Croc

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Often words fail to do our emotions justice. Simply saying one is depressed doesn’t begin to quantify the myriad of feelings and subtleties that can come along with that sensation. Happy fails miserably as well, because there are so many different things that happy can entail, and why one is happy, and a whole host of other variables. Words also can fail with a sight as well, as sometimes what is being seen is utterly indescribable. A sunset, painting the sky over a mountain with more colors and hues than can be described, is nearly impossible to convey through simple conversation. The intricate details on an ornate carving, each one done with care and over the course of no small amount of time, also are utterly impossible to describe. Words then fail in the two places that they would be needed most, for a sight and an emotion are nearly impossible to share without help. We all do our best, but there is no real way to fully convey what one means.

And then there was Kilo.

The croc was beyond words, or emotions, or sights. There was no way to convey what the reptile had become without just experiencing it oneself, and even then it was nigh impossible to fully grasp just what was being seen. Or felt. Or smelled. Or heard. Or even tasted. All of those things the croc was, and yet he was so much more. So very much more than that in fact that to say that he was boundless was nearly as big of an understatement as most other words that could vainly attempt to describe the crocodile. The fact that he was even living was a mystery, and medical science had its own issues with Kilo. He was healthy though, as healthy as he could be in fact, and that made his existence even more mind-boggling.

This was because Kilo was a blob.

Even the word blob didn’t fully encompass the scope of how mammothly obese the croc was, for no beast could quite come to match just how much blubber encased the scaled reptile. Belly scales separated by full feet, rolling cheeks of rump which could smother a car each, cheeks that blocked all forms of vision… It was a true sight to behold, and that was just what little one to take in in a single look. A wide-angle lens could never hope to drink up all that the crocodile had to offer in terms of width. A couch could barely even hope to contain one of the titanic cheeks of ass which spilled out over a full yard from the lard-coated spine on the back of the reptile. His belly would never, ever leave the ground again without some sort of mechanical aid, and even that aid would be hard-pressed to find thanks to the sheer size and weight of such a stomach. It was nearly never empty too, which only added to the girth of the immense table muscle and made it that much more of a feat to even consider moving it. All in all, nothing about Kilo was anywhere remotely close to small; something he wouldn’t change for the world.

He hadn’t been able to move his arms in longer than he could remember, so that meant all feeding had to happen through a hose. This hose, often the only source of companionship for Kilo aside from the many worshippers who came to praise, hump, lust after, or just gape at his size, was constantly flowing. It was permanently strapped to his face as well, not even needing to be removed to clean off any excess food; who cared about keeping someone so large even remotely clean. Kilo just had to suck slightly, and the sludge that filled him to bursting on a nigh constant basis began to flow out as though it was on tap at all times. It surely was, the croc had surmised, but he didn’t think much more of it than that. He only thought of getting more of it into him, and more, and more. Nothing but more for him, and nothing else mattered. Those worshippers which kept him sane by reminding him that he wasn’t entirely alone to consume? Didn’t matter. Movement? Not a problem. His waning health and constant slobbishness? It meant nothing. The only thing that Kilo cared about was filling his stomach, a thing which demanded constant attention and even more care.

It was during one of these times of giving his stomach care that Kilo felt a new set of paws pressing into him. These felt frail, small, and foreign to him; most who came to see him were burly like himself. His caretakers had a somewhat strict policy on even seeing him, but apparently this newfound twig of a beast had been allowed. Unable to speak, Kilo just had to hope the new beast would show himself or at least speak to Kilo. Granted, it was almost impossible for the reptile to see anything over the flowing, billowing sacks of blubber his cheeks had slowly transformed into, but most of his guests had been kind enough to take care and allow him to see them. That had been one of the stipulations of his confinement after all; he needed companionship at some level. This beast didn’t seem to have gotten that memo, or cared about it. His paws just continued to rub and stroke over the stretched, spread belly scales of Kilo with nary a care in the world. This somewhat irked the eating, slovenly blob of croc, but what was he to do but sit and wait for someone to come along and remove the offending beast. He couldn’t call the worshipper off, nor could he even budge to squirm away. Instead, he did what he did with all of his problems; he ate until the pain of being so incredibly stuffed full of food made him pass out in utter bliss. It was not the best coping mechanism, nor was it even a good one, but it was all that Kilo had, and he quite enjoyed it.

The beast rubbed and squeezed at what reptilian blubber it could while Kilo ate on and on, the flow of food coming faster than usual thanks to his sucking at the hose. The croc didn’t try and question this, instead just inhaling the chocolate-flavored goo as though it was air itself, his lungs screaming at him for the long gaps between breaths because of this. Kilo hardly cared though, he was eating to suppress something after all, and that was all that he cared about doing. He ate with gluttonous passion because of this motive, and with that motive his new patron felt the slightest increase in tautness and size on the hide which he was so busy worshipping on. This drew a somewhat surprised snort out of whomever the beast was, and nearly made Kilo stop eating with surprise; no one did that to him before. Ever. He had gotten moans, groans, and even cum on him because of his expansion. A snort, almost one sounding disapproving, had never come his way in all his time as the living food storage tank he was. It shocked him, and confused him, and even made him angry. He could do nothing about that but keep eating though, which he did.

“You’re such a pig, you know that? Such a greedy, gluttonous, insignificant pig. You eat whenever you can, however you can, and now you can’t stop even if you want to. It was as if you were bred for it… Hell, you probably were.” Kilo stopped eating, the words registering in his mind after the brief haze of renewed gluttony had worn off. Something about them sounded sinister, almost angry, and it was not something that Kilo was used to. Every part of his predatory mind, however dormant and adipose-riddled it may have been, told him to eat this predator. It also told him to run if that was no option, but running was no option either. He was trapped, a ball of lard of his own design and greed, and forced to listen to the monologue of the beast who had now stopped giving him attention, but still stayed in contact with him. The faint quivers of his chest from talking felt… Almost soothing, in spite of the malice in his words.

“You have been eating in here for… Well, just look at yourself. If you could, you wouldn’t even be able to see what a blob you have become. I’ll make sure you can get a good look soon, but in the meantime, just try and picture a small house. A cottage, if you will. That is now you, and just you, in all of your bottomless glory. So keep eating, my gigantic cash croc. Keep eating, swelling, and bringing in more perverts like yourself so that I can sell my gaining products, gear, and keep feeding you until you expire.” The voice dripped with malcontent as it spoke, just making Kilo shiver down to his very core as he heard it. Something about it was vaguely familiar, but his brain was too addled with the growing fullness he felt from trying to eat the problem away. Unlike most blobs of his size, his mind was somewhat sharp when he was less than colossally stuffed, but he was at that time just that; colossally stuffed. It put him at a disadvantage, but also gave him some amount of comfort, as he couldn’t truly read into what the other was saying to him.

That was a blessing in disguise, for the unfamiliar paws slid off him soon after the small speech was done, and parting footfalls registered just barely on Kilo’s fat-covered earholes. He was glad the awkward, uncomfortable moment was gone, as he was beginning to tire from the sheer amount of calories that were in his body, but he also missed the company. Having that voice there, even with as much hate and condescension as it had contained, was a comfort in its own way. Most barely spoke to Kilo, so he had himself to keep busy and to keep himself sharp. His social skills had long ago evaporated into nothing more than an inflated ego, and a silent means of communicating with grunts and shivers of his waving, rolling expanse of scaly lard. Nothing more than that was even possible for the croc at that point either, so it was all he had, and whenever he had something more added into the mix, he relished it. It was gone though now, and it took that feeling of uncomfortableness with it.

Replaced with fullness, Kilo began to groan slightly as the flow wasn’t letting up. It never did, but he had always somewhere wished it would before he got to be painfully full. He loved that sensation, but something in him at that moment just craved to be satiated, and not stuffed to the point of nearly rending his guts in two. He didn’t have the agency over his life to control that though, and instead was forced to continue to consume, his mouth unable to stop the flow even if it wanted to thanks to the hose, mask, and other apparatuses keeping him eating and breathing at all times. This meant Kilo ate on, even as his stomach began to feel as though it would burst.

**********

Sometime later the croc awoke, having succumb to the blissful, and yet agonizing pain of being crammed full of enough sludge to make even his voluminous stomach beg for mercy. He could feel the extra rolls on him, and had he been able to, a smile would have make his supersized cheeks jostle with glee. Instead, his blubber-swaddled brow furled what little it could as he had to squint to see what was in front of him. Gone was the blackness of his usual folds, something he had grown accustomed to in the years since he had been able to see anything but himself. He had to squint and blink profusely, as the screen in front of him was utterly blinding for his unused eyes. He had to force his eyes open too, for he was so used to them being shut, and the sheer amount of fat on his face made the task even harder. He managed though, and as he let his eyes adjust over the course of a few minutes, Kilo just woke up as he always did. His mind came to, his body tried to stretch as it always did and failed miserably, and parts of him sprang back to attention with the realization that he was as large as he was. It was… It was just routine for Kilo.

All but the monitor, of course.

His vision was still very blurry, and he had a hard time making out what was on the monitor. It was green, spread out wide, with rings of pink running through it. Something about it looked almost shapeless, though it was hard for Kilo to tell since he was having to squint so much just to see it. His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the new light source either, which wasn’t helping matters. He was also horny, as he had just woken up and had no means to take care of that aspect of himself. Usually someone else did, but they were not there at that point; no one was. It was just Kilo, this new monitor, and nothing more. It was somewhat unsettling for the croc as he was so used to his schedule and practiced routine, but he didn’t panic; that would be bad. His heart and chest already almost always were in pain, and the stress of doing anything more to them past becoming aroused was not something he wanted to endure. Granted, he had some of the best medical care around, and had been so healthy and bred to be a true survivor, so he wasn’t especially worried, but he didn’t want to take chances. That, and what could he do in a panic? Who would he call, how would he flee, what could he move? Nothing at all, and that was of his own doing.

Kilo’s eyesight was clearing the whole time he thought of this, letting his brain slow down in the process. As he calmed down and began to let the sight on the screen come into true focus, he went somewhat pale. The green mass took a shape, as to say it was somewhat shapeless. Dimples and folds littered its surface, and it was spread over what looked to be yards in every single direction. No appendages save for a tail which looked to be nearly the size and width of a small car were visible, and any movement of it came in the slow, but steady rising and falling of a portion of what looked to be its back. It was splayed, laying out, and it was green. It had pink rings of what looked to be soft flesh spilling out between long, lighter-green plates upon what looked to be a stomach. Nothing else was discernable though, nothing of consequence though. A sole hose came out of one of the larger dimples, various wires and tubing wrapped around it in a makeshift tether of sorts. Sweat, cum, and other liquids stained the surface of the blob, and it was just barely visible in the dank, low-lighting of the surrounding room. Nothing else was in the room with the amorphous shape, and it was good too; puddles had formed around it and the walls looked to be getting closer to it. Kilo couldn’t fathom what it was, and yet at the same time he knew exactly what it was; text on the screen gave it away.

‘I told you I would show you.’

That just made the Kilo hungry.

And his hose bulge.

 

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