LEWDS - Chain-Toker Cat - 04 (END) (Patreon)

Yaniko had been living in the landlord’s apartment for months now after she had let herself in. Her old room had been listed and rented out almost immediately, and she had simply stayed. At nearly seven hundred pounds she was no longer capable of leaving anyway.

Her body had become a vast, straining landscape of soft, pale flesh that dominated every room. Her belly was an enormous, sagging apron that spilled across the reinforced floor mats in heavy, doughy folds, the lowest curve dragging whenever she rolled from one side to the other. Each movement sent deep ripples through the fat, stretch marks mapping the rapid expansion like cracks in overfilled dough. Her thighs were colossal, dimpled pillars that squashed together from hip to knee, trapping heat and sweat in the creases; when she tried to shift, the effort made them wobble violently, the floor creaking under the redistributed weight. Her ass had spread into a massive, shelf-like expanse that required her to rock her entire torso just to adjust position, each cheek larger than most people’s entire bodies. Her breasts hung like heavy, overfilled sacks, resting atop the upper swell of her gut and swaying with every labored breath. She wore pretty much nothing now—nothing really fit annyway—and the landlord had stopped pretending otherwise.

Her lung capacity had deteriorated badly. The sheer mass crushing her chest made every inhale a shallow, wheezing struggle, and the constant weed smoking only made it worse. A simple roll from the kitchen area to the living-room mats left her panting, her massive chest heaving, fat folds trembling as she sucked air through parted lips, cat ears pinned back, tail twitching weakly. She was far too big and too addicted to care for herself anymore. All she did was eat, sleep, and get high. The landlord handled everything else: washing the sweat and crumbs from her deep belly folds, helping her shift when she got stuck, bringing food and fresh bongs when she whined. Because of him she looked surprisingly clean and presentable from the neck up—brushed hair, groomed ears and tail—but below that she remained a seven-hundred-pound monument to gluttony and laziness.

Her friends still came over almost every day, another group of slacker beast girls who piled around her enormous form on the floor. They passed joints and tore open bags of snacks, laughing while Yaniko devoured everything within reach, her belly rising higher with each greasy handful. When they finally left, the mats were covered in wrappers, spilled soda, and ash. Otani would grumble as he cleaned, muttering about the money bleeding out on her food, her habits, the reinforced everything he kept having to buy.

His complaints always stopped the moment she flashed him.

One evening, after another messy visit, he knelt beside her with a warm cloth, gently wiping between the thick, soft rolls of her belly. She lay on her back, the massive hill of her gut rising and falling with heavy breaths, and lazily lifted one heavy breast with both hands, letting it drop and bounce, the soft flesh rippling heavily.

“I’m still pretty, right?” she purred, voice thick and smoky. She guided his hands deeper into the warm, doughy fat of her belly while he washed, letting him sink his fingers in until they disappeared. “I’ll get back in shape soon,” she promised, the same hazy words she always used. “Get a job… make it worth it for you.”

Otani’s hands lingered, his cock stirring despite the cost and the memories her smoking triggered.

When he finally left for the evening, she waited until the door clicked shut. With enormous effort she rolled onto her side, her entire body quaking, belly sloshing and dragging across the mat, every breath a wheezing struggle that made her chest burn. She reached for the job application he had left on the low table—warehouse work, the paper already slightly greasy from her earlier snacks. Her thick fingers fumbled with it, rolling the sheet into a tight tube with practiced ease. She packed it with weed, lit the makeshift joint, and took a long, shallow hit that left her coughing and wheezing, her massive body trembling.

Exhaling a thick cloud, she stared at the ceiling, one hand slowly rubbing the upper curve of her gut. Getting paid just to be fat on the internet… the thought made her smile lazily. She could do that. Lie here, eat, smoke, let strangers watch her grow even bigger, even lazier. No real job required. Just her body—this seven-hundred-pound prison of soft, straining flesh she was happily, helplessly building around herself until she had smoked herself down to the butt and faded away into nothing but ashes…