An art trade with  PanzerLeopard, featuring Riley O'Shane the Irish mob madame dominating a rival faction in the most fitting manner possible...with sheer fatness XP Enjoy~ (Contains mega weightgaina nd vore!)

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A trembling, suit wearing canid stared timidly at the desk before him, a letter held in his shaking, outstretched paw. He didn’t say a word to the figure standing there, back facing him as she looked out of the office window, her immense frame shadowed by the sunlight flowing through the glass. All he could do was crane his neck up at her, his boss was an imposing 7’3 and almost as wide as a truck, and damn well as heavy as one. Slowly, she turned around slightly to glance at him, the expensive suit she wore creaking in protest as it clung to her figure, and he swore he could hear a faint ripping sound from somewhere on it from that twisting on the shoulders alone.

“So.” She said quietly at him, her voice a deep, Irish rumble. “You had news for me?”

“Well boss, it uh…” he trailed off, gulping as he summoned the courage to relay his bad news. “Ya know that new crime family that started up around town last month? The Italians? Struci I think they’re called…but yeah, they uh…they hit one of our trucks last night. They took everything from it, but left the driver alive, if roughed up.”

Riley O’Shane, the corpulent captain of the O’Shane crime family, turned around fully to the messenger dog. She approached him; her massively overweight body was squeezed into a black, pinstripe suit which was split in a few areas, exposing her spotted flab, her arms bulging with both fat and muscle, as she was incredibly strong as well as obese. The dog couldn’t help but admire her size even when she bent down to look him in the eye, those emerald pools filled with mounting irritation…and hunger, probably. He got a good look at her puffy cheeks and treble chin too, but shook himself back to focus before he could check out his bloated boss anymore.

“And what, pray tell, was in that particular truck?” she asked him again, the reverb from her voice at that range rang his ears.

“Donuts, cakes, those kind of things boss, from that bakery you’re fond off…s-sorry.” He whimpered, the proximity to those powerful, gleaming jaws unnerving him.

She didn’t reply for a few minutes, instead merely standing back upright and turning away to walk back to the window, floorboards creaking ominously and her vast ass rippling and jiggling in her strained pants. Eventually she turned around again to face the lowly messenger, and spoke.

“Do you see this?” she once again asked, gesturing to her, voluptuous gut.

“Uh…yeah?” he replied, confused.

Riley walked closer to him, that sagging, suit covered pile of flesh being pressed against him as she loomed above him with narrowed eyes, backing the poor dog into a wall and nearly suffocating him under a wave of fabric cuddled fat.

“This,” she gestured again, “is my belly, yeah? It’s big…and so, I have to feed it. A lot. Now, if our shipments of food are getting taken out, that means less food for *it*. And if it isn’t filled up, it gets hungry. And if it gets hungry, I get cranky. And if I get cranky…” she paused, letting said stomach release a threatening, loud rumble as if to emphasise itself. “I start looking for ‘alternative’ food supplies.”

The dog shuddered, he knew his boss was voracious, and he did not want to end up extra poundage on her already overly ample frame. Riley realized he still held a piece of paper in his hand and snatched it from him, bringing it up to her face to read it. It was one of those posted menus advertising restaurants, and it was fore a new one she didn’t recognize, which struck her as odd seeing she was very familiar with the many dining outlets in town. It read ‘Papa Grassi’s’ on it, an Italian restaurant eh? Could only mean one thing, it was set up by the Struci family to steal *her* profits! The messenger had come to show her it as an idea for revenge, not just to inform her about the truck. She grinned and stepped back, letting him breath after the belly press.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” She smirked, ruffling his hair and lumbering passed him. “Oh, and if you get a pay slip in the mail a week early, that’s me saying thanks laddie.” She disappeared outside, leaving the messenger boy both confused and happy at the same time.

“Hey Finley, get the engine running, I got a dinner to attend!” Riley barked as she exited the main doors to her compound.

Finley was another fur of Irish origin, and Riley’s personal driver. She was a husky looking cat with a tawny coat and short hair, and almost always scowling. She didn’t speak much so she just nodded to her boss and fired up the limo for her…well, it was technically a limo, but the behemoth of a vehicle more resembled the bastard offspring of a stretch limo and a monster truck to support the increasing bulk of its occupant plus company if she was traveling with others. This time it was only Riley, so Finley gave a silent thanks to God that the suspension wouldn’t spend the drive screaming in agony.

Riley clambered into it and grunted the direction of Papa Grassi’s to the feline, who silently kicked the limo into gear and began the journey to this invasive eatery. Her sizeable stomach rumbled and growled in anticipation of her little visit, causing the lynxuki crime queen to roll her suit up and expose the vast mass of corpulent flesh and give it an affectionate pat, sending waves of ripples across its surface.

“Easy there girl, we’ll fill you soon enough~” she cooed to it softly.

Eventually they arrived at Papa Grassi’s, a pretty art deco looking Italian themed place, the scent of pasta, pizza, and other delicacies from the Italian Peninsula filled Riley’s nostrils and elicited another quivering growl from her gut, strong enough to cause more tears in her suit and actually popped a button or two off, sending them pinging off the walls nearby. She just chuckled and moved her mass through the front doors of the establishment. As soon as she went in, the few patrons already in there stopped their meals and gazed up at her in awe; Riley O’Shane turning up at a restaurant owned by a rival gang? Alone? They knew something was up, and many simply stood up and quickly walked past her smirking form, not wanting to end up caught in a potential crossfire…or her stomach. Waddling towards a booth, the lynxuki squeezed her butt into one, taking up the entire luxury couch style seat and resting her belly on the table, pulling up the comically small menu (compared to her, anyway) with an air of faux snobbery.

“Um, hello there Madame, w-welcome to Papa Grassi’s!” a waitress approaching her said meekly, gulping as the titanic mob boss eyed her up. “What would you like from our humble menu?”

“All of it.” Riley grunted.

“…E-excuse me?” the waitress stuttered, eyes widening in alarm.

“You heard me girl, I want everything, literally everything. I’m *hungry*.” The older, larger female repeated with a growl, both from her throat and gut.

The waitress just backed away slowly towards the kitchen and frantically repeated the order in Italian to the now equally as terrified chefs. Riley just smiled and waited for her meal, browsing the wine list and enjoying how good it felt to put a rival out of business in such a fitting way. Within minutes, the first batch of many plates where brought to her table; pizza, pasta, lasagna, you name it, it piled up before her and eventually filled every space not already dominated by her belly. With gusto and gluttony, the big boss began to tear into the food, slurping down pasta and chomping through pizza, savoring it as pasta sauce dribbled down her treble chin and stained her suit. The staff of Papa Grassi’s were both horrified and impressed by this display, watching as plate after plate was cleaned off and left to clatter on the table, stomach surging out bigger and bigger. Her suit creaked and groaned ominously as the buttons strained to contain its growing size, and with a sequence of rapid fire pinging, they snapped off and bounced around the room, shattering glasses and braining the odd employee, and then her undershirt, a maroon colored ensemble, joined in the fun with a second barrage of buttons, leaving the furry sphere free to balloon as Riley continued to gorge.

“More.” She belched as she polished off the last plate, sweeping the empty mass off of the table with an almighty crash. “Get me *more*.”

The chefs continued to cook a feast for her, and this continued for over an hour of nonstop feeding, Riley stuffing her face with their food while her gut eventually swelled so large it broke the table with a clatter, the new plates and bowls being set atop the mass of belly instead. By the time they had run out of food, the mob boss was so bloated her stomach dragged along the floor as she slowly shuffled, sloshing and blooping like an overfilled water balloon.

“Mmmm~ my compliments to the chefs!” she giggled, sucking up the last few bits of a dish of spaghetti and meatballs. “That was delicious…but, I’m not full yet.” She added; voice low and serious.

“Um…but, that was everything Madame, you ate *everything*!” the head chef squeaked, rather scared of her now.

“Oh no laddie, not everything~” Riley rumbled as she lurched to her feet, everything groaning and sloshing. “I’m looking at leftovers right now~” her sauce stained face grinned with a predatory expression, staring the staff dead in the eye.

The police could never explain what went on at Papa Grassi’s that night. When the staff returned from ‘the place’, they were too traumatized to speak. The only evidence was the total emptiness of the entire kitchen and enormous hole in the wall, like some great beast had burst through it due to being too large for the doors…

Days had passed since Riley had forced Papa Grassi’s to close due to total stock depletion and damages. The lynxuki crime lady sat in her office reading the newspaper…or more accurately, sat *around* her office, as she had gained an immense amount of weight from her gluttony. No longer wearing anything but her overtaxed underwear in Irish flag print, the lynxuki was almost spherical and seemed even larger than ever; an enormous, roll covered belly that sagged to her thighs, a butt that had gotten so big she needed a couch behind her desk to sit, breasts that were bigger than yoga balls, and at least six or seven chins spilling down to her cleavage. Her cheeks were also almost football sized puffballs that drooped against her shoulders somewhat. A look of contentment crossed her squishy features as she sipped her morning coffee from an enlarged cup.

The same messenger who had told her of the Struci plot once again walked into her office, again nervous of news, but looking better off now that Riley had given him a pay rise. He composed himself as he looked up at Riley, who now pushed 8ft tall due to growing in height as well as weight, and slipped a note across her desk then beat a brisk retreat, as much as he wanted to make small talk with their affable leader, he knew she was terrifying when mad, and when she got mad she tended to get hungry.

“Huh?” she grumbled as she picked up the note and read it:

“We trashed as many Café Gulos as we could, O’Shane. That’s for destroying one of our establishments like the fat pig you are! I hope you like starvation! –Ma Struci.”

Oh now she was *mad*, and a mad Riley is a hungry Riley. She calmed her anger enough to think of a way to get back at them, and all parts of her brain decided to do to them what sparked this war: Raid their trucks, and then take them on at their home base, the Struci Villa. A devious smile crossed her flabby face, this was perfect. She ordered her best drivers and hijackers to prowl the roads that night and snag any truck shipments they could, and as luck would have it, they were able to take down a good five trucks loaded with more Italian goods! The mass of lass grinned to herself as the piles of food where carted and wheeled over to her in the warehouse portion of her compound, wagging her bloated tail in anticipation and drooling as she was surrounded by cuisine.

Greedily, the lynxuki blob began to shovel it all into her awaiting maw, her men (and women) watching in near religious awe as their boss gorges herself upon enough food to feed an entire neighbourhood for a week, her stomach slowly blowing up even larger and stretching out across the ground as morsel after morsel was stuffed down her gullet. Entire stacks of pizza disappeared, lasagnas where snapped up so quickly even Garfield would be proud, and spaghetti was slurped up in entire, car sized spools. All would be devoured and go to her bottomless gut, and by the time she was finally full and it was all gone, a field of empty plates and boxes surrounding her, she was a house sized sphere, quickly lapsing into a food coma and being rolled away by her strongmen as the rest of the O’Shane family merely cheered or laughed. This was all part of her plan, too…

A week later, Ma Struci, a raven haired 30 something wolf in a black dress and of noticeable plumpness was livid; several of her trucks containing imported, *expensive* food from her home country had been raided, their shipments stolen, and the only perpetrator she could think of was that bloated fatball Riley O’Shane and her lot, who had been causing them headaches ever since she had sent them a ‘friendly’ warning not to mess with the new family in town. Sighing to herself, she picked a donut up off the plate on her own desk in her office on the villa’s top floor, and was about to bite into it when one of her guards suddenly burst through the doors, white as a sheet and a look of sheer, unfiltered terror on his face.

“M-Ma!” he yelped, shaking, “We-we’re under attack!”

“What!?” the Italian wolf gasped, alarmed. “Who? How? This villa has the best security my money could by, who would be stupid enough to-“

“O’SHANE!” the guard shrieked, flailing his arms around. “And she’s gotten BIG!”

Puzzled, Ma turned around to look outside the office window, which gave a nice view of the street and road leading up to the gates…and the sight before her made her crush the donut in her hand and splatter its jam filling everywhere. Riley was indeed personally assaulting the villa, with several cars of backup driving slowly either side of her. The lynxuki had gotten truly massive, and was at least 10ft in height and each of her gargantuan hips brushed the sides of the reinforced limos flanking her, each step sending a loud “Bwoom” across the neighbourhood and cracking the road. Her stomach reached her shins almost, her ass like a pair of trucks, breasts like small cars in their own right, and 8 or so chins and toddler sized cheeks dominating her face. A blobby titan. And to top it off, she was totally naked now and was waddle-stomping along with an RPG in her paw, holding it like it was a water pistol, and a confident, narrow eyed smirk on that bloated face of hers as she stopped dead a few meters away from the gates, looking up towards the villa proper.

“Ma Struci?” she bellowed, her voice a deep, bass baritone that had its own echo at this point. “I know you’re in there! If you come out now we can settle this like reasonable adults!” she waved the RPG around nonchalantly “But if not…weeeelll I got myself this new toy here, my boys, and enough of a growth spurt that *nothing* you can lob at me is gonna hurt! So, what do ya say, Ma? Fancy a chat?”

There was no reply, merely a hail of gunfire from the windows and walls that forced her troops to take cover and hang back. Riley just rolled her eyes and aimed the RPG at the gate, and with a roar and an explosion, the iron doors were blown off their hinges, and Riley lumbered her way into the villa’s courtyard, being met with some resistance by terrified guards. The ones that got directly in her way, she picked up and shoved down her maw, enjoying the sensations of their panicked kicking and squirming within her enormous belly. The ones that were smart enough to run she left alone, and any that tried to attack from the sides got rump bumped into walls and vegetation patches. Each chunk of ground took got her closer to Ma, each guard devoured made her bigger, and she was determined to achieve her goal at any cost.

With a belch, she lowered her head, and began a stomping charge at the villa’s main double doors, effortlessly bashing through them squashing a few mooks under her bulk. They’d be ok later, but still. She stomped up the stairs, snapping up those who didn’t get out the way in time, even the non-combative servants who tried to fend her off with dusters or brooms. By the time the blob of spotty, squirming flesh had reached the door to Ma Struci’s office, she groaned and massaged her belly, so full and taunt from her meal.

The door splintered as Riley practically waddled right through it, putting her paws on her enormous hips and looking down at the terrified wolf, who was cornered with nowhere to go.

“Ma, Ma, Ma…how nice to finally meet you in person.” She snickered, sloshing towards her slowly. “You’ve been a bit of a pain to me, Struci. What have you got to say for yourself?”

“D-don’t do this O’Shane, please!” she pleased, trembling. “I’ll stop, we could work together!”

Riley merely bent down to her level and smiled, before grabbing her in a thick, meaty hand and hoisting her up to her head, which she was shaking. She licked the fat canid slowly, as if savoring the taste which made her stuffed stomach growl for one more morsel.

“Mm…we’ll see. After we see how you look on my ass!” Riley grinned evilly.

“W-what, are you!?” Ma screamed, struggling as the lynxuki brought her closer to her now open, cavernous gob.

“A god of gluttony.” She said bluntly, before cramming the flailing rival down her throat, swallowing her and allowing her to be with the company of her many men before patting her stomach and waddling out, slowly and sluggishly.

Months later, the returned Struci dame was indeed a (reluctant) ally of the O’Shanes, or more likely a vassal, giving them a sizeable chunk of profit and food every week to sate the appetite of their leader, Riley. Said mob boss was now so large she had become an immobile pile of fatty flesh who took up an entire quarter of the vast compound warehouse, which had been converted into her office and living quarters to support her sedentary self. Her ass squished up against the wall behind her and her desk had been redesigned to be ceiling mounted so she could reach it without her flabalanche of a belly crushing it. Her feet and legs had long since disappeared under the blubber and her arms were now covered in thick ‘sleeves’ of fat and all. Her neck had been lost to a multitude of chin like shapes sagging down to her incalculably large breasts, and her cheeks were space hopper sized blobs adorning her head. Life was good for the O’Shane family now, and Riley was devising ways of expanding both their territory…and herself.