The Monstergirl Satiety Project 4 (Patreon)

(WG, XWG, Stuffing)

A Monster Musume Fetish Story

Bigger Portion – Bigger Determination

Standing in front of the slightly plump blonde centaur was a satyr maid, and judging by her short stature—barely more than 1.6 meters—she was by far the fattest woman in the entire café. Satyr women were hybrids of humans and goats and were usually a bit shorter than average humans. The centaur still fondly remembered the time when Kimihito had worked at the Black Lilly Ranch, and how envious she’d been of all the monster girls there. Just like pans and minotaurs, satyr women produced milk constantly, even though their breasts were usually a bit smaller. However, this was not the case with the jiggling specimen in front of her, squeezed into a dress that was far too tight. Centorea estimated the weight of the panting waitress in front of her at at least 280 kilograms, perhaps even more. The sight took her breath away. It was an unbelievable sight to see how much mass the woman could still lug through the café on her small frame.

The goat woman wore a classic maid’s costume, though it was so severely stretched that it could barely be called clothing. The black fabric with white ruffles and an apron stretched taut over a body that was literally bursting with soft, voluptuous mass. Fat oozed out everywhere, and soft, delicate rolls of fat pushed their way through the tears in the fabric. She actually looked as if the costume might explode around her swollen body at any second. The satyr’s hips were gigantic, so wide that they nearly blocked the aisle between the chairs and tables. Massive mounds of fat with enormous sacks and rolls jiggling down from them. Her butt was a veritable mountain of sluggishly undulating flesh that hung low and jutted even further back. The costume was already completely torn at the hips and buttocks, exposing large patches of soft skin that jiggled invitingly with every step. She probably got a lot of tips when guests saw this monster butt wobble past in the torn, barely-concealing costume.

But the most striking thing about the satyr was actually her massive breasts and belly. Both even overshadowed her colossal buttocks. Her sagging belly jutted far forward—a massive, sluggish mass of soft fat that hung down to her knees and swayed heavily back and forth with every movement. The apron of fat lay like a thick curtain over her thighs and almost completely concealed her knees, which were likewise buried under rolls of fat. Resting on this gigantic belly were two even more massive breasts. They were so enormous that they burst out of her cleavage and spilled out in all directions like a flood of white flesh. The skin was silky soft, and the veins stood out clearly beneath it. With every laborious step, these monstrous tits swayed sluggishly and powerfully back and forth, jiggling up and down. They were true monster bells, which the young woman dragged along before her, panting but smiling kindly. All that mass—belly and breasts alike—pulled heavily on her, causing her to stand slightly bent forward, but at least her massive ass served as a sort of counterweight. Hanging with large, bulging rolls of fat, her short, thick arms jutted out from her massive body. In one hand, the satyr held a small notepad and a pen.

Breathing heavily but in good spirits, she looked up at Centorea. Small, dark-brown horns peeked out from her light-blonde hair and glistened slightly in the café’s light.

Just standing there seemed to be an enormous strain on her. Her knobbly hooves were spread wide apart to somehow support her enormous weight, and her short legs trembled visibly under the burden of her entire body. Every step was a clear struggle for her, but that was probably the price she had to pay for eating herself so monstrously fat.

Centorea just stared and couldn’t say a word. Even though their physiques were very different, she somehow imagined this maid as her future self. She would have to become this fat—and perhaps even much fatter—to please Kimihito. She had also always believed she had quite large breasts, with which she could easily wrap men like her master around her finger, but these udders on the satyr were a good three times as large as Cerea’s own breasts. The shock lasted only a moment. Then a wave of determination washed over her, hot and clear as never before. That was exactly how she wanted to be. Just like that—and much, much fatter. The sight of this soft, overflowing femininity, struggling so laboriously yet so happily under its own weight, ignited something within her that she could no longer deny. The breasts, so heavy and full that they could barely be covered by the costume. The belly, hanging down so low and taking up so much space. The hips and ass, which were simply indescribably wide and yet seemed so incredibly seductive. All of it was beautiful. All of it was sexy. And that was exactly what Kimihito wanted. And that was why Centorea wanted it, too. Besides, she would go much, much further, because her larger body offered so much potential. Just how gigantic her butt could become—and when Centorea thought about how low her horse belly might one day hang beneath her… What would Kimihito say if door frames became too small? If the centaur’s belly dragged across the floor as she laboriously tried to take a step? What if Centorea’s respectable bust were to grow into two massive bags of fat that even surpassed the tits of the fat maids he’d so often visited in secret? All remaining doubts and the warrior’s gnawing pride were completely flushed from Centorea Shianu’s mind, leaving room for only a single desire.

“I… I want everything,” Centorea heard herself say. Her voice sounded hoarse with excitement and hunger. “Every vegetarian dessert. All kinds of cakes. Every dessert you have. As much as possible. Every flavor of ice cream in the ice cream dishes. And whipped cream on top. Lots of whipped cream.”

The satyr waitress blinked in surprise and wiggled her small, fur-covered ears briefly, then smiled even wider and began to take notes. “That’s not exactly an everyday order, but sure. This is going to be a real feast. Wait here—I’ll get everything for you. It might take a while, though.”

When she had finished the huge list, she turned around and started back. Every step was a spectacle in itself. She lifted one leg just a few centimeters off the ground, set it down again with a gasp, and in doing so let her entire body bob and sway. Her gigantic breasts swung so violently that they nearly slapped against her stomach, and her sagging belly wobbled back and forth like a full sack. The satyr panted loudly as she waddled; her small but thick shoulders rose and fell with every heavy breath, and her cheeks were bright red. Nevertheless, she seemed content, almost proud of the attention her body was attracting. After all, that wouldn’t have been unusual even in a place like this. Centorea watched the massive buttocks swaying up and down and marveled as the massive hip rolls alternately brushed against the left and then the right chair legs.

Finally, the centaur sat down at one of the large tables, which offered just enough room for her own body. She knelt down, and her human upper body was at about the same height as a human’s would be when sitting down. Normally, Centorea did just about everything while standing, but in this café, she would make an exception. However, she was already thinking about what it would be like to be so fat that she wouldn’t be able to get up anymore, and standing would become an impossible strain on her legs. With her ears drooping, the centaur sighed, but she hadn’t lost the resolve she’d found just a few seconds earlier. On the contrary, she was just putting her past life behind her. Her hands rested on her slightly rounded belly, and she felt the hunger that Smith’s potion had unleashed now growing unstoppably. She wanted to eat. She wanted to stuff herself until she couldn’t eat another bite. And then some more. She wanted to grow and keep growing.

It took a while for the extremely fat satyr maid to return. This time she was pushing a large serving cart laden with plates and bowls. The cart creaked under the weight, and the maid herself was panting so loudly that she could be heard from a distance. Every step was even more exhausting now. She had to push the cart with both hands and could barely keep herself upright. Her belly jutted slightly over the edge of the cart and jiggled violently. Her breasts rested partially on the edge of the cart and jiggled so much with every movement that several small cupcakes nearly fell off. Nevertheless, Centorea noticed how greedily and hungrily the satyress was staring at all the delicacies on the cart.

“Here… is everything,” gasped the fat maid as she finally stood in front of Centorea’s table. She had to lean against it for a moment and was panting heavily. Her enormous breasts rose and fell with every breath, like two heavy sacks, brushing against the table next to which she stood. “Chocolate cake… cheesecake… cream cakes… pudding… ice cream… and extra whipped cream. Waffles, pancakes, tartlets, panna cotta, crème brûlée… all with extra sauces. Enjoy it.”

Centorea thanked her briefly and immediately dug in with determination. She didn’t care at all how the satyress was staring at her food. At the café, the centauress had already seen a few times how guests slipped spoonsful of pudding or cookies into the plump waitresses’ sweet mouths. People seemed to enjoy that—and so did the maids, of course, who weren’t carrying around all that lovely fat for no reason. But this massive mountain of calories in front of her belonged entirely to Centorea, and she desperately needed it to finally start gaining weight at a reasonable pace.

The first bite of chocolate cake was like a revelation. The flavor exploded on her tongue—sweet and so intense that she moaned involuntarily. It was delicious. Centorea hastily wolfed down the entire plate without really chewing and was already reaching for the next one. The cream cake followed, then the pudding, then an entire bowl of ice cream, which she shoveled into her mouth with large spoons. Cream dripped down her fingers and onto her blouse, but she didn’t care. There was no room left for decorum, manners, or pride now, if the centaur wanted to swell up into a veritable mountain of fat as quickly as possible. Hunger drove her on, and the pleasant feeling of fullness in her stomach grew with every bite.

The satyr maid watched her with a knowing smile as she stood there panting, occasionally adjusting her heavy breasts, which kept threatening to slip out of her costume.

“You have quite an appetite,” she said breathlessly. “I’m glad to hear it. People like to eat without inhibitions here. Even if most of the visitors are men and… aren’t really here for us.”

Centorea didn’t respond and remained focused on her food. She kept eating, plate after plate, until the cart was half empty. Her human belly bulged beneath her blouse and pressed against the table. A soft gurgling could be heard, and the warmth of the food seemed to spread throughout her body, even if it was ice cream or something similar. It was the determination to finally gain weight properly and the knowledge that she had found a way to finally take her place as Kimihito’s lover. She wanted even more. She wanted to become like the maid in front of her. And then even fatter. Even softer. Even heavier. So that Kimihito would finally look at her the way he probably looked at those women. Without pause, the centaur shoveled more sweet treats into her mouth, and the cart continued to empty while dirty dishes piled up on the table.

“One more… of… the same,” Centorea finally gasped, her cheeks full, and shoved a forkful of pancakes with butter, syrup, and cream into her mouth.

Now the incredibly fat maid looked somewhat skeptical and concerned. Even though she was so extremely overweight—and accordingly often allowed herself to eat more than necessary—she had probably never seen anyone stuff themselves so obsessively.

“Are you sure? All of that again?”

“No…,” groaned Centorea, rubbing her stuffed belly, which was bulging out considerably. In fact, a button on her blouse popped off right then, but she didn’t care.

“This time, everything… with even more cream.”

Outside, high up in the crown of an old tree across from the café, sat Rachnera. The Arachne had retreated into the shade of the leaves and was watching the scene through the large display window. Her eight legs held her aloft effortlessly, and her red eyes followed every movement of the centaur at the table and the enormously plump satyress who was serving her.

She had seen Kimihito leave the shop earlier. The dreamy smile on his face and the bag of treats had already made her suspicious. Now that she saw Centorea stuffing herself in the café—and had previously watched her stare at the massive satyr waitress with a mixture of awe and desire—the whole picture came together.

Rachnera smiled thinly. She’d initially followed Centorea because all that business with Smith had struck her as odd, and it seemed the centaur was indeed up to something. It was only by chance that Rachnera, just like the unsuspecting Centorea, had then seen Kimihito visit the café. So Kimihito was into fat monster girls. Very fat ones, in fact, if he was frequenting a place like this. And Centorea had taken Smith’s potion to achieve exactly that weight—the Arachne had no doubt about it. There was no other way to explain this coincidence: that Centorea, right at this very moment, was voluntarily swallowing a potion guaranteed to make her gain weight. The proud knight wanted to become a soft, overflowing, spilling mountain of fat for him.

Arachne leaned forward a little further and watched as Centorea wolfed down the next plate of cake, while the panting satyr maid stood beside her, ready to set down the next plate of pancakes and cream, her gigantic, jiggling breasts swaying with every breath.

Rachnera now understood everything and grinned slyly, while grand plans were already forming in her head.