Mason waddled through the doors of the McDonald's, grunting and huffing and puffing. It was the day before Independence Day, and Mason was wearing a huge American Flag t-shirt. As huge as it was, it barely covered his grotesque body. He saw the front counter, and couldn't resist the urge to lick his lips.

He waddled forward, more than quarter ton of gelatinous lard. Despite being less than 30 years old he already weighed over 500 pounds, glutted and fed by the finest American food products, a true prized pig of the American way of life. His huge, buttery cheeks oozed down into jowls that sat upon his hoggish second chin, which rippled as he waddled along. His chin occasionally rested on his immense boy breasts; the twentysomething man had colossal fat tits, sacks of blubber that parted around either side of his gigantic gut. Mason's belly was an ocean of white lard, jutting in front of him proudly as though he were some livestock animal, oozing over his small, shrunken penis as it sagged almost to his knees. He had to button his immense pants around the great circumferance of his tremendous belly, which even now churned and oozed.

prrrrtttt

The flatulence rippled sonorously from between his bulbous buttocks. He had a stupendously fat and rather feminine rear end, grown billowing and blossoming because he had been absorbing xenoestrogens since he was a child. It made him a strange mix of masculine and feminine in his obesity, and contributed to his lack of body hair. Each ass cheek billowed fatly behind him, and rested on his hefty thighs, which bloomed into broad and portly hips that his pants struggled to contain.

Mason finally waddled up to the counter. The dark-skinned woman manning the register asked him, "Can I take your order?"

Mason farted to help him think, and he said, slowly, because he was dull-minded, "Yeah, I'm gonna have three Big Macs, two Quarter-Pounders with cheese, a 20 piece chicken nugget, and five large orders of fries?"

"Mm-hmm," said the woman, long nails clicking on the touchscreen as she tapped out the order. "For here or to go?"

"For, uh, here, please."

"Anything to drink?"

"A large Diet Coke."

The woman tapped the order out, and Mason paid with his credit card, even though it was overdrawn. He was given a number and a cup, and he fleckeed his mouth with drool as he waddled to the soda fountain, where he actually filled the cup up with regular Coca-Cola; he just had wanted to lie to the cashier. Then he took out his phone and put in his headphones, and began to play loud rap music. The heavy beats seemed to put him into a kind of trance.

pprrttttt

He farted again, his vast intenstines relaxing upon hearing the rap music. His colon began moving heavily as his swollen intenstines flexed and warped. The two chairs he sat on creaked from his weight.

"Here you go, sir," said the serving lady, also dark-sinned, as she set his two trays in front of him.

"Homf," gurgled Mason wordlessly. His fat fingers tapped the volume on his phone, turning up the rap music as he grabbed the nearest Big Mac and bit into it. The rush of artificial flavors and colors and chemicals sent his brain into a high of euphoria. "Ohhm," he moaned, mouth full of cheese and beef.

He ate. He ate and ate. He ate and ate, and all the while the chairs creaked louder, and he farted, more and more. The chicken, the beef, the cheese, the french fries, and he washed it down with guzzles and guzzles of Coke. All the while, the rap music thundered in his ears.

"Mrmn," mumbled Mason, mouth full of food. He was not consciously thinking. He was sinking into a guttural ooze of color and flavor and sound. He sank, and enjoyed the sinking, becoming a river of pure sensation that was solely manifested as stimulation and pleasure. Every sense, from sight to sound to smell to taste to touch, was assaulted in an erotic, stimulating rush, and his huge body, the product of a lifetime gorging on such sensations, came alive with senses and feelings at the experience. He lost his thoughts and became an animal, a livestock at a trough.

prrrttt

He ate--

Splrt

His fart became a shart and he soiled himself, huge underwear filling up with his own excerement.

At that moment the chairs on which Mason sat gave way, and more than a quarter ton of American lard collapsed to the floor, of the McDonald's, half a Big Mac stuffed in his mouth. He lay there, gnawing on the processed beef and cheese and bread, the rap music still pounding in his ears, loading his pants with his own shit.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen! We will now recite the Pledge of Allegiance!"

Mason put his hand over his heart.

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Pub: 20 Jul 2021 01:36 UTC
Views: 96