You woke in a sterile, bright room, the air humming with the sound of machines. Lena, your best friend, sat beside you, eyes wide with panic. Both of you were strapped into cold metal chairs, wrists and ankles tightly restrained. Across from you, a tall technician adjusted a machine labeled Fattening Pump Prototype, its tubes glistening with thick, viscous fluid.

Before you could react, the first tube extended toward your mouth. A warm, cloying substance—pure, concentrated body fat—was forced down your throat. You gagged violently, struggling against the restraints, but it was impossible to stop. Your stomach churned as it filled, thick liquid sliding down with a cold, mechanical inevitability.

Lena screamed beside you, muffled by the tube in her own mouth. Her small frame expanded rapidly under the relentless feeding; cheeks puffed, arms ballooned, and her thighs pressed against the chair straps with grotesque force. Her fingers clawed at the restraints as her back arched unnaturally under the swelling mass of her body. You could see her ribs stretching beneath taut, shiny skin as every breath became a struggle.

The machine hissed and whirred, the tube sliding back into the reservoir and refilling itself. You watched in horror as it prepared for another round. Your own body began to swell in response, shoulders rounding, arms thickening, your stomach pressing painfully against your chest. You tried to speak, to plead, but every word was drowned by the machine’s relentless pumping and your own strained breathing.

Time became meaningless. The sterile white walls seemed to pulse with the sound of pumps and machinery. The smell of warm fat and antiseptic filled the room, clinging to your clothes and hair. Lena’s body grew grotesquely, every inch of her frame expanding—her thighs rubbing, her stomach drooping, arms ballooning. Her moans of panic echoed off the walls as her body pressed against the straps, unable to move, unable to stop.

Despair set in. There was no end, no mercy, no escape. Lena’s once-human form had become a swollen, trembling mass of flesh, her voice a whisper beneath the unending feeding. You could feel your own body responding in grotesque sympathy, joints cracking, muscles trembling, flesh distending, trapped in the same nightmarish growth. Panic turned to horror, horror into numbness, and you realized the true terror: the machine was infinite. It would feed, and feed, and feed, with no relief, no escape, no end.

Every attempt to resist only made the pain worse. Lena’s face, once familiar, was now almost unrecognizable under layers of fat, her eyes still burning with fear as she pressed herself into the chair, trying to shield herself. Your own body ached unbearably, every muscle, every joint, every organ screaming against the unstoppable accumulation. The pump hissed again, ready for the next cycle. You were caught in a living nightmare of swelling flesh, endless feeding, and a mechanical force with no mercy, and it was far from over.