#b00gi3man

Ugh.... —hic—stupid closet. I-I just wanted to scare that kid. How hard could—hic—it be? Now look at me, I'm stuck.

H-Hngh, my hips are stuck. I can't get out!

Egon?

What brings you here? Come to gloat about my hic predicament?

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up...

Wait, what are you—

Ohhhhh~

Hey, maybe go easy on the hand there, Egon. My belly's already feeling stuffed...

Aaah, alright fine. You want to know how I got so big?

I might have had a bit— no, more than a bit — a fuck ton of desserts before heading here. Root beer floats, milkshakes, the works, filled with lots of—BWUARP—alcohol, of course. Didn't think they'd all—hic— pack on so fast. I look like some overstuffed carnival prize.

PING!

W-Well, that goes my one and only button. God, I'm just so—URRRRP—full right now.

Mmmmph, it's like I've swallowed a whole creamery down here~

And your hand's really helping my poor belly~ It's sooooo warm~

Egon, have you ever seen someone this overstuffed? This full? It's turning me on a little. Heh...

Y-Yeah, Eggy~ Touch me right there~

You know, I'm kinda feeling a bit... famished right now. You don't mind if you can get me something to eat, right?

Oh, don't give me that look.

You can't do just one thing for your Boogieman?~

Come ooooon~

Just give me what I want, Eggy~

Can't even get out of this doorframe, stuck like a cork in a bottle.

HIC!

But I want more; I need more.

I bet you're just a little curious.

Want to see this big, fat, stuffed Boogieman get even bigger?~

Go on, indulge my addiction~

...

Good boy~

Now, go get me some burgers.

Boogie's eyes slowly fluttered open as he found himself awakening to a strange and unfamiliar place. He was surrounded in complete darkness, unable to see where he was. As the fog of unconsciousness began to lift, the reality of his situation sinked in. Boogie was dead.

Not defeated—

Not busted—

Not contained in the Unit—

Dead—

Dead, dead, dead.

The monster recalled back to what happened earlier, right before his untimely demise. It was during another fight against the Ghostbusters. He had escaped the Containment Unit, no thanks to recent malfunctions allowing this possibility to happen. Starved and unwilling to be caged any longer, Boogie fought with all of his might. Unfortunately, it turned out that his might was too powerful as he unleashed a blast of energy that backfired, letting him be electrocuted as Egon, pathetic Egon, watched by. The last thing Boogie saw was his former victim, how ironic. Even more ironic was Egon's reaction. The Boogieman expected the parapsychologist to be satisfied, happy even, to see the monster that haunted him as a little child dead like roadkill. However, the eyes behind the glasses showed a mixture of emotions: shock, disturbed, pity... He felt pity for the monster in his last moments. If Boogie wasn't an incorporeal ghost right now, he would throw up in a garbage bin from that thought.

Despite the embarrassing way he went out in life, Boogie only felt numb, both in a physical sense or emotional sense. He should have been mad, considering how long it takes to come back in a corporal form. But he simply couldn't. All he wanted to do now was lay down on the ground and allow this afterlife to do its process. That was until his curiosity peaked by the sight of something a couple feet away. It was some sort of strange hose hanging from a higher elevation. The hose, seemingly left unattended, seemed to beckon him closer with its mystery.

With a mix of caution and intrigue, Boogie approached the hose and reached up, grabbing it with his large hand and guiding it towards his mouth. He parted his lips gingerly, his ruby lips trembling as the cold rubber touched his jagged teeth. Above him, the hose fangled from a pipe in the sky, no source, no end, just there, like it was waiting. Suddenly, a deep, hollow hunger twisted in his gut, eternal hunger, gnawing, insatiable. He didn't think. He couldn't resist.

With a shuddering breath, he opened wide, the grotesque maw stretching unnaturally, and slid the hose past his puffy lips and yellow fangs. Thick, sweet milkshake surged into him, the flavor vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry: all making up to be neapolitan. His belly ballooned instantly beneath his waistcoat. Pounds piled on with every gulp, his blue mullet shaking as his head bobbed with every gulp.

"Mmmmph?! MMMMRRPH!"

He tried to pull back, but the hose gripped.

And even if it didn't, he wouldn't resist for much longer.

He died starved and empty—

So, his afterlife would be the exact opposite:

Full and never starved.

In the dim, flickering haze of the afterlife, ghostly hands, translucent and shimmering in violet, began to form around Boogie. Before he could react, they were on him. Slender fingers traced his pale white fur, teasing along his sides, kneading the fresh softness bloating beneath his waistcoat. One hand slipped down to grip a heavy thigh, now rounder than ever, squeezing as if testing its ripeness. Another tugged playfully at his waistcoat, almost wanting its only button, now struggling to stay in front of Boogie's gut, to pop right off.

It was humiliating for the once fearsome monster in the closet.

And it felt... weirdly good?

No! It had to be punishment!

Then, why was he so turned on?

The ghosts hands' touches continued, sometimes gentle, often teasing, always present. They explored the soft curves and rolls now forming on his body, their phantom leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Boogie squirmed, still feeling a mix of deep shame and yet deeper arousal. He wondered if Egon would even recognize him now, if he could see past the rolls of flab and jiggling mounds of flesh. Boogie's cheeks, fuller now, with his once prominent bone structure softened by layers of fat, flushed.

The image in his mind flashed: tall, calm Egon Spengler adjusting his glasses, seeing this version of Boogie, a trembling mountain of fat and flab. Would he smirk? Snort behind that serious face? Look impressed? Or worse, would he... not mind Boogie's new figure? Not mind the softened everywhere from his belly to his thighs. Not mind how naked he was now thanks to his only button popping with a ping. Not mind how indulged and spoiled he became.

Boogie grained around the hose, a sound pitiful and unbecoming of a monster like him, as fresh humiliation melted into desire.

Maybe, being seen like this wouldn't be so bad.

As long as someone saw how full he'd become.

........

Days Later

A crackle of static sparked in the void as a portal tore open. Through it stepped Egon Spengler, 6'5", pompadour perfectly coiffed despite interdimensional travel, and in the Ghostbusters uniform. His proton pack hummed at his back.

"According to these readings," he muttered, adjusting his P.K.E meter, "the residual energy signature peaks... here."

His boots crunched softly on the ground as he allowed his meter to guide him to the source. Then he saw him.

The Boogieman.

But not as he once was.

The Boogieman had become something vast, a mountainous mound of place fur and jiggling fat standing in front of him. His mullet still stood in wild tuffs atop his head, but it now crowned a face so round it looked cartoonish. His puffy red lips locked around that ever providing hose, yellow-red eyes half lidded in dazed euphoria. His belly was rising like a round, fleshy mess, not restricted by his waistcoat any longer.

And those hands...

Dozens of ghostly fingers kneaded every inch, their touch relentless, squeezing thunder thighs wide as tree trunks, groping pillow-like cheeks that dimpled under spectral palms, teasing rolls upon rolls that cascaded hips like soft lava flows.

Boogie moaned as another wave flooded into him. His strong hooves barely visible struggled to hold his weight. He didn't see Egon standing there, didn't notice those sharp, scientific eyes scanning every detail, the data filing behind glass lenses.

But then, Egon's voice cut through the haze like cold reason through a fever dream.

"Good Lord."

He adjusted his glasses slowly.

"You've gotten... substantial."

Those words, so simple, so matter-of-fact, were like a bucket of cold water.

The spell was shattered.

Boogie's half-lidded eyes widened instantly. The hose fell with a wet plop from his lips, a trail of thick, milkshake dripping onto the ground, as he twisted his massive neck to find—

Egon. Standing right there.

Watching. Studying. Cataloguing every inch of his blubbery, trembling form.

His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of purple. He tried to shield himself, to regain some dignity, but his bulk protested with a soft jiggle. Boogie's eyes darted to Egon's face, searching for a sign of disgust, of mockery. He braced himself for a teasing remark, for the sharp sting of judgement.

But Egon just.. stared at him, his expression unreadable behind the reflection of those lenses. There was no revulsion in Egon's gaze, no hint of the disgust Boogie excepted. Instead, there was something deeper, more complex. Egon's gaze roamed over him like he was an anomaly, an experiment gone wonderfully wrong.

Boogie swallowed. He wanted to speak, to explain, to defend himself, but all that came out was a soft, shaky whisper.

"E-Egon..."

The ghost hands didn't stop.

If anything, they teased more now that Egon had arrived, as if enjoying the show even more under an audience. A spectral palms gave one of his thunderous thighs a loud spank, making it wobble like a waterbed moon.

"I-I can explain!" Boogie blurted out. "This isn't what it looks like! I mean, it is, but I didn't ask for this!"

He hated how weak, how pitiful he sounded. He was the Boogieman! He was meant to terrify, not aroused. But here he was, body swollen like an overfed animal, being studied by the most stoic, detached man he knew. Through the haze of sensations and emotions, Boogie found his voice again.

"Stop staring," he gasped, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably.

"I'm merely observing," Egon replied, his voice as annoyingly calm as ever. "This is a unique phenomena. I can't just ignore it. Your mass has increased by at least threefold. It's remarkable how your form has accommodated your newfound weight."

A spectral hand gave Boogie's thigh another smack, making it jiggle. Boogie couldn't hold back anymore.

"Egon~"

He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. His mind was spinning. The sensations, the humiliation, the stares, it was all too much. And then, in the corner of his eyes, he saw something that shocked him: a faint flush of color on Egon's cheeks.

He was... blushing?

It was only a brief change, but Boogie definitely caught it. Emboldened, Boogie tried again, this time more deliberate.

"E-Egonnn~" he moaned, stretching the name out long.

Egon's breath hitched.

Just slightly.

"D-Don't," the scientist stammered, adjusting his glasses. "Don't say my name like that."

Too late.

The spectral hands, in a mischievous mood, redoubled their efforts, massing deeper into the satyr's pillowy folds, one ghostly palm pressing firmly against the soft under curve of his jaw as if urging him on.

"Eeeeegoooon~"

It rolled out: long, desperate, dripping with need.

Egon froze.

In the throes of sensation and shameful excitement, Boogie found himself lurching forward. He couldn't take the distance between them anymore. He needed Egon closer. And as if reading his mind, the spectral hands pushed him into the lanky scientist's frame. Egon let out a sharp exhale of surprise. He was suddenly very aware of the sheer size of the Boogieman. He could feel the weight of him, the pressure of flab against his body.

And it aroused him more than he could ever admit.

He didn't push him away.

Instead, he pressed against him, biting his lower lip as to stifle an incoming moan.

"G-God," Egon gasped. "You really are big."

His eyes gazed up at the now panting satyr. His hands grabbed the sides of his oversized face, forcing the monster to look at him.

"Y-You can't stay here. I'm taking you back. I'll... I'll provide proper sustenance for you. As long as I'm studying you, you'll never starve or be hungry again. What do you say?"

Silence.

Look at you, Egon.

You used to be so skinny, so thin~

Like a stick that gets pushed onto the ground by the wind.

Now?

You're massive~

That pants of yours is getting tight around your waist.

Here, let me help~

ZIIIIIP

There, isn't that much better? To let it out? To have that globe of a gut resting on your thighs?

You enjoy this, don't you?

Don't lie to me, Egon.

All this time, you could have said no and simply trap me again.

But, you didn't.

Everyday, you sneak inside your closet, entering my realm, all to see me, to allow me to feed you to your heart's desires.

And your friends? That girl who follows you like a lovesick puppy? They don't know that I'm leaving a mark on you. They just think that it's water weight or old age catching up.

But we both know~

...

Awww, are you still hungry?~

I can get you more food~

Ah, there's my lovely assistant~ Enjoying the party?

Awwww, why—hic— the long face? Is something wrong?

Diet? Oh, here we go again. Listen—hic—here you little imp, I don't—hic—need a diet. My weight is perfectly fine.

...

O-Okay, maybe I'm getting a bit—urp—fat. But, don't act—urp—like you're not any better. I've seen you, sneaking food into your bag, hoping no—hic—one would catch you red handed.

Mmm, you're—hic—not gaining weight? Oh, I guess everything I saw was a lie then— those boxes of donuts on your desk, that skirt of your getting tighter, and of course, that poor corset you hide under your shirt. I remember when I was still small enough to fit in mine. Well, that was until I reached 300 pounds~

Now, now. Don't be embarrassed. If I'm—BWOURP!—being honest, you look stunning like this~ All soft, so much to grab on to~

In fact, you deserve some rest.

Why don't you stop worrying about diet plans and join me?~

Just kick back, relax, grab a drink (or two).

I'll bring the food to you, so you wouldn't have to lift a finger.

...

There you go. I knew you would give in, eventually.

Now, stay right here.

It was supposed to be an easy bust, Egon thought. Taking inspiration from a certain children's movie, he created a new serum meant to subdue any ghosts or other beings by the most... unconventional means. Through his experiments with mice, the serum showed its promise as after a couple of minutes, the small rodents were later seen laying on their now bloated belly like a yoga ball. Their entire body was now a deep blue, their stomach stretched out and filled with berry juice. The serum was still experimental, so Egon kept it stored away for a time being to place his focus on other projects.

Then one day, he escaped.

The Boogieman.

His rival and greatest childhood fear.

Maybe there was a malfunction/glitch in the Unit's system or maybe the monster was siphoning enough fear from his fellow inmates to regain just a bit of strength to break free.

Either way, the Boogieman was back, and even hungrier than before. He starved during his time in the Containment Unit — being surrounded by entities always with their guard up made it harder for Boogie to eat. Of course, there were the Class Is or IIs who roamed around like herds of sheep walking towards the slatter. But, they were but a measly snack, and Boogie couldn't settle for a snack, not anymore at least.

The now emaciated satyr rushed past his captors, not even bearing a glance at Egon. Why bother with one source when he could go back to haunting the closets of children and feeding off of their fear?

The Ghostbusters immediately went after him, diving Ecto-1 through the streets of New York until they came upon Boogie in an alleyway, head first on the ground. Egon stepped out of the car, desiring for a closer look. The monster looked worse for wear, almost resembling a corpse. His limbs were thin with protruding bones very visible; his hair, once a vibrant blue, was now thinning and brittled. If it weren't for their history, the parapsychologist would have felt a slight glimmer of pity.

This moment of weakness did not last long however as Boogie, smelling his former victim's scent, pounced on him, knocking the proton gun out of his grasp. The satyr's hands were against the ground at either side of the Ghostbuster's head. Drool from Boogie's mouth dripped onto Egon's face as he leaned lower. Adrenaline raced into Egon's head as his brain thought up several plans on how to escape the Boogeyman. One idea kept popping up:

The serum

He grabbed it earlier as he passed his work station, keeping it in his pocket. This was the perfect opportunity to use it. Not only would it immobilize Boogie, but it would also allow Egon to see what effects the serum would have on an entity (especially one on the corporeal side). With a quick swipe, he grabbed the small syringe and stabbed the needle into Boogie's neck, pushing the plunger deep.

----

It was supposed to be an easy bust. But fate had a silly way of introducing the unexpected. Compared to the lab mice's minutes, the effects of the serum were instantaneous on Boogie. Gone the gaunt frame and in came the large, spherical form. His fur was blue-purple all over, stained with juice. His mobility was gone as he was unable to move anything from his arms to his hooves. His belly gurgled and churned loudly, his stomach struggling to digest the blueberry juice sloshing in there. And Egon?

Poor sweet Egon was trapped underneath Boogie's girth. The scientist wiggled and struggled, but it was no use. He was stuck, trapped.

The rest of the team were trying to help, well at least two. Winston and Ray were figuring out ways to get Egon out of there as well as shrank Boogie back down. Meanwhile, typical Peter was busy flirting with the news reporter who saw the commotion and wanted a big scoop. All cameras recording blueberry inflated Boogieman squishing his nemesis underneath him. Soon, it would spread all over the news, from the printed papers to the coloured TVs. And due to the bizarre circumstances, many New Yorkers would never forgot about this.

Egon's cheeks turned a bright red out of embarrassment. God was this going to be a permanent stain on his record. It didn't help that Boogie was clearly on the throes of arousal, his eyes half-lidded and moans slipping past his puffy red lips. After starving for so long, the sudden and rapid sensation of something filling him up left him satisfied — in more ways than one.

Egon sighed as he felt his pants tighten.

You were always different to other children your age when it came to clowns. The rest feared and/or hated them. You couldn't blame them though, with all the scary clowns and general coulrophobia that was becoming quite common nowadays. However, you had a love for clowns.

It started off innocent enough as you laughed and cheered when clowns performed tricks during your birthday party. Then, in your teens, you were known as that weird kid obsessed with clowns to your classmates. Finally, after your parents shipped you off to college, it reached an all time high as you started developing a kink for clowns, coulrophilia as it's called. Later on, you discovered more about yourself, such as also having an interest in weight gain and feedism.

You thought, aside from what you did in the bedroom, that you would live a pretty mundane life. That was until a certain demon goat came crawling into your life.

Originally planning on scaring a child, the Boogieman was certainly surprised to come out of the closet and find you instead. He tried to still frighten you, yet he couldn't sense any signs of fear or anxiety coming from your being. In fact, the only emotion present was arousal.

He left afterwards, leaving you in your bed wondering if that was real or you were just dreaming. But as days passed, Boogie continuously visited you at night. He was amused by your poorly disguised attraction towards him, and sooner or later, you two were now an item (as much as a demon and mortal human can be an item.)

For your first anniversary of being together, you only wanted one thing and one thing only from Boogie: him in a kinky jester cosplay while you stuffed him silly. He gladly accepted, intrigued at whatever you were planning.

When you came home with a paper bag in hand, you went straight upstairs to your bedroom, already turned on and ready to see your lover.

And there he was — the Boogieman sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under his fat ass. He was dressed in a red and blue, full body jester costume that hugged his fattened figure that was thanks to your home cooking. To top it off, of course, was covered with the classic jester's cap, the golden pair of bells jingling slowly whenever he moved his head. Your heart raced at the sight. The Boogieman already ticked most of the boxes of a clown look: wild blue hair, pale white skin, red lips, etc. But with the costume? He was now perfect.

"So," Boogie started, waiting for you to snap out of your daydreaming. "Are you just going to stare, or are you going to play with your big, fat jester?"

Blushing feverishly, you grabbed something from the bag: two cans of whipped cream. Boogie licked his puffy lips. "My, my, you certainly came prepared~" With a couple of nervous yet anticipating steps, you were in front of Boogie. Despite him sitting down, the height difference was very noticeable: you were standing at an average height for a human, while your boyfriend stood an impressive (and inhuman) 8'5 feet tall.

Boogie moaned as he parted his lips, allowing you to push the cold metal nozzle of the can into his mouth. Soon, the whipped cream streamed down the satyr's throat. The monster was in pure bliss, his eyes rolled back and his hand resting on top of his shelf of a belly.

He quickly managed to chug down the first can, impressing you. Your hand reached out towards his belly until it made contact with the wobbling mound of flesh. You rubbed circles around it before giving it a good SMACK!

Not wanting to slow down or stop for a breather, you took out the second (and last) can of whipped cream out of the bag. Pressing your full weight against Boogie's belly, you made him consume every last drop of the white, fluffy substance. His moans were getting more and more louder with an animalistic quality to them, while his belly grew tighter as space in his stomach began to dwindle.

Eventually, the can was empty just like its predecessor. A low, strained groan escaped Boogie's lips before morphing into a stuffed belch. His outfit couldn't contain his heft any longer, and soon with a loud RIIIIIIP, it spilt in the middle, allowing his belly to burst free and plop into his lap.

"That was... delicious," Boogie said, trying to catch his breath. "Let's do it again next time for our second anniversary~"

Two triple decker cheeseburgers-

A side of crispy french fries-

Three large Necro-Cola-

And a glass of chocolate shake.

This was what the Boogieman ordered at the Netherworld's Do or Diner. It wasn't the most fanciest or fashionable eatery for a demon of his status, but it had one thing that other restaurants possessed: good fucking food.

It was greasy food for such, but it was much more filling than the dainty hors d'oeuvres served at hoity-toity establishments.

He was a big boy after all-

A very big boy.

He needed more than pipsqueak meals to satisfy his never ending hunger.

Sure, he gained a couple (okay, maybe a lot) of weight from this diet, but it's no big deal.

He can handle carrying his heft around just fine.

The satyr slummed deep in his chair, his seat creaking underneath his weight. The food was resting on his massive belly which itself was resting on top of the table, miraculously managing to not break the table immediately.

The burgers were the size of his head, yet he shoved the first one with impressive strength. Obscene noises filled the diner, drawing stares from the other diners in the restaurant. Some were disturbed by his gluttony, while others were slightly aroused by his raw animalistic display.

But no one dared to speak up; after all, this was the Boogieman: feared across dimensions, a creature of chaos and nightmares. And right now? He was too busy enjoying dinner to care about judgmental looks.

The fries were quickly vanquished, washed down by the Necro-Cola.

But then, the biggest challenge came: the milkshake.

He upgraded it from a medium to a large. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he wrapped both clawed hands around the frosty glass and tilted it back. Thick chocolate liquid surged down his troat as it expanded grotesquely, stretching like rubber with each greedy gulp.

His belly turned crimson red, as if he was reaching his limit. The fabric of his black-blue waistcoat strained against his belly, one red button popped off entirely.

And still, he drank-

Chugging-

Slurping-

Gulping…

Until not single drop remained.

Silence fell over the diner for just one breathless second, before an earth shaking belch erupted from deep within the Boogieman.

Wiping the grease and milky foam from puffy red lips, Boogie leaned back as much as possible, patting his drum tight stomach with taloned fingers that barely made an indent anymore.

With much effort, he finally hoisted himself out of what could only be called "Ground Zero" with how many cracks and dents were made thanks to his gut and ass.

A trembling demon waitress approached the table, wide-eyed at how stretched and massive he'd become. But before she could say anything, Boogie dropped a fat wad of Nether-bills onto the table with one heavy slap.