over her fat-ass. She orders them to help and with her butt in the air they manage to stretch the hot-pink hot pants into place. As a reward she releases a vile blast of ass right in their faces, laughing hysterically at her own joke.
“Angelica, can we watch a movie now?” one of them coughs and splutters.
“Ugh, FINE!” she concedes through mouthfuls of pizza, “We’ll watch this one off of YouTube.”
They watch the TV unsuspectingly as Angelica types in “A Serbian Film.” She has the time of her life as the kids stare in horror at the hellish images, they burst in to tears constantly but Angelica makes them watch for her amusement. She takes express pleasure in explaining everything going on. They’re just at that scene (you know the one) when in walks Angelica’s dad.
“Hello, Princess!” he beams, “how’s the babysitting going?”
He’s completely blinded to Angelica’s evil, overcome with paternal love and her expert manipulation. Whenever she’s babysitting he’ll visit to make sure she’s getting enough to eat. Angelica responds in her most innocent baby-voice, batting her eyelashes to look as cute as possible for daddy, “What did you bring me?”
“Well, Princess, I thought I’d pick you up a couple bags of McDonald's and a bunch of shakes, then I stopped by Dairy Queen and got 20 tubs of ice cream for you! I hope it’s enough.”
He makes several trips back and forth to the car to deliver all her food, completely ignoring the content of the film these kids are being tortured with.
“Ok, baby, well I’ll come pick you up when you’re done then we can go grab some snacky-snacks before your dinner.”
“Yayyyyy!” Angelica responds, puckering her lips for a kiss from Daddy. She gets a great big hug and a kiss and some silly tickling before he returns to work.
After another 30 minutes, during which time Angelica finishes many McChickens and fries and McFlurries and half-pound Angus bacon mushroom melt burgers, the door opens again. This time it’s a much younger man who adores Angelica in a different way.
“Hey sexy pants” her boyfriend teases, “you’re looking fucking hot today.”
Mayonnaise is slathered down Angelica's fat face, the couch stained dark with grease and ketchup and sweat from her enthused eating. Her 24-year-old boyfriend has dark rocker hair, a real bad boy look, he leans his skateboard against the Banks’ glass table and grabs Angelica. Absolutely stoned out of his mind he basks in the fleshy infinity of her body. They make out as he massages her stretched gut. He kisses her feet, up her legs and between her fat thighs while she giggles in hedonistic bliss.
“You’re so lucky you’re dating a hot mess like me. I’m just one of those girls that can eat and eat as much as she wants and never gain weight.”
He licks between two rolls of hip flab.
“Baby-girl, I love your ghetto-booty” he moans, running his hand up and down her crotch.
“Are you calling me fucking fat?” Angelica scolds her long suffering boyfriend, slapping him harshly across the face, “It’s not a ghetto-booty, you unappreciative prick, it’s called being curvy! I’m basically Marilyn Monroe only way hotter.”
She’s positively moist though, no matter how much she enjoys torturing Boyfriend she needs his cock right now! The problem is she doesn’t want to stop traumatizing the kids, now watching Hellraiser. With tremendous effort Boyfriend helps his bloated beauty off the couch and upstairs to the master bedroom where there’s plenty of space to have fun. He peels Angelica’s sweat soaked short-shorts from her wanting crotch, diving between her clammy thighs and darting his tongue about expertly. She screams with delight as the sweat stain outlining her body spreads across the mattress like an empire. Before long she climaxes for a third time and starts tugging at Boyfriend’s pants to free the delicious bulging within. She takes his cock and sucks at it like it’s covered in chocolate, caressing his balls with her razor stiletto nails, not to increase his pleasure but to extract his addictive cum all the sooner. She swallows 3 loads before tiring out and they lay there together, sweaty and naked. Angelica let loose a great nebulous fart as Boyfriend helps her up. She pilots him over to Mrs. Banks’ vanity table and starts looking through the jewelry like she’s shopping, handing what she wants off to him to take back to her place. She tries some of the makeup, complaining that the “negro tones” don’t match her pliant pasty palette. Suddenly, she gets a hilarious idea and orders Boyfriend to accommodate it, 10 minutes later he’s leading Sophia and Jayden up to their parents’ bedroom. Now, Angelica is basically naked except crammed into Mrs. Banks’ lingerie. It absolutely doesn’t fit her at all, only the panties barely stretching enough to fit.
“Look, I’m your stupid, whiny mom! Now bring me food!” she howls at her little dress up session as the kids run back and forth, fetching all her fast food she left downstairs as well as a bunch of ice cream out of the garage. From her place on the bed she admires herself in the vanity mirror, imagining such a life of indolent luxury, where everything is done for her, where she's taken care of just once in her life. Suddenly her gut starts to rumble.
“Kids, get me to the bathroom!!”
Angelica is about to burst, not surprising given how much she’s eaten, so it’s lucky the Banks have an ensuite. They just manage to squeeze her through the door (said squeezing only exacerbating the urgency) and get her in front of the toilet in time. She’s just turned around to sit down when a foul stench and squealing gurgle fills the air.
BRAAAAAAAAARRRRPPPFFFLFLFPLLPFLFLFLFSSHHHHHHHHH
Diarrhea bursts from Angelica’s behind before she’s even sat, two streams of steaming excrement spraying everywhere as it’s split by the panties they didn’t get down in time. Angelica is lowered onto the decimated lavatory, liquid shit still falling out of her as the kids bring more food to replace the emptiness filling her up.
“Fuck that was good, you brats can clean me up!”
Boyfriend pouts, usually he gets the privilege of cleaning his queen after her bathroom breaks. She sticks her butt in Sophia and Jayden’s terrified faces, the fetid warmth and obnoxious stench choking their lungs and stinging their eyes. The kids try to weasel out of it.
“SHUDDUP!” Angelica demands as Boyfriend fills her with two Reese’s bars, “Your daddy is a black so my Daddy will shoot him if you don’t do as I say, now WIPE my ASS!!”
They peel their mother’s soiled panties from out of the caked manure between her butt cheeks. With towels rinsed under warm water they start to clean their babysitter out, her eyes rolling backwards with the pleasure of such demeaning servitude. A couple of times she smacks them in the face with farts so powerful they could have names. I know it flies in the face of this present tense but it’s worth mentioning her farts are so bad Jayden eventually gets an eye infection from them and loses a lot of sight.
“Now get me downstairs,” she orders, “I’m starving and there’s still time to make you little shits watch the movie once more.”
Boyfriend supports Angelica as she shuffles her buck-ass naked corpulence downstairs (plundering the kids’ piggy banks on the way) and finally back to the couch. The two lovers smoke weed (real good Indica shit which only exacerbates Angelica’s appetite, if you’re interested hit me up!) while the children relive the horror of… actually, I’m not even gonna describe it. Just, please, don’t Google it*
Suddenly they hear the front door open! Angelica looks to the clock above the mantelpiece, it’s midnight! Oops!
“Angelica!” Mrs. Banks calls out, “Is everything all--”
The parents walk in seconds after Angelica’s boyfriend escapes into the garden. They stare in horror at the scene before them. The floor is littered with pizza boxes, discarded crust, McDonald's containers and grease-soggy brown bags. Empty beers are dropped with plastic pop bottles and KFC chicken bones. The freezer has been idly left wide open and everything in there not delicious enough for Angelica’s attention has defrosted and spoiled. The laptop screen is smashed, the sofa soaked in sexual sweat and the television is displaying something utterly vulgar**. The kids look dead from where they’ve stayed up so late and have been crying so much. Also starved, verbally abused and farted at.
“THAT’S IT!” Mrs. Banks screams, now crying with futile frustration, “I can’t take any more of this bitch, every time she babysits things get worse and worse. I’m taking the kids to Dr. Marcel to make sure they’re ok then we’re staying at my mother's. Get rid of this irresponsible, lazy, SPOILED little WHORE.”
She storms upstairs but reappears not a moment later, more furious than before.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS!!” She yells, holding up Angelica’s massive flowery thong found in her bed. She hadn’t dared touch the condom. Mrs. Banks turns to her husband.
“DANIEL! YOU were the one who hired her, clean up my house, burn the mattress and don’t you DARE pay her!”
Mrs. Banks scoops up the wretched, sobbing Sophia and Jayden and storms out, a few moments later the door slams and she’s gone. Mr. Banks turns to Angelica who has been laughing her ass off throughout the entire rant. He takes $200 from his wallet and hands it to her.
"You gave Jayden his heart medicine right?”
“You never told me to” she lies.
“Did you feed the baby?”
“Baby?”
“Where’s the goldfish?”
“BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!”
“Never mind,” Mr. Banks declares as Angelica bites her lower lip seductively, laying back and opening her legs to receive her handsome employer, “you know that’s not why I keep hiring you.” He undoes his pants. Angelica giggles in sexual anticipation.
She really loves her job.