Your past the point of no return
You allowed gluttony into your life with open arms. At first it was little things. Maybe a desert after dinner, or buying a few too many snacks at the grocery store. You enjoyed the freedom that came with these indulgent treats. Plus, you had a great metabolism. Nothing was going to happen to your skinny body.
It was all so harmless. Or so you thought…..
So you let in just a bit more of that gluttony in. You started smoking weed a little bit more, and learned just how delicious food became and how hungry you could get when you were high.
Midnight bowls of ice cream, ordering enough takeout for two and watching a comedy, and playing Minecraft while stuffing Cheetos in your mouth replaced your usual club trips with your friends.
After a few weeks, the physical changes became too evident to ignore. Your breasts were bigger, your thighs spread out more when you sat, and your clothes were now uncomfortably tight, as if they were glued directly onto you. No matter what you wore, your tummy would poke out from underneath trout shirt, and over the top of your pants.
You could have turned back here, and gone back to a normal life. But you thought the tummy was actually kinda cute.
You started to live in sweatpants and crop tops. You didn’t expect to get any bigger than this, so there was no reason to buy new clothes. As your belly fixation continued to blossom, you began to eat more.
It was simple. More food equals bigger belly.
Normal portions were thrown out the window. Every meal became a banquet. Entire pizzas, pans of baked Mac and cheese, and bags full of cheap hamburgers became the regular. With your new goal of stuffing your belly as full as possible at all times, you started to smoke more to increase your capacity and keep you hungry.
It became a dangerous cycle. You would smoke so that you could eat more, then eat until you felt like you would pop, then smoke again so that you could eat even more.
Each day, you would wake up noticeably chunkier than the last, sit on your couch, smoke a bowl, and stuff your face until your belly was drum tight. You would then nap while rubbing it, or watch a show, then as soon as there was any room in your stomach you would eat again, making it even larger than it was. This would repeat until you were beached on the couch, belly so big and tight that you were unable to move. You would lay there, panting and groaning as your poor belly churned and sputtered, desperately trying to digest the mountain of food you had just eaten. You would grip your poor, stretch mark covered belly, and masturbate, finishing again and again from the feeling of being so big and full.
Within only a few months you had gone from a normal person to a constantly starving, burpy, stretch mark riddled obese mess. You were so entranced by the need to get bigger that you didn’t even notice when things started to get scary.
It all happen at once. Your mobility was wrecked, self care was non existent, you would get headaches and mood swings any time you were even minutes late for a meal, and you swear you could feel your heart begging for you to stop.
By the time you started to notice these things, they had already been affecting you for weeks.
You were scared, and went into a full panic mode. No more weed, no more junk food, no more stuffings.
That lasted about 3 hours, until your entire body was sounding the alarms at you because instead of it’s normal 20 cheese burgers, literal bucket of fries, 2 sausage pizzas, and a platter of fried chicken, you decided to try to eat a turkey sub and a bag of chips.
It was the equivalent of giving a starving lumberjack a single grape for lunch.
You held out like a real trooper. As you laid in bed, you were tortured by the constant thought of all the food you could be eating. Your poor, food addicted tummy was aching so bad that it felt like an animal was clawing at your insides. Somehow, you were able to touch it out, but then came the final straw.
The idea that you were so big and fat that it scared you was so fucking hot.
It only took you a few minutes to call up your local Chinese restaurant and order one of everything on the menu for delivery.
You waited in nail biting anticipation for your sustenance. You could hear the delivery driver making trip after trip to your door, laying the food on your porch on a massive stack.
Finally, when you heard the car drive away, you pushed yourself up and waddles as fast as you could to the door. You hauled in all the food as fast as you could, only taking a few breaks to sit and catch your breath.
Finally, you sat down on the couch, the mountain of delivery boxes stacked so high on your coffee table that you couldn’t even see the television.
Unable to take another second you began to eat like a ravenous animal.
Like a factory, you ate and belched, your body barely able to keep up with your innate desire to shovel in more food.
For hours you just sat and consumed. Your belly grew and grew, pushing over your thighs to your knees. It was so full and tight, but not tight enough.
You could only sit and pant, your belly weighing like a boulder on top of you. You were so full and nauseated. The last few boxes of food taunted you, just out of reach.
This didn’t stop you. Grabbing the back scratcher that you now needed to reach your new crevices, you used it like a hook to scoop the rest of the food closer to you.
The feast resumed. You struggled, feeling the food in your throat struggling to pack into your stomach. With each bite, your stretch marks grew deeper and darker. You ate and ate and ate as if in a trance, with your stomach thinking more than your brain.
Finally it was all gone. You fell into an food coma for 14 hours. When you finally awoke, you immediately ordered more food.
Trying to go on a diet was so horrific and traumatizing to your mind and body that you didn’t leave that couch for weeks. All you did was order food, eat, fall into a food coma, try to use the restroom, then order more food.
After 6 weeks, you had gained 97 pounds.
Your belly now draped over your thighs during the brief times you weren’t stuffed full, and when you were full it was like you had eaten a yoga ball. Your fat tits now draped over your massive belly, so fat that they can’t hold themselves up. Every part of your body was covered in stretch marks and cellulite. You had a double chin, cheeks that puffed out and changed the way you spoke, and fat stubble little fingers that looked likes sausages. Your ass and thighs were massive, taking up two whole couch cushions.
Still you ate, faster and in larger quantities than ever before. You didn’t know if you could walk, and didn’t really want to try. You had fully accepted that this was everything to you. With everything life had to offer, you chose to become a fat blob that sat in your trash filled, greasy apartment and eat until your body can no longer take it.
Maybe they’ll have to bring you out of the apartment with a crane.
The thought only makes you eat even more.
