Yearning for a “fit to fat” fem
- I want to see the way her body-hugging gym shorts change on her growing figure, until pulling the high waisted material over her belly makes her look irresistibly plump, and almost pregnant.
- I want to admire her gluttony as she drinks “protein shakes”, so calorically dense from the full cream milk and ice cream she’s blended her protein powder with. I want to watch as she lets out a soft moan from the sheer amount of liquid that settles in her gut.
- I want to watch her as the weights she can lift increase for a time, noticing how the walk back to re-rack them leaves her struggling to catch her breath more each week. I want to see her realise that the walk to re-rack the weights is no longer worth it.
- I want to notice her as she notices the lingering gaze of other gym-goers on her protruding belly as it stretches those cute shorts thin. I want to watch her watch as the thinly veiled judgy eyes dart away from her growing figure in moderate disgust.
- I want to track the progression of her sit ups and push ups, proudly noticing as her belly begins to limit her sit up range of motion, noticing as it begins to fill more and more of the space between her and the floor as she attempts push ups.
- I want to watch eagerly as she holds in her huffs and puffs, diaphragm restricted by the swell of her midsection as the bends to tie the shoes she used to run in.
- I want to see her face the first time she realises it’s not so easy to see the growing number on the gym scale over the large belly that is fighting to escape her gym shorts.
