For The Love Of Fat

Blunt to lips, a puff of smoke shortly after—this is my second blunt of the day, and I can already tell that I’m about to get the munchies.

It doesn’t help that I’m already craving some food, but having the munchies on top of that?

Yeah—time to get some food.

I can always order out, get some takeout but—I want to eat out this time around. I don’t know why but stuffing my face in public is such a turn-on for me, ugh.

There’s a chinese buffet nearby, maybe I’ll go there …

A year ago, I was this … chubby blonde babe but now I’ve really let myself go. I’m so much bigger than before, a couple of pounds heavier—I also changed up my hair, went from blonde to black and I got some hot tattoos across my pudgy body.

One on my-now large belly, another on my shoulder, and one on my big meaty thigh.

Some people would be disappointed in themselves for getting to this point.

I’m so glad I’m not ‘some people’ because the truth is — I love being fat.

I love eating food, and getting fatter from it.

Even as I’m driving to the buffet, I can’t help but look down at my belly. I have this simple yet cute dark-green shirt that used to fit me, now it doesn’t.

My belly spills out of my “shirt” like a sore thumb, you might as well call it a crop-top now—with the way my shirt is rolled up because of my fat.

I see the stares I get from people in public, they probably think I’m a pig and they’re … probably right.

The cool thing about life is that you don’t have to care about what people say, like me.

If I wanna’ be a fat bitch, I’m going to be a fat bitch—no matter what.

Which is what makes me better than the rest.

I don’t care what they say about me, I’m happy and they’re not.

I even went ahead and asked to be seated in front of the restaurant, that way, whenever people walked in—they could see me, stuffing my face with the delicious foods.

Fried shrimp, crab legs, chicken and broccoli, ugh—you name it, they have it.

Plate after plate, I downed any and all the food I could get a hold of.

It got so bad that one of the cooks recognized me, as I went back for …

my fifth plate?

I don’t remember, the point is—I’ve been going back and forth so much that the cooks have started to recognize me.

You eat a lot, no?

Damn right I do, how’s a belly like this supposed to get bigger? By eating food!

Silly cook—asking dumb questions.

I walked back to my booth, a plate full of food in hand and dove right back into it.

I think I found my new favorite buffet—their food is just … too good to ever pass up on.

My gut was getting pretty cramped with all the food I ate, it was getting pretty tight but I had just enough space for one more thing, and that was dessert.

Nothing like a slice of an oreo cake to finally end my stuffing.

With each bite, I can feel my belly grow tighter and tighter—that’s how I know I’ve done a good job.

I wanted to take a few minutes to rest but the waitresses were already on my ass, rushing me to leave.

I’ll never forget the dumbfounded looks on their faces as I left around … ten empty plates for them to pick up.

As I waddled on out, my belly was full-on spilling out, if anyone saw me—they would’ve thought I was a pregnant whale with how big I was.

I couldn’t even roll down my shirt to hide it, that’s how big it had gotten.

I sat down in my car, taking a few deep breaths. Fuck, I really overdid it—my stomach is upset with me but nothing a few belly rubs can’t fix.

My own fat digits would prod and massage my bloated belly, trying to get it to calm down—I could feel something bubble up inside my throat …

urrrp ~ ….

Ugh, it felt like my burps were just … trapped inside.

I know of something that could help get them out easily—and that was some soda.

I needed to get some gas anyway—knock two birds with one stone, right?

Even in the gas station, I couldn’t escape the comments from strangers—

Hey, congrats on the pregnancy!

Boy or girl?

It’s … a boy!

I played along, the cashier seemed to be happy, as they handed me my change and my two liter soda in a bag.

Little did they know, I wasn’t pregnant—and I was just … so stuffed from eating at that buffet, that I looked pregnant.

That is … so hot, now that I really think about it.

Being so fat that people just randomly assume you're pregnant, ugh—I can’t think like this in public.

I need to get home but … not before I take a sip of this soda.

Y’know the nice thing about some of these gas stations?

The liter soda comes super cold.

I cracked open the Sprite bottle, and placed my lips to the mouth of the bottle.

Oooooh, I could feel the … spiciness of the Sprite as it goes down my throat, my eyes widened and squinting hard shortly after.

Bwourrrrrrrrrp ~ !

Ahhh, that is honestly so much better.

Even though I’m putting more stuff into my belly, the burps make me feel better. As I drove home, I couldn’t help but let them out—or rather, they couldn’t stay in.

I wasn’t about to keep my burps trapped! No—they had to come out.

My biggest challenge came at the form of … stairs.

How am I going to make it up these stairs?

I’m still so full from the food and the sprite but I needed to get home.

So, I grabbed the railing and pushed myself up.

Top ten hardest things I’ve ever done in life; go up a flight of stairs after a stuffing.

After a few minutes, I finally made it home—home, sweet, home.

I hung my purse up, pushed my shoes off and got comfortable.

To me, being comfortable was just … being naked really.

I immediately lied down on my couch, a hum of approval escaped my mouth as I did—I look up but can only see the mountain that is my belly, and my fat breasts spilling outwards.

Today was a productive day for me, got high, ate all the food I could possibly eat and downed it all with a soda and made it home safe and sound.

Life is good, when you’re a fat princess like me.