LargeGirl25

“Babe you look bloated right now let me rub out those burps out of you”

“lol babe ur belly will feel SO much better and hold a lot more food if you let all those farts out you know I think they are cute!!”

“There’s no such thing as too much ice cream! I got 3 tubs of the gelato from the cafe you liked to go!”

“lol babe I know you want to eat this forth plate of pasta let me undo those buttons for you, your belly needs room to breathe!”

Something in this androgynous creature’s eyes captivates me. It draws me in, inviting me to say hi and strike up a conversation.

“What are your pronouns?” I ask, after they introduce themselves, trying to be polite.

“We/us/our,” is the response.

It catches me off guard. “Even for others referring to you?”

“To ‘us,’ yes,” they—we—gently correct.

Meals started to get less organized. What used to be maybe a heavy breakfast from McDonald's, a big lunch from Five Guys, some pizzas and beers for dinner, turned into piles of whatever junk they could find. Nothing but empty calories, from fast food to stick and balls of pure butter, eaten whenever throughout the day, until soon enough they decided "Why the effort," rooting through their fridge and stuffing their chubby-cheeked face with slop.

The bigger they got, the gassier and gassier, like each pound just served to make more room for every burp and fart to build up. Their burps started to get shorter, though- Short, deep, and constant, until it started to sound more like a snort than a belch, rumbling up through their throat and deepened by their fat neck.

Even when they're not burping through mouthfuls of junk, they're snorting just fine on their own. What used to be laden groans had become grunts, and what used to be moans of pleasure from the relief of a rumble of built-up gas escaping their hefty rear? Now all they did was oink with greed before filling their stomach up even more. Soon enough, they barely go through the effort of talking when they can just oink and snort-- Leaves more time to stuff their face.

As their walk turns into a waddle, you can't help but notice- Had their nose always been so... Short? Flat and upturned, and with another snorting belch, it would actually sound less crazy to say they had a snout than it would a nose.

Soon enough, cleanliness becomes a thing of the past. All nice and fancy outfits hung out to dry in place in place of stretchy, dingy undergarments, wrappers and containers strewn about the home so you always know just how much they've gorged; The place has become a proper pigsty, and their couch, the messiest of all, has practically become their new home.

And them, weighed down by the hundreds of pounds they've ballooned with, letting out a bloated, snorting belch as their gut is slick with butter and sauce and oil... They look as happy as a pig in mud.

The sexuality of a police officer is cop.

The gender of a police officer is cop.

When you become the enforcer and protector of capital, you are making the deal to be slightly favored by the system over others like you, in exchange for being its servant. Your solidarity is with the system that you serve, even if it hates you.