# Chapter 1: The Secret Obsession: Quagmire's Descent Into SSBBW Porn Addiction
Quagmire's day began like any other in his quiet, unassuming life in Quahog. He lounged on his plush couch in his dimly lit living room, surrounded by empty takeout containers and discarded porn magazines. The TV flickered with images of scantily clad women in various states of undress, their moans echoing through his bachelor pad as he mindlessly flipped through channels with his greasy remote control. His eyes glazed over with lust as he took in each new scene of depravity, his hand idly stroking his semi-erect cock through his stained boxer shorts. His fridge was stocked with beer and fast food, his only sustenance as he wallowed in his addiction to pornography. His life was one of leisure, with no responsibilities to tie him down or distract him from his favorite pastime: watching women indulge in gluttonous feasts before engaging in graphic sexual acts with men with enormous genitals. His heart raced at the thought of their stretched stomachs and jiggling flesh as they moaned in pleasure. This was his escape from reality—a world of unbridled lust and excess that he could never get enough of.

The sun had long set outside when Quagmire finally stumbled upon something new—a website dedicated to SSBBWs—Super-Sized Big Beautiful Women—and his eyes widened with excitement as he clicked through page after page of voluptuous figures that dwarfed even his wildest fantasies. The sight of these massive women sent his imagination spiraling out of control as he envisioned himself in scenarios of complete domination over them—forcing them to eat until they could barely move, watching their bodies balloon before his very eyes as they begged for more food and more pleasure. His breath grew ragged as he stared at the screen, his hand moving faster as he reached for his favorite lubricant to aid in his self-indulgence. This was it—his ultimate kink had been discovered, and he knew he would never be able to look away again. His obsession grew with each passing day as he delved deeper into this niche world of fat fetishism, his mind racing with ideas of how he could bring his fantasies to life.

The walls of his office were lined with monitors displaying live feeds from hidden cameras he had installed in various locations around town—his own personal porn network that catered to his every whim. His eyes fell upon Meg Griffin's room in particular—his neighbor's overweight daughter whose private moments he had been secretly watching for months now. He had noticed her sneaking food late at night when she thought no one was looking—a sign that she was ripe for his twisted desires. He knew that with enough manipulation, he could turn her into his very own fattening pet—his personal plaything to mold and control as he saw fit. His cock twitched at the thought as he leaned back in his chair, stroking himself to climax as he imagined her chained to his basement floor, her body swollen with food as she begged for his touch. This was just the beginning of his descent into madness—a journey that would lead him to places he never thought possible as he sought to fulfill his darkest desires through Meg's transformation.

# Chapter 2: No Way to Shower: Quagmire's Plan to Capture Meg
Quagmire sat in his dimly lit living room as he scrolled through various dating apps on his phone. His eyes lit up as he stumbled upon Meg's profile. He smirked as he devised a plan to capture her. He quickly created an account under the pseudonym "MrClean" with an profile picture of an attractive man with a subtle emphasis on personal hygiene in his bio. He sent Meg a message: "Hey there, I noticed you're looking for someone special. How about we grab dinner tomorrow night?"

Meg, feeling flattered by the attention from someone seemingly so put together, responded eagerly: "Oh my gosh, yes! That sounds amazing!" Quagmire's plan was set in motion as he began to chat with Meg online, building her curiosity for their upcoming date.

The following day, Quagmire donned his best disguise: a plumber's outfit complete with fake mustache and glasses. He snuck into the Griffin's house while they were out for groceries. His heart raced as he made his way to their basement, his eyes gleaming with excitement at the thought of her panic when she discovered she would be unable to bathe or shower. With swift precision, he shut off the watermain to their house. He knew Meg would be desperate to clean up before her date that evening with "MrClean." He left without a trace, his mind racing with anticipation for what was to come.

Meg rushed home from school, her mind buzzing with excitement for her date with MrClean. She had picked out her favorite outfit that hugged her curves just right and was eager to shower before getting ready. As she turned on the water, she was met with only a trickle of residual drops from the showerhead. Panic set in as she realized she had no time to fix it herself. In desperation, she called her neighbor Quagmire. "Hi Quagmire," she said breathlessly, "I'm so sorry to bother you, but my shower isn't working! Do you think I could use yours?" Quagmire's voice was calm and reassuring on the other line: "Of course, Meg! I'd be happy to help you out." His heart racing with excitement as he prepared for her arrival.

Meg arrived at Quagmire's house in her bathrobe, her hair in a towel, looking flustered yet hopeful that she could still salvage her date night. Quagmire greeted her with a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks so much for letting me use your shower," she said as she stepped inside his seemingly normal home. "No problem at all," he replied smoothly, leading her down to his basement under the guise of having an extra bathroom downstairs for guests. "It's just down here," he said casually as he opened the door to his lair and ushered her inside. The room was anything but typical; it was a dungeon of sorts, equipped with chains, feeding tubes, and various fattening devices. Meg's eyes widened in horror as she took in her surroundings, realizing too late that she had walked right into Quagmire's trap. Before she could react, he grabbed her from behind, clamping a chloroform-soaked cloth over her nose and mouth. She struggled for only a moment before her body went limp in his arms. Quagmire's plan had worked perfectly; Meg was now his to fatten and control as he saw fit.

# Chapter 3: Chained to Desire: Meg's Initial Struggle with Captivity
Meg's eyes fluttered open to darkness, her head throbbing with confusion as she sat up. Her wrists were shackled with something cold and metallic and she heard the clanking of chains as she moved, her ankles similarly shackled. The smell of damp concrete filled her nostrils as she took in her surroundings—a dimly lit basement with shadows dancing on the walls from an unseen source of light above her head. Panic set in as she realized she was naked, her body feeling sticky with something she couldn't quite place—until she saw Quagmire standing over her with an eerie smile on his face, and a fading erection still dripping with cum. "Welcome to your new home," he said in his usual suave tone that now sent chills down her spine. "You're going to love it here."

Meg's eyes widened in horror as she took in her new reality.  There was a chain attached to an iron collar around her throat.  She followed the chain with her eyes to the other end and saw that it was bolted to the floor.  Dread filled her as she realized there was no way to escape.  "What have you done to me?" she blurted out, her voice quaking from fear. Quagmire chuckled darkly as he knelt beside her, stroking her cheek with his cold hand. "I've given you what you've always wanted," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "A life of indulgence without judgment."

Meg's initial panic turned to desperation as she pulled against her chains with all her might.  The chains were secured solidly to the concrete.  She screamed for help until her voice was raw, her eyes searching for any sign of an exit or weakness in her captor's setup. But Quagmire had been meticulous in his preparations—there was no escape from his twisted lair of lard-laden lust. Her struggles only seemed to excite him further as he watched her squirm with his gleeful anticipation of what was to come. "You're wasting your energy," he said calmly as he sat back in his chair to observe her futile attempts at freedom. "You're mine now."

As Meg's energy waned, Quagmire began to speak in soothing tones, explaining her new life as his fattening pet with an enthusiasm that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. "You're going to eat," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And eat, and eat some more." He described in detail his plans to feed her until she could no longer move under her own power—until she was nothing more than his personal plaything to be used for his every whim. Meg's stomach churned at his words as she realized that she had no choice in this matter—she was his to do with as he pleased.

Quagmire climbed the stairs, and moments later brought down an industrial-sized tray of food—enough to feed an entire family—and placed it before Meg's trembling form. The sight of greasy fried chicken, mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, and an entire cheesecake made her stomach lurch in protest. "Eat up, piggy." he ordered as he pulled her collar to force her face over the tray of food. Meg's eyes filled with tears as she picked up a piece of chicken and took a bite. The taste was heavenly despite her fear, her body craving sustenance after hours of captivity with nothing to eat.  She decided to let herself go into binge mode, which she often did in secret.  Now she was just going to go for it.  Her favorite part of binging was cramming food in her mouth. She started with the cheesecake, cramming entire slices in her mouth.  She could really get to enjoy this, she thought.  Soon, she felt a fullness in her stomach that no previous binge had ever given her.  She enjoyed the sensation of cramming her belly full just as much as cramming her mouth full.  She decided to test how far she could push it. This was better than filling her mouth she thought.  The sensation stayed with her longer.  And she could push it to new extremes without choking on something.  As her belly started to hurt, Meg started to masturbate herself as she ate. Quagmire watched with rapt attention as she consumed plate after plate of food, his eyes gleaming with excitement as her stomach distended before his very eyes.

Quagmire had been working his shaft, which was greased with lard, stroking it with his hand as he watched Meg eat.  Meg was fascinated by his thick cock, and it made her a little horny.  She kneeled on all fours as she continued her masochistic binge, seeing how much food she can fit in her belly. Quagmire circled around behind her and slipped his greased cock in her ass.  Being swept up in her state of indulging herself, she just sort of let it happen.  Meg felt a new dimension of fullness.  She even liked that it hurt at first, but she couldn't manage to hold onto that first bit of pain. The feeling of fullness in her ass was the trifecta of the experience.  She drifted off as she was roughly sodomized, her face laying in a mountain of gravy slathered mashed potatoes.

Meg woke to find herself in the same position she had fallen asleep in—chained to the floor with her ass in the air, her stomach feeling like it was going to explode from overeating. The smell of her own waste filled her nostrils as she realized she had soiled herself in her sleep—another part of Quagmire's plan to degrade her further. He entered the room with a tray of breakfast that looked even more obscene than dinner had been—a mountain of greasy bacon, eggs swimming in oil, and a stack of syrup-drenched pancakes that seemed to tower over her like an insurmountable challenge. "Good morning, piggy!" he said cheerfully as he set the tray on the floor next to her sleeping pad. "Time to start your day off right." Meg's eyes filled with lust as she realized that this was no longer just a dream—this was her reality now.  As Quagmire cleaned up her messy backside with loving care, Meg focused on achieving the heights of binge-pain she achieved the previous night.

# Chapter 4: The Seduction of Submission: Meg's Gradual Acceptance of Her New Role
Quagmire stood over Meg with a clipboard in hand as she lay on her side in her new pen, her wrists and ankles bound in steel cuffs attached to loose steel chains that allowed her only enough freedom to feed herself. She had been in his basement for what felt like an eternity, though it had only been three days since her capture. Her stomach growled in protest at the lack of food since her last meal. The room was dimly lit with only one flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows across her naked body that was already starting to show signs of weight gain from her greedily consumed feedings. The smell of stale food and sweat lingered in the air around her as she stared at Quagmire with lust in her eyes.

"Hello, my little piglet," Quagmire said with an unsettling smile as he checked his watch. "It's time for your next meal." He set down the clipboard on a nearby table that was cluttered with various feeding tubes, funnels, and other devices Meg had yet to encounter. "Today's menu is going to be quite special." He picked up a large bowl filled with what looked like oatmeal mixed with something unidentifiable—it was thick and lumpy with an unappetizing sheen to it. "I've made sure to pack it full of calories to help you grow nice and plump for me." He approached her with spoon in hand, his eyes gleaming with excitement at her impending fate.

Meg's stomach rumbled at the sight of the food as she struggled to masturbate against the limitations of her chains. "Please," she whimpered, "I want to be stuffed again." Her voice was quavering with the lust of being brought to the edge of orgasm during her previous feedings, but being denied her final release. Quagmire grew hard after hearing her pleas as he began to spoon-feed her the disgusting concoction. Each spoonful was forced into her welcoming maw as she gagged on the thick paste that filled her mouth. She could feel her stomach stretching with each bite as he fed her more than she could ever imagine consuming voluntarily. The sound of her own chewing echoed in her ears as she swallowed down bite after bite of food she wanted more than freedom or life itself.

After what felt like hours of forced feeding, Quagmire finally stepped back to admire his work. Meg's stomach was distended to an unnatural size, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she lay there in defeat. "Now," he said with a smirk, "it's time for another lesson in submission." He slid over the large wooden trough filled with slop that resembled something you'd feed to actual livestock—it smelled of ice cream and had chunks of brownies floating in it. There was also hot fudge and caramel. "You will eat like the animal you're becoming." He pushed her face down towards it, her nose touching the cool wet surface of the food. "Open wide," he ordered as he shoveled in handful after handful of the sweet-smelling mush. Meg's eyes watered as she choked down each mouthful, her dignity slipping away with every bite she took from her new feeding dish. The sound of her snorting as she tried to breathe through her nose filled the room as she was forced to consume her meal in this degrading manner. She found that she prefferred binging in this way, someone else shoving food in her mouth.  It was even more satisfying than doing it herself.

Days turned into weeks as Meg's body began to change under Quagmire's meticulous care and feeding. Her once-slim figure was now rounded with fat as she grew larger with each passing day. Despite her initial concerns about her new life as his fattening pet, she found herself craving his rough and degrading touches that had started to accompany her feedings—his soft whispers of humiliating degradation as she consumed more than she ever thought possible. His hands would caress her growing belly with a lustful greedy touch that sent shivers down her spine—an erotic reminder of the vivid reality of her captivity. His voice was taunting as he talked to her about his fantasies of her becoming a helpless blob and his personal cum dump—his words painting images in her mind that she couldn't help but find arousing despite herself. The smell of his cologne lingered on her skin long after he had left her side for the night—a scent that had become strangely comforting in her isolation.

One evening as Meg lay in her pen watching TV—a small luxury Quagmire had allowed her in exchange for her cooperation—she felt his hand on her ass, his fingers tracing circles around her well abused anus. She looked up to see him watching her with hunger in his eyes—a hunger that was no longer just for her body's transformation but for her submission as well. "You know," he said casually as he stroked her skin, "you could make this all much more enjoyable for yourself if you just gave in to me." Meg's heart raced as she felt his hand move closer to her crotch—his touch sending waves of conflicting emotions through her body. "What do you mean?" she asked tentatively. "Flirt with me," he whispered in her ear as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. "Call me master." Meg's cheeks burned with shame as she felt her body respond to his words—her nipples hardening as she considered what he was asking of her. "I'll make sure you get extra treats," he promised with a wink as he squeezed her thigh gently. "And maybe even some relief from that constant hunger." Meg's stomach growled in response—a hunger that was now as much for food as it was for his attention. She swallowed hard before whispering back, "Okay... master." The word left her mouth with surprising ease as she felt his greased finger slide into her ass.

The next day at feeding time, Quagmire presented Meg with something different—a tray of her favorite foods from before her capture: chocolate cake, ice cream, and a mountainous mixing bowl piled with sizzling french fries and smothered in melted cheese. "You've been such a good girl," he said with a smirk "You deserve a little treat." Meg's eyes widened at the sight of the food—her mouth watering despite her fear of what it would do to her body. She began to eat ravenously—each bite feeling like heaven on her tongue as she savored every morsel of her favorite foods that she hadn't tasted in so long. Meg had been bulimic, and she always enjoyed the binge portion of that. Now she got to enjoy herself without purging, and she realized that she was missing out on the best part: the feeling of being stuffed after. Quagmire watched her with satisfaction as she devoured her meal—his hand occasionally reaching out to stroke the curves of Meg's ass or play with her clit from behind as she moaned with pleasure at each mouthful she took. It was in that moment that Meg realized she had crossed another threshold in her captivity—she had started to crave his degradations almost as much as she craved food itself.

As Meg's body grew larger—her once-firm ass now jiggling with each step she took—she found herself looking forward to her time with Quagmire more than she cared to admit. His degrading abuse had become something she craved—his taunting her about her lack of self-control filling her with an odd sense of pleasure that she didn't understand. She had started to enjoy her new role as his fattening pet—the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her stretched asshole bringing her to orgasm night after night as he whispered degrading insults in her ear—his voice filled with lust for her ever-expanding form. The bond between them grew stronger with each feeding—each act of submission making her feel more connected to him in ways she never thought possible. She had become his willing participant in this twisted game of control—her body his canvas for his perverse art of fattening her beyond recognition. And as she lay there in her pen—her stomach full of food she didn't need—she couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of belonging in her new life as Quagmire's fattened plaything.

# Chapter 5: Feeding Time: Quagmire's Methodical Fattening of His New Piggy Slave
Quagmire's eyes gleamed with excitement as he wheeled in a cart laden with an assortment of high-calorie foods: buckets of fried chicken, trays of lasagna smothered in cheese, gallons of ice cream, dozens of specialty donuts like bear claws and apple fritters, and more. Meg looked at him with trepidation from her spot on the floor, her wrists bound to chains that kept her in place next to her feeding trough. She had been in his basement for what felt like an eternity, her body already starting to swell from his relentless feeding sessions. "Come on now, Meg," he cooed in his most soothing voice, "time to eat up like a good little piggy." He began to shovel food into her trough with gusto, her stomach fluttering at the sight of it all. She was turned on by the fact that she had no choice but to obey as he had made clear that refusal would only lead to more punishment. With each bite she took, she felt her body betraying her as it craved more of the greasy, sugary goodness that was her new diet. The smell of food filled her nostrils as she shoveled it in with her hands like an animal, her cheeks bulging with each mouthful. Quagmire watched her with rapt attention, his own arousal growing as he saw her stomach distend with every bite she took. "That's it," he murmured, "eat it all up for me." The sound of her chewing echoed through the room as she consumed everything he gave her, her body feeling heavier with each passing minute. The taste of grease coated her tongue as she swallowed bite after bite of food that she knew would only make her more of what he wanted her to be: his fat little pet to control and use as he saw fit.

Meg's eyes widened in horror as Quagmire approached her with a long tube in his hand attached to an thick deflated balloon. "What is that?" she squealed in fear as he explained that it was time to help her stomach stretch to accommodate more food. He lubricated the tube with something cold and slimy before sliding it down her throat with surprising ease despite her gagging protests. She felt it fill her stomach as he inflated it with air until she thought she would burst. "This will help you take in more," he said with an evil grin as he began to pump it with air. She could feel her stomach expanding to uncomfortable sizes as he continued to fill her up until she was certain she couldn't take anymore. The pressure was intense, making her squirm in her chains as she felt her body stretching to accommodate his twisted desires. He deflated the balloon and removed it with a wet pop, leaving her feeling empty and violated. "Good girl," he praised her as he stroked her hair gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine despite her revulsion at what he had just done to her. She knew that this was only the beginning of her transformation into his ideal SSBBW slave.

Every morning Meg was made to stand on Quagmire's industrial-sized scales while he recorded her weight with gleeful excitement. "Look at you," he'd say as he watched her numbers climb higher each day, "you're becoming such a beautiful fat slut." The cold metal of the scales pressed against her swollen feet as she tried to balance her increasingly heavy body. The sight of her weight rising was both terrifying and exhilarating; she had never felt so powerless yet so desired in her life. The ritual of weighing herself had become something she both dreaded and anticipated with each passing day as it was one of the few moments she had with Quagmire that didn't involve pain or degradation. She could see his eyes light up with each new number, his excitement palpable as he calculated her progress towards his ultimate goal of making her immobile with fat. The sound of her weight clanking on the scales was like music to his ears as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear about how much he loved watching her grow fatter for him. Meg felt her cheeks burn with shame as she oinked in response to his praise, her body responding to his words in ways she never thought possible.

Quagmire was meticulous in his planning of Meg's meals, ensuring she consumed just enough to keep her weight gain steady without causing any health issues that would interrupt his plans for her. He had spreadsheets detailing her caloric intake down to the last decimal point, her meals carefully measured out to maximize her fat gain while keeping her just healthy enough to continue serving his needs. "You're going to be so big," he'd murmur to her as he spoon-fed her his specially concocted shakes that were thick with calories and fat. Meg's stomach churned at the thought of more food after her already massive meals, but she knew better than to refuse him. The taste of his fattening concoctions was sickly sweet on her tongue as she forced herself to drink them down, her body already feeling stretched to its limits from his previous feedings. Meg cherished the pain of her overstuffed stomach. She watched as he mixed together ingredients with an almost scientific precision, his eyes never leaving her as he calculated her next meal with an air of excitement that made her stomach turn with both fear and arousal at what was to come.

Meg's weight had reached 300 pounds and she could barely stand up without getting winded; her once-slender limbs now thick with layers of fat that jiggled with every breath she took. Quagmire had decided it was time to introduce her to his latest invention: a feeding tube that would allow him to fill her stomach without her having to lift a finger. He inserted the glycerine covered tube through her nose with practiced ease as she whimpered in protest, her eyes watering from the discomfort of having something so foreign in her body. The pressure of the thick liquid food filling her stomach was almost too much to bear as she felt it slosh around inside her like a water balloon ready to burst at any moment. "This will make things so much easier," he said with satisfaction as he turned on the machine that would regulate her feedings throughout the day. Meg could do nothing but lie there as her body was force-fed his fattening concoction, her mind racing with thoughts of escape that grew more distant with each passing day as her body grew larger and more dependent on his care. The sensation of fullness was constant now, her stomach never allowed to empty completely as he kept her in a perpetual state of digestion to ensure she continued to gain weight at an alarming rate.

Meg's body had become accustomed to the excessive amounts of food she was consuming daily; in fact, she had started to crave it. Her dreams were filled with visions of herself as an enormous blob of flesh that could do nothing but lie there while Quagmire used her for his pleasure. She found herself looking forward to mealtimes with an intensity that scared her; her body had become addicted to the feeling of fullness that came with each feeding session. The smell of greasy food would make her mouth water uncontrollably as she awaited her next meal with bated breath. Quagmire noticed her change in demeanor with glee, using her newfound hunger to his advantage as he fed her more than ever before. "You're such a good little pig," he'd say as he watched her devour her food with an animalistic fervor that made his cock throb in his pants. Meg's cheeks burned with humiliation as she realized she had become exactly what he wanted her to be: his obedient fattening pet that craved her own degradation as much as he did. Her body was his playground now, her desires secondary to his own twisted needs as she sank deeper into her role as his SSBBW slave.

# Chapter 6: The Pleasure of Pain: Introducing Meg to Anal Torture and Stretching
Quagmire's eyes gleamed with excitement as he approached Meg's plump form chained to the floor of his basement lair. She had been with him for weeks now, her body swelling with each passing day as he fed her his meticulously crafted fattening concoctions. The smell of grease and sweat filled the air as he spoke to her in his usual calm yet commanding tone. "Meg," he began, "today we're going to start something new." His voice was smooth as silk, yet it sent shivers down her spine as she anticipated what fresh hell he had in store for her. "You're going to learn to love something that might seem strange at first." He held up an assortment of plugs in various sizes, each one looking more terrifying than the last. "But trust me," he said with a wink, "you'll come to crave it." Meg's heart raced as she stared at the plugs in horror, her mind racing with thoughts of escape that grew more distant with each passing moment. "You're going to be my little anal slut," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending waves of revulsion through her body. "And you're going to love every second of it."

Meg's eyes watered as Quagmire lubricated the smallest plug with an obscene amount of lard. The plugs were all made of a rubber coated aerogel that made them very squishy. They could squish down as they slid through a tight sphincter, but would expand on the other side in the rectum. The squishy feel of the little plug made her flinch as he gently worked it into her anus. She felt her sphincter stretch around it as he pushed it deeper inside her. The pain was intense, making her whimper as she tried to adjust to this new invasion of her body. Quagmire watched her face intently as he twisted it slightly before pulling it out again. "Good girl," he cooed as he placed it aside. "Now for something bigger." The next plug was as thick as a cucumber, and Meg's eyes widened in fear as he approached her again. He took his time inserting it, stretching her out with each inch until she was sure she couldn't take any more. The pain was unbearable, yet she found herself pushing back against him as if her body was betraying her mind's screams for mercy. "That's it," he encouraged her as he pushed it in further, "you're going to love this." Meg's cries grew louder as he worked it in deeper until it was fully seated inside her. She felt so full, so used, so utterly degraded that she could hardly believe this was her life now.

Quagmire was relentless in his training of Meg's body to accept larger and larger plugs. Each week brought new sizes for her to conquer, each one more terrifying than the last. He would start with gentle caresses of her swollen belly before moving to her ass, his fingers probing her stretched hole to prepare her for what was to come. Meg's body would tense up in anticipation of the pain she knew was coming, yet she found herself craving it in some twisted way she couldn't explain. The sound of her own whimpers filled her ears as he pushed each plug in further than she thought possible, her ass cheeks quivering with each thrust. "You're doing so well," he would say as he watched her face scrunch up in agony. "Soon you'll be taking my whole fist." The thought of it made her stomach churn with fear and arousal in equal measure. She didn't know how much more she could take, yet she found herself looking forward to each session with a mix of dread and anticipation.

As Meg's body grew accustomed to the plugs, she began to experience new sensations that she never knew existed. The pain was still there, but it was now accompanied by an intense feeling of fullness that seemed to radiate from her ass throughout her entire body. Her skin was sensitive to even the slightest touch, making her squirm with pleasure as Quagmire's hands roamed over her new curves. The smell of her own farts filled her nostrils as she was forced to eat more and more to satisfy his insatiable hunger for her growth. Yet amidst all this discomfort, she felt something else: arousal. Her clit throbbed with each plug insertion, her body betraying her mind's protests with waves of pleasure that left her breathless. She hated herself for it, yet she couldn't deny that she was becoming addicted to this twisted form of attention from her captor.

To keep Meg compliant with his perverse desires, Quagmire implemented a reward system for each successful plug insertion. A small piece of chocolate for taking the first one without crying out too loudly; an extra scoop of ice cream for taking one that was particularly large; even permission to watch TV for an extra hour if she managed to keep one in all day without complaint. These small indulgences became her lifeline in this world of pain and humiliation, giving her something to strive for amidst her daily torment. She found herself eagerly awaiting her next session with Quagmire, her body craving both the food rewards and the strange mix of pain and pleasure that came with each new plug. It was as if she had been programmed to seek out her own degradation for his amusement.

The nightly routine of anal play had become as much a part of Meg's life as breathing or eating. After her massive dinner of greasy foods that made her stomach bulge obscenely, Quagmire would come to her with his tray of plugs and lube. He would start with something small to warm her up before moving on to larger ones that made her squeal with pain. He would fuck her with them, twisting them inside her as she lay there helplessly bound to his whims. And then he would leave her there, plugged up tightly for hours on end as she lay in her own filth, her body aching from his attentions yet her mind racing with thoughts of what was to come tomorrow. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to be so completely under his control, her every sensation dictated by his desires. Yet as she drifted off to sleep each night with her ass stuffed full of squishy aerogel, she couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of belonging in this world of pain and pleasure that was now her reality.

# Chapter 7: The Piggish Transformation: Meg's Body Changes Under Quagmire's Control
Meg's body had been changing rapidly under Quagmire's meticulous care as he fed her copious amounts of high-calorie foods designed to pack on pounds as quickly as possible. Her once-slender frame had ballooned to 400 pounds, spilling outwards in all directions, her stomach swelling like an overinflated yoga ball with each passing day. Her breasts had grown so large that they hung down to her waist, jiggling with every breath she took. Her thighs rubbed together with each step she took, leaving her horney from the sensation of flesh against flesh. Her ass had become so big that she could no longer sleep comfortably on her back. The weight gain was both terrifying and exhilarating for Meg; she had never felt so out of control of her own body before, yet she found herself craving more of Quagmire's attention as he marveled at her transformation.

Quagmire had always had an eye for fashion—or rather, for what would best showcase his fattened playthings to his online audience of fat fetish enthusiasts. He had designed Meg's new outfit himself: a skimpy Playboy "Piggy" costume made of stretchy material that barely contained her burgeoning curves. The costume was completed with a pink butt plug ending in a curly piggy tail, reminding her of her new role as his personal pet. The piggy ears sat lopsided on her head as she looked down at herself in disbelief; she had never felt so exposed or so objectified in her life. Yet there was something undeniably arousing about seeing herself dressed up like this for Quagmire's pleasure—a feeling that only grew stronger as he leered at her with his usual mix of lust and amusement.

It had been weeks since Meg had last seen her reflection in anything larger than the small handheld mirror Quagmire allowed her to use for her morning ablutions—and even then, she had avoided looking at herself for fear of what she might see. But today was different; today she was going to face her new reality head-on. With trembling hands, she approached the full-length mirror that had been installed in her cell-like room in Quagmire's basement. As she took in her new form—the rolls of fat that cascaded over her hips, the thick layer of blubber that coated her once-flat stomach—she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride mixed with horror at what she had become. Her face was rounder now, her cheeks fuller; she looked like someone else entirely—someone who existed solely for Quagmire's amusement and sexual gratification. She reached out to touch her reflection, her hand sinking into her own flesh as if it were made of dough. It was both repulsive and fascinating—a living testament to Quagmire's power over her body.

As Meg's body grew larger, so too did her appetite for sexual degradation—a hunger that Quagmire was all too happy to satiate. He had noticed her growing interest in her own flabby flesh, how she would often run her hands over her swollen belly or squeeze her massive breasts in quiet moments of solitude. One evening, as she lay on her side in her bed—now reinforced to support her increased weight—he approached her with an air of excitement that made her stomach flutter with anticipation. "It's time for you to really get to know your new body," he said with a leer, his hand tracing the curve of her ass before sliding between her legs to find her already wet with desire. As he penetrated her ass with his whole hand, Meg couldn't help but moan with pleasure; she had never felt so full before—so completely used—and she found herself craving more of his touch even as she hated herself for it. She began to explore her own body in new ways, finding unexpected pleasure in the squishiness of her thighs and the way her stomach jiggled with each thrust he gave her. It was as if her body had become an instrument of his will—a living embodiment of his darkest desires—and she was powerless to resist its siren call.

Meg's flatulence had become an ever-present part of her life in captivity—a constant reminder of her new diet of greasy foods and sugary drinks that Quagmire forced upon her to ensure her weight gain remained on track. At first, she had been mortified by her own bodily functions—the smell was overpowering, filling her nostrils with each breath she took—but over time she had grown accustomed to it. In fact, she had started to find it strangely arousing—a scent that signaled her submission to Quagmire's will. Quagmire had been watching Meg on the monitors in his office when he noticed that she would close her eyes and sniff deeply whenever she farted now. Her change in attitude towards her own bodily odors evident, he had begun to incorporate them into their nightly feeding sessions; he would often lean in close to her ass as she ate from her trough on all fours and inhale deeply before plunging his cock back inside her stretched-out asshole. The smell of her own shit mixed with his cum was like an aphrodisiac to him—a potent reminder of his control over her every bodily function—and Meg found herself getting wetter with each snort he took of her stinky ass. It was as if her body had been rewired to respond to his perversions—to crave them even when her mind rebelled against them—and she was both ashamed of her newfound desires and unable to resist them.

Quagmire had always enjoyed watching Meg eat—the way her cheeks bulged with food as she shoveled it in with her hands like an animal—but he had decided it was time to take things to the next level. He had constructed a metal frame that was then bolted atop her feeding trough with bars to keep her in her place. Meg loved how she was forced to eat her meals on all fours like the pig he had always known she was deep down inside. The first time he showed her the upgrade, she grew moist at the sight—it added a layer of helplessness to the degradation. Before they started their feeding session with the upgraded trough, she pleaded with lust: "Slap my face Master, I don't eat fast enough to be a good piggy." Quagmire looked at her with lust, then started with a hard slap that almost knocked her out. Meg nearly came. He continued: "YOU... WILL... EAT... YOUR... SLOP... LIKE... A... GOOD... PIGGY!!!", taking the time to punctuate each word with another hard slap. Meg's face was stung and bruised, her pussy dripping as she eyed the trough with lust, eager to reward Quagmire's abuse with her submissiveness. She positioned herself in the new frame and Quagmire secured her to it. The sound of her snorting as she rooted through her food—a mix of soggy cereal soaked in heavy cream, mashed potatoes, and gravy—was music to his ears; it was proof that she was truly becoming his property—his fattened pet to do with as he pleased. And as she grew larger—her stomach distending to accommodate more food than she had ever thought possible—he grew more excited at the prospect of what was to come: her ultimate transformation into his ideal SSBBW slut—a creature of pure lard and lust that would exist solely for his pleasure.

# Chapter 8: The New Normal: Meg's Life as Quagmire's Sexual Plaything and Feeding Slave
Meg's days had become an unending cycle of forced feeding and sexual servitude to Quagmire's whims. She was no longer Meg Griffin; she was his fattened pet to be used as he saw fit. Her mornings began with Quagmire uncorking her massive behind and letting a flutter of gas escape her loose asshole, her stomach rumbling from the emptiness of her nightly fasts. He would lead her to her feeding trough with a leash attached to her collar, her heavy body swaying with each step she took on her thickened legs. The smell of greasy food filled her nostrils as she stared down at the mountain of food before her: eggs swimming in bacon grease, stacks of syrupy pancakes, buckets of fried chicken, gallons of ice cream – all of it waiting to be consumed in one sitting. Meg found it easy to revert to her base binge mentality. The slop trough was almost the best form of it. There was something about binging from a slop trough that made it a million times better than pigging out on a bunch of snacks stolen and hoarded from her parent's kitchen. She had advanced from face stuffing to the painful masochistic belly stuffing she now craved. She loved the self-punishment of teaching her stomach a lesson. Quagmire would stand over her with a whip in hand, ensuring she didn't waste any of it as she fed herself handful after handful of his fattening concoctions. Her cheeks bulged with each bite she took as she grew accustomed to her new life as his feeding slave. The sound of her chewing echoed through his basement lair like music to his ears as he watched her body swell before his eyes.

Meg's oinking grew louder with each passing day as she embraced her role as Quagmire's pet more fully. It started as a small noise of protest when she was first made to eat from her trough, but now it was an eager sound that filled his lair whenever he approached her with food or attention. Her voice had changed too – it was now nasal and high-pitched from her constant snorting as she inhaled her meals with gusto. Quagmire found this sound incredibly arousing; it was as if she was begging for more food, more attention, more of everything he had to offer her in her new life of obesity. He would often stroke her ass cheeks as she oinked away at her meals, whispering sweet nothings in her ear that only served to make her oink louder in response. The sound of her snorts grew to be his favorite symphony as he watched her body balloon out of control under his care.

Quagmire took great pleasure in teaching Meg new ways to pleasure him with her ever-expanding body. He would spend hours each day training her to use her newfound weight to her advantage during their sessions together. He showed her how to flap her massive ass cheeks around him as he fucked her from behind, how to smother him with her giant butt as he lay beneath her on his bed of plush pillows, how to use her thickened sphincter muscles to squeeze his mouth until his lips were raw during their intimate moments of ass play. Meg's body was his canvas; he painted it with his desires as she moaned in pleasure at his touch. Her skin was soft and warm from her constant feeding, making it all too easy for him to slide his hands over her curves as he explored every inch of her new form. Her eyes would glaze over with lust as he whispered his praises in her ear – she was his perfect little piggy now, just as he had always dreamed she would be.

Quagmire had set up cameras all around his basement to capture Meg's transformation for his online audience of fat fetish enthusiasts. Each day she was made to perform for his website – her feeding sessions now broadcasted live for all to see. She would kneel, chained to her trough, wearing nothing more than her Playboy "Piggy" costume that barely contained her swollen breasts and bulging stomach, as Quagmire fed her with an exaggerated flourish that played well on camera. Her oinking grew more dramatic with each bite she took as she played up to her role for their viewers' amusement. The tips would roll in as they watched her devour her meals with gusto – it was clear that Meg had become quite popular in her new life as Quagmire's fattened pet. She would often look directly at the camera with a mix of shame and excitement in her eyes as she knew that her humiliation was bringing pleasure to so many others across the internet.

As Meg's weight continued to climb, Quagmire grew bolder in his desire to show her off to the world. He would take her out in public wearing outfits that barely covered her now-enormous frame – tight dresses that left nothing to the imagination or skimpy bikinis that highlighted her stretch marks and cellulite. Men would stare openly at her as she waddled down the street on her short walks with Quagmire, their eyes devouring her every curve as they whispered to each other in amazement at her size. Meg's face would burn with embarrassment as she heard their crude comments, yet she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her body at their attention. She had become an object of desire for some, and an object of ridicule for so many – all because of Quagmire's twisted plan to turn her into his personal fattening project. The leash around her neck was both a symbol of her captivity and her newfound status as his prized possession – one that she secretly enjoyed flaunting in front of others as they ogled her massive form.

Meg had come to find an unexpected sense of pleasure in her new life as Quagmire's fattened plaything. The constant feeding had become comforting – it was as if she was never truly full anymore; there was always room for more. The feeling of his hands on her body as he stuffed her with food was oddly intimate – it was as if he was filling her up with his love in the only way he knew how. She had grown to crave his touch – both gentle and firm – as he guided her through her daily routines of eating, sloth, and sexual training sessions. Her body was his to do with as he pleased, and she found herself looking forward to their time together with an eagerness that surprised even her. The pain of her stretching sessions had morphed into something else entirely – it was now a thrill that she chased after with each new plug he inserted or each time he forced her to take his cock deeper than she thought possible. Her mind was his to control as much as her body was – she was his perfect little piggy in every way that mattered to him. And as she lay on her bed at night, her stomach distended from her latest meal, she couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction at how far she had come in her descent into his world of fat fetishism.

# Chapter 9: The Dark Side of Desire: Meg's Emerging Masochism and Quagmire's Sadistic Pleasure
Meg lay on her stomach on Quagmire's stained mattress in his dimly lit basement lair, her ass cheeks bulging obscenely from weeks of forced feeding. Her eyes were glazed over with lust as Quagmire approached her with an array of anal plugs in various sizes. The smell of grease from her last meal of deep-fried chicken wafted through the air as she watched him with anticipation. He had been increasing her anal training sessions over time, pushing her body to its limits to satisfy his SSBBW fetish. The pain had become almost unbearable at first, but now she found herself craving it in a twisted way she never thought possible.

"Today we're going to try something new," Quagmire said with an evil grin as he lubricated one of the larger plugs with lard from a nearby jar. "This one's going to really stretch you out." He placed it at her entrance with surprising gentleness before applying pressure. Meg's eyes widened as she felt her anus stretch around it, her body tensing up in anticipation of the pain to come. But as he pushed it deeper inside her, she found herself letting out a low moan of pleasure instead of screaming in agony as she had done before. The feeling of fullness was overwhelmingly satisfying, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

"You like that?" Quagmire asked as he jiggled the plug roughly once it was fully inserted. Meg nodded her head vigorously as she felt her body betray her with waves of pleasure that seemed to emanate from her stretched bowels. "Good girl," he cooed as he stroked her flabby ass cheeks with his free hand. "You're becoming quite the little anal slut." Meg blushed at his words despite herself; she had never felt so degraded yet so alive at the same time. The pain was intense, but it was also strangely addicting – it made her feel alive in her new life as his fattened pet.

Meg's hands were bound behind her back with thick ropes that dug into her wrists as Quagmire approached her with two plastic hooves in his hands. "These will keep you from touching yourself," he said with an air of authority that sent shivers down her spine. "You're only allowed to cum when I say so." He unchained her wrists and slipped the hooves over her hands with ease despite her struggles, securing them with locks that clicked shut with finality. The hooves were designed to prevent her from using her fingers for anything other than eating from her trough or performing for him; they were bulky and unwieldy, leaving her feeling more animal than human as she tried to adjust to her new reality. The sensation of plastic against her skin was strange at first, but she quickly grew accustomed to it as she realized that her body was now entirely under his control – even her most basic desires were his to grant or deny as he saw fit. She whimpered softly as he caressed her stomach with his hand, feeling his power over her in every touch.

Quagmire installed a second set of hooves on her feet. These were pitched at an angle such that the only way she could stand comfortably was with her toes pointed together.  She tried to stand, but found the only position she could manage was bent over slightly with her ass spread and jutting out behind her.  When attempting to walk, her position only became more exaggerated, her humanity slipping away with each step she took on her new "piggish" feet. She had become his ultimate sexual plaything: obese, helpless, and utterly devoted to his every whim.

"Tonight," Quagmire announced with glee in his voice, "you're going to perform for me like never before." He gestured to the camera set up in one corner of the room that was always recording their sessions for his online audience to enjoy. Meg felt her heart race as she realized what he had in store for her: something even more humiliating than what she had already been through. "You're going to show everyone just how much of a greedy little pig you've become." He handed her a bottle of thick, creamy gravy that she knew all too well was part of her diet now. "Drink it all," he ordered as he unbuckled his belt. Meg took a deep breath before tilting her head back and pouring the gravy down her throat, feeling it coat her insides as she swallowed with difficulty due to her distended stomach. She knew she would have to perform oral sex on him while wearing her chastity hooves, unable to use her hands to help herself gag or push him away if it became too much to handle. But she also knew that she would do it willingly; she had come to crave his degradation almost as much as she craved food.

On a day when Quagmire was feeling especially domineering, Meg was led to an old wooden table in the center of Quagmire's lair that had been set up with restraints for her arms and legs.  It was designed to restrain a person bent over the table with their ass exposed. She knew what was coming... she had seen it in his eyes for days now: he was going to brand her with his initials as a sign of ownership. The thought both terrified her and excited her in ways she couldn't explain; she was his property now, his fattened pet to do with as he pleased. The thought of her flesh being seared filled her heart as he heated up the branding iron in front of her face. Quagmire watched her reaction with glee as she squirmed in her restraints. He placed the brand against her plump right ass cheek, pressing down firmly as she screamed in pain. The smell of seared skin was overpowering as he held it there for what felt like an eternity before finally releasing it with a hiss of satisfaction. Meg's eyes watered as she felt the heat spread through her flesh, leaving behind an indelible mark of his ownership on her body – GQ in bold letters – that she would never be able to escape from. She knew that from this moment on she was truly his – body and soul – to be used for his pleasure whenever he desired it.

Meg was chained to her bed once again as Quagmire shoveled handful after handful of mashed potatoes mixed with gravy into her gaping anus. She had long ago lost count of how much she had been stuffed with today – all she knew was that she was full to bursting and desperately needed to relieve herself of the pressure building in her bowels. But Quagmire had other plans for her; he wanted to see just how much she could take before she begged for mercy. He continued to stuff her until she was constantly moaning, her stomach distended to an unnatural size that made her feel like she was going to explode at any moment. And then he produced the cork – a thick aerogel plug that he had soaked in hot sauce to add an extra layer of discomfort to her ordeal. He lubricated her ass with lard before pushing the plug deep inside her ass with one hand while adjusting her ass cheeks around it with the other. Meg's eyes watered as she felt it fill her up completely, blocking any hope of relief from her overstuffed bowels for hours to come. She knew that she would be forced to sit there in intense pain until he decided she had learned her lesson – another twisted part of her training that she had come to accept as part of her new life as his fattened pet.

Meg sat in front of the camera and monitor with her hooves attempting to massage her clit and failing. She was in a video chat that was part of Quagmire's fetish website of fat fetishism and forced feeding. She had been given permission to interact with other fattened captives like herself – a rare treat that she had come to cherish in her otherwise isolated existence. The screen was filled with images of women in various stages of obesity, all of them discussing their experiences with their owners in graphic detail. Meg felt a strange sense of camaraderie with these women; they understood what she was going through in ways that no one else ever could. She gave updates on her own progress – how much weight she had gained, what new foods she had been forced to eat, and how her body was changing to accommodate her new lifestyle – all while Quagmire watched from behind the camera with pride at his handiwork. The conversations were often degrading and humiliating, but Meg found that she enjoyed sharing her experiences with others – it made her feel less alone in her isolated lifestyle yet more connected to her new identity as Quagmire's fattened pet. She had become part of something larger than herself – a community of individuals bound together by their shared love of pain, pleasure, and power dynamics that most of society would never understand or accept.  The women would all try to outdo each other with the tales of abuse they received.

# Chapter 10: The Art of Degradation: Quagmire's Twisted Games with Meg's Mind and Body
Meg lay on her stomach on her bed, her massive body taking up almost all of the space within it. Her ass bulged out like two overstuffed bean bags, her breasts squished underneath her like two giant melons. The smell of grease and sweat filled her nostrils as she stared at the pillow beneath her face, her thoughts racing with every beat of her heart. She had been in Quagmire's basement for what felt like an eternity now, her life reduced to eating, sleeping, and serving his twisted desires. When feelings of dread of her situation arose from time to time, when she was not lost in a haze of lust and submission, she would mentally escape into fantasies of escape, of returning to her family and friends as if none of this had ever happened. But as each day passed, that hope grew dimmer and dimmer until it was nothing more than a flickering candle in the vast darkness of her new reality.

Quagmire entered her room with his usual swagger, his eyes gleaming with excitement at her plight. "Good morning, my little porker," he cooed as he unlocked her chains with a click that echoed through her mind like nails on a chalkboard. "How does it feel to be so utterly dependent on me for everything?" He reached out to stroke her cheek with his greasy fingers, leaving behind a trail of grime that made her skin crawl with revulsion. "You know you'll never leave this place," he whispered in her ear as he slid his hand down to her ass cheeks, his fingers probing just enough to make her gasp for air. "You're mine now."

Meg's eyes widened with fear as she felt his hot breath on her neck. "Please," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do anything."

Quagmire chuckled darkly as he jiggled his hand, now halfway into her asshole. "Oh, I know you will," he said with a smirk. "But let's have some fun first." He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked her chastity hooves before attaching leather cuffs to her wrists instead. "Today we're going to play a little game," he announced as he led her out of her room on all fours like an animal to be displayed for his amusement. "We're going to see just how much you've learned to love your new life here."

Meg was led through Quagmire's lair on her hands and knees, her oversized ass jiggling with every movement she made. She was made to clean up after him, scrubbing floors with her bare hands while he sat on his throne-like chair watching TV with his feet up on her back. The weight of his body pressing down on her made it difficult to breathe as she worked tirelessly to satisfy his every whim. Her nose was constantly assaulted with the smell of his dirty socks as she cleaned under his chair, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she tried to ignore her own disgust.

"You're doing such a good job," Quagmire said with feigned enthusiasm as he tossed her a piece of bacon from his plate. "But let's see if you can do even better." He led her to his kitchen, which was already stocked with enough food to feed an army of fattening pets like herself. "I want you to clean this place from top to bottom," he ordered as he pointed to the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. "And don't forget to lick every plate clean."

Meg's stomach churned at the thought of tasting his saliva on the plates she was forced to clean with her tongue, but she knew better than to argue with him now. She began her task with resignation, her tongue sliding over greasy surfaces as she tried to ignore her own gag reflex. The sound of his laughter echoed through the room as he watched her degrade herself further with each passing moment. She felt like nothing more than his personal maid, her humanity slipping away with every stroke of her tongue against cold porcelain.

Quagmire led Meg to his makeshift stage in front of his webcam setup and a video display of her viewers, her heart racing as she realized what was expected of her next. She was made to stand on her wobbly legs as he attached her leash to an eye hook in the ceiling, forcing her to arch her back in an obscene display of her newfound curves. The camera zoomed in on her face as she was instructed to oink for his viewers, her cheeks burning with humiliation as she complied with his demand. Her eyes searched the video screen for any sign of pity or understanding in their faces, but all she found was lustful stares that made her feel even more like an object for their amusement.

"Look at her," Quagmire said with pride as he caressed her bulging stomach. "Isn't she just adorable?" He turned to Meg with a wicked smile. "Now, show them how much you love your food." He shoved an oversized spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, her cheeks bulging as she struggled to swallow it down without choking. The viewers cheered as she gagged on her food, their excitement only growing as she was forced to consume more and more until she was crying with each bite she took. Her tears mixed with gravy as they slid down her chin, creating a path of salty despair that only served to fuel Quagmire's twisted desires.

After her public display of gluttony, Meg was led to Quagmire's photography area, her body trembling with fear at what was to come next. He had set up various props around the room: chains, whips, and even a giant trough filled with slop that she recognized from his collection of SSBBW porn videos. "Now it's time for some art," he said with a leer as he snapped on his rubber gloves. "I want you to pose for me like the good little piggy you've become."

Meg's eyes widened as he began to smear lard all over her body, her skin glistening under the harsh lights of his camera setup. She felt his hands on her everywhere as he positioned her in various degrading poses that highlighted her obesity for his perverse pleasure. The cold clicking sounds of his camera assaulted her ears as he took photos from every angle, capturing her in moments of complete vulnerability that she knew she would never be able to escape from. Each click of his camera was like another nail in her coffin of dignity as she was reduced to nothing more than his personal plaything for his twisted art project.

Meg was made to watch as Quagmire uploaded her photos to various fat fetish forums online, her face blurring with each new post as he shared her degradation with strangers across the internet. The comments that flooded in were cruel and degrading, men praising Quagmire for his "fine piece of swine" as they discussed her in terms that made her skin crawl. She felt violated in ways she had never imagined possible as her most intimate moments were laid bare for all to see without her consent. Her fear of exposure grew with each new post until it was all she could think about: her family finding out what had become of her, her friends laughing at her new form.

"Look at them," Quagmire said with glee as he read through the comments aloud for her benefit. "They all want to fuck you so badly." He leaned in close to her ear as he whispered his next words. "But you're mine." His breath was hot against her neck as he tightened his grip on her waist, his erection pressing against her side as he reveled in her humiliation. "And if you ever try to leave me," he continued in a low voice that sent shivers down her spine, "I'll make sure these photos go viral."

Meg's days now included serving Quagmire's online audience in his video chat room, her body on display for their perverted desires as they typed out their sickest fantasies for her to act out on camera. She was forced to eat until she could barely move, her stomach stretched to its limits as they watched with rapt attention. They would ask for specific foods to be used in her feedings or for her to perform certain acts of degradation that made her want to scream with rage and frustration. But she knew that if she didn't comply, her photos would be released to the world, so she swallowed her pride along with each bite of food that was shoved down her throat.

One night, as she lay on her bed feeling more like an animal than ever before, she heard Quagmire's footsteps approaching her room again. "You've got another request," he said with a smirk. "Someone wants to see you fit four jumbo sized jars worth of peanut butter up your ass." He set down the delivery box he was holding and took out one of the four massive jars.  He held up the container with one hand as he used his other to slap her ass playfully. "Better get to it," he said as he rolled her into a sitting position. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your fans."

Meg's eyes filled with tears as she stared at the massive jar of peanut butter in Quagmire's hands, her bowels already feeling like they were cramping from needing to be emptied. But she knew she had no choice; she had to perform for them or face the consequences of her actions. With trembling jowls, she got down on her hands and knees and assumed the position. Quagmire began to shovel handfuls of the sticky mess into her ass as his camera's rolled, capturing every moment of her degradation for his twisted pleasure.

# Chapter 11: The Road to Ruin: Meg's Body Continues to Expand Beyond Recognition
Meg's weight gain had become so rapid that it was hard to believe she was still human underneath all that flesh. Quagmire's eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched her stomach bulge out further with each bite of food she took from her trough. Her once-slender frame was now unrecognizable under layers of blubber that jiggled with every movement she made. Her breasts had grown to such an enormous size that they hung down to her waist like two heavy sacks of dough, slapping against her sides as she waddled around her small enclosure. Her thighs rubbed together with every step she took, leaving her skin red and raw from constant friction. Her ass had ballooned to epic proportions, stretching out her cheeks until her ass crack was a foot deep. Quagmire couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his creation; she was his ultimate SSBBW fantasy come to life.

Meg's meals had become an event in themselves; Quagmire would spend hours preparing them with care, mixing together concoctions of high-calorie foods that would make even the most seasoned glutton's stomach turn. He'd watch her face as she took each bite, her eyes glazed over with hunger as she shoveled food into her mouth without pause. The sound of her chewing was like music to his ears—a symphony of gluttonous pleasure that filled his heart with joy. He'd often find himself getting hard just watching her eat, knowing that every calorie she consumed brought her one step closer to his ultimate vision of perfection.

"Look at you," he'd coo as he stroked her swollen belly. "You're going to be so beautiful when you're nice and plump." Meg would whimper in response, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth as she struggled to swallow another mouthful of greasy meatloaf or sugary cake. She knew better than to refuse; she'd learned quickly that disobedience meant punishment—and she didn't want to disappoint her master.

But as Meg's weight continued to climb, so did Quagmire's concern for her health—or rather, his concern for her ability to continue serving his desires without breaking down completely. He'd read enough online to know that pushing someone to such extremes could have dire consequences, so he began to monitor her more closely than ever before. He'd check her blood pressure after each feeding session, his hand gentle on her arm as he listened for any signs of trouble with his stethoscope. He'd measure her waistline with a tape measure that had been specially made for her new size, his eyes narrowing as he noted any changes that might indicate her body was reaching its limits.

"You're doing so well," he'd murmur as he slid his hand over her distended stomach. "But we can't have you getting sick on me now, can we?" Meg would nod her head obediently, her eyes wide with fear at the thought of what might happen if she didn't meet his expectations. She'd seen what happened to other girls who had failed him—their photos plastered across his walls like trophies of his conquests—and she didn't want to share their fate. So she'd eat everything he gave her without complaint, even when her stomach felt like it was going to burst at the seams.

Quagmire's friends had caught wind of his new project and were eager to get in on the action. They'd come over to his lair in droves, each one eager to see Meg in person—and to help fatten her up even more. They'd take turns feeding her from their own dishes of food, laughing as she gobbled down everything they offered without hesitation. They'd pat her on her back as she lay on her side in her pen, her stomach so full it looked like it might pop at any moment. They'd whisper lewd suggestions in her ear as they shoved spoonful after spoonful of caseroles or greasy cheesy enchiladas down her throat until she could barely breathe from the pressure building up inside her. Meg's cheeks would turn red with embarrassment as they leered at her, their eyes full of lust for her ever-expanding body. But she knew better than to protest; she was their entertainment now—a living, breathing embodiment of their darkest fantasies.

As Meg's weight continued to increase, her mobility decreased dramatically. She could no longer stand for long periods of time without her knees buckling under her immense girth; even walking was becoming more of a challenge with each passing day. Most of her time was spent lying in her bed—a custom-made contraption that could support her massive frame—staring at the walls as she listened to Quagmire's footsteps above her. She'd drift in and out of sleep, her dreams filled with images of food and pain—a never-ending cycle of hunger and submission that she couldn't escape even in her sleep. Her breathing was labored now, each inhale sounding like a deflating balloon as her lungs struggled to expand against her engorged stomach. But she didn't complain; she knew that this was what she was meant to be—a fat, helpless creature at her master's mercy.

Quagmire's lair had become Meg's entire world—a place of constant feeding and sexual activity that she could never have imagined before her capture. She was his plaything now—his to use as he saw fit whenever he desired. He'd tie her up with thick ropes that dug into her flesh as he explored every inch of her body with his hands and mouth—stretching her out until she was nothing more than a quivering mass of nerves and fat. He'd fill her up with his cock until she thought she'd die from the pressure, then pull out just in time to watch her beg for more. Her ass was his favorite target; he'd spend hours working it over with his fingers or various toys until she was screaming with pleasure—or pain, she could never quite tell which anymore—her sphincter stretched to accommodate his ever-growing collection of plugs and dildos. And when he was done with her for the night, he'd leave her chained to her bed, her body aching from his attentions as she lay there in her own filth—a living testament to his power over her.

Meg's body was now so large that she could barely move at all without assistance—a fact that Quagmire found incredibly arousing. He'd spend hours each day pushing her to her limits—stuffing her with food until she was on the brink of unconsciousness, then fucking her until she was nothing more than a quivering mess of flesh and fluids. He'd watch her face as she took each bite—the mix of pleasure and pain that played across her features as she swallowed down another mouthful of his special fattening formula—and he knew that she was his completely. She was his ultimate creation—his fattened pet—and he was going to make sure she stayed that way forever.

The final stretch of Meg's transformation was upon them; Quagmire had one last trick up his sleeve to ensure she'd never be able to leave him—or even want to for that matter. He'd read about it online—a procedure that would make her his forever—and he was eager to try it out on his newest acquisition. He'd already made all the necessary preparations; all that was left was to break her spirit completely—to make her crave her new life as his fattened pet more than she'd ever craved anything else before. And he knew just how to do it—with love, with pain, with food...and with his cock deep inside her stretched-out ass as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear that made her feel like she was home at last in her new life of degradation and submission.


# Chapter 12: The Pinnacle of Piggishness: Meg's Total Submission to Quagmire's Will
Meg lay on her side in her oversized bed, her body now so massive that she could barely move without assistance. Her once-toned limbs had been replaced with thick rolls of fat that jiggled with even the slightest effort. Her breathing was labored as she stared at the ceiling, feeling trapped in her own flesh prison. Quagmire entered her room with a smug smile on his face, his eyes gleaming with excitement at her newfound immobility. "Look at you," he cooed, "my little piglet has grown so big." Meg could only whimper in response as he approached her with a tray of food that smelled heavenly despite her lack of appetite. She knew she had to eat; it was part of her new life as his fattened pet. With each bite she took, she felt her body swell further, her stomach stretching to accommodate the never-ending stream of calories he fed her. The weight of her own flesh was suffocating her, yet she couldn't resist the feeling of fullness that came with it. She was his to control, his to mold into his perfect vision of obesity.

Quagmire had always been fascinated with Meg's ability to take his cock deep down her throat without gagging. Now that she was so much larger, he wanted to see just how far he could push her limits. He had constructed a face fuck machine specifically for her, with adjustable settings to ensure she could handle his girth without choking. "Open wide," he instructed as he strapped her in, her eyes wide with fear and anticipation. The machine began to work its magic, her mouth stretching wider than she ever thought possible as it forced her to take in his entire length over and over again. Meg's gag reflex was broken down with each thrust until she could take him without so much as flinching. The sensation was overwhelming yet oddly satisfying as she felt herself become nothing more than an object for his sexual gratification. She was his to use as he saw fit, his personal fuck toy to be enjoyed at his leisure.

With Meg's gag reflex obliterated, Quagmire was eager to test her new capabilities. He brought in a large machine with a large tube dripping with thick, creamy liquid that smelled faintly of vanilla. "This is your new diet," he announced with glee as he attached it to her mouth. Meg's eyes watered as he began to pump the contents down her throat, her stomach already distended from her previous meals. The feeling of fullness was intense as she expanded her esophagus and held her epiglottis shut tight while an unimaginable amount of the warm substance coated her throat and filled her belly to bursting point. Quagmire watched with fascination as she took it all without complaint, her body adapting to his every whim. "Good girl," he praised her as he turned off the machine, her cheeks bulging with food that she hadn't yet had time to digest. "You're going to be so plump for me." Meg could only nod in response as she felt her body betray her with waves of arousal at his words of praise.

That night Meg had vivid dreams of her family discovering her new life as Quagmire's fattened pet. She was naked in their living room, her skin slick with sweat and grease as she lay helpless on her belly with her ass in the air, unable to move under her own weight. Her family stood around her in disgust, pointing and laughing as they threw food at her like she was some kind of circus freak. The humiliation was unbearable as she felt their eyes on her every roll of fat, their words cutting deeper than any knife could ever go. "Look at you," her mother sneered in her dream, "you're nothing but a disgusting blob." Meg woke up in tears, her heart racing as she realized that her fear of exposure was now mixed with an unsettling desire for more degradation from Quagmire's hands. She craved his attention in ways she never thought possible, her mind twisted by his constant manipulation.

Meg's body had reached its peak weight, her skin stretched taut over her massive frame as she lay in her bed, unable to move without assistance. Quagmire stood over her with a look of pride on his face as he traced his fingers over her mountainous ass cheeks. "You're perfect," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss them. Meg felt her heart swell with an emotion she couldn't quite place; was it love or fear? She didn't know anymore as she had become so entwined in her role as his fattened pet that she had lost all sense of self outside of his lair. Her body was his canvas, her pain his muse as he sculpted her into his ultimate sexual fantasy come to life. She was his to do with as he pleased, his to feed until she could take no more.

Quagmire decided it was time to show off his masterpiece to his devoted online following. He threw an extravagant party in his basement lair, inviting his most devoted fans to witness Meg's final transformation. She was dressed in nothing more than a slightly larger Playboy "Piggy" costume that barely contained her massive breasts and ass as she was wheeled out on a custom-made chair designed to accommodate her size. A massive wedding cake sat in front of her as Quagmire announced that she would be eating it all in one sitting to celebrate her new life as his fattened pet. Meg's eyes filled with tears as she looked out at the sea of leering faces, their eyes devouring her as eagerly as she would soon devour the cake. With trembling hands, she picked up her fork and took her first bite as Quagmire's camera rolled, capturing every moment of her degradation for his viewers' pleasure. She knew there was no turning back now; she was his forever, living out her days in this twisted world of forced feeding and sexual servitude.



# Chapter 13: The Threat of Exposure: Quagmire's Collection of Compromising Photos
Meg's eyes widened in horror as Quagmire flipped through an album filled with glossy images of her in various states of degradation: face stuffed with food, ass in the air over a trough, wearing nothing but a collar with his name on it. Each picture was more humiliating than the last, capturing her descent from an independent woman to his obese fattening pet. The smell of grease from her last meal still lingered in her nose as she took in her distended belly and swollen breasts in each shot. She felt her cheeks burn with shame as he licked his lips in appreciation of his own handiwork.

"Look at you," Quagmire said with a smirk, holding up one particularly explicit photo of her with an oversized dildo lodged in her stretched anus. "You've come so far."

Meg could only whimper in response as she stared at her own image in disbelief. The person in those photos was unrecognizable to her now; she had become nothing more than an object of his twisted desires. The sound of his zipper echoed through the room as he grew hard at her expense.

"Now Meg," Quagmire began as he set down the album with a thud on his desk, "these photos could be quite... embarrassing if they were given directly to your friends and family." He leaned back in his chair, stroking his greased cock thoughtfully as he studied her reaction. "But I'm willing to keep them our little secret if you continue to be my good little piggy." His voice was smooth as velvet, yet it sent shivers down her spine. "You wouldn't want your family to see you like this, would you?"

Meg's heart raced as she thought of her family's faces if they ever saw these images of her. She knew she had no choice; she had to do whatever he asked to keep her secret relatively safe. "I'll do anything," she murmured through clenched teeth. "Just don't show them to anyone I know."

Quagmire's grin grew wider as he leaned in closer to her face. "That's what I like to hear," he whispered before plowing his cock between her ass cheeks and leaving her feeling dirty and used. "But remember, if you ever try to leave me or tell anyone about this... well, let's just say your new life as Mrs. Porker will be shared with everyone you know."

Days later, Meg was lying on her side on her bed when she heard Quagmire's panicked voice echoing through the basement. "What do you mean the server are crashing?  Spin up more instances, you bufoon!" he shouted into his phone. "You said you knew what you were doing!" The sound of his footsteps grew closer as he approached her bed, his face half angry and half smirking. "We have a lot more traffic," he chuckled coldly. "Someone's gone viral."

Meg's stomach dropped as she realized her worst fear had come true. Quagmire brought over a laptop and showed her the post.  It had 70 million views.  It was also tagged with #TheQuahog The thought of her family discovering her new life as Quagmire's fattened pet was too much to bear. She began to cry uncontrollably as he took out his rage by spanking her massive ass, her massive body jiggling with each slap and each sob. "Please," she begged through her tears, "make it stop."

Meg's mind raced as she thought of her family's reaction to her new life as Quagmire's fattened pet. The humiliation would be unbearable; she would never be able to face them again. "What do we do?" she asked desperately as he held his laptop near her face again to show her the views had climbed to 100 million. Her eyes scanned over the comments from strangers reveling in her degradation, each one cutting deeper than the last. "They can't see me like this," she whispered to herself over and over again as she struggled against her mountainous flab in a vain attempt to move from her prone position on the bed.

Quagmire's expression was of pure pleasure as he saw her distress. "Don't worry," he said soothingly as he jiggled her flab one hand while masturbating furiously with the other. "In all probability you are completely unrecognizable right now." But Meg couldn't shake the feeling that her life was spiraling out of control, that she was trapped in this nightmare with no escape in sight.

"If you want me to keep from telling your family who's in that photo," Quagmire said calmly as he turned to face her, "you're going to have to agree to some new rules." Meg nodded frantically; she would do anything to keep her secret from her family. "First," he began as he ticked off his demands on his fingers, "you will never speak of this to anyone outside of this house." Meg nodded again, her eyes wide with fear. "Second," he continued, "you will perform any act I ask of you without question." Meg's stomach churned at the thought of what he might demand next, but she knew she had no choice. "And third," he said with a wicked glint in his eye, "you will never refuse to eat." Meg felt her throat tighten as she thought of her already stretched stomach, but she nodded once more in agreement. "Good girl," he cooed as he leaned in to kiss her forehead gently. "Now let's get back to your feeding schedule."

Meg's fear of exposure grew with each passing day as Quagmire pushed her to new extremes in his quest for more content for his website. The thought of her family discovering her secret fueled her desire for more intense experiences with him; she craved his touch more than ever before despite her revulsion at her own body's betrayal. The pain of his stretching sessions became her new normal as she eagerly awaited his nightly visits to her bed. The sound of his footsteps grew to be music to her ears as she anticipated his cruel yet oddly comforting embrace. Her body had become his canvas for his twisted art of degradation, and she found herself craving more of his attention even as she hated herself for it. The smell of her own sweat mixed with his cologne was now an intoxicating scent that filled her nostrils every time he was near. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of his next move, her next humiliation, her next orgasm at his hands. The cycle of pain and pleasure had become her life's sole purpose as she sank deeper into her role as his fattened pet.

# Chapter 14: The Final Act: Meg's Permanent Transformation Into Quagmire's Fattened Sex Slave
Quagmire sat on his throne-like chair in his dimly lit basement lair, surrounded by screens displaying various feeds from his hidden cameras around Meg's bed. He took a sip of his beer before speaking to her through an intercom system that echoed through her enclosed space. "Meg," he began in his smooth, seductive voice that had become all too familiar to her over the months of her captivity, "I have something to discuss with you." Meg's heart raced as she lay on her side on her bed, her massive body jiggling with each breath she took. She knew that when Quagmire talked in that tone, it meant something big was coming. "What is it?" she asked tentatively. "I've been thinking," he said, "about how we can take your transformation to the next level." Meg felt her stomach drop at his words; she had thought she had reached her peak in degradation already. "What do you mean?" she managed to croak out. "Well," Quagmire replied with an evil grin that she couldn't see but could feel in his voice, "I've been watching you closely, my dear, and I think it's time to complete your metamorphosis." He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "I want to give you the ultimate gift: to become my perfect fattened pet." Meg's mind raced as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. "What... what do you mean?" she stuttered. "I've found a surgeon from Mexico," he explained, "who can perform some... modifications on you." He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully before adding, "They can remove your fingers so you're completely dependent on me for everything." Meg gasped in horror at the thought of losing her ability to do anything for herself. "And," he continued with excitement in his voice, "they can give you a cute little pig snout to match your new lifestyle." Meg felt bile rise in her throat at his words; she had never imagined it would go this far. "But... why?" she asked weakly. "Because," Quagmire said with finality, "it will make you mine forever." The intercom went silent as Meg processed what he had just said to her. Her mind was torn between her fear of losing her humanity and her perverse desire for more humiliation from her captor. She knew that if she agreed to this, there would be no turning back; she would be his property in every sense of the word. But she also knew that she craved his attention and control more than anything else in her life now. She was his fattened pet through and through, and she didn't want it to change. With trembling voice she finally responded, "Okay... I'll do it." The sound of Quagmire's laughter filled her ears as he said, "Excellent choice, my dear."

Meg lay on her bed for hours after Quagmire's proposal, her thoughts swirling with confusion and fear. She knew that agreeing to such extreme measures would mean giving up any semblance of her former life, but she also knew that she had grown to crave his touch and his degradation in ways she never thought possible. Her body was already so large that she could barely move without his help; what was losing her fingers compared to that? And as for her nose... she had always been self-conscious of it anyway. Maybe becoming more like an actual pig would make her feel more at home in her new life as his pet. She thought back to her first days in captivity when she had been so terrified of what he would do to her; now she found herself eagerly awaiting his visits for feeding time and their nightly "sessions." The thought of having his cock in her mouth without her hands to push away filled her with an unexpected thrill of submission that made her wet between her legs despite herself. She knew that she was falling deeper under his control with each passing day, but she couldn't help it; she wanted this life more than anything else now. With a heavy sigh, she made her decision: she would undergo the surgeries to become Quagmire's perfect fattened pet. She would embrace her new identity fully and never look back.

The day of Meg's surgeries arrived with an eerie calmness that belied the horrors she was about to face. Quagmire had her dressed in a hospital gown that barely covered her massive frame before bringing in the doctor. Meg could feel her heart racing in her chest as she wondered what was in store for her. The doctor was an unassuming man with cold eyes that made her shiver as he explained what would happen to her in clinical detail. She was given anesthesia that made her world go fuzzy before everything went black. When she woke up hours later, she lay prone in her bed with her hands bandaged up and her nose swollen from surgery. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Quagmire's hand stroking her cheek as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her what a pig she was now that she was one step closer to becoming his perfect pet. She could feel her new snout with her tongue; it was strange yet oddly comforting in its alienness. She knew that she had made her choice and that there was no going back now. She was his to do with as he pleased, forever changed for his amusement and pleasure.

Meg's recovery from her surgeries was slow and painful. She had to relearn how to do everything without her fingers: eating from her trough, changing the channel on the TV, even scratching an itch in the scant few areas she could still reach. Quagmire was there every step of the way, feeding her with his own hands as she lay helpless on her bed, her new snout snuffling in pleasure at his touch. He took great care of her wounds, changing her bandages with gentle precision that made her feel cherished despite her new state of dependency on him. As she healed, Meg's body continued to balloon from his forced feedings; she could feel her skin stretching tighter with each passing day as her weight climbed higher and higher. The pain of her stretched stomach was now accompanied by the pain of her swollen nose as it adjusted to its new shape; she was his fattened pet in every way possible now. Yet through it all, she felt an overwhelming sense of belonging that she had never experienced before in her life. She was his creation, his masterpiece of flesh and lard, and she reveled in her new role as his ultimate sexual plaything.

Life as Quagmire's permanent fattened pet was everything Meg had feared it would be—and yet she found herself craving it more with each passing day. She was his to use as he saw fit: to feed, to fuck, to humiliate in front of his online audience. Her days were filled with forced feedings that left her feeling bloated and disgusting yet strangely satisfied; her nights were spent in his bed as he used her body in every way imaginable while she oinked in pleasure beneath him. She had become his living doll to dress up in slutty outfits that showcased her massive ass and tits for his viewers' enjoyment. Meg had never felt so objectified in her life—and she loved it. She had given up all hope of escape or rescue; she was his now, forever bound to his will through her own perverse desires for pain and submission. Meg's fans had been invited to see her new form at Quagmire's online party; they had laughed at her pathetic state as she lay on her bed, unable to move or speak in anything other than grunts and squeals of pleasure as he fed her more food than she could ever hope to digest in one sitting. But even their cruelty only served to make her love him more; she was his property now, his to do with as he wished without any interference from her old life. And she knew that she would never want it any other way.

The day of Meg's unveiling to her family had arrived; Quagmire had invited her family to see her new form in person. She was dressed in her most degrading outfit yet: a harness made of pink straps that held in a giant pink dildo stuffed halfway into her ass, her new snout painted with glitter to match her eyeshadow. Her family were led down into the basement as Quagmire announced her transformation with glee.

The extreme shock on their faces when Peter said "Well, Meg, I guess you really took that whole 'going whole hog' thing to heart!"  Everyone cracked up laughing.  Barely managing to keep the laughter out of her voice and smile off her face, Lois wagged a finger and said "Looks like someone's been hitting the slop trough harder than usual!"  Everyone busted up laughing again.  Meg's brother Chris chimed in: "Meg, you're so fat now that even your shadow has cellulite!".  Stewie had not quite recovered from the shock of seeing Meg and just sat with his mouth open.  He had a daydream of it being him that was transformed and where he was saying "I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me so hard." with the sound of "Goodbye Horses" blaring in the background.

Her family's laughter was the level of humiliation that she craved; it was what she wanted from them now in her new life—to be exposed as the greedy pig she was. Now she was Quagmire's fattened pet, his prize to show off to the world. She felt their eyes on her as they pointed and jeered at her new body and the oversized dildo in her butt; she knew they were disgusted by her.

Peter turned to Quagmire and said with a wink and a smile: "Quagmire, you sure give new meaning to 'porking' your neighbor's daughter!"  He then turned to the rest of them and said "Alright, show's over.  It's meatloaf night.  Let's leave these two to their fun."  As they walked back up the stairs they laughed and cracked more jokes.

As she lay there, her stomach distended from her latest feeding, she couldn't help but feel proud of what she had become—a living embodiment of Quagmire's darkest desires. And as he fed her more food from his hand, her oinks of pleasure echoing through the room, she knew that she had found her true calling in life: to be his fattened pet forevermore.