Patreon Reward: Junko's Gluttonous Despair

A huge, slobby Junko Enoshima spreads her plan for world fattening!

Junko Enoshima sat upon her mechanized throne in her Monokuma command center, guzzling from a bucket of melted cheese with hot dog slices blended in. The fatty yellow glop poured down her flabby throat, spilling over the sides of her mouth and dripping onto the latest, upsized iteration of her blouse, as well as the monstrously flabby balloons of her breasts. A rolling, leavened mound of stomach flesh jiggled beneath them, easily escaping her over-tight outfit. Tossing the emptied container over her shoulder, the Ultimate Despair curled one enormous, blubbery leg upwards and unleashed a foghorn-like, blaring gale of hot flatulence out of the gelatinous expanse of her rear end. “Phew! I need to make sure I don’t start shorting out my equipment with those!” she cackled, wiping sweat from her forehead with a doughy upper arm. 

Her sister Murkuro, dressed in a sweat and food stained blouse and skirt, coughed and fanned the air in front of her face. “That may have been your most rancid yet!” she said dreamily, looking upon her idol’s 450 kilogram form swelling over her seat. Since Junko had begun a campaign to spread her despair via gluttony, Murkuro had begun emulating her sister’s eating habits, swelling up to a cello-shaped 255 kilograms herself. A rumble of approving gas blasted against the generous sweat stain running down the center of her skirt, adding to the toxic aroma in the air. “If I make sure the lard delivery trucks make it to the world’s major city centers on time, could I huff your pits again?” 

Junko let out an unhinged laugh, her enormous breasts quaking. “You’re starting to get addicted, huh?” She lifted an arm, letting steam and dripping sweat escape from the fleshy tomb of her armpit. She sniffed the revealed area and cringed with one eye. “Woah, I guess that’s what six months without bathing will do to a girl! I see the appeal!” She let her arm drop as she studied the monitors set up around the room. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Sister, it would make me so happy if the world morbid obesity rate finally rolled over to 90%!” Junko’s bare, pudgy toes wiggled excitedly. The mastermind’s legs were growing into near-useless pillars of fat, terminating in thick ankle rolls that utterly smothered her joints.

“Of course! We’re so close!” Murkuro nodded, huffing and puffing over to a control panel, the bottom third of her quaking, dimply rump hanging out of her skirt. Her belly, half tucked into her skirt, wobbled and quivered with her labored movements. She tapped some commands to send to the Monkuma AIs they’d deployed, heightening their search-and-feed aggressiveness protocols. 

“Let’s check in on some of our special subjects, shall we?” Junko demanded, her fleshy face wobbling. 

“At once, sister!” Murkuro brought up a spy camera video feed of a tall, generously apple-shaped young woman lounging on a reclined chair. Her swollen, rounded belly bulged from an open kimono as she shoveled noodles drenched in greasy sauce into her mouth. Her small but flabby, apple-sized breasts were bare and exposed to the camera.

Hiyoko Saionji opened her mouth to speak. “Hey, can you move any slower?! I asked for my sushi platters like five minutes ago!” A pair of doughy girls wearing Monkuma masks hurried into the frame, bowing and presenting their mistress with glistening piles of marbleized raw fish over rice. Hiyoko let out a heavy “Bwooooorph!” into the closer servant’s face to ‘thank’ them. “If all I’m supposed to do is sit on my ass and eat, then you can at least make sure I’m getting all the food I want!” she complained with her mouth full. There was a loud groan as the chair collapsed beneath her, sending the Ultimate Traditional Dancer to the ground. “That’s it! I’m not getting up from bed any more!” She rasped. “Carry me to my room, now!” 

Murkuro changed the feed to a workshop, where a roughly 300 kg blonde girl was leaning over a complex metal contraption, tightening a conveyor belt into place. Her enormous, keglike breasts pressed against the machine through her top, digging into its metal lattice and bulging around it. Sweat poured down her body, drenching her failing, mismatched pink top and skirt. A shelf of jiggling rump flesh stuck out behind her, well exposed to the camera. “Come on, fucking work!” Miu Iruma demanded, slamming a large red button and bringing her feeder contraption to life. “If I don’t meet quota Junko will be up my ass again.” A grody, gaseous ripple sputtered from her rear end. “All right, one ultra-feeder lattice, complete!”

Junko let out a long, gurgling belch of approval, ending in several sputters of gas from her ultra-wide, sweaty rear end. “That’s enough, return to global feed!” Junko demanded as a Monokuma brought her gallons of chocolate milkshake in a small barrel. A long feeding tube was attached to the cold slop, which Junko shoved into her mouth and began slurping on intensely. As the contents of the barrel sunk to the halfway point, she popped the tube out of her mouth to fire off another ear-ringing belch. “HOUURRRRRPH!” Her entire gelatinous body quivered in response. “I want the world too fat to move by next year, do you hear me?” She urged, her eyes sparkling. “Everyone growing more and more dependent on me, unable to lift a flabby finger without my help!” she giggled eagerly and shifted the expansive backflow of her rump against her throne as more gas sputtered out from the cellulite-dented cavern of her buttocks. “Ohh, it’s gonna be the best! And the irony? I’m going to be the fattest one of them all! Mmm~” She grabbed her shake-hose and crammed it back into her mouth, guzzling it contentedly, her body still not done venting noxious flatulence into the room. 

“It’s going to be beautiful!” Murkuro agreed, looking over the Japan feed and watching thousands gorge themselves in the streets from Monkuma-branded food trucks and feeding stations.