Nice plump fat boy takes a walk through the woods.
But he overestimates his fitness, walking too far and being too tired to make the trip back.
Luckily for him he smells food in the air and he's able to find a quaint little cottage in the woods where the delicious smells are coming from. He spots pies in the window, nice juicy blueberry, or maybe even a decadant chocolate pie. No matter the flavor he just can't help himself from digging in like the greedy fat boy he is. The flavors dance on his tongue, sweet or tart, whatever flavor he demolishes those pies. One, two, too many that his poor belly strains against his belt.
But unfortunately for him, the cottage is home to a witch. Like all cottages in the woods tend to be, and they've got quite a penchant for curses. They've put one on the pie even, to keep their pies safe from any would-be theives like him.
The poor helpless fat boy, already stuffed to his gills, feels his belly swell just a bit further to his surprise.
It grumbles with discomfort, yelling at him for eating too much... and about what comes next.
His pants, though snug before, start to become skin tight. Whatever shirt he's wearing, be it a button-up or t-shirt, is soon outgrown. Belt and buttons pop after too much strain, and he can already hear the creaking seams trying to hold back the fat that keeps padding his body.
A new double... no, triple chin, buries his neck. There's no sign of stopping for the poor fat boy, resigned to his fate until the witch comes back to lift the curse.
Or would they? Would they keep him as a pet, a nice fat toy to test potions and curses on? Or maybe just continue to fatten him up, just to see how far they can stretch him~
