The Goober

The gentle smiles as the standard meal no longer really satisfies their hunger, the request for more being filled with an eager smile and quick step. The anticipation of growing and changing needs, orders for reinforced chairs made before the bashful request.

My mobility it’s important to me, my health is important to me.

But when I’m horny…I love nothing more than getting off to the idea of being so unhealthily obese that everything becomes a chore.

My belly sagging over my thighs, dimpled with cellulite and stretch marks; my breasts heavy and painful on my chest, pierced nipples poking through my shirts; my double chin so big that it wobbles when I move, my whole face unrecognisable with excess fat; my fat hands puffed up to the extreme as I reach for another snack; my knees aching with each step, encased in thick, blubbery fat; my clothes no longer fitting my growing frame.

I can barely bend over, barely touch myself to feel good. Gone are the days I used to walk, now I waddle or don’t walk much at all. My breathing is heavy and my cheeks constantly flushed. Been too long since I was in good shape.

Is there any other way to go about it?

What are "limits" exactly, when you want to be as fat as possible?

Is it when you reach "impossible"?

You're fat now. Everyone knows that you're fat.

Maybe you could play off the first few pounds as an accident. Weight fluctuates, everyone knows that.

But an unwavering gain like yours? Your weight climbing pound after pound, month after month, every inch of you softening and rounding out as you ate and ate and ate yourself from chunky to chubby to fat. That paints a different picture. People tend to notice that much weight in such a short time.

Still, you could've settled into your fatness. Just been someone who "enjoyed eating" a little too much. Blamed your metabolism, chalked the pounds up to stress or work. These things happen, everyone knows that.

But you just couldn't help yourself, could you? Not when there was food around. You order more than everyone when you go out, you take a second helping at every meal. The way you eat, it doesn't exactly go unnoticed.

Somewhere along the line, everyone just decided you were a Fat Person now.

Maybe you've always been bigger, maybe this was a real surprise, but now you've been permanently classified with the irrevocable, extra-large label of fat. Showing up heavier than your last visit doesn't draw as many comments. Extra food finds its way to your plate.

Still, you can feel eyes on you when you eat. You're somewhere between a cautionary tale about what can happen if one doesn't exert total discipline over their appetites and a lost cause; a complete casualty to gluttony. You're not going to lose weight at this point, everyone knows that.

Do you think everyone can tell that all this weight wasn't exactly an accident?

That you've been regularly stuffing yourself to the point of breathlessness, gawking and grabbing at every softening inch of your body as the number on the scale grows and grows.

The countless moments you've spent with your hands on your plush belly, feeling it growing heavy and round as all the extra calories started to stick and mold this fattened, truer version of yourself. This greedy, outward manifestation of your hunger for more made unmistakable for everyone to see.

You're not fooling anyone. You're not hiding all that weight.

My mobility it’s important to me, my health is important to me.

But when I’m horny…I love nothing more than getting off to the idea of being so unhealthily obese that everything becomes a chore.

My belly sagging over my thighs, dimpled with cellulite and stretch marks; my breasts heavy and painful on my chest, pierced nipples poking through my shirts; my double chin so big that it wobbles when I move, my whole face unrecognisable with excess fat; my fat hands puffed up to the extreme as I reach for another snack; my knees aching with each step, encased in thick, blubbery fat; my clothes no longer fitting my growing frame.

I can barely bend over, barely touch myself to feel good. Gone are the days I used to walk, now I waddle or don’t walk much at all. My breathing is heavy and my cheeks constantly flushed. Been too long since I was in good shape.

CW: darker themes, dubious consent

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***

Don't ever let me get thinner.

I will say it timidly at first. That maybe I need to slow down. My clothes don't fit, and I'm getting out of breath too easily. I won't even say I want to lose weight. Just that I need to slow down.

You'll never let me do it. Pour heavy cream into my coffee. Add butter to my meals. Cancel my gym membership. Throw out my running shoes.

I will lose control. I'll start begging you: please, let me lose at least 5 pounds. My belly started hanging and it's hard to reach for stuff. You'll tie me up and funnel feed me. Please, let me go for a short walk. You'll tie me to the couch.

I'm waddling now. My face feels like it's buried in fat. It's getting uncomfortable to exist in my body, but I insist that you let me stretch my legs. You'll tie me to the bedposts and feed me thousands of calories.

In the end, the changes you brought will be impossible to undo. Maybe you'll even let me take control again, only for me to find out that I can barely waddle, and can't stop eating. Eating, and growing.