HOME | DD

Description
Peter knew that he was going to put on weight during his four-month stay in the luxurious isolation cell.

He just didn't expect that it would catch up to him as quickly as it did.

It had only been a little over two weeks since he was first incarcerated and he had already run into a key sign that all the top quality food he was eating on a regular basis was having a negative effect on his figure.

He was suffering from daily wardrobe malfunctions.

His uniform had already felt rather tight on just his second day in the cell. And it had only gotten tighter as the big food baby he had hauled around that day had gotten softer as the food inside was digested and turned into fat.

Fat that had made its way over his whole body.

It had been a process that started on his second day, but one he didn't start to take notice off until he started feeling heavier overall.

One day during his first week, he went to bed with a heavy and aching belly. Stuffed to the brim, but the ache at the end of that day was nothing compared to the tummy ache he felt at the end of his first and second day in the cell.

Peter had no doubt that it was probably because he was not only eating so much that he had an aching belly for most of the day, but also the fact that he and his stomach was slowly getting used to the ache and the feeling of being stuffed.

He had little doubt that it was the reason for his current situation.

He was getting fat.

And he was getting fatter by the day if the fact that he his uniform strained more and more to contain his growing belly every day was anything to go by. Which it was.

The fact was that he was growing out of his uniform and his uniform struggled to contain his growing body as he kept gaining weight.

He was gaining fat because he was getting used to his new lifestyle.

And that fact was not only obviously apparent for anyone and everyone to see but had made itself known to Peter in the way of making his uniform's hold on him ever tighter by the day.

There was no doubt in his mind that the reason why it had taken until now for the fact that he was getting well and properly fat during his time cooped up in the luxury cell was the fact that the transition between a constantly stuffed, rock hard food baby and a round, soft gut of fat, was a gradual one.

He kept eating the same amount of food that he was given every day. And he finished every part of it. Down to the last plate. Every day. So no matter what, he was always stuffed and his belly always felt hard because of all the food in it.

But over the course of his stay in the cell, there had been more and more soft and squishy flesh and fat over his solid globe of a stuffed gut.

The weight kind of crept up on him and Peter only really started paying attention to his changing body when he noticed that his food baby was seemingly getting softer and bigger as his uniform was getting tighter all over his body. Not just around his gut.

Because even at that point, food baby or not, that was what it was.

It was a gut. There was no point denying that.

That had been a week ago. His first week in the cell.

And now, his body had well and truly adapted to its large influx and intake of high-quality food.

His stomach aches grew less and less painful and noticeable and Peter had found himself easier to relax and put himself at ease.

He found himself becoming slower in general.

His steps were no longer slow because he was cautious. Now he just took it easy out of a slowly formed habit of laziness.

He had no need to rush. So he didn't. He had nowhere to go, so when he did go somewhere in his restricted space or did something, he did it a lot slower than before.

Lethargic was not something Peter would use to describe himself as before. But the longer he found himself enjoying his First Class stay at Rikers Island Penetetriary's Luxury Isolation Cell, the more he felt lethargy settle in.

And the more lethargic and lazy he became, the more he enjoyed his cell.

For about the first half of his first week there, Peter had made it a habit to wander around his cell when he wasn't eating or sleeping.

Something to keep himself going.

But the heavier he got, the slower he got. And the slower he got, the lazier he got. That, of course, led to him getting fatter faster, which lead to him getting heavier faster. And the heavier he got, the less inclined he was to take his short little walks across his cell.

At the start of his stay, Peter had used most of the facilities in the cell at least once or twice every day.

He cataloged his days and sent them to James. He observed the prisoners that were less fortunate than him.

Peter had even talked about trying to see if he could escape the supposedly inescapable cell with The Warden and was informed about that procedure.

It sounded interesting.

But so far, Peter still hadn't given that task a try.

And now?

Now that he had put on a good bit of weight, a weight that was packing on even quicker now that lethargy and laziness had settled into his mind, Peter mostly spent his days at four places.

His bed, the sofa, the toilet and the work desk.

With him going to the toilet the least, then the work desk. He mostly did that just to get the cataloging of his activities done and over with.

Both he and James had noticed that his daily journals were starting to sound very similar to one another.

And he had only been in the cell for a little bit over two weeks already!

Once he was done with the journals, Peter returned to one of his two favorite places in the cell.

The sofa, where he spent most of his days now either watching crime dramas or playing crime and police-related video games.

Or he was just lazing about on the bed.

He could spend hours at either place, just watching Tv, playing games or just lying on his heavenly bed in a lazy haze of lethargy.

But as he struggled to close his uniform jacket over his large, round, wobbling gut, a task that was getting harder and harder every day, Peter wondered how long his jacket was going to last.

The way the material stretched and the zipper almost creaked when he forced the zipper up over his growing gut, Peter did not think it was going to last that long.

He let out a groan and sucked in his growing belly as best he could to make it easier for the zipper to make it past the globe that was his gut.

Then, the moment that the zipper was past the peak of his belly, the task of getting it where he wanted it to be, a little over half of the way down his upper torso, was a lot easier than getting it past his belly button.

And once he had finally managed to close the zipper, he let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a groan when he felt the fabric of his uniform strain and stretch outward as it was pushed forward by his gut beneath it.

He heard the creak of the fabric and the faint groan of the zipper that battled against the incoming force beneath it to keep the two halves of his uniform together. Even as it was apparent that it was a losing battle on the zippers parts.

Peter had barely even let out his belly again after having put on his full uniform before he felt the tank top he was wearing beneath the jacket slip its way out of his pants and up over his belly.

It didn't move far past up his waist, but once he stopped sucking in his undeniable gut, his tank top went past his waist and stayed there for the rest of the day.

That was another indicator to Peter that he was getting too big for his clothes.

His tank top would not stop moving up his belly whenever he stopped sucking it in.

And even then, keeping it past his waist and tucked into his pants was a struggle that just like the jacket was getting harder and harder to accomplish with every passing day.

But even so, Peter didn't find himself with any kind of inclination to hit the gym that was provided for him in the cell. Even if he was well aware that all of his continued struggle with ever-increasing wardrobe malfunctions was directly related to him packing on more and more pounds by the day.

He just didn't care at the moment.

The clothes that he had been provided with two weeks still fit him. If barely.

But now, it wasn't because they were too big for him.

Rather, it was the opposite.

He was getting too big for them.

And somewhere in his lethargy filled mind, Peter found that fact funny enough to keep the clothes as they were and continue growing in them instead of simply asking The Warden about getting some new measurements and some clothes that matched those measurements.

He just didn't want to do that at the moment.

No matter how frustrating it was that his clothes didn't fit him and refused to stay in place anymore.

Peter guessed that somewhere in his spoiled mind, there was a part of him that wanted to see just how long his uniform would last against his increasing girth.

It didn't even last until the end of the week.

Peter was enjoying his lunch when it happened.

He was in the middle of enjoying another hamburger lunch when the zipper broke right above his belly.

There were a snap and a crack, and then Peter felt his shirt rise above his belly button as air rushed across the soft skin of his gut.

And the moment that the zipper broke above his belly button, a good chunk of the rest of the zipper followed.

The sound of the teeth of the zipper splitting apart tore through the air for a moment as more of his shirt was exposed and more of his belly jutted forward a couple of inches to take up the space that was just vacated by the tightly fitting uniform.

Peter didn't even notice any of it happening. He barely heard the sound of the zipper breaking over the sound of his own chewing and the sounds on the TV. Nor did he really notice or care when he felt his shirt slip even further up his gut as the zipper of his uniform finally broke.

He was to busy enjoying his lunch to either notice or care about his clothes losing the battle with his gut and his belly claiming more space to take up as its prize for victory.

Instead, he just kept on chewing through his latest burger, his third still in hand and a can of coke that came with the burger lunches.

The variants were chicken, beef, and vegetarian, mixed with different kinds of fries and different kinds of drinks. And Peter was fully engaged in enjoying them as best as he could.

He must have been doing a good job at enjoying himself if he didn't even notice that the zipper on his jacket was practically busted until he had finished his 9 meal lunch.

By that point, the rift in the zipper had only gotten bigger and his tank top had only risen further up his belly.

And he didn't really care about it.

Instead, he only patted his stuffed gut, eliciting a belch from himself that echoed through the vast cell before called The Warden with the Cell Remote to have the guards take out the dishes from the cell.

It was as he was watching two guards take care of his dishes while he was standing a bit away from the table, his hands cuffed behind his back and with a guard on either side of him that he inspected the damage his expanding waistline had done to his uniform.

His uniform jacket was almost completely open. The rift in the zipper went from right past the very bottom of the jacket to about halfway up his gut. With his tank top near the still tightly strained fabric nearly completely exposed where it rested a good way up his gut beyond his belly button.

Thanks to the breaking of the zipper that helped constrain his growing gut within the uniform, his already sizeable belly jutted out even further then it did before the day's lunch.

Peter doubted that even if he sucked in his gut, he wouldn't get the zipper to close again. Both due to the state of the zipper itself and the size of his belly at this point.

He mentally shrugged at the thought.

There really wasn't any point in even trying to fight the zipper anymore if it had already started losing its battle with his belly. So he wasn't going to.

Besides, at the rate that he was going in at the moment, there really wasn't any point in stopping his expanding waistline anymore.

The fact that the zipper on the uniform broke only solidified the fact to Peter that he was going to grow out of his current uniform a lot sooner then he thought.

As he looked down at his expansive gut, Peter genuinely wondered how long the rest of his uniform was going to last if the zipper had already started to give.

It turned out that the remainder of the zipper only lasted about a week after the zipper first began to break.

Peter didn't know that it would be the case that day as he had spent the entirety of noon in nothing more than his underwear and tank top and only got dressed after lunch.

And when he did, he found his daily struggle with the upper part of his uniform jacket to be even greater then it had been for the last few days.

Since the zipper broke about a week ago, Peter had stopped even trying to get the zipper to close over his gut, so instead, he kept his focus on the upper part of the jacket, beyond his growing gut.

Getting the zipper to close downward instead of upward was already a finagling struggle, but it was only made more and more difficult as the area beneath it only got bigger and wider by the day.

He had not accounted that the rest of him would expand and get bigger together with his growing gut.

So he was caught a bit off-guard when his growing and widening chest started causing resistance against the zipper thanks to his slowly sagging pecks.

The thought that he was now too big to even hope of getting the jacket to close crossed his mind as he struggled with the upper parts of his uniform and when it did, he stopped struggling with the jacket.

- Seems as if I am too big for this now. Peter said to no one with himself with a sigh as he let go of his jacket.

Peter let out a breath of air as he started to wind down from the struggle, only for the button on his pants to come flying off with a resounding PLICK! that shot through the silence in the cell like a gunshot.

A lot of things happened all at once when the pants button lost its fight against his growing girth and was sent flying across the expansive cell.

His gut jutted forward as his uniform jacket parted ways even further and parted even further as his sleeveless tank top rocketed up across his gut.

All while his gut raced forward, quickly expanding and filling up and going outward in every direction that his pants continued resistance had kept it from going before.

Peter blinked at the sound of the button shooting of the waist like a bullet.

But the moment that the button lost the battle against his growing girth, Peter felt some of the tightness that had plagued him for the last week leave his body as his whole body bloated forward and outward. Taking on an even rounder and softer shape than before. And his gut was already pretty round and soft looking before.

Even if the lack of the last button led to his busted pants to sag down his thighs a bit.

The release from tightness that had plagued his waist for weeks led to the Peter keeping his eyes closed when he blinked as the relief from the lack of tightness and tension over the majority of his body washed over him.

But after a few moments of close-eyed content at the feeling of some cool, ventilated air hitting his soft and exposed flesh, Peter opened his eyes and inspected his body.

Now that it wasn't constricted by either the tight and quite obviously outgrown uniform that had strained and struggled to contain his newfound girth for weeks. Or his equally outgrown pants that had struggled to hold it back for just as long.

With both of those factors gone, Peter guessed that his gut would look a bit different from what it did just a few moments ago.

He braced himself for opening his eyes as he lowered his head down towards his chest. Then he opened his eyes and saw the damage he had done to his body through his own laziness and complacency, coupled with his new diet.

His gut didn't look that different from before in his opinion.

It jutted out a bit further then it did before now. With the sphere of round, soft flesh extending past the waistline of his blue and red underwear by several good inches.

Peter estimated that at the peak of its curve, his gut now hung roughly around 10 to 15 inches past his waist. Or at the least, 5 inches.

It was kind of hard to tell by looking at it alone just how much of it hung over his waist.

All that Peter knew that it was enough to conceal the rim of his underwear from his sight all by itself.

In fact, he couldn't even see his feet beyond the peak of his now unrestrained gut.

His white, sleeveless shirt, now completely free from any sort of restraints, be it the uniform or the size of his belly, had slipped several good inches up his gut and now rested halfway up his torso and now only covering about 1 third of his rounded stomach.

Peter could probably pull and yank at the bottom of his shirt where it rested on top of his belly all he wanted, but he doubted that it would do both himself and his shirt any good.

His shirt would probably not even be able to cover another inch of his exposed belly, no matter how hard he tried to get it to cover even the smallest of inches beyond the place where it had now settled itself at the top of his gut.

And he doubted that it would budge from its perch, no matter what he did.

Which left almost all of his gut completely exposed.

There was more of him that was exposed then it was covered by the shirt.

Peter had no doubt that he would have come off looking like a slob to anyone who had seen him if he wasn't wearing his prisoner outfit over his now exposed underwear and shirt.

What with the size of his belly and how much of it that was currently exposed.

As well as the way his shirt was placed over it.

The longer he looked at all of the rounded, soft looking flesh that was his gut that had been exposed by his outgrown uniform, the more the fact that he had grown well and truly fat settled into his mind.

He had only been in the Luxury Isolation Cell for barely a month.

And he was this fat already!

Peter almost didn't think about how fat he would be by the end of his 4 months stay in the Luxury Isolation Cell if he was this fat already.

Almost.

Peter raised his right hand from his sides as those thoughts raced through his mind.

Yes. He was fat.

But the question that now surged through his head was "Just how fat am I?"

Peter looked down at his gut, studying it intently as he raised his right hand to the top of his gut and curled in the rest of his fingers beyond his index finger.

And then he poked his belly.

His finger sunk into it as if his gut was a soft pillow.

He was fat.

- Whoa! Prison food sure is fattening... Peter said to himself as he poked himself in the gut and felt the fat skin form around and beneath his finger again.

It jiggled from the motion as his finger sunk deeper into the soft, doughy mass.

There was no argument to be had right now.

The proof was right there before him.

On him.

In the shape of a big, round, sphere of soft, jiggly and squishy fat.

Then he poked his gut a third time just to drive the point home to himself.

Yes.

He was most definitely fat.

Some would probably say that his gut wasn't a pretty sight.

That Peter should be ashamed of himself for having let himself go as badly as he had.

But Peter had honestly expected himself to be bigger by this point.

Then he shrugged to himself as he stopped playing with his exposed belly.

He gave himself a week or so until he was at the size he thought he was going to be when he would be too big for his uniform.

But first, he had a more pressing matter to take care of beyond his own expectations about himself.

He walked up to the table, picked up the Cell Remote and contacted The Warden.

The Warden was sitting in his chair in the center of the Prison Observation Room when his Luxury Cell Master Remote crackled to life, drawing his attention away from the various cell blocks that they had surveillance inside the room off. And to the cell block that only has surveillance outside the cells instead of outside of them.

Cell Block 11 and the only occupied cell within that block. Cell 11-A and its lone occupant: Peter Parker.

- Um......Warden? Peter's uncertain and slightly embarrassed voice crackled through the speaker of The Warden's Luxury Cell Master Remote.
- Yes, what is it, Peter? The Warden asked good-naturedly as he could manage while still keeping an eye on the prisoners that were still milling about the compound instead of being outside in the courtyard.
- I think I need a new uniform......Peter continued with an uncertain his voice.
- And why is that, Peter? The Warden asked as he motioned to have a few guards send the last strangling prisoners out to the courtyard.
He knew the reason why Peter would need a new uniform. And he suspected that Peter knew that he knew it too. He just wanted to hear him say it.
And the fact that Peter needed a new uniform this early in his stay in the Luxury Isolation Cell made him very happy with himself.
- It's too small for me..... I have outgrown it. I can't even get the jacket to close anymore. And my pants are busted as well. Peter said with obvious embarrassment in his voice as The Warden smiled to himself.
- Alright then. I'll send a set of guards up to your cell and have them escort you back to the fitting room so that you can be outfitted with a fitting uniform.
- An escort? Is that really necessary? Peter asked, confusion and hesitation clear in his voice.
- Why yes of course it is, Peter! The Warden answered loudly and exuberantly.
- We cannot allow you to just wander through the prison to the outfitting room. After all, you are a flight risk prisoner, so we can't have you attempt to escape the moment that you are let out of your cell. The Warden elaborated once he had reeled in the laughter that was bubbling up through his chest.
Peter really was the right kind of person for the experiment.
- Oh....Okay then.....Peter said in a befuddled and slightly confused voice as he swallowed The Warden's words hook, line and sinker.
- How long will it take for the escort to get here? Peter asked after another short break in their conversation.
- Not that long. It's easier for the personnel to move through this place then it is for the prisoners. The Warden answered easily before he shook his head to throw away the tangent.
- You might as well prepare yourself by going to your usual spot for whenever guards enter your cell. The Warden continued barely a moment later.
- Okay. I'll do that....But they better not be too long. Peter finished with an accepting, yet demanding voice at the end before he hung up before The Warden had a chance to respond.

The moment that Peter hung up, The Warden pulled the Luxury Cell Master Remote away from his ear before he strode forward and delegated the task of sending six officers up to Cell 11-A to escort Peter down to the fitting room to one of the communication officers. Then, while that happened, he delegated the task of informing the Fitting & Mugshot office that they would have a prisoner with an outgrown uniform incoming shortly and therefore prepare accordingly to another communication officer.

Once he was done with that, The Warden returned to his seat and sat down with a tired sigh as he watched his orders being followed while he started returning his eyes to the corridors of the prison that appeared on the security screens.

But not a moment later, his phone, that was currently resting in his pocket, started ringing.
Picking it up while straightening his back, The Warden took one look at the caller's number before it clicked in his head who it was and answered the call immediately once he knew who it was.
- Mister Jameson. What pray tell, do I owe you the honor of getting a call from a man such as yourself? The Warden answered in both a humorous and sarcastic voice.
- Cut the smarmy crap, you hear me. And answer me this instead. What in all the pits of hell are you feeding my employee? Peter has been writing more and more about what he was served for lunch and then anything else. He seems downright enamored with whatever you are feeding him. And that is what I want you to tell me. What are you doing to my employee? He's only been in your care for less than a month, and he already seems to be more spoiled than the son of Norman Osborn or some other successful business man's snot-nosed brat. I'll ask again, just what are you doing to Peter? Recently, he has started remarking how tight his clothes have become recently in his journals. And while I knew that he would probably put on a couple of pounds while living a life of luxury, I was not expecting it for it to be that obvious to him already. He has been in the cell for less than a month for crying out loud! No matter how much good food you feed him, he shouldn't be writing about growing out of his uniform until at the latest Month 3 in this whole ordeal. So you better tell me what the whole deal with this is or I will come to you and personally pull Peter out of that cell faster then you can say my name! You hear me?! So start talking! Tell me the how of the why Peter wrote about not being able to close his jacket and busting his pants this early? You got me?! James Jonah Jameson practically yelled into The Warden's ear loud enough for his whole monologue to be heard over the whole Prison Observation Room.
- Easy there Jameson, easy. Or you might come across as actually caring for your worker's well being. The Warden replied with a good-natured chuckle in his voice once James had finished his rapid-fire monologue.
- Of course, I care about the well being of my employees. Any good boss does. Especially if they can sue you for all your worth. Jameson fired back with a heated voice filled to the brim with irritation.
- Now cut the bullcrap and answer my question. What are you feeding Peter? Why has he gained so much weight so fast? Jameson continued before The Warden had a chance to say anything else.
- Easy. The first class food we are giving him is not first class food. The Warden answered simply, a small smile on his face.
- What? Jameson answered in a stumped voice after a long moment.
- The food we are giving Peter is basically just glorified fast food. It's made just as cheaply as it. If not more. The Warden continued easily.
- Why? I thought that there weren't going to be any cost-cutting measures in the cell. Or the treatment of its prisoner. Jameson continued, his voice sounding rough and hard.
- Jameson. I am running a high risk, top of the notch security prison, housing hundreds of some of the worst and most dangerous criminals that have ever plagued New York City. And even though The Luxury Isolation Cell is proving itself to be a worthwhile investment, it was and still is a very costly investment that we need to make back to actually profit from it. And making counter fit first class food is one of our cost-cutting measures for the cell. The Warden explained conversationally.
He heard James make a loud, growl like groan on the other end of the phone after his explanation.
- So......You are telling me that my employee is basically eating glorified fat made to look pretty? Jameson said with a tired and frustrated voice that had definitively taken a hostile tone towards The Warden.
- Yes. The Warden answered with a quirk of his lips.
- Peter is basically stuffing himself silly with empty cholesterol and carbs dressed up as the food for kings. It will fill him up enough to make him feel full, while in actuality only filling him up enough to still want more, no matter how much he has eaten. The Warden explained casually.
- Okay......So....You are making Peter fat. But even as a cost-cutting measure, making food that is deliberately made to be as fattening as possible, no matter how cheaply it is made, would still cost a pretty penny to add to the bill of the Luxury Isolation Cell. And if you want to be as cheap about that cell as you made yourself sound to be, then you could have just fed Peter the same food as the rest of the prisoners. But instead, you are giving him food that is made to make him as fat as possible. Which tell me that even if it is cheap, that you have another reason behind that decision. Jameson fired off after a moments thought.
And before The Warden had a chance to answer him, Jameson continued.
- You told me that Peter would partake in an experiment while inside the cell. I am guessing that it has something to do with that? Jameson finished firmly as The Warden smiled at his words.
- Yes. That is right. That is a part of the experiment that Peter is unknowingly and unwittingly partaking in. The Warden explained with a pleased sounding voice.
- And what kind of experiment is that? Jameson asked, sounding as if he already had a good guess of just what kind of experiment that he had signed Peter up for.
- Easy. Whether or not treating our prisoners well and spoiling them will make them more docile and complacent. And whether that kind of treatment lowers the risks of them attempting to escape. As well as whether or not making them to fat to do much else then laze around in their cell helps any of the former causes. That and whether an increase in their weight and increase in complacency lowers the risks of prisoners even attempting to rebel against us during their stay here. The Warden explained breezily.
- And so far, the experiment is going very well as Peter has been nothing if not docile, complacent and compliant during his stay here. He's been here for about a month now and so far, he's been too preoccupied stuffing his mouth with food and enjoying his stay in the cell to even seem to consider attempting to rebel or escape from his cell. Ever since he started putting on weight, he has been nothing if not an explementary prisoner. The Warden finished with a proud and triumphant voice.
- Sounds to me as if you are already considering the experiment a success. Jameson said in a low, dark voice, sounding as if he wanted nothing more then go to Rikers Island and pull Peter out of the cell then and there.
- Yes. The Warden replied easily with a click of his tongue.
Then his smile widened.
- But it isn't until he actually tries to escape and we see whether or not his increased size makes it easier to either stop him in his escape or make it easier for us to recapture him if he does manage to escape that I would call the experiment a success. The Warden explained easily as he heard Jameson bite back a growl from his side of the phone.
- Either that or if he admits that the thought of escape never crossed his mind while he was in the cell when we let him out. The Warden finished with a proud smile as he thought of all the parameters for both success or failure of the experiment that he had set up for the experiment.
So far, most of the boxes for the experiment being a success had already been ticked off.
And it had barely been a month since the experiment began.

A silence followed The Warden's words that stretched out long enough for The Warden to start worrying if he had stepped on too many of Jameson's toes to be allowed to keep Peter in his facility for the remainder of the experiments time.

Then Jameson spoke up again.

- Okay. One last question. If the food is basically just glorified fat, then how come Peter is eating so much of it in one sitting? And not just a lot of it, but every bit of it at that? If the food was just fat, then he should be full after just one of your tasters. But instead, he finishes all of your tasters, main meals, and desserts. How does that work? Jameson asked with an impatient voice, clearly done with The Warden's bullshit.
- Oh, that is easy to answer Jameson! The Warden exclaimed jovially.
- So answer me then. Jameson responded dryly.
- The food is not as filling as you think it is. The Warden continued with an amused and gleeful smile on his face as he answered.
- What?! Jameson exclaimed from his end, only for The Warden to explain further.
- You are right in thinking that if the food that we are feeding your employee was made out of pure fat, that he wouldn't be capable of stomaching everything that we are feeding him. But the food has been made to account for that and are in fact been tailored to increase Peter's consumption of food. The Warden started as he heard Jameson's teeth click on the other end.
- While one of our Tasters are as fattening for Peter as a regular three-course meal, it is only as filling as eating half of the dish that it actually is. The Main Courses remain are about 1 and a half times more fattening for Peter as the Tasters, while being only one third as filling as the meals are supposed to be. While the Desserts are about twice as fattening for him, while only being about a quarter as filling as the regular treat is meant to be. The Warden continued, a satisfied purr filling his voice as he sunk into his chair like a corrupt autocrat on his throne.
- Basically, Jameson, Peter could eat and eat and eat to his very heart's content, but he would never feel completely full and always feel some niggling sense of hunger left in him. No matter how often or how much he ate at every opportunity. He will always feel like there was enough room for more and that he could always have another bite. Regardless if he has become addicted to our food or not. The Warden finished with a twisted smile on his face.
- You deserve to serve a sentence in your own prison. Jameson said in a voice that was as far from jovial, friendly or calm that The Warden had ever heard him speak with.

And then he hung up.

To Be Continued.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!

And so, the secret behind Peter's rapid gain and the prison's motives behind The Luxury Isolation Cell Experiment has been revealed.

Now, for those that are disappointed in me for revealing this as early as I am, I have only one thing to say to you:

If you didn't want the magic explained, you shouldn't have complained about the magic not being explained.

Either way, with that bit out of the way (just saying that because it is appropriate, I was going to reveal that fact early regardless if people wanted it or not), this part is finished.

And with it, Peter's first month in The Luxury Isolation Cell is nearly over.

Next Part, Part 4, which is going to take place IMMEDIATELY after this will mark the end of Peter's first month in the Luxury Isolation Cell.

This part, just like the rest of the story is based on my Patreon request for this month by the ever wonderful and amazing artist:

Part 4: New Measurements: Coming in May.

Update 2018/04/13: Changed one word. Can you find out which word it was?

Update 2018/04/14: Corrected James' names to Jameson.

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.

Description
Peter knew that he was going to put on weight during his four-month stay in the luxurious isolation cell.

He just didn't expect that it would catch up to him as quickly as it did.

It had only been a little over two weeks since he was first incarcerated and he had already run into a key sign that all the top quality food he was eating on a regular basis was having a negative effect on his figure.

He was suffering from daily wardrobe malfunctions.

His uniform had already felt rather tight on just his second day in the cell. And it had only gotten tighter as the big food baby he had hauled around that day had gotten softer as the food inside was digested and turned into fat.

Fat that had made its way over his whole body.

It had been a process that started on his second day, but one he didn't start to take notice off until he started feeling heavier overall.

One day during his first week, he went to bed with a heavy and aching belly. Stuffed to the brim, but the ache at the end of that day was nothing compared to the tummy ache he felt at the end of his first and second day in the cell.

Peter had no doubt that it was probably because he was not only eating so much that he had an aching belly for most of the day, but also the fact that he and his stomach was slowly getting used to the ache and the feeling of being stuffed.

He had little doubt that it was the reason for his current situation.

He was getting fat.

And he was getting fatter by the day if the fact that he his uniform strained more and more to contain his growing belly every day was anything to go by. Which it was.

The fact was that he was growing out of his uniform and his uniform struggled to contain his growing body as he kept gaining weight.

He was gaining fat because he was getting used to his new lifestyle.

And that fact was not only obviously apparent for anyone and everyone to see but had made itself known to Peter in the way of making his uniform's hold on him ever tighter by the day.

There was no doubt in his mind that the reason why it had taken until now for the fact that he was getting well and properly fat during his time cooped up in the luxury cell was the fact that the transition between a constantly stuffed, rock hard food baby and a round, soft gut of fat, was a gradual one.

He kept eating the same amount of food that he was given every day. And he finished every part of it. Down to the last plate. Every day. So no matter what, he was always stuffed and his belly always felt hard because of all the food in it.

But over the course of his stay in the cell, there had been more and more soft and squishy flesh and fat over his solid globe of a stuffed gut.

The weight kind of crept up on him and Peter only really started paying attention to his changing body when he noticed that his food baby was seemingly getting softer and bigger as his uniform was getting tighter all over his body. Not just around his gut.

Because even at that point, food baby or not, that was what it was.

It was a gut. There was no point denying that.

That had been a week ago. His first week in the cell.

And now, his body had well and truly adapted to its large influx and intake of high-quality food.

His stomach aches grew less and less painful and noticeable and Peter had found himself easier to relax and put himself at ease.

He found himself becoming slower in general.

His steps were no longer slow because he was cautious. Now he just took it easy out of a slowly formed habit of laziness.

He had no need to rush. So he didn't. He had nowhere to go, so when he did go somewhere in his restricted space or did something, he did it a lot slower than before.

Lethargic was not something Peter would use to describe himself as before. But the longer he found himself enjoying his First Class stay at Rikers Island Penetetriary's Luxury Isolation Cell, the more he felt lethargy settle in.

And the more lethargic and lazy he became, the more he enjoyed his cell.

For about the first half of his first week there, Peter had made it a habit to wander around his cell when he wasn't eating or sleeping.

Something to keep himself going.

But the heavier he got, the slower he got. And the slower he got, the lazier he got. That, of course, led to him getting fatter faster, which lead to him getting heavier faster. And the heavier he got, the less inclined he was to take his short little walks across his cell.

At the start of his stay, Peter had used most of the facilities in the cell at least once or twice every day.

He cataloged his days and sent them to James. He observed the prisoners that were less fortunate than him.

Peter had even talked about trying to see if he could escape the supposedly inescapable cell with The Warden and was informed about that procedure.

It sounded interesting.

But so far, Peter still hadn't given that task a try.

And now?

Now that he had put on a good bit of weight, a weight that was packing on even quicker now that lethargy and laziness had settled into his mind, Peter mostly spent his days at four places.

His bed, the sofa, the toilet and the work desk.

With him going to the toilet the least, then the work desk. He mostly did that just to get the cataloging of his activities done and over with.

Both he and James had noticed that his daily journals were starting to sound very similar to one another.

And he had only been in the cell for a little bit over two weeks already!

Once he was done with the journals, Peter returned to one of his two favorite places in the cell.

The sofa, where he spent most of his days now either watching crime dramas or playing crime and police-related video games.

Or he was just lazing about on the bed.

He could spend hours at either place, just watching Tv, playing games or just lying on his heavenly bed in a lazy haze of lethargy.

But as he struggled to close his uniform jacket over his large, round, wobbling gut, a task that was getting harder and harder every day, Peter wondered how long his jacket was going to last.

The way the material stretched and the zipper almost creaked when he forced the zipper up over his growing gut, Peter did not think it was going to last that long.

He let out a groan and sucked in his growing belly as best he could to make it easier for the zipper to make it past the globe that was his gut.

Then, the moment that the zipper was past the peak of his belly, the task of getting it where he wanted it to be, a little over half of the way down his upper torso, was a lot easier than getting it past his belly button.

And once he had finally managed to close the zipper, he let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a groan when he felt the fabric of his uniform strain and stretch outward as it was pushed forward by his gut beneath it.

He heard the creak of the fabric and the faint groan of the zipper that battled against the incoming force beneath it to keep the two halves of his uniform together. Even as it was apparent that it was a losing battle on the zippers parts.

Peter had barely even let out his belly again after having put on his full uniform before he felt the tank top he was wearing beneath the jacket slip its way out of his pants and up over his belly.

It didn't move far past up his waist, but once he stopped sucking in his undeniable gut, his tank top went past his waist and stayed there for the rest of the day.

That was another indicator to Peter that he was getting too big for his clothes.

His tank top would not stop moving up his belly whenever he stopped sucking it in.

And even then, keeping it past his waist and tucked into his pants was a struggle that just like the jacket was getting harder and harder to accomplish with every passing day.

But even so, Peter didn't find himself with any kind of inclination to hit the gym that was provided for him in the cell. Even if he was well aware that all of his continued struggle with ever-increasing wardrobe malfunctions was directly related to him packing on more and more pounds by the day.

He just didn't care at the moment.

The clothes that he had been provided with two weeks still fit him. If barely.

But now, it wasn't because they were too big for him.

Rather, it was the opposite.

He was getting too big for them.

And somewhere in his lethargy filled mind, Peter found that fact funny enough to keep the clothes as they were and continue growing in them instead of simply asking The Warden about getting some new measurements and some clothes that matched those measurements.

He just didn't want to do that at the moment.

No matter how frustrating it was that his clothes didn't fit him and refused to stay in place anymore.

Peter guessed that somewhere in his spoiled mind, there was a part of him that wanted to see just how long his uniform would last against his increasing girth.

It didn't even last until the end of the week.

Peter was enjoying his lunch when it happened.

He was in the middle of enjoying another hamburger lunch when the zipper broke right above his belly.

There were a snap and a crack, and then Peter felt his shirt rise above his belly button as air rushed across the soft skin of his gut.

And the moment that the zipper broke above his belly button, a good chunk of the rest of the zipper followed.

The sound of the teeth of the zipper splitting apart tore through the air for a moment as more of his shirt was exposed and more of his belly jutted forward a couple of inches to take up the space that was just vacated by the tightly fitting uniform.

Peter didn't even notice any of it happening. He barely heard the sound of the zipper breaking over the sound of his own chewing and the sounds on the TV. Nor did he really notice or care when he felt his shirt slip even further up his gut as the zipper of his uniform finally broke.

He was to busy enjoying his lunch to either notice or care about his clothes losing the battle with his gut and his belly claiming more space to take up as its prize for victory.

Instead, he just kept on chewing through his latest burger, his third still in hand and a can of coke that came with the burger lunches.

The variants were chicken, beef, and vegetarian, mixed with different kinds of fries and different kinds of drinks. And Peter was fully engaged in enjoying them as best as he could.

He must have been doing a good job at enjoying himself if he didn't even notice that the zipper on his jacket was practically busted until he had finished his 9 meal lunch.

By that point, the rift in the zipper had only gotten bigger and his tank top had only risen further up his belly.

And he didn't really care about it.

Instead, he only patted his stuffed gut, eliciting a belch from himself that echoed through the vast cell before called The Warden with the Cell Remote to have the guards take out the dishes from the cell.

It was as he was watching two guards take care of his dishes while he was standing a bit away from the table, his hands cuffed behind his back and with a guard on either side of him that he inspected the damage his expanding waistline had done to his uniform.

His uniform jacket was almost completely open. The rift in the zipper went from right past the very bottom of the jacket to about halfway up his gut. With his tank top near the still tightly strained fabric nearly completely exposed where it rested a good way up his gut beyond his belly button.

Thanks to the breaking of the zipper that helped constrain his growing gut within the uniform, his already sizeable belly jutted out even further then it did before the day's lunch.

Peter doubted that even if he sucked in his gut, he wouldn't get the zipper to close again. Both due to the state of the zipper itself and the size of his belly at this point.

He mentally shrugged at the thought.

There really wasn't any point in even trying to fight the zipper anymore if it had already started losing its battle with his belly. So he wasn't going to.

Besides, at the rate that he was going in at the moment, there really wasn't any point in stopping his expanding waistline anymore.

The fact that the zipper on the uniform broke only solidified the fact to Peter that he was going to grow out of his current uniform a lot sooner then he thought.

As he looked down at his expansive gut, Peter genuinely wondered how long the rest of his uniform was going to last if the zipper had already started to give.

It turned out that the remainder of the zipper only lasted about a week after the zipper first began to break.

Peter didn't know that it would be the case that day as he had spent the entirety of noon in nothing more than his underwear and tank top and only got dressed after lunch.

And when he did, he found his daily struggle with the upper part of his uniform jacket to be even greater then it had been for the last few days.

Since the zipper broke about a week ago, Peter had stopped even trying to get the zipper to close over his gut, so instead, he kept his focus on the upper part of the jacket, beyond his growing gut.

Getting the zipper to close downward instead of upward was already a finagling struggle, but it was only made more and more difficult as the area beneath it only got bigger and wider by the day.

He had not accounted that the rest of him would expand and get bigger together with his growing gut.

So he was caught a bit off-guard when his growing and widening chest started causing resistance against the zipper thanks to his slowly sagging pecks.

The thought that he was now too big to even hope of getting the jacket to close crossed his mind as he struggled with the upper parts of his uniform and when it did, he stopped struggling with the jacket.

- Seems as if I am too big for this now. Peter said to no one with himself with a sigh as he let go of his jacket.

Peter let out a breath of air as he started to wind down from the struggle, only for the button on his pants to come flying off with a resounding PLICK! that shot through the silence in the cell like a gunshot.

A lot of things happened all at once when the pants button lost its fight against his growing girth and was sent flying across the expansive cell.

His gut jutted forward as his uniform jacket parted ways even further and parted even further as his sleeveless tank top rocketed up across his gut.

All while his gut raced forward, quickly expanding and filling up and going outward in every direction that his pants continued resistance had kept it from going before.

Peter blinked at the sound of the button shooting of the waist like a bullet.

But the moment that the button lost the battle against his growing girth, Peter felt some of the tightness that had plagued him for the last week leave his body as his whole body bloated forward and outward. Taking on an even rounder and softer shape than before. And his gut was already pretty round and soft looking before.

Even if the lack of the last button led to his busted pants to sag down his thighs a bit.

The release from tightness that had plagued his waist for weeks led to the Peter keeping his eyes closed when he blinked as the relief from the lack of tightness and tension over the majority of his body washed over him.

But after a few moments of close-eyed content at the feeling of some cool, ventilated air hitting his soft and exposed flesh, Peter opened his eyes and inspected his body.

Now that it wasn't constricted by either the tight and quite obviously outgrown uniform that had strained and struggled to contain his newfound girth for weeks. Or his equally outgrown pants that had struggled to hold it back for just as long.

With both of those factors gone, Peter guessed that his gut would look a bit different from what it did just a few moments ago.

He braced himself for opening his eyes as he lowered his head down towards his chest. Then he opened his eyes and saw the damage he had done to his body through his own laziness and complacency, coupled with his new diet.

His gut didn't look that different from before in his opinion.

It jutted out a bit further then it did before now. With the sphere of round, soft flesh extending past the waistline of his blue and red underwear by several good inches.

Peter estimated that at the peak of its curve, his gut now hung roughly around 10 to 15 inches past his waist. Or at the least, 5 inches.

It was kind of hard to tell by looking at it alone just how much of it hung over his waist.

All that Peter knew that it was enough to conceal the rim of his underwear from his sight all by itself.

In fact, he couldn't even see his feet beyond the peak of his now unrestrained gut.

His white, sleeveless shirt, now completely free from any sort of restraints, be it the uniform or the size of his belly, had slipped several good inches up his gut and now rested halfway up his torso and now only covering about 1 third of his rounded stomach.

Peter could probably pull and yank at the bottom of his shirt where it rested on top of his belly all he wanted, but he doubted that it would do both himself and his shirt any good.

His shirt would probably not even be able to cover another inch of his exposed belly, no matter how hard he tried to get it to cover even the smallest of inches beyond the place where it had now settled itself at the top of his gut.

And he doubted that it would budge from its perch, no matter what he did.

Which left almost all of his gut completely exposed.

There was more of him that was exposed then it was covered by the shirt.

Peter had no doubt that he would have come off looking like a slob to anyone who had seen him if he wasn't wearing his prisoner outfit over his now exposed underwear and shirt.

What with the size of his belly and how much of it that was currently exposed.

As well as the way his shirt was placed over it.

The longer he looked at all of the rounded, soft looking flesh that was his gut that had been exposed by his outgrown uniform, the more the fact that he had grown well and truly fat settled into his mind.

He had only been in the Luxury Isolation Cell for barely a month.

And he was this fat already!

Peter almost didn't think about how fat he would be by the end of his 4 months stay in the Luxury Isolation Cell if he was this fat already.

Almost.

Peter raised his right hand from his sides as those thoughts raced through his mind.

Yes. He was fat.

But the question that now surged through his head was "Just how fat am I?"

Peter looked down at his gut, studying it intently as he raised his right hand to the top of his gut and curled in the rest of his fingers beyond his index finger.

And then he poked his belly.

His finger sunk into it as if his gut was a soft pillow.

He was fat.

- Whoa! Prison food sure is fattening... Peter said to himself as he poked himself in the gut and felt the fat skin form around and beneath his finger again.

It jiggled from the motion as his finger sunk deeper into the soft, doughy mass.

There was no argument to be had right now.

The proof was right there before him.

On him.

In the shape of a big, round, sphere of soft, jiggly and squishy fat.

Then he poked his gut a third time just to drive the point home to himself.

Yes.

He was most definitely fat.

Some would probably say that his gut wasn't a pretty sight.

That Peter should be ashamed of himself for having let himself go as badly as he had.

But Peter had honestly expected himself to be bigger by this point.

Then he shrugged to himself as he stopped playing with his exposed belly.

He gave himself a week or so until he was at the size he thought he was going to be when he would be too big for his uniform.

But first, he had a more pressing matter to take care of beyond his own expectations about himself.

He walked up to the table, picked up the Cell Remote and contacted The Warden.

The Warden was sitting in his chair in the center of the Prison Observation Room when his Luxury Cell Master Remote crackled to life, drawing his attention away from the various cell blocks that they had surveillance inside the room off. And to the cell block that only has surveillance outside the cells instead of outside of them.

Cell Block 11 and the only occupied cell within that block. Cell 11-A and its lone occupant: Peter Parker.

- Um......Warden? Peter's uncertain and slightly embarrassed voice crackled through the speaker of The Warden's Luxury Cell Master Remote.
- Yes, what is it, Peter? The Warden asked good-naturedly as he could manage while still keeping an eye on the prisoners that were still milling about the compound instead of being outside in the courtyard.
- I think I need a new uniform......Peter continued with an uncertain his voice.
- And why is that, Peter? The Warden asked as he motioned to have a few guards send the last strangling prisoners out to the courtyard.
He knew the reason why Peter would need a new uniform. And he suspected that Peter knew that he knew it too. He just wanted to hear him say it.
And the fact that Peter needed a new uniform this early in his stay in the Luxury Isolation Cell made him very happy with himself.
- It's too small for me..... I have outgrown it. I can't even get the jacket to close anymore. And my pants are busted as well. Peter said with obvious embarrassment in his voice as The Warden smiled to himself.
- Alright then. I'll send a set of guards up to your cell and have them escort you back to the fitting room so that you can be outfitted with a fitting uniform.
- An escort? Is that really necessary? Peter asked, confusion and hesitation clear in his voice.
- Why yes of course it is, Peter! The Warden answered loudly and exuberantly.
- We cannot allow you to just wander through the prison to the outfitting room. After all, you are a flight risk prisoner, so we can't have you attempt to escape the moment that you are let out of your cell. The Warden elaborated once he had reeled in the laughter that was bubbling up through his chest.
Peter really was the right kind of person for the experiment.
- Oh....Okay then.....Peter said in a befuddled and slightly confused voice as he swallowed The Warden's words hook, line and sinker.
- How long will it take for the escort to get here? Peter asked after another short break in their conversation.
- Not that long. It's easier for the personnel to move through this place then it is for the prisoners. The Warden answered easily before he shook his head to throw away the tangent.
- You might as well prepare yourself by going to your usual spot for whenever guards enter your cell. The Warden continued barely a moment later.
- Okay. I'll do that....But they better not be too long. Peter finished with an accepting, yet demanding voice at the end before he hung up before The Warden had a chance to respond.

The moment that Peter hung up, The Warden pulled the Luxury Cell Master Remote away from his ear before he strode forward and delegated the task of sending six officers up to Cell 11-A to escort Peter down to the fitting room to one of the communication officers. Then, while that happened, he delegated the task of informing the Fitting & Mugshot office that they would have a prisoner with an outgrown uniform incoming shortly and therefore prepare accordingly to another communication officer.

Once he was done with that, The Warden returned to his seat and sat down with a tired sigh as he watched his orders being followed while he started returning his eyes to the corridors of the prison that appeared on the security screens.

But not a moment later, his phone, that was currently resting in his pocket, started ringing.
Picking it up while straightening his back, The Warden took one look at the caller's number before it clicked in his head who it was and answered the call immediately once he knew who it was.
- Mister Jameson. What pray tell, do I owe you the honor of getting a call from a man such as yourself? The Warden answered in both a humorous and sarcastic voice.
- Cut the smarmy crap, you hear me. And answer me this instead. What in all the pits of hell are you feeding my employee? Peter has been writing more and more about what he was served for lunch and then anything else. He seems downright enamored with whatever you are feeding him. And that is what I want you to tell me. What are you doing to my employee? He's only been in your care for less than a month, and he already seems to be more spoiled than the son of Norman Osborn or some other successful business man's snot-nosed brat. I'll ask again, just what are you doing to Peter? Recently, he has started remarking how tight his clothes have become recently in his journals. And while I knew that he would probably put on a couple of pounds while living a life of luxury, I was not expecting it for it to be that obvious to him already. He has been in the cell for less than a month for crying out loud! No matter how much good food you feed him, he shouldn't be writing about growing out of his uniform until at the latest Month 3 in this whole ordeal. So you better tell me what the whole deal with this is or I will come to you and personally pull Peter out of that cell faster then you can say my name! You hear me?! So start talking! Tell me the how of the why Peter wrote about not being able to close his jacket and busting his pants this early? You got me?! James Jonah Jameson practically yelled into The Warden's ear loud enough for his whole monologue to be heard over the whole Prison Observation Room.
- Easy there Jameson, easy. Or you might come across as actually caring for your worker's well being. The Warden replied with a good-natured chuckle in his voice once James had finished his rapid-fire monologue.
- Of course, I care about the well being of my employees. Any good boss does. Especially if they can sue you for all your worth. Jameson fired back with a heated voice filled to the brim with irritation.
- Now cut the bullcrap and answer my question. What are you feeding Peter? Why has he gained so much weight so fast? Jameson continued before The Warden had a chance to say anything else.
- Easy. The first class food we are giving him is not first class food. The Warden answered simply, a small smile on his face.
- What? Jameson answered in a stumped voice after a long moment.
- The food we are giving Peter is basically just glorified fast food. It's made just as cheaply as it. If not more. The Warden continued easily.
- Why? I thought that there weren't going to be any cost-cutting measures in the cell. Or the treatment of its prisoner. Jameson continued, his voice sounding rough and hard.
- Jameson. I am running a high risk, top of the notch security prison, housing hundreds of some of the worst and most dangerous criminals that have ever plagued New York City. And even though The Luxury Isolation Cell is proving itself to be a worthwhile investment, it was and still is a very costly investment that we need to make back to actually profit from it. And making counter fit first class food is one of our cost-cutting measures for the cell. The Warden explained conversationally.
He heard James make a loud, growl like groan on the other end of the phone after his explanation.
- So......You are telling me that my employee is basically eating glorified fat made to look pretty? Jameson said with a tired and frustrated voice that had definitively taken a hostile tone towards The Warden.
- Yes. The Warden answered with a quirk of his lips.
- Peter is basically stuffing himself silly with empty cholesterol and carbs dressed up as the food for kings. It will fill him up enough to make him feel full, while in actuality only filling him up enough to still want more, no matter how much he has eaten. The Warden explained casually.
- Okay......So....You are making Peter fat. But even as a cost-cutting measure, making food that is deliberately made to be as fattening as possible, no matter how cheaply it is made, would still cost a pretty penny to add to the bill of the Luxury Isolation Cell. And if you want to be as cheap about that cell as you made yourself sound to be, then you could have just fed Peter the same food as the rest of the prisoners. But instead, you are giving him food that is made to make him as fat as possible. Which tell me that even if it is cheap, that you have another reason behind that decision. Jameson fired off after a moments thought.
And before The Warden had a chance to answer him, Jameson continued.
- You told me that Peter would partake in an experiment while inside the cell. I am guessing that it has something to do with that? Jameson finished firmly as The Warden smiled at his words.
- Yes. That is right. That is a part of the experiment that Peter is unknowingly and unwittingly partaking in. The Warden explained with a pleased sounding voice.
- And what kind of experiment is that? Jameson asked, sounding as if he already had a good guess of just what kind of experiment that he had signed Peter up for.
- Easy. Whether or not treating our prisoners well and spoiling them will make them more docile and complacent. And whether that kind of treatment lowers the risks of them attempting to escape. As well as whether or not making them to fat to do much else then laze around in their cell helps any of the former causes. That and whether an increase in their weight and increase in complacency lowers the risks of prisoners even attempting to rebel against us during their stay here. The Warden explained breezily.
- And so far, the experiment is going very well as Peter has been nothing if not docile, complacent and compliant during his stay here. He's been here for about a month now and so far, he's been too preoccupied stuffing his mouth with food and enjoying his stay in the cell to even seem to consider attempting to rebel or escape from his cell. Ever since he started putting on weight, he has been nothing if not an explementary prisoner. The Warden finished with a proud and triumphant voice.
- Sounds to me as if you are already considering the experiment a success. Jameson said in a low, dark voice, sounding as if he wanted nothing more then go to Rikers Island and pull Peter out of the cell then and there.
- Yes. The Warden replied easily with a click of his tongue.
Then his smile widened.
- But it isn't until he actually tries to escape and we see whether or not his increased size makes it easier to either stop him in his escape or make it easier for us to recapture him if he does manage to escape that I would call the experiment a success. The Warden explained easily as he heard Jameson bite back a growl from his side of the phone.
- Either that or if he admits that the thought of escape never crossed his mind while he was in the cell when we let him out. The Warden finished with a proud smile as he thought of all the parameters for both success or failure of the experiment that he had set up for the experiment.
So far, most of the boxes for the experiment being a success had already been ticked off.
And it had barely been a month since the experiment began.

A silence followed The Warden's words that stretched out long enough for The Warden to start worrying if he had stepped on too many of Jameson's toes to be allowed to keep Peter in his facility for the remainder of the experiments time.

Then Jameson spoke up again.

- Okay. One last question. If the food is basically just glorified fat, then how come Peter is eating so much of it in one sitting? And not just a lot of it, but every bit of it at that? If the food was just fat, then he should be full after just one of your tasters. But instead, he finishes all of your tasters, main meals, and desserts. How does that work? Jameson asked with an impatient voice, clearly done with The Warden's bullshit.
- Oh, that is easy to answer Jameson! The Warden exclaimed jovially.
- So answer me then. Jameson responded dryly.
- The food is not as filling as you think it is. The Warden continued with an amused and gleeful smile on his face as he answered.
- What?! Jameson exclaimed from his end, only for The Warden to explain further.
- You are right in thinking that if the food that we are feeding your employee was made out of pure fat, that he wouldn't be capable of stomaching everything that we are feeding him. But the food has been made to account for that and are in fact been tailored to increase Peter's consumption of food. The Warden started as he heard Jameson's teeth click on the other end.
- While one of our Tasters are as fattening for Peter as a regular three-course meal, it is only as filling as eating half of the dish that it actually is. The Main Courses remain are about 1 and a half times more fattening for Peter as the Tasters, while being only one third as filling as the meals are supposed to be. While the Desserts are about twice as fattening for him, while only being about a quarter as filling as the regular treat is meant to be. The Warden continued, a satisfied purr filling his voice as he sunk into his chair like a corrupt autocrat on his throne.
- Basically, Jameson, Peter could eat and eat and eat to his very heart's content, but he would never feel completely full and always feel some niggling sense of hunger left in him. No matter how often or how much he ate at every opportunity. He will always feel like there was enough room for more and that he could always have another bite. Regardless if he has become addicted to our food or not. The Warden finished with a twisted smile on his face.
- You deserve to serve a sentence in your own prison. Jameson said in a voice that was as far from jovial, friendly or calm that The Warden had ever heard him speak with.

And then he hung up.

To Be Continued.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!

And so, the secret behind Peter's rapid gain and the prison's motives behind The Luxury Isolation Cell Experiment has been revealed.

Now, for those that are disappointed in me for revealing this as early as I am, I have only one thing to say to you:

If you didn't want the magic explained, you shouldn't have complained about the magic not being explained.

Either way, with that bit out of the way (just saying that because it is appropriate, I was going to reveal that fact early regardless if people wanted it or not), this part is finished.

And with it, Peter's first month in The Luxury Isolation Cell is nearly over.

Next Part, Part 4, which is going to take place IMMEDIATELY after this will mark the end of Peter's first month in the Luxury Isolation Cell.

This part, just like the rest of the story is based on my Patreon request for this month by the ever wonderful and amazing artist:

Part 4: New Measurements: Coming in May.

Update 2018/04/13: Changed one word. Can you find out which word it was?

Update 2018/04/14: Corrected James' names to Jameson.

Spiderman, Peter Parker and James Jonna Jameson belongs to Marvel & Disney.
The Spectacular Spiderman belongs to Greg Weisman and Victor Cook.
This is fanart and fanfiction. It is not a violation of copyrights.