The fear-mongering media had blown everything out of proportion. They gave it a terrifying scientific label: the H1N1 strain. They said it was a pandemic. Yes, she was sick. But it was just the flu- not the goddamn Ebola virus.
People had a hard time believing that though. She was banned from coming in to work until she fully recovered, and she hadn't had a visitor in weeks. Being quarantined sucked. Mabel shook the last two Chewy Chips cookies into her palm and popped them into her mouth like pain-killers. Then she shifted in her recliner and guiltily brushed crumbs and crumpled tissues off the shelf of her formidable bosom. Embarrassingly, most of the debris just landed on the next level down- her belly. She rolled her eyes. Sure, part of her craved company, but who was she kidding? She didn't want anyone she knew to see her like this!
Not that her long struggle with her weight was a secret; plenty had witnessed her fluctuations. But when the flu routed her immune system's defenders, it also ran the white flag atop the ramparts of Castle Mabel and lowered the drawbridge. The siege had broken and the fatty conquerors marched into the citadel unhindered. Victorious, they feasted.
Her grocery bills soared heavenward yet she still couldn't keep food on her shelves. Her body demanded a ludicrous intake of calories and then twisted the knife by shifting her metabolism to a slow crawl. Pounds flew on faster than she thought physically possible. At the time she was too feverish and spaced out on cold medication to care. Now that she was a little more lucid she could survey the damage.
She could... but it was far too depressing. Instead she threw a blanket over her bulging form and snuggled deeper into the chair. She pawed the side table in search of the remote. Snack cake wrappers crinkled. Soda cans clattered to the hardwood floor, joining their empty brethren there. Eventually she found it entombed inside a half finished bag of sour cream & onion potato chips. "Jeez, I'm getting to be a real pig," Mabel mused as she wiped the greasy device off on the blanket.
As if on cue, the door intercom buzzed angrily at the exact moment she discovered something good to watch. She lurched to her feet- or tried to. Her humongous hips were wedged tightly between the arms of the chair. "Oof!" There was a longer, more impatient buzz. She wiggled back and forth, eventually working her porky posterior free at the cost of spilling her boobs out of her bathrobe. "Damn, damn damn," she swore before making it to the intercom. "Hello? You still there?"
"Yeah, Hunan Palace, order for 403: Mushroom Fried Rice, General Tso's, Sichuan Style Beef, Cream Cheese Wontons, and Egg Rolls."
"That'd be me!" She hit the button allowing the delivery boy access to the lobby and the floors above, then set about stuffing her errant bust back into its terrycloth home. Once it was secure, she tugged the gap in her robe wider, exposing a quivering avalanche of bare flesh. She wasn't planning on seducing the poor lad. She just wanted him too bedazzled to start asking awkward questions about her ears.
Yeah, the whole swine flu idea seemed incredibly obvious to me after the fact. It's nice to work with a subject that you really want to draw and a story that writes itself :D
A friend actually asked me the other day how swine flu affects the pig-girl population. Now I have something to show him.
He also asked me how you can have pork and bacon in an animal-girl world without killing the poor pig-girl. I assume the animal-girl world is entirely vegetarian.
Personally, I think that this is your best work yet. She looks so soft, and adorable! I'm sure anyone here would love to give her some company. Also if she keeps eating like that, depending on the size of her doors in her room, she may be spending more time in there then she thinks. Fantastic job!
Dude, excellent work with these, good looking and funny too! You should seriously open a deviantart account, you'd fit right in. Oh, and absolutely love the softer girls, especially Stephanie in "Revenge of the Bismarck" Part 1&2. Any chance of seeing her BEFORE she lost the initial 75lbs.?
I just thought of something. What would happen if they shot someone somewhere other than in the breasts?
For instance: Stephanie (from the Bismarck series) is walking down the street. FLAT pulls up and fires. She happens to trip backwards (possibly while trying to correct a wardrobe malfunction) and gets the shot in the gut rather than her breasts. FLAT panics and skedaddles out of there, leaving her with her boobs and everything below the waist, but a smaller stomach.
It would be interesting to see.
Also, we've never seen a FLAT flesh abduction in actual progress before, only the after effects. Just something to think about.
People had a hard time believing that though. She was banned from coming in to work until she fully recovered, and she hadn't had a visitor in weeks. Being quarantined sucked. Mabel shook the last two Chewy Chips cookies into her palm and popped them into her mouth like pain-killers. Then she shifted in her recliner and guiltily brushed crumbs and crumpled tissues off the shelf of her formidable bosom. Embarrassingly, most of the debris just landed on the next level down- her belly. She rolled her eyes. Sure, part of her craved company, but who was she kidding? She didn't want anyone she knew to see her like this!
Not that her long struggle with her weight was a secret; plenty had witnessed her fluctuations. But when the flu routed her immune system's defenders, it also ran the white flag atop the ramparts of Castle Mabel and lowered the drawbridge. The siege had broken and the fatty conquerors marched into the citadel unhindered. Victorious, they feasted.
Her grocery bills soared heavenward yet she still couldn't keep food on her shelves. Her body demanded a ludicrous intake of calories and then twisted the knife by shifting her metabolism to a slow crawl. Pounds flew on faster than she thought physically possible. At the time she was too feverish and spaced out on cold medication to care. Now that she was a little more lucid she could survey the damage.
She could... but it was far too depressing. Instead she threw a blanket over her bulging form and snuggled deeper into the chair. She pawed the side table in search of the remote. Snack cake wrappers crinkled. Soda cans clattered to the hardwood floor, joining their empty brethren there. Eventually she found it entombed inside a half finished bag of sour cream & onion potato chips. "Jeez, I'm getting to be a real pig," Mabel mused as she wiped the greasy device off on the blanket.
As if on cue, the door intercom buzzed angrily at the exact moment she discovered something good to watch. She lurched to her feet- or tried to. Her humongous hips were wedged tightly between the arms of the chair. "Oof!" There was a longer, more impatient buzz. She wiggled back and forth, eventually working her porky posterior free at the cost of spilling her boobs out of her bathrobe. "Damn, damn damn," she swore before making it to the intercom. "Hello? You still there?"
"Yeah, Hunan Palace, order for 403: Mushroom Fried Rice, General Tso's, Sichuan Style Beef, Cream Cheese Wontons, and Egg Rolls."
"That'd be me!" She hit the button allowing the delivery boy access to the lobby and the floors above, then set about stuffing her errant bust back into its terrycloth home. Once it was secure, she tugged the gap in her robe wider, exposing a quivering avalanche of bare flesh. She wasn't planning on seducing the poor lad. She just wanted him too bedazzled to start asking awkward questions about her ears.