#danganronpavore

K.yle really just joined this thing on a whim. Sure, he’s eaten dudes from time to time--who hasn’t? But he’s not much of a...sporty guy. He’s a musician, and a damn good one at that. But he figured winning some big contest thing would be great publicity for his band. Might get them out of the ‘playing at bars for next to nothing’ pit they’re stuck in. Course, when he had that idea, he hadn’t really expected...to get stuck against a guy like this.

N.ekomaru starts tall on the other side of the mat, an imposing wall of muscle mass with a very intense glare. Being completely exposed makes him even more intimidating. That’s the kinda guy who looks like he’d be doing something like this. K.yle had hoped for like...weight classes or something to be used here. Seems it’s a lot more loose and free-for-all. Man...his band is going to have to look for a new singer at this rate...

The whistle blows to start the match and K.yle braces for impact. N.ekomaru doesn’t come charging in like he was expecting, though. Instead, the coach is glaring at him still. “C’mon, don’t just stand there!” the man shouts out in a booming voice. “Lemme see what you’re capable of! Come at me with EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!”

K.yle hesitates a bit, if only because this guy is super freaky. But getting the first hit in puts him at an advantage, right? So K.yle dashes forward with a yell and tries to hit the guy with a punch, thinking he might be able to wind the coach at least. The wild dog’s paw cracks slightly when he hits the rock-hard abs of his opponent and he yelps, quickly jerking his hand away and holding it to his chest protectively.

N.ekomaru looks very unsatisfied. He crosses his massive arms, his eyes sparking. “That was TERRIBLE! Your form was all wrong! Do you honestly call that a punch?!”

“Ah…um…yes?” K.yle has no idea what kind of response he’s supposed to have. He’s always heard that this guy can be kinda weird but…this is definitely more than weird. “What was wrong with it?”

“Here, let me show you.” N.ekomaru huffs and comes over, grabbing K.yle’s arm roughly and forcing him into position. They spend a few minutes with N.ekomaru showing K.yle proper fighting stances and how to punch effectively. It leaves the crowd…mostly confused.

“Now, use what I taught you and give me a proper punch!” N.ekomaru shouts. K.yle sizes the coach up again, gulps softly, and punches him. It gets a grunt from N.ekomaru and K.yle doesn’t actually feel as much pain in his hand from doing it. It gets N.ekomaru laughing.

“That’s more like it! Now…let me show you what a punch can really do.” N.ekomaru reels his arm back and uppercuts K.yle right in the gut. The wolf dog’s eyes widen and the wind is knocked out of him. His feet even lift off the ground for a second before he collapses to the ground and curls up tight.

K.yle is left gasping and coughing, struggling to get a single breath in. He’s grabbed by the nape of his neck and hoisted up into the air. He looks like a little bundle of fur while curled up like that. Just the right side for him to fit into N.ekomaru’s yawning jaws.

It takes a rough shove and a few hard gulps, but a massive bulge goes down N.ekomaru’s thick neck in no time. It slides past his chest and then makes his abs bloat out a little bit.  Most prey would have started to scream or struggle, but the winded K.yle can’t even make a sound. He gets no chance to even attempt resistance as N.ekomaru’s abs flex down hard, flattening out with a series of cracks and squelches.

A deep, harsh belch roars out of N.ekomaru as all the air is squeezed out of his gut. Some fur from K.yle flutters off his breath as well. The crowd, which had mostly been quiet and a little bored for most of that, erupt into cheers and shouts from such a brutal and fast takedown.

"So, you want to add to my bulk, huh?" N.ekomaru asks, his arms crossed. A few of his classmates are standing in front of him, all people he'd been personally training: G.onta, K.iyotaka, and M.ondo. He'd noticed the way the three men would stare at him during workouts, but he didn't think this would be the reason why. With a laugh, N.ekomaru grins wide. "Of course, you can! I'll make sure to use all of you as much as I can." N.ekomaru sheds his tanktop, exposing his muscular torso completely.

N.ekomaru wasn't one to turn down free protein. Even if they were people he was training, even if they were very dear friends, he'll never say no to someone asking to become part of his mass. he believes that he can bring people to their greatest potential, and if someone decides that potential is as his food, who is he to turn them down?

He starts with G.onta, having the equally massive man come forward. "So, you're sure about this?" Nekomaru asks. "Because once I start, there's no stopping, and you won't be coming back out."

G.onta blushes but nods softly. "G.onta understand..."

"Good. Then just try to relax and I'll do all the work for you!" Smiling wide, N.ekomaru grabs the other giant by the back of the head and forces him down into his thick, furry pecs. G.onta lets out a muffled yelp, and for a second it seems like he's getting a final show before his demise. But with a bit of effort, N.ekomary wedges G.onta's head between his pecs with a grunt. Then they start flexing, pulling the large man deeper.

The hardest part are the broad shoulders, but N.ekomaru's body has worked down plenty of mean this size, so even that poses no real challenge to him. It might be a tight squeeze for G.onta, but once they're in, he's sinking down a foot t a time with each flex. And as more of his sinks out of sight, N.ekomaru's chest bulges out further, filling up with a man equal in mass behind them. All the while, K.iyotaka and M.ondo watch with dark blushes as N.ekomaru near effortlessly packs G.onta away inside of him.

A final flex pulls in G.onta's lower legs, and he's gone from sight, nothing more than a vaguely person-shaped bulge in the coach's bulky chest. He sighs and rubs over his pecs slowly, feeling them twitch and flex as they get started on grinding down all that protein. Then he looks to the other two and grins again. He folds his arms behind his head, showing off his furry pits to the two of them. "Don't worry, haven't forgotten about you. I'm sure you wanted to be put away together but...sorry! I can't let a good chance like this pass--one meal for each arm!"

M.ondo scoffs and crosses his arms, but K.iyotaka simply nods. "You're the predator here, Nekomaru! It's your decision how our bodies add to you! We know you'll make the right call!" Guiding the other forward, K.iyotaka brings M.ondo to N.ekomaru. Both of them come in close, getting up to the waiting pits. Before either of them can do it themselves, though, N.ekomaru's massive arms come down over their heads and forces them right inside.

"Aaah...there we go!" N.ekomaru lifts his arms up again, seeing his two prey are neck deep in the thick hairs of his armpits. Much like G.onta, all the coach needs to do is start flexing his arms and he's pulling them both deeper. Each mighty flex sucks at least a foot of them inside, and despite their legs kicking a bit once yanked of the ground, there's no resistance from the two as they disappear into N.ekomaru's arms. They bulge out his biceps nicely, forced inside the tight space that is already beginning to flex over them.

"Been a while since I've had a protein boost like this!" N.ekomaru admits with a boisterous laugh. "But I've trained you three well...so I know you'll all look amazing on me! Let's get started, can't let you all go to waste." Leaving the locker room, N.ekomaru heads into the main gym to get started on his exercise.

Inside of him, G.onta, K.iyotaka, and M.ondo find themselves being crushed and squeezed by every flex of N.ekomaru's immense body. The space they reside in is already tight, but it seems to grow a bit smaller each time, packing them tighter and tighter together. It makes them squirm and wiggle a bit out of instruct, trying to fight off the walls that are closing in and looking to grind them down into muscle mass.

N.ekomaru barely pays them much mind, getting himself lost in his workout routine rather quickly. It's easy to forget about the prey filling his body once he begins, and even his dear classmates are the further thing from his mind as he focuses on working his core. Even when the cracks and crunches of bodies being crushed start to rumble from his muscles, and the muffled yelps and cries of prey breaking apart follow, he pays them no mind whatsoever. They're just protein now, just like they wanted.

The first to give in is G.onta, the gentleman's body too big for its own good. The scream he lets out as the walls close in around him and crush his muscular body down into a protein-rich mush actually catches N.ekomaru's attention. He looks down at his pecs, dripping in sweat that some of the lesser parts of the man was turned into, and scratches them lazily. He pulls something out of his chest fur--a pair of glasses, the lens cracked and frame warped. He smiles, tosses them aside, and gets right back to his workout while his pecs pump up with new mass.

K.iyotaka and M.ondo don't make it much father, though. While doing some deadlifts, a few nasty crunches and a muffled shriek come from N.ekomaru's arms. The thud of the weight hitting the ground drowns them out, and he doesn't even realize that he's ended two more lives. He just dries himself off with a towel and goes onto the next part of his workout.

It was G.ozu who had made the suggestion first while working out with N.ekomaru and G.onta. "It'll be the easiest way to see which of us is the strongest," the wrestler had said. "After all, aren't you two curious about that? We often seem to find ourselves evenly matched, but something like this could be more decisive!"

G.onta was unsure about the idea, but N.ekomaru was all over it, eager for a chance to push himself to new limits. With some reassurance that G.onta wouldn't be any less gentlemanly for joining in on their contest, the three men were all ready to play. They'd have one hour to eat as many people as they can, and then they'd meet up in the school's courtyard for the final results. Other than each other, anyone was fair game. As soon as it hit the hour mark, the three were off to feast.

G.onta's strategy started off with him trying to ask people to be his food. It work on getting him a couple down, but most were understandably not interested in being digested by someone. He didn't want to ruin the game by failing so badly, though, and after his fifth rejection in a row, G.onta simply lifted the student right off the ground and shoveled them into his jaws as quickly as he could. He felt bad about it, and it was very unbecoming of him, but so would failing to play the game right! He still asks every student he comes across, but the answer doesn't change much. They either go down calmly or fighting it. Either way, G.onta's stomach steadily grows in front of him, his suit hanging open unbuttoned to make room for the expanding organ.

N.ekomaru's approach was much more hands-on. Anyone who couldn't overpower him got sent down the hatch, but he was mostly focusing on those that had a chance of actually fighting back against him. Larger students and athletic ones were being picked off one after another, N.ekomaru's bloating gut doing little to stop him from overpowering every challenge he faced. Even as he was slurping them down and digesting them, he didn't stop being encouraging--as the U.ltimate Coach, he had to be a good sport about it, even if he was winning.

G.ozu's plan was the simplest. He went into the reserve course and simply went to town. Every student he came across was hoisted up into the air and got a chance to watch the maw of his mask open before they dove down the hatch. Picking off the students playing hookey or leaving class for any reason was limiting, but when the wrestler did finally burst into one of the classrooms to clear it out, he found it much more challenging to deal with so many students at once. Nott hat he wasn't up for the challenge, of course, but it was a time-sink having to deal with it.

After an hour had passed, all three men gathered up at the school's courtyard. Their stomachs were all large and churning heavily, some meals still screaming and kicking and others packed away in their bowels as a growing mass of waste. In the end, though, none of the men were able to recall exactly how many people they'd eaten--far more focused on the actual eating than counting--and their stomachs were working too hard to be an accurate judge either. So they'd simply have to wait for the end, their guts steadily shrinking back while it melts and crushes all the meat inside with ease. A few bassy farts signal that it's time for them to leave behind their actual proof of victory.

All three squat down in the courtyard, pants around their ankles as the begin to force out dense logs of crap. N.ekomaru was having the easiest time with it, one long continuous log steadily building under him as he forces everything out, sometimes entire skeletons still being somewhat intact in the dense pile. G.ozu was grunting with the effort, steadily dropping off very large and dense logs of crap that thud into place with each one, his massive feast having lead to a very dense crap. G.onta couldn't even bare to watch, hands covering his blushing face as soft crap steadily piles up behind him. There was definitely nothing gentlemanly about taking a shit like this in such a public place, but there was a part of him who was really enjoying the sensation as well.

In the end, the three men stand side by side as they look over the mountains of crap they left behind. Each one stands tall, with clothes and bones sticking out of the brown muck in all of them. The smell is horrific as well. But what all of them are most focused on is the size.

"...they're the same," N.ekomary finally says with a soft frown. "It looks like the three of us managed to each about the same amount of food in the end."

"Hm..." G.ozu crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head slightly as his stomach lets out a soft groan. "This might call for a rematch then!"

There's nothing that N.ekomaru appreciates more than a good shit. To him, it's a sign of a healthy body working at its best! Double so if that person is a predator like him. Unfortunately, for predators like N.ekomaru, toilets don't really...agree with him. At best, he merely clogs them. At worst...well, he doesn't get along with the janitor, that's for sure. But today is a very big shit day due to this morning's activities so he's taken residence in the janitor's closet now. A bit petty, maybe, but he was explicitly told not to use the toilet if he was certain he'd break it and he has to go somewhere. Especially today. That's why he finds himself squatting over a bucket, his bloated abs gurgling harshly as he lets all hell break loose from his bowels.

He'd spent the last four years training his classmates that asked for it, and as a coach, he's been very happy with how it's gone. But today he wanted to put them through his ultimate test--surviving his stomach. Those who make it out are destined to be the best athletes. Those who don't...are destined to become part of one. It works out either way and N.ekomaru has had no issues with this test yet. He told his classmates what they would be doing, as he values being truthful and upfront with them, and they had all appeared confident--or at least unconcerned--with the plan.

H.oshi had been the first. N.ekomaru had done a lot to work with him and find him that passion for tennis again. Despite his stature, he'd always been muscular, and the diet of tennis players he'd been on helped with that. N.ekomaru had been certain that the short man's core strength would give him what it takes to survive. It...didn't. H.oshi's size had inevitably been his downfall, and he died after a single involuntary flex from N.ekomaru's powerful stomach. Not even a minute in the tank and he'd belched up the man's hat and left his abs flat once more. He was the easiest thing for N.ekomaru to dump out, a single, dense log landing inside the bucket he was squatting over, filling it up in an instant.

The others got a bit more nervous after that, so N.ekomaru went for the one who seemed the most nervous--H.agakure. Normally, N.ekomaru worked with athletes, but he made an exception here when the clairvoyant had expressed interest in getting bigger. The coach knew it was for vain reasons, but he never turned down an offer, and he thought he'd been doing an excellent job with the older man and the diet of admirers he'd been set on. He squirmed and screamed a lot the entire time, and if he'd spent more time trying to hone that body, he could have survived. But he didn't, and N.ekomaru's gut snuffed out his efforts after a couple of clenches. He'd been rather delicious, at least, and the thick logs of shit he'd been reduced to slide out of N.ekomaru's ass with little effort despite all the struggle he'd put up. He'd been a useful protein supplement, at the very least.

His next course was a double meal. M.ondo and I.shimaru had taken interest in doing their regimen together--evidently, there were enough bad apples around the school for them to both share and I.shimaru had been insistent that those they devoured were put to good use on their bodies. Well, N.ekomaru made sure of that, and he had no qualms with devouring the two of them together. He's taken bigger meals, after all. With I.shimaru's strategy and M.ondo's raw strength, N.ekomaru believed that they could easily upset his stomach together and be let out. Unfortunately, I.shimaru folded under the pressure rather quickly--and literally, as a few snaps and crunches ended his life after an unfortunate clench caught him in a bad position. M.ondo went ballistic after that, thrashing around wildly and cursing, but the biker's thoughtless struggles did nothing to hamper N.ekomaru's powerful stomach. The coach considered it a mercy when he flexed his stomach on purpose to kill off M.ondo. The two of them came out together, their bodies indistinguishable from each other in the dense logs they creature. N.ekomaru hopes there's at least some solace for them in that fate.

Despite four deaths before him, K.aito seemed completely unphased and overly confident, as usual. The astronaut thought that a predator's diet was exactly what he needed to push himself past his physical plateauing, and N.ekomaru agreed. A steady diet of healthy, lean men had done wonders for K.aito's physique. N.ekomaru appreciated the confidence, at least, happy to see someone ready to take on a challenge like this head-on--hell, K.aito even shoved himself right into the coach's jaws while he was laughing. But...that confidence didn't translate into survival. He did the best by far, and even worked out a couple belches and some deep groans from N.ekomaru's stomach. The coach thought he'd actually survive, but a flex caught K.aito's leg mid-kick and the pained howls that followed the wet crunching told him that fate had changed. K.aito refused to give up, though, and N.ekomaru appreciated the effort. He let the astronaut squirm for as long as he could, but losing that leg spelled his death, and it was only a few flexes and crunches later that he was gone. He was a fighter until the end, though, as pushing out the logs he'd been reduced to took some effort and a few grunts on N.ekomaru's part. But he passed all the same.

That just left G.onta. Not much of an athlete, no, but he's the only man in their class that can rival N.ekomaru in size and strength. If anything, G.onta might be even stronger than N.ekomaru. He just needed a guiding hand to hone that strength and power. G.onta had been on a raw protein diet, eating only other athletes and people of that stature. It did wonders for the entomologist's body, and N.ekomaru was excited to put it to the test, even if G.onta seemed nervous when staring into those drooling jaws that five others failed to make it back out of. He put up a real struggle going down which excited N.ekomaru even more. Hell, G.onta was the only one of the bunch to actually make the coach's stomach groan from discomfort! If he had lasted just a few more seconds, he could have made it out as N.ekomaru's greatest achievement. But when those stomach walls clenched down on all sides to bring G.onta back up, he panicked and tried to squirm. N.ekomaru's body reacted accordingly, and with some grisly snaps and a scream cut short, G.onta died. The only thing that came up was his glasses, broken and twisted, in a roaring belch. He was easily N.ekomaru's biggest dump to date, so much so that the shit G.onta made alone was enough to smother the other five and triple the size of the already immense pile.

The internet is a weird place with a lot of weird niches. H.agakure kinda got that but he didn't realize the extent of it until he saw some of the stuff people are really willing to pay money for while he was trying to sell fortune readings online. He wasn't getting much in terms of an audience, though. Even less so people that were willing to give him money. One that caught his eye was a request he wasn't expecting: eating one of his fellow U.ltimates. At first, he didn't even want to entertain the idea but...well, one he saw how many zeros were on that offer, all he saw was green.

I.shimaru was his first. It was easy to get the man into his room on at the prospect of helping him study. The hall monitor was busy rambling about how happy he is that H.agakure is taking his studies seriously when the clairvoyant engulfs the other man's head in one bite. He starts gulping and slurping him down, doing his best to get it over fast before his classmate can fight back against him. Before long, he's sitting in front of the camera he set up, slurping down kicking legs. His gut surges forth with his classmates sliding inside, the hairy gut showing off the human-shaped bulge now curled up. A raunchy belch comes from H.agakure as his meal settled in and he licks his lips as he watches his audience grow and the money pour in. There wasn't a hint of hesitation as he digested I.shimaru live on camera, rubbing over his gut as it gurgled loudly, the hall monitor slowly softening up inside. He got a big payload when I.shimaru's screaming finally stopped and the man's gut was now a round, sloshing orb. H.agakure slurps over his lips as he reads through the comments. People really love this stuff. And if that's how much money he's going to be making off of just one guy then...

M.ondo was next, the biker lured in under the guide of H.agakure promising to know where I.shimary is. Which isn't wrong but M.ondo sure wasn't expecting to get his face shoved into H.agakure's newly developed pot belly, or to suddenly be shoveled into his drooling maw. The biker fought a lot harder than I.shimaru did and manages to even knock his predator onto his ass. It doesn't actually do anything to save him, though, and pretty soon he's another bulge curled up in H.agakure's stomach. He screamed and thrashed plenty in there, making the guy slosh around, but all that did was make H.agakure extra gassy for his audience. It didn't do anything to save M.ondo, who'd end up a thick slop after a good few hours of stewing around in there.

H.agakure would continue on like that, bringing guys back to his room ever day or so in order to devour and digest them live on camera for the money his audience is willing to throw around for the show. All the while, his gut gets bigger and rounder with each student he churns into fat. After a couple weeks, he's plowed through the majority of his classmates. Some of the smaller ones, like H.oshi or T.eruteru, melted like butter for him with how fast they churned. Guys like K.aito or G.undam, the later of which is currently churning away in his tank, proved to put up more of a fight. There's only a couple guys left at this point, though, and he's been kind of dreading getting around to him. But his audience is offering big bucks if he eats them both together and well...they haven't steered him wrong yet!

Getting N.ekomaru and G.onta to help out was a lot easier than he though it'd be. Neither of them seemed to mind all too much that H.agakure was about to devour them whole and digest them into more heft on his frame. At this point, everyone else is already hanging off his waistline, and the two big lugs had figured it'd be easier going down willingly. G.onta went first, his body guided along by N.ekomaru as H.agakure greedily scarfs the buff man down. N.ekomaru's hands are pushing G.onta's face down the hatch when H.agakure surges forward and snaps the coach up up to his elbows. The gulping continues as he guzzles down his second course, this time on all on his own.

By the time he's done, his chair is groaning under the weight, and so is H.agakure. His gut is stretched tightly around his two massive meals, barely giving them the room to wiggle inside. He keeps letting loose deep, meaty belches while his churns guts get started on processing all that prime beef. The stream would at least get their longest show yet as the clairvoyant's gut went to town on melting down both bulky men. They'd likely end up regretting their decision by the time they started to really melt alive, but with how tight the gut is and how muffled their voices were, no one could really tell. It'd all end the same for them anyway, the bulges steadily softening up as H.agakure's gut ruthlessly processes them just like every other man he's fed it.

H.oshi figured that there'd be some reception to him getting back into tennis. Being an U.ltimate, people like him just naturally have a fanbase. He just...wasn't expecting the kind of turnout he got. Or the way his fans responded after his return games.

"You really want me to eat...all of you?" H.oshi isn't above eating people, that's for sure. But it's usually just one or two at a time. This is...a lot more. A small crowd of his fans are in the locker room right now, all eager about their intentions with the short man. "You sure about that? You'll all die and I won't let you back out if you change your minds. This won't be pretty." His warnings don't seem to do anything to dissuade the crowd and he lets out a sigh before shaking off his jacket. "Alright then..."

H.oshi didn't even have to do it himself. As soon as he agreed, his fans surround him and a pair of arms shove into his jaws. He takes it in stride, though, steadily gulping the first of the men down with little problem. His gut bloats out in front of him, his short stature making it so his belly basically balloons out to be about his size after one meal. That's why he tends not to eat a lot at once. But just as he finished off the first meal, the second was shoveling themselves down his gullet.

The excited chatter of the crowd of fans slowly die down the more of them disappear, being replaced with thick gulps and wet churns of a steadily increasing gut. H.oshi lets out a groan as the seventh or eighth man gets slurped down. He's already losing count and it feels like the food has no end. He probably shouldn't have done this, but all he can do is keep eating. He just barely realizes that K.aito is one of the men shoveling themselves into his jaws, but by the time he does, he's slurping up the astronaut's legs and it's no longer his problem.

In the end, H.oshi finds himself to be rather exhausted. He lost track of how many men he just ate, but it was definitely too many. His guts are stretched tight over the mass of meat, gurgling and churning with intensity as it tries to accommodate all of the food inside. A deep belch rumbles out of him followed by more panting. This is going to take a while...and he has no choice but to sit there and let it. "Hope you're all...OOOOOooouuUUURRRRrrpp! Guh...happy with yourselves. Things are going to get messy now..."

H.oshi would be stuck like that for a while, his guts churning and groaning wetly as it processes all of the meat it was fed. The tennis pro can't imagine it's a pretty sight in there, but by the time he starts to hear the sounds of second thoughts from his various prey, it's far too late for any of them to come back out the way they went in. He did warn them that this was a one-way trip, so the closest thing they'd get to sympathy is a nasty belch and a few rubs over the tank.

A few hours later and it seems the last of the voices have gone silent. H.oshi's stomach is getting rounder and softer. He gives a bulge of someone's head an experimental push and his hand sink right in with a few noisy bubbling sounds all that comes from it. Long dead, all of them, but even so, he's stuck for the rest of the digestive process while the meat softens and melts into the sludge to pump through his system.

H.oshi's clothes don't survive that process any better than his fans did. As his body steadily pumps them deeper, he grows softer all around. His thighs and ass get a lot more weight to them, enough to rip through his pants pretty easily. His shirt had been ridden up on his massive stomach, but after a while, his fatter arms and chest end up just tearing it from his body. The weight doesn't do much to help his baby face, either, as it just gets rounder and softer. But the real damage is to his gut. As he feels the last few churn and pops of his belly finishing off the feast, it sticks out in front of him by several inches and hangs down to his knees. It molds to his hands with ease and jiggles around at the slightest movement. Needless to say, he's gotten fat, and it really shows with his smaller stature. H.oshi pulls his hat down over his eyes with a grumble, embarrassed by his own physique. That embarrassment doesn't get much better when his bowels rumble and he ends up ripping a deep fart in the locker room. Sitting around digesting all that meat gave his body more than enough time to pack it into his bowels, and it's done waiting now.

Grumbling a bit, H.oshi squats down where he's standing. He grunts and pushes, and before long, a thick log of shit nearly as wide as his old figure stretches out his ass and begins to pile up onto the floor. It snakes out of him slowly, making him work for relief. It's al incredible dense, too, packed tightly with bones sticking out all over the brown waste and scraps of clothes giving it the occasional color. The smell is horrible, too, given how long the pile spent baking in the tennis pro's body. By the time he's done, he's left something easily as tall as himself, some several hundred pounds of human meat reduced to several hundred pounds of human shit.

H.oshi takes a few deep breaths through his mouth, but even that still stings a bit with the stench. He grabs his jacket but it's not going to do much to fit him. the best he can manage it tying it over his waist to cover himself up, although his stomach does that just fine on its own. It's going to take him ages to work off all this new fat. And if his fans were that eager to be his food, he imagines playing more games will just attract more of them. He's going to get stuck in a cycle pretty fast at this rate.