The Pool of Pudding

"So who the hell is wasting this much money on this?"

"Marissa Jacobs. You know, the hotel heiress who uses every waking moment on her favorite activities: eating and not moving."

“Oh, that whale? Well, I guess it’s not that surprising anymore. But… 847 entire cargo trucks full of pudding? Really? I mean, that time she rented out a national news station to broadcast her eating everything in an all-you-can-eat buffet and STILL wanted dessert was extreme enough.”

“I just wonder when she’ll stop. She’s such a negative influence. Have you seen the high school my daughter goes to? Not one girl there is under 400 pounds.”

“Brutal. How’s your daughter holding up?”

“My god, she aspires to BE this heiress. She buys the same clothes as her, is developing the same attitude as her, and even eats almost as unhealthily as her.”

“Why, how big is she?”

“She’s 18 years old and weighs 547 pounds. I HATE it. Marissa Jacobs has made being impossibly huge a sexual goal. At least when she hits 1000 pounds she’ll probably have a fucking heart attack and be out of our hair for good.”

“…What’s the most recent stunt you’ve seen her pull?”

The man thought for a second. “Wait, I think it was when she had her daddy’s workers build her the candy room from Willy Wonka and gained about 300 pounds eating it all. She hit about 900 pounds then.”

“You clearly haven’t watched the news in a few months.”

“Why?”

”Marissa Jacobs currently weighs 5,486 pounds. She pretty much fills half of the deep end of that pool she’s sitting in right now. The bikini she’s wearing used to be half of a circus tent.”

“Is that even possible?”

“With enough money and the right technology, anything’s possible.”

And, living proof that money can even buy the surgery necessary to allow yourself to blimp to almost half the size of a swimming pool and still be mobile, Marissa Jacobs continued to whine even as the first truck began dumping its sweet, calorie-packed contents into the deep and long empty swimming pool that had become her temporary residence.

“Why’s it pouring so slow? Why is this bikini so uncomfortable? Where are all the cameras? Where’s the news crew? EEK! Why’s the pudding so cold? WHY IS IT STILL POURING SO SLOW?”

“It’s pudding! It’s thick and it takes a while you pour!” The truck operator shouted back.

“All you machine operators are worthless!” She shouted as she reached down and took up a handful of pudding, stuffing it in her mouth and moaning with pleasure as it slithered down her throat.

“Tell that to the guy who drove the forklift that got you in here.”

“Well, they used FOUR forklifts, so HA!”

Failing to understand this logic, the man argued back, “If it took four forklifts to move you into your own backyard, shouldn’t you start dieting?”

But Marissa was already long gone into her own world. She rolled her eyes and said “I’ve stopped caring,” or at least the equivalent of what that sounds like with a full mouth.

Each time the pudding level reached below where the heiress’ piggy arms could reach, the pool would be refilled.

After about 76 trucks’ worth of flabby snack, Marissa waved her arm to stop and attempted to speak through her mouthful of pudding. Swallowing it, she shouted, “Where are my girls? Where’s my entourage?”

The man operating the truck snorted. “I’m surprised you knew the word ‘entourage’ and could use is correctly in a sentence.”

“Shut up and BRING ME MY GIRLS!” Marissa was the kind of woman who had a loyal posse of wannabe rich chicks who ate like shit and followed the girl’s every move.

Responding to her call, eighteen women ran to the pool; well, more like waddled slowly to the pool.

The thinnest one, Lynn, weighing in at 490 pounds, was wearing a light blue bikini that looked a bit too small for her jiggly frame.

The next biggest, the 527 pound Lisa, had on a bathing suit a bit too big. She had to hold the bottom up with one hand and the top on with the other.

Next was the 548 pound Nicole, who was oddly disproportionate; before becoming one of Marissa’s drones, she was a model. At some point, she succumbed to pressure and got breast implants, leaving her huge body with even huger 79-quintuple-J boobs that warranted stitching together 18 other bikini tops to make one that would fit her top-heavy self.

At 598 pounds, the next one, Rachel, had the opposite problem; extended periods of sitting had focused most of her fat to her ass, necessitating a bikini bottom 8 sizes larger than the top.

The fifth, 632 pound Anastasia, was wearing a red bikini that looked ready to snap.

The sixth and seventh were twins. Shania and Sheena weighed 645 and 646 pounds, respectively, Shania in a black bikini and Sheena in a white one.

The eighth, Pamela, weighed in at 657 pounds and her stomach was growling ferociously.

Number nine, Jane, had a whopping 699 pounds under her belt, clad in a black bikini with red flames.

Numbers 10, 11, 12, unlucky 13, and 14 surpassed Shania and Sheena in that they were quintuplets: Samantha, Jessica, Stephanie, Katie, and Megan. Sam, in an American flag bikini, weighed in at 704 pounds. Jess, 713 pounds, rubbed her belly lovingly and sported a leopard bikini. Steph had a bright red bikini to match the fiery red hair that crowned her 721 pound body. Katie, striving to be different from Steph, dyed her hair black and had a matching bikini on her 723 pound body as well. Megan had dyed her locks blonde, wearing a green bikini to cover her 734 pound bod.

Fifteen was a 740 pound girl named Michela who was still chewing something from her last meal. A bit of whipped cream rested on her blue bikini.

Sixteenth came Julia, a 750 pound woman who was the richest beside Marissa due to her constant participation in eating competitions. The prizes quickly added up to a fortune.

Seventeenth, the second fattest, was Angela, a 788-pounder with a penchant from breaking chairs. Her round, perky tits and the space between her massive thighs were covered by a white bikini that didn’t look like it could take too much more flab behind its covering.

The fattest of the entourage, Taylor, was born with a very severe condition that basically cut off her brain’s ability to realize that it was satisfied; as a result, the girl did everything in excess. She had too much sex, drank too much alcohol, and DEFINITELY ate WAY too much. Julia and Marissa had pooled quite a bit of money to get Taylor a less effective version of Marissa’s surgery, allowing Taylor mobility and relatively good health until she reached her “critical mass,” which was what they estimated to be about 2,000 pounds. She was already more than halfway there; a tarp usually used for things such as tanks had been cut up to provide the 1,385 pound woman with a cover.

“Yes, Marissa?” They all chimed in unison to their giant “master.”

Marissa licked a bit of pudding from her hand. “When this pool gets all filled up, you guys jump in and enjoy too.”

“Thank you, Marissa,” they harmonized again.

“But remember not to eat too much. This is for me.”

“Right, Marissa.”

So, as their rapidly fattening leader asked, they dove into, bathed in, and gorged on truckload upon truckload of pudding.

When the 285th truck was empty, all of the women’s bikinis had long since snapped off and all but two had left the pool: Taylor and Marissa, although completely and entirely naked, continued to eat due to Taylor’s brain not even almost being done yet and the fact that Marissa was a spoiled fatass who wasn’t even close to full.

Marissa was quite the sight, her belly having widened to the point where it was pressing painfully against the sides of the pudding-smeared pool. Her wide legs jiggled and her massive breasts quaked with every heartbeat.

Taylor was quite fat too, now having reached 1,759 pounds.

She turned to the fatter of the two. “Marissa?”

“What do you want, Taylor? I’m eating!”

“Could I maybe have a big funnel?”

“Sure. SOMEBODY BRING TAYLOR A HUGE FUNNEL!” Of course, a girl like Marissa would have a lot of funnels in her house.

About a fourth of the trucks diverted and created a separate line leading to the large funnel protruding from Taylor’s mouth.

She moaned as pudding filled her waiting maw and slithered to her never-satisfied belly, now oblivious to Marissa’s growth.


Countless hours later…


The trucks were all empty. The sun was starting to set, and Marissa Jacobs had easily quadrupled in size. Her belly was so huge that it flopped over all three free edges of the pool, creating a covering. Her ass had applied so much pressure to the pool that the walls were beginning to crack. She couldn’t even see past her giant breasts anymore. Through a series of overcomplicated weigh-ins after she’d been retrieved from the pool, it was revealed that the heiress ended the day at 22,387 pounds and yet the surgery her father had bought her still granted her mobility.

Taylor had done pretty well for herself too, so compacted under Marissa’s belly that she wasn’t sure where one girl ended and the other began. She was fatter than Marissa was when they started; insatiable Taylor weighed 8, 549 pounds and still wanted more, more, MORE!

And, yet, she was doomed to immobility in the pool unless a team of forklifts could wrench her out and Marissa paid for another surgery.

That’s just what she did.

Titanic Taylor soon became independent from Massive Marissa, being paid to do commercials and appearances. She was even being paid to eat on camera.

Marissa still lives off her daddy. Billions of dollars were used to build a hotel that could house her greater-than-eleven-ton body and she was starting to outgrow it.

Marissa continued to be a bad influence on girls everywhere.

That worker’s daughter weighs 967 pounds now and is the leading lady in Marissa’s mindless posse.

Rumor is that Marissa’s planning a televised stunt in which she’s going to eat fast food for 24 hours straight on camera courtesy of her daddy.

Who wants to go watch?