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Chickenshack

Hellish Enterprises

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And with my patented new weight loss supplement, even YOU can cut back on the calories and kick those cravings!” an overly excited voice on the television announced.

“Oh, come on,” the rather lavish and oversized office’s one occupant muttered. “Are you kidding me?” She picked up an impressive cheeseburger, dripping with condiments slathered over at least three different kinds of meats and numerous other fillings, and devoured it in an inhuman number of gigantic bites. She changed the channel on her flat screen television, so grandiose in size that it took up half of an entire wall in her upscaled marble suite of an office. The commercial playing on this channel was just as aggravating.

“On this brand new season of Trimming the Fat, we help twenty-four people from around the country achieve the thin bodies they’ve always dreamed of and teach them how to keep those pounds off! Join us at-“ Click! The woman had angrily shut the tv off, not being able to bear watching another second of yet another The Biggest Loser spinoff.

“A freaking ‘nother one… Jesus Christ…”

To the left, on the desk in front of her, a pristinely polished white phone began to ring.

"No, no,” she looked at it, not bothering to even pick it up. “Not you guys, just a figure of speech, sorry.”

The phone stopped ringing at once.

The woman sighed, returning to her meal. She was a stress eater, whether she liked that about herself or not, and the second burger was just as large, just as impractically stuffed and just as tempting. She was about to attempt to stuff the whole thing into her mouth a different phone, this time a red one to her right, began ringing as well. This one, she couldn’t ignore. She gulped nervously.

“H-hello,” she picked it up answered despondently, knowing she was about to be chewed out by her boss, “how can I help-“

“Cut the formalities, if you don’t mind terribly,” came the crisp, melodious, almost singsongy voice, so clear and present it was as if the speaker was actually in the room with her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I would like you in my office, please. Now.” The woman put the phone back on its receiver, her hand trembling as she did so.

That didn’t bode well. Her boss didn’t sound happy at all to her. Well, truth be told, he technically always sounded cheerful. Maybe it was because he had always had the run of the whole place or because he had finally worked things out with his dad, but there were other, more subtle details and inflections that had to be payed attention to when trying to interpret her boss’s mood, inflections that currently implied that he was about a minute from literally raising Hell if the least productive of his six managers didn’t waddle her way down to his office for a stern talking to.

She didn’t waste any time in rising from her desk to make her way down there, or, at least she wouldn’t have, if she were all that moblie. It took longer than a few moments for her to rise up from her impressively wide custom office chair. Her massive, drooping belly presented quite the obstacle, so large that it would have nearly touched the floor had it not been held up by the combination of her expertly tailored business suit and some sort of supernatural perkiness. Her fattened, sequoia-sized thighs were devoid of any visible muscle tone and were hardly suited to the task of supporting her vastly obese frame once she had actually managed to rise. She was quite a bit larger than any normal person had any right to be; luckily, she didn’t exactly fit the conventional definition of “normal” or “person”. Managing somehow to raise her ballooning body up under her own power, she took a moment to shuffle out from behind her desk, heavy footsteps echoing across the glistening, very expensive-looking tile. Adding to the noise of the thunderous footfalls was her unsatisfied tummy, letting loose a fierce rumble so loud she was worried that they’d be able to hear it all the way upstairs.

The woman sighed, lifting up her flabby arms to tie her hair back into a neat bun. She would have to deal with her ceaseless, insatiable appetite later. She began plodding toward her office door and out into the hallway, taking a moment to straighten out her name tag pinned to her perky, pumpkin-sized breast.

‘Gluttony’ was all it said, in bold black letters.

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It was quite a walk to get to Lucifer’s office, garden, palace, whatever one wanted to call it, especially for a woman as big as Gluttony was. She was far past the weight that any normal human could have carried; if she weren’t a mere corporeal personification of sin and just an actual person, she would have long since descended into immobility several hundred pounds ago. Instead, she waddled forward as vigorously as she could, knowing that her body was incapable of actually tiring or running out of stamina but barely being able to shift one titanic thigh over the other regardless, especially with her aforementioned belly in the way. She took up almost the entirety of the hallway that she waddled down, jiggling love handles occasionally brushing up against either wall or nearly knocking down some decorative plant, wobbling her way to the elevators at the end of the hall with as much speed as her body could manage, which wasn’t much at all.

As one of the Deadly Sins on Earth, her vessel was engulfed with the very essence of gluttony itself… it was her celestial duty to expunge that essence onto unsuspecting mortals in order to drive them to temptation.The more successful the Sin was in this task, the less of that essence, that very drive, existed in themselves, having been disseminated amongst the weak-willed and the unsuspecting.

For that reason, the Deadly Sins, at least when on a corporeal plane, existed as the inverse of whatever temptation they represented, as long as they were doing their jobs properly. Lust was actually rather chaste and withheld, Wrath was one of the most relaxed and easygoing demons anyone could hope to meet, and Greed and Envy were almost suffocating to be in a room with together, with how eager they always seemed to be to hand over the shirts on their own backs if it meant that it could assist with solving anyone else’s problems.

With that in mind, Gluttony should have been as lean and trim as a supermodel, snacking on salads and granola bars if she ate anything at all, but she hadn’t exactly been doing well in the temptation department, which meant that all of the hunger and voracity that should have been expelled from her body was trapped inside of her, shaping her whims and wills and keeping her from concentrating on anything else but satisfying her stomach.

Gluttony reached the solid gold, oversized elevators and pushed a single button. The doors opened, and she trudged herself in, about-facing so that she could select her boss’s floor. Floor 616… cute, but the devil wasn’t without his sense of humor. She hadn’t had to go up to his office in centuries, ever since her productivity began to trail off after the European Renaissance. Back then, she had had plenty of success with plumping up kings and magistrates, even popes, and had sported a much more lithe form as a result.

The Guttony testing the weight limit of the elevator today was quite the contrast. Hoping that she was only in for a minor polite scolding but knowing that that would surely hardly be the case, she pressed the button resolutely, the elevator lurching to life and groaning with the exorbitant weight of its demonic burden.

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Just a random setup that I typed up in a couple of hours after it  popped into my head last night :) 

I've quite a bit of commission work to do before I can fully devote myself to this story, but I will TOTALLY get around to continuing it... eventually. Unless Sloth rears its ugly head 🤣

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