Striker's Descent Into Gluttony

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/keno9988/status/1723321173105414520

Striker is an imp who values three things in himself. Strength, dignity and independence
as Striker walks, or perhaps more accurately waddles, down the misbegotten and dimly lit streets of Pride in the early hours of the day, entrapped inside the bloated form of an impossibly obese demon, he is currently bereft of all three of these traits.
while Striker struggles to heave his swollen form down the street, he begins to finally chance himself the opportunity to reflect on his experiences of recent memory and what he has become
he casts his thoughts on how he got here…

While Striker was inhabiting his far more slim, and domineering, body, he became obsessed with ascertaining the truth regarding his nemesis, Blitzo, and how to better prepare himself to defeat him in the future
While working with Crimson, a mafia don, Blitzo had somehow escaped from his trap in that damnable warehouse in Greed alongside his blue-blooded cock-sucker clown of an excuse of an imp, Fizzaroli
upon witnessing the bloated form of Blitzo in public, and the ease of which Striker was able to capture him, Striker laughed at how his nemesis had seemingly abandoned any pretence of dignity and tumefied himself
initially this proved itself a magnificent boost to Striker’s own supremacist thoughts, that mingling with the self-important blue-bloods would come to no avail for any imp and would lead to their eventual downfall
however this disgustingly swollen and pathetic excuse for an imp had somehow engineered an escape so comprehensive and through that by the time Striker had gathered his wits, Blitzo and his companion, Fizzaroli, had made a clean get-away, leaving a trail of destruction and ruin as the warehouse’s ruins lay crumbled around a disheveled Striker
even the thought that he had intentionally infected Fizarolli with Blitzo’s disgusting fat disease, via tricking him into eating an infected hamburger of Blitzo’s, could not abate his rising anger
”That’s fuckin impossible!” declared Striker as he set out to find out more about his nemesis

those fateful words set forth in motion a series of unfortunate events that would leave Striker permanently scarred and changed, for better or for worse, depending on your view
Striker believed the best path forward was to locate and interrogate Blitzo’s subordinates, Millie and Moxxie.
they are strong combatants in their own right, but Striker believed a mid-night ambush would catch them off guard

as Striker entered the apartment through the lock-picked window, the first sight that something was amiss was a mountain of foodstuffs packed up within the M&M’s kitchen and dining table
inside the kitchen, it was all mostly cheap food, lots of spices and base food ingredients that a skilled culinary artist might be able to create a tasty and quite filling meal, all of which were neatly stacked and sorted into groups
virtually every single free space in the kitchen hosted these foodstuffs, sans a small working area that was comically surrounded by a pile of rice reaching twice the height of Striker
staring at the dining table presented a different picture, the table was packed with indiscriminately placed piles of cheap junk food, chocolates, chips, sauces, donuts, and more of similar station
no real effort had been made to organize or sort this pile, items were strewn with haphazard abandon and in states of differing consumption
there was far too much food here for any two people to consume, not even a company of a dozen swarthy imps could make a dent in this supply

dismissing the somewhat disconcerting sight as some weird attempt at hosting a party, Striker carried on in search of the married couple
as Striker skulked his way through the living space, he detected the faint sounds of grunting, and the sound of flesh pounding on one another, emanating from a distant bedroom door
”Hmmmmm, I see.”, Elicited Striker
”I guess the misses and the little one are enjoying a midnight cowboy session? I sure hope they don’t mind my intrusion.”, stated Striker with a poisonous edge, and a dark smile
noticing a collection of melee weapons and ranged firearms neatly stacked in a corner of the living room, Striker believed he had thoroughly caught the pair off guard, and snaked his way towards the bedroom door, his smile widening as the sounds coming from the door increased in volume, evidently the pair were too distracted to notice Striker’s approach
expecting to ambush the couple mid-coitus, nothing in all of Hell could have prepared Striker for the sight he would behold

in the brief seconds before his luminous eyes could adjust to the darkened space of the bedroom, the first thing to hit Striker was the smell
not the smell of sex and passion, but the smell of a sweatshop, as if someone had failed to crack a window for hours as they sat under the intense rays of a fire, mixed with what Striker swore was the smell of cooked food, it created a concoction that caused Striker to halt in his approach, recoiling in concern and threatening to bring tears to his eyes
as Striker’s eyes could finally take stock of the room, he could only stare in abject horror as a unknowable sight would sear itself into his brain for all time
It was Moxxie and Millie, but not the pair that Striker knew, the pair were now just as engorged as their boss
the pair were completely naked, sitting in the center of a king’s sized bed, they were staring directly into each other’s face as they were, seemingly, passionately making out with the other
the faces of the pair were constricted in appearance, clearly they were enraptured in pleasure, their eyes sealed shut, their hair wild and untamed, sweat falling from their brows
their lips were sealed shut on one another, as the pair assaulted each other with such force that you’d be forgiven in thinking the pair were animals descending on the meat of a fresh kill
as Striker moved his gaze southward, he bore witness to the mighty forms that the pair possessed
both Moxxie and Millie possessed an overwhelmingly engorged pair of guts
Moxxie’s form was highlighted by his massively protruding gut, standing outwards, drops of sweat glistening across every section of his body, his oversized breasts sitting plump and full, as folds of fat could be witnessed folding into themselves under his breasts and above his stomach
Millie, her breasts now comically oversized and her gut equally as enlarged as Moxxie’s, enjoyed a similar appearance and fat as Moxxie’s gut, although her breasts proved far more vulnerable to the effects of gravity as they bounced wildly in the air
as Moxxie and Millie’s faces collided with one another in an orgy of exploration and conquest, their guts and breasts were smashing against each other in what could only be described as a show of rhythm
the pair, using their hips as the anchor, would thrust their engorged stomachs and groins towards the other akin to a rabbits thrusts into its partner
with such force being exerted, the pair’s over bloated stomachs would collide with such fury to generate overwhelmingly loud sounds of plaps and plops, as gravity caused the fat enfolding their bodies to bounce with fury and abandon every time a collision was registered, entire tidal waves were generated by every thrust
Striker noticed it was not just the M&M’s that were emitting noise, the very guts of these two inflated demons were emitting an almost symphony of grunts and gurgles.
as Striker finally tore his gaze to the pair’s groins, he originally thought the pair were simply having sex, but as he noted the fact the over-inflated stomachs of the pair had completely covered their entire lower bodies to the point no trace of either’s groin could possibly connect to the other, he realized something horrifying
Moxxie and Millie were getting off to the act of their stomach’s colliding with each other
and as the pair emitted a loud groan of intense fury, their brows becoming redder than the sun on Earth, and a stream of what could be nothing else but seminal fluid and vaginal lubricant were discharged at force from under the enormous guts of the pair, Striker could only react by screaming

Striker bolted out of the room and collapsed on the living room floor, dry heaving as he tried to come to terms with the sight he just laid witness to
as Striker tried to grasp some kind of understanding of what he witnessed, he failed to heed the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps
by the time he turned his face back towards the bedroom, he could feel nothing but the encroaching darkness as the sounds of a loud ‘thwack’ sent him to sleep

Striker would regain consciousness to find himself chained up in some baren bed room, bereft of any amenity sans a small table, chair and bed
as he struggled to recall the events that lead to his capture, and attempt to escape his chains, he bore witness to the form that would one-day haunt his dreams, Moxxie, the over bloated one, standing tall and smiling down on him

Striker would spend a week in captivity, railing against his captors on a daily basis, denouncing their appearance, insulting how they got their “kicks” and berating their food
nonetheless, the pair remained cordial and eeringly happy, as the pair offered Striker plenty of food and drink whilst Striker could only sit in anticipation, dreading what kind of torture the pair would envision to visit upon him
finally, after partially finishing off another round of food, he called out the pair and demanded they finally relent and either release him, torture him or kill him
Moxxie replied
”But Striker, we are torturing you”
”What do you think we fed you with, cowboy?”, teased Millie.
Striker could only stare in confusion as Moxxie leaned down, snatched a piece of steak from Striker’s half-eaten plate, and plopped it into his mouth
As Moxxie chewed the food, smiling in glee, Millie could only cover her mouth and giggle as she pointed her free finger towards Striker
As Striker followed her finger, he looked down towards his own stomach, and finally he noticed his own slightly protruding gut
”Y-you…You’ve tainted me?” he meekly uttered.

the events that followed would become mere disjointed dreams that Striker would occasionally recall in a combination of terror and lust as he awoke from his slumber in subsequent months and years, the kind of trauma that would require a therapist to assist in unpacking and processing
as the weeks turned to months, Striker’s body was transformed against his will, going from a lean and well toned body of an elite assassin and cowboy, to a comically large and over bloated form, his own body eventually exceeding the size of even the M&M’s and Blitzo
Striker’s lifetime of adherence and worship of his own body came crashing down as decades of reverence and self-sacrifice were repaid with a barrage of food and endless growth, the likes of which exceeded even the most ravenous of p.e.a.d sufferers.
Striker’s reward for all of his lifetime of efforts, his struggles and dreams, was to cum from eating steak while being watched by his enemies

After an unknowable amount of months of this torture, Striker saw a chance, a chance to escape his entrapment
an unlocked door and a short sprint (more akin to a quick shuffle) to freedom later and Striker was finally free
”I beat them! I beat them at their own game! I escaped!” Striker declared to himself as he tried to push aside the intrusive but alternative possibility to his escape
that Moxxie and Millie merely grew tired, or satisfied, enough of their captivity of Striker, and had simply set him free

but now, as Striker stood at the corner of a empty street in the small hours of the morning, wearing no pants, and only the oversized and frayed t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘world’s largest outlaw’, he finally stood to reflect on his recent months of experience
as Striker began to force himself to walk down the empty pathway, he could finally take stock of his new body, and what lies ahead for him
”At least my gut covers my dick”, Striker muttered

here stands Striker, in all his glory, he thought to himself

from tip to toe, Striker was now every bit the imp he had once demeaned, degraded and denigrated, no longer the lean and well defined imp, now, something lesser
Striker’s face remained the only area of his once former self-ascribed beautiful body that remained mostly intact, his luscious hair still retained its rigor despite the stress its master had been placed under, his horns stuck out tall as his hypnotic eyes continued to blaze under his tired eyelids, although any signs of defiance or superiority had long since been suppressed with disgust, shame and exhaustion
disgust at what he’s become, shame at how he’s come to enjoy his new form, exhaustion at how every movement elicits pain, pleasure and fatigue
his chin, connecting his head to his bloated body, attained an oval appearance, whereas the M&M’s tended to enjoy what could be described as double or triple chins, Striker enjoyed a mere oval shaped appearance, as p.e.a.d had seen fit to inflict Striker with the shape of a bulbous light for a neck as a base for his head
his upper and lower body were the highlights of his new form, his enormous gut, far larger than even Moxxie, Millie or even Blitzo, sat perfectly round and protruded
a connoisseur of p.e.a.d would look at this gut and declare Striker to be aesthetically beautiful, Striker does not see it this way
his gut, the perfect oval shape it was, dangled dangerously close to scrapping the side-walk Striker dragged himself down, his lower gut terminating at a sort of pear-shaped dent hoisted just below where his belly button could be found
his swollen breasts were surprisingly constrained, still englargened but, unlike his former tormentor Moxxie, were not overrun with endless fields of folds, but remain firm and intact as a mere duo of enlarged man-boobs, only barely contained by the tattered shirt Striker wore
every step Striker took was remanded by the sounds of the gut straining out against these actions, groans and gurgles protesting this unnecessary exercise, as sweat continued to build up all around Striker’s body
as Striker finally stopped to look down at his body, he was met only with the sound of a long, drawn out, gurgle from his gut
he could only cover his eyes in distress as he tried to imagine himself a new life

Striker dared to turn himself around to peer back at how far he had traveled, at least hoping to imbue in himself the victory of how far he had escaped
yet as he turned he only bore witness to the fact that despite how much time had seemingly passed, he had only barely moved down a single street since his escape

as Striker stared, his thoughts were disrupted by the collision of something colliding into his back
had Striker been inhabiting his more slim form, he may have been knocked to the ground, as it stands he mere registered a slight bump to his body as his endless rolls of fat absorbed the shock
Striker struggled to suppress the rolls of pleasure threatening to erupt from how groin as gravity went to work tugging and pulls his balls of fat as he turned around to face his assailant
as Striker turned to face the individual who had pushed him, he was met with a face he never thought he’d see, and only a single word could cross his mind
”Oh satan, not her”

“What the fuck!”, shouted Stella, as she struggled to regain her royal composure
“Do you know who you just---”, screeched Stella until she finally took stock of the visage of the individual she was confronted with.
of all the individuals in all of Hell Stella expected to encounter on her rare morning walks, she did not expect to run into her assassin for hire, let alone her assassin for hire who was now a bloated fat man, like her former husband
Any initial thoughts of disgust quickly died down as she thought back to her Goetia friends and their little pet-imps of varying sizes and demeanours, she began to admire the fat imp, eventually one thought crossed her mind and solidified what she would do
”How cute!”

Striker raised his hand, likely in an attempt to elucidate Stella to his circumstances, but he could only emit a small groan as his exhaustion had gotten the better of him
”Aww, how cute”, stated Stella
”Is my little assassin hungry? Do you want a treat”, she teased
Striker tried to raise his voice to dissuade the blue-blood, but was crudely interrupted by the overwhelmingly loud groan of his engorged gut, crying out for relief as a shudder of pleasure erupted deep in the core of Striker’s gut as the mere mention of food released chemicals deep within his brain
”Well well my little Striker, come along, I’ve got plenty of treats for you!” Stella shouted excitedly, as thoughts of what kind of dresses she could try on Striker jumped around her mind, her looking forward to seeing the looks on her friends faces when they witnessed this cute fat imp
Striker tried in vain to shout a refusal or denouncement, but all he could produce was a tired gasp
as Stella took Striker’s hand and led him away, only a single thought finally surfaced in Striker’s mind
”I hope she at least has some good food”.

thus, Striker’s new life began
as all traces of strength, dignity and independence faded from Striker

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Pub: 13 Nov 2023 12:27 UTC

Views: 154