Annabelle sits resplendent and naked on her reinforced toilet, relieving her bowels of the several hundred pounds of food she’s destroyed since her last trip to the bathroom. Her magnificently massive stomach distends elegantly to the tiled floor, laying heavily, pressing against her titanic thighs and the porcelain throne. She’s a little dumpling in shape. If she were able to stand she'd be barely five feet tall. Laying supine her stomach stretches smoothly almost reaching her tiny piggy toes, her hips four feet side to side. Her massive breasts, having long outgrown any bra, stretch astride her lordly stomach. Despite their length they maintain the curve and fulsomeness of a teenage girl's and at this moment rest comfortably on her pasty jellyfish knees. The fat occupying her arms hasn't yet reached to overlap her hands entirely but the dainty digits are encumbered enough with fat of their own. Her fingers, once tiny, now resemble stuffed sausages, so addled with adipose that moving them is a struggle and wearing jewelry impossible. Still, she works them nimbly and with precision to transport food to her fat, stained face. Talking of Annabelle’s face, she’s beyond beautiful. Piercing brown eyes glaze over in her permanent feasting and her sweet little snout wiggles endearingly as she eats, often being coated in the wreckage of her repasts. Her full, pouty dick-sucking lips are permanently drool ridden. Her several chins hang with fat by about 5 inches and her globe like cheeks, always crammed with food, fill her face. The only part of her not affected by fat is her dark, curly, Italian hair which hangs lazily at her shoulders. A mess, her locks live up to their name and trap feasting shrapnel within, popcorn and Cheetos and custard revealing a constant diary of what she eats each hour. In total I'd say she weighs about 750lbs, but I haven't checked today. I watch, enthralled, as Annabelle tackles the 3’ roasted sow slopped across her paunch. She wrestles to keep it rested against her breast as the greasy carcass slides down her gut, grunting as she constantly has to reposition. Annabelle slurps and snarls and smacks her lips as she messily eats like some possessed zombie, savagely stripping crispy flesh from skeleton with her bare teeth. Grease and gristle and hog fat coagulate like a gel smeared across her naked forefront, leaving an oily film over her tits and chins and gut. I kneel before her and support the roast monster, her arms slap happily to her life float hips as she chews and shit.
NYYOOOMNNYOOMM SHHLUUUURPPP GNAAAARLLLYLAARL
PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARPSHSLSLSHLSSPPAPAAAAARPJ
GUUUUULPP SLOOORRPP OINK GNAAAARGNAARRLL CHHEEWW
SHLOOPOPPLPOOOPLPPRAAAAARRRPPPPP
She bites out the deceased swine's throat like a merciless predator, no doubt imagining it’s still alive. Annabelle finishes up her toiletries just as she's scooping out the last of her victim’s internal organs. She shhluuuuuuuups back the slimy lower intestine in one greasy go, moaning with sexual pleasure as it slides up across her chins into her mouth. Finally she finishes letting loose liquid dumps but remains on the shitter for another 15 minutes, too focused on the deliciously dead animal to move. The pig’s skull has been boiled so she can easily chew through and suck out the beast's brains (though how she maintains her perfect teeth I'll never know). The head is also stuffed with breadcrumbs and potato and cheese to add extra mass. Piece by piece she disassembles the skeleton like some industrious insect, snapping each bone in half to suck the thick marrow from within. Once the mound of bones at her fat feet is completed Annabelle begins whimpering like an injured puppy, pouting her plump lips to full effect. "Lover. I'm still hungryyyy..." Since her bathroom is en suite she's never more than a few feet away from food and I hurriedly grab her a hostess trolley of coconut cream pies. I hand her one but she once again forgoes self-sufficiency and simply buries her face in it. She snuggles and grunts contently like a pig in a trough. Once that’s finished I grab the milkshake pipe from her wheelchair and place it between her lips to keep her busy. She sucks away on caramel cheesecake smoothie while I move her off the toilet. I'm sure she's capable of walking but she refuses to do so. Not that I would ever let her walk, why should she have to use her legs when she's so beautiful and sweet and perfect? We've been together since high school. She dropped out when she was 14 but we still hung out, mostly in her room while she ate and watched TV. Sometimes she'd let me take her on dates to the movies so long as I got up and went to the lobby for her every 20 minutes. We had our first kid that year, 11-years ago, and she's gained over 400lbs in that time. Since we moved in together she's done nothing but eat every day and watch television, lolling about getting fatter and more demanding. Our three kids spend most of their time running around to appease Mommy since they love her so much and she has absolutely no scruples about exploiting their loyalty. As she says, the kids are only here to look after her. Once she's in her wheelchair she starts making toddler whining noises warning me to get her back to her beloved bed, kicking her legs and scrunching up her face as fake tears roll down her fat cheeks. It doesn't take long for the automated wheelchair to carry her in to our (or rather, her) bedroom. As she leans over the bedside I take several wet Kashmir towels and clean out her anus, a chore she considers akin to foreplay. She buries her face in a blueberry pie, bubbling and giggling while I see to her sanitary needs. Another 5 minutes and 11 pies later and she's gently rolled back in to bed, wiggling her toes in satisfaction and coquettishly kneading her massive rolls. Our room isn't a typical Mom and Dad's room. There's the normal furniture in the room but most of it is neglected save the cabinet for the wide screen TV and the dining tables in each corner of the room stacked with food. She works through each of these several times a day between snacks and proper meals. We’ve never painted or decorated and wallpaper's peeling from the steam of many hot greasy meals. The floor is carpeted in discarded candy wrappers, brown junk food bags, dozens of pizza boxes (some still with pizza inside) half eaten food she's capriciously discarded and bones from the many animals devoured here. Dozens of empty plastic 2ltr pop bottles adorn the side of her bed and the immediate floor around her. The bed has never been cleaned and the permanent crater left by her formidable form is home to several pounds of crumbs and bodily fluids. Taking a piss isn't reason enough for my plump paramour to get up so she just pisses in bed and we try to keep a beach towel under her pussy. We only have the time and energy to clean the room about once every two week so usually it stays this way. If we do clean it only takes a day to get like this again. The room stinks of her flatulence given she has no compunction about letting her bowels rip in front of whoever is around. The color of the mattress is lost to the various different food, shit, piss, sweat and cum stains from her common 14 hour binge sessions.
As she's settling down I change Annabelle into her bed wear, a lilac cotton nightgown which barely comes down to her navel and her matching fuzzy slippers to keep her feet warm. Of course, when she's stuffing herself to the max or is too hot she’ll happily eat naked no matter who's around. Once she's rested and comfortable she turns to me, welling up with the grouchy expression that usually adorns her face when she feels mistreated. "Lover, I'm exhausted. Why do I have to get up JUST to shit? Don't you love me anymore?" Tears flood the corners of her eyes and her chins begin to tremble. There's a lot that makes her cry such as not getting the food she wants, having to do anything for herself, not being spoiled enough and having to deal with her children. "I mean" she sobs "the kids don't have to go to the bathroom, they get to wear diapers all the time!!" I don't mention the reason our kids wear diapers all the time is because she forces them to. When they come home from school she needs them right on form to look after her and she simply can't let them waste time going to the bathroom when they could doing something for their Mommy. Our kids are young but still too old by a loooong way to be wearing diapers. She doesn't care, our family is all about her. She says that constantly, to our faces. I soothingly caress her belly as she stuffs her face with a couple family bags of Doritos leaving behind a residue of orange cheesy powder across her finger tips and face and inform her I'll start getting diapers in her size so she won't have to suffer anymore. She gleefully accepts this and lets me take over feeding her so her arms can rest. Relaxed, she lets loose another air cursing fart which for her acts as foreplay. As I stuff her face with donuts her mood suddenly changes to irritable, I can tell she's just thought of something delicious and is pissed off she's not eating it. "YUUMM SHHLUUUUUUURPPP ERIGERR!! BUUUUURPP GID IN HERE NOWD!!! NNOOMMMNNOMMM" Erica is our maid and Annabelle's main servant. Since me and the kids usually aren't in all day Erica is responsible for cooking and bringing all her food, helping her to the bathroom, wiping her ass, massaging her belly and feeding her. "BBUURRRRPPP Where's my food LLOOORRRPPP ugly bitch??! I told you to get it FIFTEEN MINUTES ago!!!!" "Umm... s-sorry A-A-Annabelle, it's j-just on its w-way" This is unacceptable. Annabelle's stomach growls threateningly. "Well in THAT case you'll have to be punished BUUUUUUUUUUUURPPPPP!!! What are your kids eating?" Erica can't afford daycare, not with what we pay her, so her two toddlers stay in the kitchen with their mom. To be honest, the only reason Annabelle doesn't make her leave them at home on their own is because she's hoping to start training them as free slaves very soon. "P-please A-Annabelle...I j-just made them some p-peanut b-b-butter sandwiches, they h-hardly get enough t-to eat as it is..."
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHH SHLUUUUUUURPP NUMMMY!! GIMME GIMME GIMME!!
Annabelle orders Erica to bring in her babies food for her alone, no one else. Erica emerges tearfully a moment later with her kids’ lunches and Annabelle snaps the sandwiches viciously from her hands, inflicting nasty bite marks on three fingers. She delightedly devours the measly sandwiches, leaving two small children starving. Annabelle LOVES to steal food from children and does it to our kids all the time. She can't understand why toddlers are allowed to eat when she's already grown up and needs that food more than anyone. She orders Erica to stop lounging about and get back in the kitchen. She also has her bring in all the peanut butter and bread in the house so Erica can't blasphemously try to feed her kids again. "SSSHHLUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPP and whatever you were gonna make my kids for dinner tonight you can feed to ME instead!!" She turns to me with that sweet pout. "Why am I so abused?" she asks, defeated. I gently tell her that it'll never happen again, and we'll dock Erica's pay another month. Annabelle giggles salaciously as I deliver a sweet kiss to her bulbous lips and tickle her enormous belly. We're just making out (while she continues to eat) when she pushes me away callously. Erica has entered the room, struggling with two large brown bags full of fast food, the bottoms darkened with grease and steam. The excitement in Annabelle's face is obvious as her tongue dances manically in the air, lapping up the smell as if it could go to waste. I begin feeding her Dairy Queen as Erica returns to the hall to fetch the rest of the delivery. Even before UberEats we got Dairy Queen delivered to our door, Annabelle just eats so much of it they couriered the food here and still made most of their profit from her alone. Erica finally brings in her entire order of 10 bags of food and 20 different types of ice cream before being ordered to return to her kitchen duties. Annabelle works her way through 30 quadruple patty bacon cheeseburgers, 50 large packets of fries, 20 packets of onion rings, 30 hot dogs and 70 pork and bean burritos. Once that's finished and instantly forgotten about she moves on to the assortment of ice cream that awaits her, all now slightly melted. She slurps back 20 chocolate cheesecake ice creams, 40 hot fudge sundaes, 70 ice cream bars and 5 whole strawberry vanilla birthday cakes. At the end of it her face and hands are slopped and sticky with dairy slurry, her nightgown stained with ice cream and fudge. She licks her hands, desperately hungry, only working up her appetite further. "RAAAAAAAAARRRPPP!!! Lover!!! Bags!!!!" Annabelle has discovered that after meals she can get some residual taste from the steam and grease absorbed by the paper bags. She chews and sucks the darkened cardboard before swallowing it back satisfied. Just as she's knocking back the last of the grease we hear the front door open. This elicits an epicurean excitement in Annabelle as this means the kids are home. She's always happy to see them, solely because it means more people to bring her food. This is where the real eating begins. In comes our eldest, Morgan, she's 11-years-old and the cutest thing that ever lived apart from her mother. She rushes in and straight up to her malevolent matriarch's bedside. "Mommy!!" "LLUUMMM SSHHLLLORRRPP Come giff NYYOMM Mommy a kiss!!! BUUUUUUUURPPP!" Morgan climbs onto the bed and goes to lean over her mother's massive form, unavoidably staining her own clothes with ice cream and grease. Before she can deliver the requested affection Annabelle BURPS obnoxiously, expectorating flecks of ground up burger meat cheese, beans and melted ice cream right into her daughter's flinching face, hitting her square in the eye. "LLOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRPPP!!! No yoo STOOPID BITCH!! GLLOOMMOMM Brin me NYOMMMM CHHEEWWW sumfink doo SMAKKKKK eat first BLLUUKUK. Jesus you’re LARRRKKKK so USELESS!!!" Morgan climbs down to collect food followed by a look of pure malice and hatred from her monstrous matriarch. Annabelle looks at me and asks where we went wrong between mouthfuls of her children's dinner. Morgan returns balancing 4 pies on top of each other and rushing them to her mother, the still searing pie tins sharply burning her palms. Her mother can see the pain in her face as the metal scolds her daughter’s hands but pays no attention. Annabelle takes 10 seconds to chug back a whole 4ltrs of Dr. Pepper and carelessly drops the mostly empty bottle to the ground before snatching the burning tins from her daughters outstretched blistered hands. I remove the tins so they won't burn my beloved and lay the warm pies across her paunch. Her stomach growls threateningly up at the confectionery as if it's trying to devour them through osmosis. Annabelle smothers her face with the freshly baked blueberry pies, slurping out the insides with greedy grunting noises and forgetting completely about the kiss she asked from her daughter. She often tells me that looking after our kids isn't a priority for her. She has better more important things to do. As this is happening Bella our 9-year-old middle child enters the room pushing a hostess cart covered in various treats and pastries. Once again, through mouthfuls of chocolate birthday cake, icing smeared across her lips, Annabelle requests a kiss, but once the trolleys of snacks are within range she greedily snatches up a box full of donuts and stuffs her face with them. In this time I'm unloading the several cakes from the cart onto Annabelle's chest so they're within immediate reach of her. "Right SSHHMAKKK GGLLARRMM you liddle sluts GULLLPPP I been awake GGYYUMMM NNNARRRR fur almoazzd a hour now LUUURPPP BOOORRRP and Mommy STILL hasunt had CHHEWWWW a decent breakfast!! BRRAAARRHPPPchop chop!!" "B-but, Mommy" Bella replies, nervous "Teacher says I h-has to do m-my homework or I'll g-get held b-back a g-grade a-again.." Annabelle immediately begins bawling. "Bud I GLLACKK your Mommy SUULUUPP yoo sposed doo GUULLPP lub me an do CHEEWW stuv SSMMAKK for me an do NNOOMMM wad I dell yoo!!" She continues to bawl, thrashing her arms and legs as far as they'll move, clenching her cake coated fists and throwing a petulant fit. Bella and Morgan apologize fearfully and insist they do love her very much. "WELL GO GET ME MY FUCKING BREAKFAST THEN!!!" The malevolence in her face and voice is astonishing and our daughters run off to the kitchen to collect their massive Mommy's biblical breakfast. Annabelle smiles at me as I break off big hunks of Lemon meringue and feed them to her face. She complains about how disobedient and ungrateful our kids are after all the work she went through raising them. Of course, she didn't help raise them at all and they've all been looking after her since they were 2 but I don't bring this up. she deserves to be waited on by everyone, she can't be expected to give up her time just to raise her children. Morgan and Bella return with platters covered in stacks of pancakes and a huge tray of plates covered in bacon, ham, sausages, scrambled eggs and gravy sodden hash browns. Behind them Erica pushes a cart covered in salad bowls full of chocolaty sugary cereals. Even though this is only the first serving of her breakfast, Annabelle's excitement is immediately exacerbated and she drools like a mad dog. After a couple of courses the door goes again and our 6-year-old son Marshall enters the room. He's crying and bruised and his nose is bleeding, his hair is ruffled and his clothes are torn, he's clearly been beaten up. Annabelle sees this but rolls her eyes and goes back to having her mouth crammed with mashed potatoes, the creamy white mash slopped around her lips and gravy dribbling thickly down her chins. Marshall waits at the doorway to his mother's bedroom as she carries on her fervent feasting for another 10 minutes, ignoring him until his gentle whimpering just gets too irritating to tolerate. "CHOOMMM Wadd da FUKK is SMAAAKK NNYOOMMM rong wiv GGLOMMPPP SSLURRPyoo?" He continues crying as he meekly explains that on his way home from school some older boys set on him. Apparently they pushed him over and beat him up because he still wears diapers. Yeah, Annabelle makes the children wear their diapers to school, the time it would take them to put them on when they come home is simply indispensable. Annabelle is annoyed by her son's unwelcome whining and tells him he's a big boy now and he better shut up crying and get to feeding her because Mommy is more important than anything else. He climbs up by her side and starts feeding her a big block of cheese. Suddenly, her eyes get wide, the way they do when she's hit with epicurean inspiration. She slows down her crazed consumption. "BUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPP What's that?" she asks angrily, referring to something on our son's hand. "When the big kids pushed me over I cut my hand, Mommy, I didn't say anything because I didn't want Mommy to be mad at me." Annabelle licks her lips with the most sinister greed. "SHHLUUUUUUUURRRP Well, cum here GLLUUMMMMPP an led Mommy BUUUUUUUURRRPPP kiss it better RAAARRRRPPPPPP" He holds his hand to her impatient mouth, eager for a display of love from his otherwise ignoring mother. I watch enthralled as her massive cow-like tongue laps the first drops of blood from her child's hands. She licks and licks at his palm, staining it with smeared, chewed food. After a moment of this her hunger takes control and she sharply squeezes his hand side to side, crushing it to squirt out more yummy blood. As he squeals her lips clamp fiercely to his palm, forcefully siphoning her child's blood, never letting go because the taste is just too strong for her. Mindless with the blood lust she starts viciously gnawing into her baby's flesh, trying to tear away the delicious skin. He pulls sharply away, crying like a newborn. Annabelle composes herself and giggles before instructing him to carry on feeding her. Drained pale, he looks he continues. The night goes on, all of us feeding my wife. None of us gets to eat or sleep or use the bathroom as per Annabelle's orders. Even Erica is made to wear a diaper because Annabelle considers her more useful than her own children. The abused maid is forced to ignore the cries of her own kids to feed her massive mistress. At one point in the evening the crying from the kitchen gets too annoying for Annabelle and she orders Erica to put them in the basement. Then just before Annabelle falls asleep at 4AM she informs everyone that it's Mommy and Daddy time. This is one of her favorite times of the day, and it's certainly mine. With a lascivious lick of her lips she orders the kids to undress her and clean her up. They peel off her drool soaked purple nightgown, a darker shade than it was this morning, and begin to sponge bathe her. I've told her plenty of times that I don't care if she's covered in food or not, in fact it turns me on, but she says it makes her so horny to have the kids clean her that she almost cums straight away. Mommy and Daddy time isn't like most households, the kids stick around to help. I watch, completely in love with my woman as she carries on eating while her son takes a soft warm towel and expertly cleans his mother's breasts. She moans sensuously with the arousal of his slavery, making gratuitously sexual noises.
All clean, my wife snacks while I bring out a banquet of flesh, roast pigs and whole turkeys and lambs, veal and beef and chicken, every kind of meat we have in the house. While the kids massage her sides to help excite her I bring a whole roast chicken to her mouth, but stop just before it gets to her lips. Her tongue laps fervently at it and she makes pathetic whiny noises. "These chickens are kept in hot cramped conditions. The moment they're born their legs are broken so they can't move, their beaks are ground down and their anuses are blocked with scolding tar to prevent menstruation. They're starved and neglected all their lives, then they're murdered, just so YOU can eat them" This is dirty talk for us, makes her so wet. Just hearing about how badly the animals she devours were treated before she consumes them makes her so fucking hot and bothered. I still don’t let her taste the chicken, Annabelle likes to be teased to a degree. "This veal is tortured its whole life, just to increase its taste before it’s killed young. It's taken from its mother at birth and chained up so it'll always be soft and fatty." She lets out a long loud moan and with the sexual sensation increasing in her loins she releases a chorus of hedonistic farts. I hold up the roast pig next. "This one was forced to get pregnant as early as possible and killed at the optimum moment before giving birth, its piglets are still sleeping, dead inside their mother's womb forever." I see the sheets of her bed darken, moistness seeping from underneath her stomach from the vicinity of her vagina as the excitement overcomes her, parodying the deluge of salivation from her lips. Both mouth and pussy hunger for something right there but futilely out of reach. The dead baby line is too much for her libido and her hunger and I know now is the time to appease all her instincts. As soon as it's within reach she starts frantically devouring the dead meat, taking capricious vicious bites from every vanquished victual being fed to her by her children, switching between corpses because she needs to eat them all now. As she's doing this I manage to roll her onto her side, exposing her sodden undercarriage, I enter her expertly.
Her gut shunts back and forth against the kids as I rail her, fucking and plunging into her as hard as possible. With movement and sexual excitement the cauldron of her gut releases foul farts over me, a cloud of shit assaulting the room. Her soft pillow tits sway and she had Marshall massage her. She orgasms almost immediately and in the wake of her ecstasy decadently defecates, releasing a river of yellowy-brown shit as I just manage to reposition myself. She’s on her side, blasting liquid dumps onto a beach towel, while I kneel, supporting her fat encased leg. For the next 5 minutes while I finish up inside her, she casually chews on the last of the animals. She ends the night by demanding my cock and glugging down my cum. The kids clean up the mess she made in bed and clean out her asshole. Once she’s finished drinking every last drop of cum from me she kisses the kids goodnight, belching in Bella's face and taking another long draft from Marshall's bloody palm. Then she sends them to bed, starving and exhausted, and informs them they're not going to school tomorrow because they need to be at home taking care of her. Once they're off to bed I watch as she slowly chews a couple mouthfuls of chocolate almonds and her eyes get heavier. I give her a long kiss goodnight, rubbing my nose playfully against hers.
By the time I tilt back to look into her eyes, she's already asleep, dreaming of future meals.