Coming to the party was a mistake. Now, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room with no memory of how you got there; you are strapped down to a chair and you feel a plastic nuzzle in your mouth.
You writhe in your bonds, but they don't loosen. Soon, a figure enters a room. You vaguely recognize them as one of the guests at the party; a quiet person who observed everyone instead of engaging in conversation. Now, as you look at them, you wonder how you could ever think this person was human; they are clearly a fairy or some other malicious spirit.
"You must be wondering why you're here," the person says. "I have chosen you among the crowd. You were so enamoured with all the food and drink. You are showing great potential."
You want to answer, to protest, to ask questions. You can't; your mouth is blocked.
The person smiles cruelly. "Welcome to your new life, my dear. I'm sorry it had to be done like this, but if you cooperate nicely, soon your life will become rather enjoyable."
They push a button on some machinery that is connected to your nuzzle with a long plastic tube. A warm liquid starts flowing into your mouth, incredibly heavy and sweet. You are forced to swallow, and it lands wetly in your stomach. You aren't sure how long the whole process lasts, but by the end of it, your stomach is distended and painful. You can't even rub it to soothe it; your hands are bound.
You are left in the room to digest your heavy meal. Whenever you feel like the tension in your stomach is easing up a little, the liquid starts flowing again. You lose the track of time.
It must have been at least two weeks; at least, that's what you tried to establish by counting the times when you fell into an uneasy, overfull slumber. Constantly tied to the chair, with the otherworldly person only occasionally coming to the room to clean you off or change the bottles with the sweet liquid, you find yourself constantly sleepy, barely able to think about anything besides how full your belly is.
But today, something is different.
The person arrives at the room and undoes the straps on your arms and legs. For the first time since you found yourself here, you are able to look down at yourself, and the image of your soft belly spilling slightly onto your thighs startles you. Slowly, your captor helps you up to your feet. Standing up is a bit more difficult than you remember. You are naked, and they now lead you to a different room which is completely empty save for a scale on the floor and a mirror on the wall.
"You are becoming quite a sight," your captor says. "Soon, you will be ready for the next stage."
You look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is fuller, and your chin has softened. Your chest has become plump and is starting to sag a little. Your belly is red and distended, rounded out. You touch it and feel its softness. You tentatively step on the scale.
Your breath quickens. You gained 50 pounds in 2 weeks. You want to run away from here, come back to your old life. Desperately, you search for any windows in the room, but you see nothing. Still, you run to the door, trying to get past your captor and reach freedom.
It startles you how much your body starts jiggling when you run. Your back, your thighs, your arms, the rolls under your armpits. You are pudgy all over, and you are also slow. Your captor catches you instantly, and they are displeased.
"Do you really think you could escape me?" they say. "Well, now you just sealed your fate."
They lead you to the room with a chair again. They strap you down. The liquid flows. This time, a lot more of it. You almost gag. Afterwards, you fall into a fitful sleep.
You don't know how much time passed, but you can feel the heaviness of your belly hanging off your waist. Your captor is back to untie you and lead you to the room with the mirror. Apparently, you are ready for something. You don't know what.
Standing up is hard. Your belly hangs low, tugging on your spine. Your chest sags on top of your globular belly. You shuffle one of your legs forward, finding it difficult to walk with the apron belly hitting the top of your thighs. Your thighs rub. Your back jiggles, and so does the fat hanging off your arms. You swallow uneasily, feeling slightly suffocated by the fat surrounding your neck.
By the time you reach the mirror, you are panting. There is no way you will be able to escape now; walking 10 steps leaves you exhausted. You look at your reflection in disbelief. Your face is entirely round, framed by a thick double chin, and your cheeks are squeezing your mouth and eyes. You barely recognize yourself. Your belly cascades down in a multitude of rolls. You touch it with your sausage-like fingers, and it gurgles. You realize you're hungry. Ravenous, in fact.
You blush. You step on the scale and you can't see the number.
"320 pounds," your captor says. "I didn't intend to make you quite as big just yet, but you gave me no choice."
You don't dare to ask what comes next. But your captor soon explains:
You are now ready to be shown around in the land of the fairies as a fat human pet. You will be clad in beautiful clothes and allowed to feasts. You will no longer be strapped down and force fed. You won't escape anyway; you are too fat for that.
"So, what do you say?" your captor asks.
You sigh. What choice do you really have, anyway?
Your stomach gurgles again, responding for you.
You are hungry, and you need to eat.