Chapter 2: Building Tension
Picture a guy with poor manners, you might find the way he eats. Unpleasant, gross, disturbing. Well he doesn’t have shit on these 4 animals. Take that guy, and remove any sense of manners, and multiply him by 4 and make the 4 of them all horny for each other.
That's what this scene looks like. These four bimbos are inhaling food like nothing else matters. Chewing, swallowing, gasping, burping, farting - oh yeah, this is happening. And when their hands aren't full of grease and cheese, they're busy touching each other.
"Mmm, this is so good," purrs Bimbo 2 between sips of her strawberry shake. Her eyes dart flirtatiously toward Bimbo 1, who's shoving another burger into her mouth with one hand while rubbing her thigh suggestively. Grease sloshes into her cleavage. Sauce smears onto her neck, “lemme clean that for ya” bimbo 3 says licking
sauce off Bimbo 1’s collarbone. Bimbo 1 leans back with a throaty chuckle.
“I don’t think you can handle this, honey,” she teases, her gaze flickering between Bimbo 3 and the towering mountain of food before her.
Bimbo 4 throws her head back laughing, spraying crumbs from her mouth like a rabid hyena. She reaches across the table, sandwich in hand, and offers it to Bimbo 2. “Try some of mine,” she coos softly. The two lady and the tramp it,
sharing bites and exchanging groanful moans. With every lick of sauce from a friend’s lips, and every crunch of a french fry between teeth, their hunger only grew stronger.
“Oh god, look at all the people staring at us,” laughs Bimbo 2. “They must be so jealous!” Her voice boisterous and full of pride reverberates around the space.
“Yeah, I bet they wish they could eat like us,” agrees Bimbo 3, wiping a juicy drop of ketchup from her chin. Bimbo 4 takes a bite of a triple decker bacon cheese butter burger before kissing bimbo 2, “sharing it”
with her, and sending both of them into paroxysms of delight. The entire restaurant falls silent and everyone watches the spectacle unfolding before them. The manager, standing near the front entrance, can't help but grimace as he observes the chaos caused by the bimbos. He's seen a lot in his day, but even he had to admit that this was beyond anything he could've imagined. The waitstaff stood frozen, dumbfounded, their arms laden with plates of half-eaten food they hadn't yet been able to deliver to customers.
Bimbo 1 grabs a milkshake and begins chugging it down violently.
Her throat expands visibly as she guzzles it, leaving a trail of frothy, pink liquid running down her chest. "Woo!" she exclaims, slamming the empty cup on the table. "That hit the spot."
The manager, finally gathering his wits, approaches the group warily. "Excuse me, ladies," he starts hesitantly, "but there seems to be a bit of a problem her-“ “*BURP BURP FART, GREASY NASTY FART, LOUD WET FART, HORRID BURP*” the bimbos interrupt unloading flatulence.
The manager, taken aback by the sudden outburst, struggles to maintain composure.
"Ladies," he tries again, his voice strained, "you're causing quite a disturbance here. We'd appreciate it if you could tone things down a bit."
There's a brief moment of silence before Bimbo 1 snaps back, "Listen, buddy, we paid for our food just like everyone else. In fact we’ll pay for more!” “MORE BURGERS” bimbo 2 squawked barehand gobbling up chili cheese fries extra beans.
“WE CAN TAKE IT ALL ON…AND MORE.”
The manager, caught off guard by the escalating situation, tried to reason with the bimbos. "Look, you're welcome to place additional orders, but we can't allow you to disrupt the rest of our guests who are trying to enjoy their meals."
"But we're just having fun!" protested Bimbo 3, reaching for another burger, grossly dunking it in milkshake.
and cramming it into her gaping mouth. The manager's face contorted in disgust as he watched the display. "It's not our fault these losers can't take a joke!" Bimbo 4 chimed in, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. "You're right, babe," agreed Bimbo 1, tossing her long golden locks back defiantly. "If they can't stand the heat, they should get outta the kitchen!"
The manager, clenching his jaw tightly, attempted to maintain control of the situation.
"Alright, ladies, let's calm down," he managed to say, taking a deep breath. "Perhaps you'd like to take your party somewhere else?"
Bimbo 1 shot him a challenging glance, her green eyes sparking defiance. "Why should we leave?" she retorted, grabbing another burger off the plate. "We're not doing anything wrong, and we're spending money here."
as she ate it like a gross dog. They were all pigs. And they bellies were growing with each more greasy fatty bite.
The sounds of chewing and slurping filled the air, drowning out conversations and the ambient music playing in the background. The manager, now thoroughly irritated, grabbed the microphone from the DJ booth and announced, "Attention, everyone! We apologize for the inconvenience, but due to unforeseen circumstances, we will be closing early tonight. Please settle your bills and vacate the premises."
Bimbo 1, sensing the tension rising around them, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs casually. “No.” Everyone else had left fast. Leaving the 4 monsters. All the food was gone. Bimbo 2 was licking the table.
It wasn't sexy -- she was really going at it. She didn't care though. This was her jam. Or jamboree. Whatever.
She was living her best life. Burgers were gone. They ate them all. But she couldn't stop herself. That thick fat grease was sooooo good. It tasted amazing. Like sex. Except better.
“Leave please!”
“We’re giving you so much money. I’ll spend [ungodly amount] again, more than that! We want 50 more burgers, bacon wrapped bacon, chicken cheese balls, creamy jalapeño nuggets, onion sauce, brownie bombs, butter dipped chicken fried steaks, and 1 water!”
Bimbo 1 declared boldly, her eyes shining with confidence. The manager paused, contemplating the absurdity of the request. The dining area was deserted, save for the lingering scent of grease and the faint memory of clashing personalities.
"Are you serious?" he asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes," replied Bimbo 1 firmly, her voice dripping with authority. "And we'll need the food served promptly."
The manager sighed heavily, defeated by the relentless determination of the bimbos. "Fine," he grumbled reluctantly. “Will you uh… leave after-“ “*BELCH!*”
Bimbo 2 cuts off the manager with a belch that echoes through the eerie silence that's settled over the burger joint.
Bimbo 1 flashes a smirk, her green eyes shimmering with satisfaction. “Don’t worry boss man, we’ll be outta here once we finish our food. Just make sure it lives up to our expectations.”
the disgusting slop was all brought out. At this point since the place was deserted this mukbang orgy hybrid was in full swing.
Each bimbo was doing incredible feats of piggery. Bimbo 1, the blonde with the commanding presence, was shoveling burgers into her mouth with such speed and precision that it looked like a competitive sport. Bimbo 2, the chocolate-haired vixen, was going ham on the creamy jalapeno nuggets, her tongue snaking out to lap up every last drop of spice-infused cream. Bimbo 3, the fiery redhead, was gorging on the crispy chicken cheese balls, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy with each decadent bite. They were dumping sauce on everything no silver wear. Groping each other pulling down their tops. Fake tits spilling out.
Fatty asses shaking. One of 'em wearing a thong. Some skank had puke on her shirt. Burnt fryer oil stained the floor. Fucking hell.
The bimbos were a force of nature, consuming everything in sight. Not satisfied with the burgers, they started ordering side dishes like they were free. Bacon strips wrapped around bacon, double-decker bacon cheeseburgers, spicy chicken nuggets, and creamy jalapeno balls. Everything was fair game.
The manager gave them the most disgusted look he could muster.
The table was being propped up by the inflated stomachs.
Each bimbo reached out to each other, their fingertips brushing against the delicate gold bracelets that hung delicately from their wrists. There was something sinister about the way they held themselves – as if they had a secret, a plan that nobody knew about, and a devilish grin that kept surfacing on their perfectly glossed lips.
"Hey, babe," Bimbo 1 called out to the manager, her voice booming through the empty restaurant. "Can you bring us some more shakes?" The manager, looking utterly disheveled, “no you said you were don-“ “manager is denying me! Take us your office now *BELCH*”
Bimbo 3 demanded, her eyes dancing with mischief. “No way,” he replied, pointing outside. “Just stay put until-“ “*FART*!” Bimbo 2 interrupted, letting out a wet, loud fart that echoed through the room. The manager winced, a mix of irritation and amusement creeping across his face. "Come on, guys, let's just end this," he pleaded weakly. "We want justice! We’re going to your office to talk *BRAAAAAAAAP*”
Bimbo 2 screeched, punctuating her declaration with a loud, wet fart. The manager rolled his eyes, exasperation written all over his face. "What exactly do you want to discuss with me?" he questioned, crossing his arms defensively. "Just tell me how you'd like to resolve this situation."
"Well," Bimbo 1 began, her voice slow and measured, "we demand a private meeting with you. We promise to be respectful and reasonable, but we won't tolerate any further disrespect." The manager considered her words carefully, weighing his options.
The 4 got up, guts massive and horrifying, these women were flat as can be when they arrived.
Now round, bloated, sweating, and smelly. They walked up to the manager. "Where's your office?" Bimbo 1 asked. With a sigh, the manager led them to his small, cluttered office. Once inside, he shut the door, watching the bimbos sit down in his chairs.
"Now, what exactly do you want to discuss?" he asked, trying to remain professional despite the bizarre situation. Bimbo 1 smiled wickedly, leaning back in her chair. "Food makes us horny *RUMBLE*”
her gut rumbling loudly. She looked at the manager, who flinched at the sound. "We like you. We want more... *RUMBLE*”
Her belly growled in response to her own words. "Food," she corrected. "We want more food."
The manager swallowed hard, eyeing the quartet nervously. "Okay, okay," he stammered, reaching for the phone on his desk. “We’re… we’re out of food her but-“ “*RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE*”
The manager cringed, peeking over his shoulder at the source of the thunderous growls. "What's that noise?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity. The room fell silent, except for the rhythmic rumbles emanating from the collective gut of the four bimbos.
4 roaring guts, “order Chinese food!” “I want sex” “I gotta shit” “fuck us!” “Order pizzas and fuck my mouth!” The hoard barked. Clothes fell off revealing plastic bodies mixed with massive greasy bellies.
. They moved towards the manager, sweat pouring over their chests as they giggled and moaned.
Their fingers trembled with desire, clutching at the fabric covering their swollen tummies like greedy beasts yearning for a taste of forbidden fruit. Manager, the meat puppet that he was, watched them sway and undulate in a sensual dance, the rhythm of their heartbeats pounding in time with the throbbing hunger within their insatiable appetites.
"Let's cut to the chase," Bimbo 1 purred, her voice like velvet sliding over steel.
"We want you to order us food. Lots of it. And then we want you to fuck us."
The manager stared at her, dumbfounded. His eyes widened as the reality of the situation dawned on him. "W-w-what?" he stammered, his voice cracking. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, we're dead serious," Bimbo 2 sneered, arching an eyebrow. "You see, we're not just hungry for food.
We're also hungry for action," Bimbo 1 continued, her eyes boring into the manager. "You're lucky, pal. We chose you. Now, let's get this party started."
The manager gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "Whoa, whoa, hold on a sec," he sputtered, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying no, but I'm definitely not saying-“ “*SHART*”
The manager's face turned a shade of green as Bimbo 2 unleashed a torrent of diarrhea onto the floor. The pungent odor permeated the air, causing the others to recoil in disgust. "Oh, I'm sorry," Bimbo 2 chirped innocently, batting her eyelashes. "Didn't mean to ruin the mood."
"This is crazy," the manager muttered under his breath, feeling trapped by the escalating situation. "We need to establish some ground rules here," Bimbo 1 insisted, her voice firm and commanding.
"First, the food. Order it now."
The manager eyed the bimbos warily, considering their demands. "Okay," he conceded reluctantly, picking up the phone on his desk. "I'll call the local pizza place and order delivery. What do you want?"
"Everything”
, Bimbo 1 responded. “Everything."
The manager hesitated, his finger hovering over the "call" button. "Do you have any specific requests?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of apprehension.
Bimbo 1 tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Make it big, cheesy, and saucy," she purred, her voice like silk. "And lots of it."
"Of course, Ma'am," the manager nodded, his eyes flitting nervously between the four bimbos seated before him. 40 minutes later he wheeled in a cart of pizza. He was shoved aside as the hounds gobbled up more. Each bite was met with a rancid gurgle and growing bellies. Burping, farting, and even sharting with every bite.
The bimbos devoured the pies like ravenous wolves tearing into raw flesh. Slices disappeared in mere seconds, replaced by groaning bellies that seemed to expand exponentially with each new mouthful.
The manager observed in disbelief, occasionally glancing warily at the closed door leading to the main restaurant. His pulse quickened, fueled by the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and his eyes darted nervously between the empty pizza boxes and the smirking bimbos.
"More," Bimbo 1 grunted between chews, her eyes locked on the manager.
"More pies."
He hesitated, looking uncertainly at the rapidly diminishing pile of pizza boxes. "We'll run out eventually," he warned softly.
"Then we'll take more," Bimbo 3 snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Call in the reserves."
"Wait," he protested tentatively, "isn't it enough?"
"No," Bimbo 4 breathed huskily, her eyes scanning the remaining slices greedily.
He could literally see their stomachs growing.
It was surreal. He'd never seen anything like it. They were behaving like fucking cows. Stupid cows. Fat, bloated, and stupid. They had eaten so much already. More than he could comprehend. And they wanted more. They weren't satisfied. No, that's not right. They were satisfied. Oh, they were more than satisfied. They were absolutely elated. And they wanted more.
bimbo 3 began eating the boxes,
!
The manager couldn't believe
his eyes. Was this real? Was
this nightmare made up? Was
he dreaming? Could someone
please wake him up?
"You know what?" Bimbo 1 piped up, breaking the stunned silence, "let's spice things up a little. Let's play a game."
"What kind of game?" the manager croaked, his voice barely audible.
"A very simple one," Bimbo 1 purred, her eyes twinkling. “You order more food, or we shit all over your office *SHART*”
Before the manager could protest, Bimbo 2 released a stream of liquid waste onto the floor. "Nice," Bimbo 2 grinned, her cheeks flush with excitement. "Already we're ahead of the game."
"All right, all right," the manager surrendered, his eyes glued to the puddle of diarrhea. "I'll call for more."
"That's the spirit," Bimbo 3 praised, popping a piece of pepperoni into her mouth.
Chinese, devoured, they shoved egg rolls up each others asses.
Sushi, horrifically inhaled, their bodies were actively pumping out waste to make more room, as those guts grew bigger and more rancid. The 4 women themselves seemed to be getting bigger too…
Fried chicken, gobbled up without mercy, and in between bouts of tummy evacuation.
qooumggmggmgm
burps, farts, and sharts. The office was a den of horror, reeking of bodily fluids and food odors.
Pizza boxes piled high in the corner, along with the remnants of various side dishes. The air was thick with the scent of greasy, fried pleasures, which somehow morphed into a pungent whiff of fecal matter, creating a bouquet so foul it threatened to overwhelm the senses.
And then. It happened, the began evacuating it all. The entire gut contents.
Of four massive human beings came splashing out. From wide open assholes. They all screamed in orgasmic release. "OH FUCK, OH MY GOD, YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" They hollered, their voices echoing through the empty restaurant. The manager stood paralyzed, watching the spectacle unfold before him. He could feel bile rising in his throat, threatening to spill over the edge of his gag reflex.
"That's right, baby," Bimbo 1 groaned, her moans reverberating in the dimly lit office. “It’s all coming ou-RETCH”
As the four bimbos emptied their colossal bellies, the smell took on a different dimension altogether. It became thicker, denser, and far more potent than ever before. It seeped into the pores and crevices of the office, enveloping the manager in a fetid embrace that felt like a warm hug and a punch to the gut simultaneously.
and then they were normal. The same looking women who walked in. Standing before him, “all better! Hehe”
the bimbos giggled simultaneously, wiping off remnants of vomit and diarrhea from their clothes. The manager stared blankly, his eyes glassy and unfocused. The horrendous stench that lingered in the air was overwhelming - a concoction of rancid foods, urine, and pure filth. Yet, amidst the chaos, the manager noticed something peculiar. The four bimbos appeared to be shrinking. Their bodies returned to their original proportions, their former monstrous forms seemingly erased. "Wh-who are you?" he managed to utter, his voice quivering with uncertainty.
Bimbo 1 belched in his face “hungry gals hehe! RETCH have a good day” they walked out, Bimbo 2 stopping and bending over,
unleashing a torrent of vomit onto the counter, “oops” she giggled. “*SHART* oh oops again!” Bimbo 3 laughed, her hand resting on the manager's shoulder with a friendly pat. "Say goodbye to the old manager," she chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "From now on, we're your new bosses."
The manager shook his head numbly, still struggling to process the events of the past few hours. "But why?" he managed to croak, his voice barely audible. “*FART FART FART FART* byeeeeee!” the bimbos yelled as they exited the building, leaving behind a trail of destruction and stench. The manager stood frozen, watching them disappear into the night. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized the implications of what had transpired. "Oh God," he murmured, his hands trembling. "What have I done?"
The following morning, the manager arrived at work, haunted by the memories of the previous evening. He scanned the empty restaurant, his gaze lingering on the spot where the bimbos had sat.