Simon leaned forward, opening his maw and hovering it directly over the conveyor belt. He was a big, heavy gator, but he wanted more, so he'd broken into a dessert factory of sorts and hoped to gorge himself before he got caught.

The first oversized cake made its way down the belt soon enough, but it was going to go into him instead of its intended destination, as he'd lifted up this segment of the belt from another, which lay behind him. He gulped it down hungrily, and did the same with the ones that followed, even after his belly was full, and even after it was overfull. His gut gurgled and stretched, swelling into a tight, cake filled bubble ahead of him, just below the belt.

Eventually things began to digest, and his gluttony showed in places other than his gut. He was already not particularly fit to begin with, but now, he was really putting on weight. Scales stretched as his thighs and arms plumped, neck thickening as every inch of him coated itself in a layer of blubber. Then he heard someone coming.

The overweight gator hastily ran off and hid as security came to find him, somehow managing to hide his form amidst the abundant machinery on the factory floor. Even he wasn't sure how well he could conceal himself, and looked for a proper hiding spot. He opted to run off into the next room, a big warehouse with a platform of sorts in the center...It seemed like height might provide some advantage, but he couldn't see a way up short of climbing through a giant funnel in the center, and he was too wide to fit. Using his maw to bite off chunks and make the funnel's entry point larger made plenty of sense, and he tried to, sticking his mouth around the end of it as it hung above him and doing his best.

It was no use, but he did discover that the funnel was mounted to some sort of spring like support that would let it rise and lower...Some automated process kicked in and forced it downward just enough to force it deeper into his mouth than he could logically pull away from. He couldn't quite see this, but a number of hazmat workers on the higher level were starting to dump things into the funnel. For now, it was the glowy-green toxic waste they had wasting space up there, which needed to be disposed of. Had Simon not been there, he could only assume a proper vessel for such things would be standing where he was now.

He couldn't really do anything to stop the gallons of green fluid from flowing down his throat, which made him warm and tingly...He started to gain weight rapidly, and worse, the men above were dumping the fluid from an entire vat instead of pouring the barrels by hand. Simon's body surged outward, belly inflating with both fat and fluid as his chest bloomed outward. His ass gained so much weight it jiggled, hundreds of pounds forced into it, and his widening hips and thighs. His cheeks plumped, and his tail thickened, the floor creaking as he grew beyond obese.

His ass grew too heavy to lift, and he fell onto his butt with a thud, after which point it billowed outward and rose behind him, locking him in place. The men upstairs ran out of things to throw at him, and the automated system detached him from the funnel and scooted him into the next room...Although that process was probably slower than usual, given his weight. He was dizzy and not feeling particularly well, a faint green glow eminating from him while he was brought to the center of a new warehouse designed to store the containers they dumped that stuff into.

He belched loudly, and the mere act of doing so seemed to make him surge even larger, despite the fact that he wasn't even eating anything now. His body groaned and churned, and his ass wobbled outward as tall as he was while sitting, far wider than he and spreading outward. He drooled as even his tongue got fat, fattening cheeks pressing to a fattening neck, while his belly sagged beyond the reach of his feet, and then twice that distance, and yet still he grew.

He was turning into an ode to one sin or another, an idol or homage to greed or gluttony, a living factory that produced and stored fat and had no other purpose. Even if it had another function, how could it possibly perform it in this state? His growing tail brushed against, then tipped over various barrels of toxin, which spilled and pooled around him, but made his condition worse upon contact with his skin. He seemed to rise, but he wasn't getting taller, he just had more to sit on. 

The bigger he got, the more barrels he pushed over, the more chemicals he found himself simmering in, the worse things became...His glow seemed to pulse and intensify every few seconds, and at each interval, he put on more weight, and more than in the last pulse. So the first might be a hundred pounds, relatively minor for him now, but the next was three times that, then five...A pulse, and his belly distended enough to hold a bus, another pulse, and his chest jiggled outward with enough weight in either half of it to outweigh his normal weight. Another pulse, and each of his ass cheeks inflated with enough blubber to make cars seem like a pittance in both size and weight, hefting him halfway to the ceiling. Another, and his face grew so surrounded by fat that it was about as bad as it could get without blinding him.

He started to steadily brush up against everything, and from the outside, the entire building bulged outward as growing gator flesh smothered the windows. The metal creaked as he flooded the entire floor, gaining dozens of tons worth of weight.