Secret feeding ghost possession style. Person who moves into a cheap old home occupied by a ghost with particular “tastes” who sees this new human as a perfect chance to have some fun even from the afterlife. Every night they take control of the person’s body while they sleep and force them to open the fridge and eat something. Starting out small at first to not arouse too much suspicion, the person only thinking it’s odd that they seem to be going through food much more quickly than they thought they should. No matter, they just buy more. The late night binges continue, and their flat stomach starts to round out into a little paunch… and it makes them so so sleepy, both from the disturbance but the food coma induced by indulging so much, so it’s getting increasingly hard to focus.
Eventually they do notice the weight and panic, resolving to cut back on their food intake, but the ghost just ups the ante. Now they’re waking up painfully stuffed and convinced they must be going crazy, but they don’t know what to do about it. Grocery and delivery orders start appearing at their door that they don’t remember buying, and they try to return them at first but they just feel helpless as they keep coming, eventually resigning to just accept them. They’re starting to grow so fast, both from their late night stuffings and from their now daily habit of eating entire pizzas and bags of burgers delivered to their door. They’re so hungry now, finding themselves in front of the fridge even during the day, belly bulging as they eat a whole cake with a glazed look on their face.
The ghost, still not satisfied, finally starts to possess them while they’re awake to force them to eat even more, to order more delivery, just more, more, more. It makes them touch themselves, whispering in their ear to pinch their sagging breasts and grind into their fat pad as they choke down a fifth serving of noodles. Slowly but surely they’re disappearing, starting to think for themselves less and less as the ghost starts making all of their decisions. Which can be boiled down to “eat, jack off, sleep” with very little else. And while the ghost itself can’t directly feel any of this, it still gets a sense of deep satisfaction watching this human turn more and more into a useless blob of fat.
They're so far gone now, they haven’t thought for themselves in over a month and haven’t stood up for twice that. It’s pointless to even try, mindlessly gorging themselves into a stupor every minute of the day, pale flesh surging over the edge of the couch and nearly breaking it in two, wobbling in waves as they bask in another chain of orgasms. As far as anyone knows the house is once again abandoned, if it weren’t for the constant streams of massive deliveries being made to the front door. There’s no one to receive them, and yet they seem to make their way to the blob through some invisible force. The person doesn’t even question the feeling of ghostly hands on their flesh, nor how whole pizzas are being lifted into the air and crammed down their throat, all they care about is eating and getting even bigger. A ghost’s plaything, doomed to grow and grow until they join it in haunting this place, ready for the next victim.
