Morgan (Redone) Part 2

(XWG, SSBBW)
(Part 2! There will be a part three (it's already done). Not a lot of focus on gaining or eating here, sorry if you're disappointed.)


March came in like a lamb, a gentle warmth rolling in and melting what little snow remained from a mild winter, and Morgan entered it at 470 pounds. A living, breathing symbol of appetite, she was awakened by her hunger every morning and she could only go to sleep at night when she had stuffed her belly as tight as she could manage. Her body played by its own rules, hitting her with pangs of hunger not when her stomach had been emptied too long, but whenever there was room at all in it.

Fortunately for Morgan she had embraced the glutton’s life, and the feelings of hunger were less a demanding impetus to eat something, anything than a gentle nudge that if she wanted to grab another tasty treat, by all means.

Yet food was not all there was to Morgan’s new life. It was simply the focal point, the thing everything else was coming to be centered around. All of her interactions were more and more pared down to a person offering Morgan food and Morgan accepting it. Anything she did, from getting out of bed to going to school to returning home, was done in the pursuit of acquiring food.

But her contentment was beginning to wane. The question of ‘Why?’ had never left her. Even as she put on the coat of ‘New Universe Morgan’ and stepped into (or rather, given her decreasing physical activity, sat down and settled into) her position as the center of attention at home and school, she had been unable to shoo away the pesky fly buzzing around her asking ‘Why has this happened?’

For weeks she thought there had to be some reason behind it, and unless she was lucky enough to stumble upon the answer she would never truly accept her new life. But then one night, in the moments before her eyes closed and she fell asleep, she realized that wasn’t the right question.

The right question was: “What am I going to do with this opportunity?”

Why did it happen? Didn’t matter; it happened, and that was that. What mattered was where Morgan went from here.

Sure, life had been nice. A loving, doting mother, teachers who always complimented her work, schoolmates who wanted little more than to give her more and more food, no more headaches from homework or tests. But things could always be better, couldn’t they?

Like at school. After stuffing herself with breakfast she needed to heave herself up and carry her weighted-down stomach to the school bus, squeeze into one of the seats, and then waddle from classroom to classroom just to sit in the increasingly cramped specialty desks the school had provided for her and try to tune out the teacher’s lectures while she enjoyed whatever treats they had given her.

Was there a way to cut out all that needless exertion and frustration?

Yes, there was. The next morning, after the school bus dropped her off, Morgan made her way to the administrative offices. The school principal, who of course recognized Morgan after she had topped the honor roll last quarter, welcomed her into his office and gave her a bag of ‘fun’-sized candy to nosh on while they spoke.

Morgan was brief (she was no longer one to waste eating time with talking); she explained that she had learned - in fact, mastered - everything that had been taught or was to be taught in all of her classes. She could take any final exam today, right now, and pass with ease (in fact, she would ace any such test given to her, but she still retained a healthy level of humility and didn’t believe for sure she was that good). While an expedited graduation would not be unheard of, Morgan had no desire to leave her friends and acquaintances behind.

However, since she had nothing to gain from her regular classes, she proposed that her entire day be turned into free study. She could make use of the school’s library and computer facility, continuing her education as she saw fit. She even offered to follow any special curricula the principal and other teachers set for her.

“That won’t be necessary, Morgan,” the principal beamed at her, “You’re the best student I think this school has ever had. Trying to determine for you what direction your academics should take would only be limiting your potential. I’ll notify all your teachers, as well as the librarian and head of the computer lab, that from now on you have free reign to study whatever you want.”

Even better than Morgan had expected. No more tests, no more homework. She could simply focus on learning what she wanted to.

What did she want to learn about?

Everything, it turned out. Given free reign, Morgan’s mind turned out to be as insatiable as her stomach was. That first day she went straight to the library, grabbed several dense tomes on subjects ranging from biology to quantum physics to the paranormal, and began reading while eating from the box of doughnuts one of her Elite admirers - the special few who won Morgan’s personal attention and favor - gave to her.

Morgan thought she’d have to force herself through some of the material she had grabbed, that something would be too dry or beyond her understanding. Yet it all came to her effortlessly. True, many of the ideas and terms were new to her, but cross-referencing and looking up definitions wasn’t any trouble. And it amazed her how fast she was devouring the books. Before mid-morning break (which she passed in the library, taking a break from reading to acknowledge every ‘supplicant’ and thank them for their food) she had finished two biology textbooks and half of one on quantum physics. When it was almost time for lunch she had finished the small stack she had grabbed to start with and was loading her table with countless other books.

Returning from the cafeteria after a particularly spirited bout of stuffing, flanked by a pair of Elites carrying all the food she hadn’t managed to eat before everyone left to get to class, Morgan sat down and dove back into her reading. As if to balance how less and less Morgan’s body was moving, her mind was racing faster and faster, absorbing every bit of data it could from whatever she read.

She spent the next couple days like the first, grabbing as many books as she could in a single trip and then plowing through each one. She tried to be as random as possible in what she read; fiction, non-fiction, European history, art theory, philosophy, sports trivia, oceanography, mysteries, fantasy, Native American folklore, theodicy, slim paperbacks and massive hardcovers. Morgan was undiscerning in what she read.

At the end of her third day Morgan’s mind was awhirl with so much new information, but considering it all during dinner and lying in bed she grew bothered by how random it had all turned out to be. The glow of her increased (and, unbeknownst to her, increasing) mental capacity had dimmed, learning for the sake of learning was losing its luster.

At breakfast the following morning Morgan decided she needed to be more focused. If she really cared to she could probably get through the entire library’s collection by the end of the school year, but filling her head with random data, so much of it potentially useless, wasn’t going to scratch her itch. She had sought her self-study program because it would give her a chance to build on her already awesome life, but so far it wasn’t doing much.

She decided she needed to identify some specific problem and focus on tackling that. A project. A goal.

But what?

Squeezing her painfully tight belly into the “it’s not a joke, it’s too fucking small” seat on the school bus, she found her first answer: a chauffer.

To someone else, someone not growing accustomed to being adored and waited on every moment of the day just for existing, a private chauffer would probably seem like a lofty and extravagant goal. Perhaps even superfluous. Why not just find a car, something roomy enough even for the obese young woman, and buy that?

But Morgan WAS growing accustomed to being adored and waited on. Or rather, she was growing accustomed to having many of the trivial things in life be handled for her. At home her mother did her laundry and cleaned her room and changed her sheets; at school her Elites would gather all the food offerings and carry whatever she didn’t finish for her. She had even worked out a schedule whereby during each class period she had at least one Elite who had a study period at that time with her in the library, collecting books for her. If she didn’t choose to follow the library’s ‘No Food’ rule at lunch (which she casually ignored the rest of the day), if Morgan choose to instead let all her admirers come to her in the library, she would pass entire school days without moving. Just sitting there in the library, pausing from her endless eating only to request certain titles.

The increasing ease of her life agreed with Morgan, and she found herself wanting things to be even easier. Thus, her initial goal of a personal chauffer and a specially designed van to accommodate her in absolute comfort. Something big enough for her to stretch out in, with a mechanical lift like those that lift up people in wheelchairs or on walkers. No more school bus, no more squeezing into her mom’s SUV or Leslie’s minivan.

But that would cost money. Morgan had almost forgotten what money was, being conditioned to receive material goods like food or new clothes just because.

How to get money? Invent something. Or rather, program something. It had started out as a silly idea she had had months before the change in her life, a program to screen capture Facebook posts and repost them on one’s wall with ‘So-and-so disliked this’ underneath.

But Old Morgan didn’t know anything about programming. It had just been an crackpot idea in the vein of “Dude, we could totally make a billion dollars off of this! If only we knew how to make it.”

But New Morgan’s mind was all-too-eager to learn whatever she needed to learn, and creating an app turned out to be just a light workout. In less than a week she had created a beta program, and after some feedback from her Elites Morgan had put it online.

The initial response from Morgan’s classmates was positive, and it didn’t take long for the app to spread outside the school and, within a week, around the globe. People liked disliking stuff.

The app going global brought down Facebook’s lawyers on Morgan, but by that point she had made a high six-figures and was fine with letting it get killed in exchange for avoiding a lawsuit. She didn’t care about the app, it had done its job. She now had enough money to buy her custom van and hire a chauffer, and her home-to-school-to-home commutes passed in exquisite comfort. She had space to lie back and focus on eating.

And Morgan went back to her regular “eat and read” routine, until another problem developed. As Morgan’s weight continued to climb her belly continued to be the main repository, and she soon was having trouble standing upright and moving forward under her own power.

The idea of having her Elites help carry her tremendous belly came to her, but it seemed a bit demanding. Besides, a better idea came to mind.

One morning Morgan stepped off the loading platform of her van and made her way to the school’s metal shop.

“Hello?” Mr. Gunsack greeted her, curious as to why she was there. Morgan pulled out a set of blueprints she had spent the night sketching one-handed as she ate dinner.

“I was wondering if I could have some help from your students with a project I’m working on.”

Mr. Gunsack looked at the plans, confused. The individual parts were identifiable, but the entire contraption was just… odd. But he couldn’t well say no to the top student in the school.

“I’ll see what we can do.” he said, and Morgan left for the electronics and sewing classes to have her other materials made.

Toward the end of the school day the teachers brought the finished pieces to Morgan, still sitting in the library eating.

“Wow, even faster than I was expecting.” She had her Elites spread the pieces out and, as she continued eating, Morgan directed them on how to assemble the pieces.

In an hour it was finished, whatever ‘it’ was. Three of the Elites held it up; a cushioned platform connected to a motor and eight spider-like legs.

“Turn it on,” Morgan commanded. One of the Elites flipped a switch, and the legs went from hanging slackly to a tense state, holding up the platform. Morgan stood up, grabbed her swollen belly, and heaved it onto the platform. The legs buckled a bit, there was the sound of the motor pushing itself, and then the legs straightened and the motor’s whining died down.

Morgan grinned in triumph, then took another bite of cake. Success.

The belly-lift (Morgan never bothered to name it) worked adequately, and she quickly made a series of adjustments to it so it worked perfectly. It relieved so much pressure on her back and made walking something approaching a breeze. Morgan still had to contend with the issue of getting one fleshy thigh around another as she walked, and it was still easier to minimize her time on her feet.

And there was also the issue of being a mega-obese woman in a world meant for smaller people. The doorways and halls at home were still big enough for Morgan, but it was only a matter of time. Her mother commented on having some renovations done to the house, but Morgan felt they could do better.

She still had most of her Dislike App money, and several hours a day to pass in the library or computer lab to soak in whatever knowledge she wanted. Within a week Morgan was dipping her feet into the world of stock trading. As with everything else, she was a fast learner, though not psychic. Initial attempts at “buy low, sell high” turned out to be easier said than done, but she quickly learned how to anticipate shifts in various foreign markets. At a slow but steady pace, Morgan was turning her six-figure egg into seven figures, and then eight.

Morgan decided to make the new house a surprise for her mom, only realizing after her mother’s surprised reaction that she hadn’t bothered to think of an explanation of how she paid for it. An 18-year old becoming a multi-millionaire in the space of a few weeks? But she needn’t have worried; the unconditional adoration everyone had for Morgan seemed to extend to Diana not being surprised that her daughter would be able to buy a mansion custom-designed for her growing immensity.

The adoration rose (if it was even possible) when Morgan decided to share her new fortune with her mother. There was a selfish reason behind it; Morgan didn’t want to be bothered with petty things like bills or shopping, and with all the money she was making her mother could quit work and just stay at home all day cooking and doing other chores.

It would be especially nice when Morgan decided to stop going to school. Her success in the stock market had been enjoyable enough that she wanted to make a full-time job of it, and the doors at the school weren’t any bigger than at their old home. Whatever other studies she wanted to pursue she could manage on her own at home; she had a new computer system, high-speed wireless, and already had some ideas on how to modify it all to be able to use with one hand.

Making her life ever more convenient, ever easier for herself, made it easier for Morgan to gain weight. Her appetite was only growing, her stomach’s capacity surpassing any limits, and the pleasure food gave her reaching new heights. She passed 500 pounds like a bullet, racing ahead to 600.

It was in mid-April, the day before spring break, that Morgan made her last trip to school. She started the day by going to the principal’s office and stating bluntly “I think I’ve gotten all I can out of coming to school.” The principal put up no fight, simply wished her luck in life.

Skipping the library and computer lab, Morgan instead went straight to the cafeteria and started on her offerings. Seven hours of endless gorging later, Morgan pushed herself up and made her way out of the school, not looking back. It was only as she went through the gate that she realized she should mention to her admirers she wouldn’t be returning.

Turning around, she looked at the mass of students following behind her, naked lust apparent on more than a few faces.

“Thank you for all the food and… encouragement, but I think it’s time for me to move on from school. If any of you want to keep in touch, don’t be a stranger.”

It was a spur of the moment addition, meant as just “Feel free to email me.” But the next morning, Saturday, as Morgan was making her way to the dining room where her mom was already well into her breakfast preparations, the doorbell rang.

It was April and Leslie. Leslie was holding a velvet cake, Morgan’s favorite.

“Hey girl! Whatcha up to?”

“Just about to eat breakfast. You two hungry?” Morgan asked.

“Oh no, but don’t let us stop you.”

They followed Morgan into the dining room, where she took her specially designed seat of a low, wide bench and a moveable tray that she positioned above her belly, which rested on the floor. As her mother placed platters of food on the tray, Morgan positioned a computer screen to her side and began checking her various stocks and market holdings while eating.

“So what brings you two here?” She asked after getting through the first platter of food.

“Oh… nothing much.” April said, trying not to act embarrassed. “It’s just we didn’t want to lose touch with you now that you’re not coming to school anymore.”

“It hasn’t even been a day,” Morgan smirked.

“Yeah, but that’s how it starts. One day goes by, and you say ‘I’ll see her tomorrow.’ But then you’re busy the next day, so you say you’ll do it later, but stuff keeps coming up, and then you realize you haven’t spoken in months.”

“I guess,” Morgan said, foreseeing where this was going. They were going to just sit there, basking in her obese presence. And then tomorrow or Monday more students would come, probably bringing food.

Not that she would mind. She had grown used to having a parade of people coming up to her with different offerings. It would be a shame to lose that now that she had left school, she decided.

It turned out Morgan had underestimated her admirers. It was less than an hour after April and Leslie arrived before there was another visitor, a sophomore in Morgan’s Elite circle. He came with a sack of breakfast burritos, which Morgan eagerly accepted. She loved anything greasy in the morning.

Then another pair of Elites showed up, then a fourth, all bringing food to supplement Diana’s ceaseless cooking (which some of them went to help with after arriving). Things were little different from Morgan’s day-to-day school life; it was just a change of scenery.

By the afternoon almost every Elite admirer had stopped by, several apparently being out of town during break (and feeling terrible about having to leave her, Morgan heard). Morgan welcomed them all, not just reassured to have them there but proud in a ‘This is proper,’ way.

She spent the entire day sitting in the dining room, everyone else scurrying around her at the slightest command or even without being told. She spent most of her time focused on the markets and whatever dish was in front of her, but when she stopped now and then to look around her or to respond to someone, she considered the scene:

She, like a queen, sitting on a throne and having her every whim catered to by the many servants and attendants. Her majestic belly being filled with food, her corpulent body sitting immense and immovable. She was immovable, her presence commanding, her will undeniable-

‘What’s wrong with me?’ she thought. She wasn’t a queen, just a fat woman. A fat, rich, genius who could have whatever she put her mind to…

Morgan considered herself, considered what she was capable of. A millionaire at 18, a subject of adulation among her peers and family. Whatever the reason for her life, she realized there was seemingly no limit to what she could do, what she could have.

But she didn’t fall into the ‘mad with power’ trope that may have been expected of someone in her position. She wasn’t selfish or arrogant. She didn’t want things just to have things, she didn’t want to lord over anyone to feed her ego. She knew what she wanted: food, and the love of the people around her. She had plenty of both, but she could always have more.

There was no such thing as enough, Morgan decided then. Not enough food, not enough adoration. Why sit back and just let things come to her? She could take, and not in an evil, greedy way. She didn’t need to lie or cheat to have more; there were perfectly legal ways, perfectly kind ways.

Shoving an entire soft taco into her mouth, Morgan turned back to her computer screen. Stocks and foreign currency were nice and all as far as making money went, but her mind was aflame with new possibilities. New ideas for being more than just ‘rich.’

She went to work.

***

“Ms…” Mayor Tisdale looked down at the sheet in front of him. “McFadden. This is certainly an interesting proposal, and ordinarily it would have the full backing of the city. But I have some concerns.”

The mayor spoke carefully, afraid of inadvertently offending the woman before him. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t want to upset her. More than that, he wanted her to feel comfortable, satisfied, even while being aware that if he saw a 500-pound woman walking down the street, his impulse would be to make rude comments.

Morgan finished chewing her burger - she had been eating when the mayor had come out of his office to meet her in the waiting room (she was too big to go into his office) and aside from breaks to introduce her proposal for revitalizing the town’s waterfront district and hand him a binder outlying everything in detail she had continued to eat; and yet Mayor Tisdale wasn’t offended by this - swallowed, and replied.

“I can understand your concerns. It is a large-scale project, one requiring what I estimate to be no less than $87.4 million dollars of investment for infrastructure repair, labor and other costs. It’s a bit much for one person to be proposing alone, isn’t it?” She paused to take a long sip from a giant mug one of her… classmates? friends? had been carrying for her.

“Yes…” the mayor said slowly, certain that she had more to say.

“If I were here as part of a group of potential investors, you would feel more at ease that this was a serious proposal, would you not?”

“Oh, I’m not accusing you of anything-” Mayor Tisdale said, worried he had offended her.

“It’s just unusual.” Morgan continued. “Well, as you can see I am an unusual woman. I am also a committed woman, Mr. Mayor. If you are concerned about my ability to finance this project, I will make my accounts open to you and to the city council.”

“I believe you, ma’am! But… a project of this magnitude...” The mayor objected, growing visibly nervous. Morgan was confused; she was used to people wanting to give her whatever she wanted, but it seemed Mayor Tisdale was somehow conflicted. A groan from her stomach, upset at how unacceptably long she had gone without eating just now, made her impatient.

She decided to try something.

“Mayor Tisdale,” she said, trying to sound pleasant yet also commanding, “I want you to put this proposal to the city council, doing everything in your power to see that is it pushed through as quickly as possible.”

She could almost see Mayor Tisdale becoming… not relaxed, but at ease. Whatever issue he had with Morgan’s proposal fell away, and with a simple “Yes, ma’am,” he was on board.

Back at home, going through an entire ham piece by piece (a light snack), she thought about the change in the Mayor’s behavior. He had acted like everyone else, friendly and virtually submissive, but when she explained the proposal he balked. But he didn’t like having to do so.

‘He was trapped. Trapped between wanting to please me and his limitations as mayor.’ she realized. ‘He couldn’t just put my project into effect by himself, but when I told him to present it to the city council he agreed right away.’

So he would do anything within his power. Morgan thought back over the past couple months; there hadn’t been many times she had made actual demands, or even requests, but when she had it had always been within the person’s ability. Nothing too extreme or impossible.

That discovery served Morgan well over the next weeks and months. Even with Mayor Tisdale going to bat for her, the proposal wasn’t up for the council’s approval for a couple weeks. Morgan used the time to her advantage, meeting with various business owners and restaurateurs and (more importantly) meeting with several members of the council and bringing them into her circle of admirers.

It also helped to clarify something she had long suspected: whatever was making people submissive to her operated on the barest of interaction with her. Just a few minutes talking to her, or even just being in her presence, made them fall for her.

It would going to make the whole thing run smoothly, but Morgan could see how easily she could be corrupted by this. She wanted the adoration of the people, yes, but not through magic pheromones or whatever it was.

Soon enough her proposal was being approved by the council and things were in motion. The entire waterfront district, nine square blocks of mostly crumbling and abandoned buildings, would be rebuilt and converted into high-end apartment buildings, upscale boutiques, and fine dining establishments. A blot on the city’s skyline would become its new crown jewel, an estimated 200-plus jobs would be created, and the initial influx of money from the construction work would give the city’s sluggish economy a jolt. And since Morgan was the sole investor in this project, she would effectively own the entire waterfront district; a portion of every dollar spent in that area would find its way to her.

Plus everyone would know it was Morgan who drove the whole thing forward. She would make sure of that. When the proposal was given the go-ahead she did a couple interviews with the local paper and TV news outlets, and even before the first shovelful of dirt was dug up people knew it was Morgan McFadden who was working to revive the town.

But it wasn’t enough; nothing was ever going to be enough for Morgan. When the first building on the waterfront was demolished Morgan was already thinking ahead. What else could she do to help the town, and in turn bring herself more praise and admiration and money?

It turned out there were plenty of other places in town that could use a bit of polish or an upgrade. Nothing on the scale of rebuilding the waterfront from scratch, but there was an empty lot here that made a lovely park, and an abandoned factory there that became a skating rink. Bit by bit Morgan was staking a claim, dotting the town with her own businesses and tying more and more of the local economy to her own pocketbook.

Expanding her financial influence also meant she was expanding her personal influence. Despite her size Morgan insisted on being a hands-on businesswoman. She personally hired every manager of every business or franchise she created, and would go out to meet with each of them once a week to check in on how each business was doing, taking the time to also meet with several employees and customers. Every single one of them loved her on sight, and she helped build a base of loyal customers just by stopping by for a “light” snack or visiting a seamstress to commission some new, larger dresses. Not to mention the dedication of her employees once they met their head boss; in fact, construction at the waterfront was well ahead of schedule thanks to a few visits from Morgan and her request that they do all they can to complete the project on time.

It was a sight to see Morgan going out and about town. By the end of June she had grown to over 600 pounds, about two-thirds of it in her never empty belly. The belly-lift she had created back at school was providing less and less relief while walking, and she soon decided to embrace her queenly appearance by designing and having built a mobile throne. The throne being too large for her custom van, she then designed a significantly larger van (more like a semi-truck) that could hold it.

If Morgan had any plans of flying under the radar, she would have had to give them up quickly. You can’t travel around in a reconfigured semi-truck, bringing traffic to a halt wherever you went, without drawing attention to yourself. Being larger made it easier to see her, as did the way she could take up an entire sidewalk or make an entire crowd part by passing through it.

It seemed as if just the sight of her, even from a distance, made people fall under her sway. One day in July, when she was wearing a bright yellow dress that just barely managed to not blind anyone, she emptied an entire restaurant while visiting one of her own across the street. Two weeks later the rival restaurant closed due to lack of business. Morgan bought it and converted it to a bookstore, and from that day she made it a point to wear bright clothes that drew the eye toward her. Not that she needed help standing out, but she could almost feel the adoration of the town growing as the weeks passed.

From there things snowballed. Her businesses gained more and more customers at the expense of rival businesses, and when one closed down or was weak enough Morgan swooped in to lay claim. Several of them actually came to her offering to sell, the owners having fallen into her circle without her even planning it. By October, when the rebuilt waterfront district had its official opening (three months ahead of schedule, and yet without a single cut corner) Morgan owned over 70% of the town’s commercial interests, with the other 30% losing ground to her.

That last fact wasn’t known to anyone in the town besides Morgan - even her closest friends and several Elites who, upon graduation, had come to work with her knew little of the operation of her businesses - but that knowledge wasn’t necessary for her to be the center of the festivities heralding the rebirth of the district.

Morgan, by this point, was 950 pounds. Seated on her throne (no one ever seemed to see her off it), her belly appeared to fall to the ground and spread out ahead of her majestically. In reality it rested on a platform connected to her throne and suspended only a couple inches off the ground, but it was so large and impressive no one noticed that. Her legs, tree-trunk thighs and swollen calves that swallowed her ankles, had to be spread out to accommodate her belly, and behind them her ass spread backwards a couple feet, shelving perceptibly. Similar to her legs, her massive breasts fell to either side of her belly, beanbag-sized adornments that paled in comparison to her monument to gluttony. The only parts of her that didn’t seem to be continuously swelling were her arms; they were large, certainly, but the fat wings of her upper arms and thick forearms retained a surprising degree of limberness and mobility. Morgan certainly needed it, as she insisted on feeding herself at all times and was never without a monitor and keyboard at her side (built into the throne, of course).

She didn’t do any mingling at the party, she didn’t rub elbows or try to network with any of the movers and shakers of the town. There was no need. Every person of importance in the city knew who Morgan was, everyone had fallen for her. It was like being in the cafeteria back at school, all the men and women in their finest suits and designer dresses bringing dishes of food to Morgan, congratulating her on the speedy success of the construction and guarantee that the apartments would soon be full, the businesses soon raking in the cash.

All except one building, the tallest one right in the heart of the district. That was the new headquarters of McFadden Investments. The waterfront tower would be the symbolic center of Morgan’s business empire; in actuality Morgan was still running everything herself, which she did from her throne. Wherever she was, that was the center of her empire.

But having one town was just the start. Word of Morgan’s accomplishments had spread, she was gaining national and even international attention among certain circles, and the first steps of her ascension to the world stage were already being taken when Morgan declared ‘First Citizen’ by the local newspaper.

She started tentatively, first buying loads of stock in most of the Fortune 500 companies and then getting onto the boards of a few of them. It wasn’t a leap in power or prestige, but it brought her invitations to a few retreats and meetings where she was able to meet with some of the most influential business leaders in the world, all of whom immediately fell under her own influence.

She didn’t go whole hog and try to take over any of the businesses, though she surely could have. On her first flight out of town Morgan considered how ridiculously easy it would be to just meet with every business owner or CEO and have them all sign their companies to her. And if the FTC had a problem with monopolies? Go to Washington and meet with every Senator or Representative, meet with the President.

But it would be shallow. Morgan enjoyed the challenge (such as it was) of running and building her own empire. Keeping track of so many different businesses kept her far-from-human intellect stimulated, and as her intellect grew with her body, she needed to grow her empire as well.

It was like a repeat of how she came to dominate her town, but on a larger scale. In New York City she set up a new office of McFadden Investments (which soon became McFadden Industries) and founded a chain of Italian restaurants using her mom’s recipes (improved upon by Morgan). In Los Angeles she started an entertainment company that produced three movies that each grossed over $200 million domestic within eight months. In Japan she partnered with a software firm and created a new form of hard drive the size of a postage stamp that could hold a terabyte of memory. Then she went to China and constructed a series of factories running on nothing but clean energy to produce the chips. She also introduced a device to absorb the smog rampant in Beijing and turn it into biodegradable material. In Milan she designed fashion and created a cheap yet resilient form of synthetic silk. In Germany she revolutionized the automotive engine to get almost 100 miles to the gallon (highway).

And so on. For four years Morgan traveled all over the world, expanding her business empire not just in its monetary size but in the number of industries it had a hand in. She also did a tremendous amount of humanitarian work, in the form of directing her personal fortune and “convincing” other industry leaders to contribute to a variety of charities and non-profits that tackled famine, environmental destruction, poverty and other issues.

It didn’t take long for the business media to pick up on the prodigy, and when its spotlight was put on her the rest of the media soon followed. It turned out even just pictures or video of Morgan was enough to make someone fall for her, and soon enough the billionaire glutton was the most photographed, recorded and talked about person in the world. It definitely helped her business; a visit to one of the franchises of her Italian chain quickly led to Sbarro, Pizza Hut and Domino’s all tanking fast.

Morgan couldn’t not buy out each of her rivals when able to, though plenty of them came to her unbidden. Even ones she wasn’t competing with; from almost every industry some company came to her, wanting her expertise or just wanting the notoriety of having Morgan McFadden on their board.

It wasn’t long before her influence went outside the business world, either. Her humanitarian work introduced her to various world leaders, and she felt it would be irresponsible not to use her influence to… nudge them toward ending hostilities among one another. She didn’t bring about world peace, but over time there was a clear decline in armed conflict; a decline attributed to Morgan, which only raised her esteem among the world’s population.

And through it all her appetite was as endless as ever. Everywhere she went she did not just sample the local cuisine, but she gorged on it. It became customary for her to arrive in a new place greeted by an immense feast of local dishes, business not beginning until she was stuffed to repletion. And even during any meeting or factory tour Morgan was given a steady stream of food; she traveled with a small entourage whose job was only to make sure there was always enough food on hand for her at any time.

It soon became such that Morgan was so insatiable that she sometimes needed to take short-cuts, the most common being a calorie binge in liquid form. She created high-caloric concoctions and had her assistants prepare them for her whenever her stomach would empty faster than she could fill it. More and more she relied on these binges, and in time her first demand upon waking was a gallon or two of these mixtures (which her assistants would already have ready for her), and throughout the day she would need another gallon or two before any meeting so she was sated enough to focus, or just to take the edge off.

Yet the overwhelming demand of her hunger never bothered Morgan. Quite the opposite; for all her success at business, for all the international recognition she was gaining, the thing that gave her the most happiness was food. She took pride not in having a personal wealth greater than a small nation, but in having a hunger greater than one. Reflecting on a day’s feasting was enough to bring her to orgasm (which was fortunate, as no man seemed able to measure up to her), and gave her a goal to exceed the next day.

The results of this unhindered, always growing gluttony… the results spoke for themselves. At the end of Morgan’s world tour, when she returned to her hometown in triumph as its favorite daughter, she was almost unrecognizable as the woman she once was.

Where left an 950 pound woman returned a 5,425 pound behemoth. Her original throne had been replaced a dozen times over the years, until now it was less a throne and more a hovering platform that Morgan spread out over. At some point in her impossible growth her belly stopped dominating her form so completely (though it was still her greatest feature), and she now expanded out in front, behind, and to the sides almost equally. Her stomach was the size of a tank, each butt cheek resembled a VW Beetle, her breasts reached down to the ground, and her hips spread out wider than a two-lane road.

Amazingly, her arms were still thin enough that Morgan could use them freely. Perhaps it because of much she used them, feeding herself and typing on her keyboards (yes, her mind was so far advanced now that she could multitask all day long, and it was not uncommon to see her typing onto two different keyboards, reading off of four different screens suspended in front of her), but her arms looked almost freakishly thin compared to the rest of her.

That is, if you ignored just how little Morgan looked like a human now. She had gone beyond any mere descriptor like ‘fat,’ ‘obese,’ or ‘huge.’ She was a class unto herself.

Not that she didn’t have imitators. As her fame spread so did her influence on culture. It was entirely unintentional, but Morgan’s size and unrepentant hunger inspired many a woman to embrace gluttony and obesity, and it seemed as if there was a societal shift underway as to what true beauty was.

But that was beneath Morgan’s notice. Most things were now. The pursuit of ever greater fortunes, of ever more influence in the world had been exhilarating while it lasted, but Morgan returned home a conqueror defeated by victory.

Morgan saw where it would all lead. There was no end point possible other than her having it all. Her company would supplant every competitor, dominating every industry she already had a hand in. And from there she would branch out into other industries, coming to control them, until soon all business was run by her. The economies of entire nations, of perhaps ALL nations, would come to rest on her personal fortune.

It was true she could back out, just not play the game. Sell off her all her stock, shut down her companies, exit the business world entirely. But she couldn’t do that, could she? It was in her very being to rule, she had long come to embrace that. She could not retreat, could not cede what she had won.

So it was really just a matter of time. She could almost sit back and do nothing and let it all come to her.

But then what? That was the question. That was what had been bothering her for a weeks now, the reason she had come back home. She was de facto Queen of the World, and she saw how boring that would be. Sure, she could continue eating and growing. But her influence, her power, was about to hit a peak. Once she was Queen of the World, what else was there?

Queen of the Universe. A goddess.