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Mini-Eggs (new chapter added 9/12/14)


amfyoyo

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Really fantastic stuff as usual.  I'm actually invested in this little story, I want to know what happens with her.  You're seriously one of the better weight gain writers I've ever seen.  Please keep at it.

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  • 1 month later...

Bigger, and bigger, and bigger. Sarah tried to ignore the signs; she had become expert at this kind of delusion. Addiction and indulgence helped, but ignoring her increasing size, as impossible as it may have seemed to anyone observing her from afar, was harder and harder. Everything was getting harder. But she was taking a practical approach to most things. Walking was getting harder, so she did it less. She drove. But, squeezing into her car was getting harder. Fitting into her 4XL scrubs was getting harder, so she bought a few sets of 5XL, on-line, at some expense. But, they were getting a little snug. Facing those guys at the pizza place was hard, so she ordered her pizzas to be delivered; in fact, that was even easier. Now, she ordered everything to be delivered and had to leave her apartment more often. In fact, if you knew who to call, you could get booze and weed brought right to your door.

All of this cost money, but Sarah made enough at work, which was also getting harder. As she got heavier – and honestly she had no idea how heavy she had gotten, although it had to be more that the 337 of a few months ago – everything at her job got harder. She was on her feet a lot and there was a lot of her pressing down on those feet, and ankles, and knees, and lower back. She sweated. She bumped her ballooning ass into furniture and knocked things over. She was constantly hungry and being with patients kept her from all of the snacking that she might have been doing. At the end of every day, she was exhausted and sore and ready to collapse. She loved her job, but she was suffering. So, on one of her days off when Lynette, who worked the desk, was out sick and Janice asked her to come in and spend a day doing her job, it was great.

She handled the phones, she talked to patients, she made appointments, she answered questions, she filed – all of it sitting down, and all of it with food in easy reach. It was heaven, and, the next month, when Lynette announced she was retiring, Sarah asked for her job and got it. At the end of Lynette’s two week notice, Sarah got to work extra early so that she would be alone when she lugged in a dozen bags of non-perishable groceries to stash in her new office and rolled her armless chair from her old office. Carrying bags and wheeling a chair down the hall had caused her break out in a minor sweat, so it was with great relish and relief that she lowered herself carefully onto its creaking and wobbling seat, her wide ass spreading out and over, and opened her bag of Dunkin Donuts breakfast sandwiches. She huffed mightily in pleasure and took her first bite. As she chewed and swallowed, her newly measured H-cups bumped ever so gently on her gurgling belly. This was going to be sweet.

And it was.

Three months later, Dr. Williams got an e-mail titled “New Chair Request” with a link. He already knew what it was going to be before he opened it up. The Flash Furniture Hercules series, rated up to 500 pounds.

He hit reply and asked Sarah to come talk to him about it after his appointments that day. A little after five o’clock, there was a soft knock on his door. When it swung open, there stood she stood in all her glory. She was a different woman. Gone was the svelte 350 pounder who had lugged those snacks into the office and gently lowered herself onto an armless desk chair and in her place wobbled a nearly spherical belly below breasts that refused to be contained in what must have been an industrial strength bra. Her hips were almost as wide as the doorframe with thighs that swelled even wider than that. Scrubs that looked painted on, straining at every stitch, stretched and bunched over every bulge. In a few short months, the unchecked expansion of the last few years had shifted into overdrive and the change was dramatic. The most dramatic change of all, however, was somewhere above the swollen double chins and deepening dimples: Sarah was smiling.

“Hey Doc,” she chirped, “You saw my e-mail about the chair?”

“Yeah, Sarah, c’mon in.” Dr. Williams said, as his employee did a little side step through the doorway. As wide as her colossal love-handles and hips were, when she turned even slightly sideways, her ass and belly were equally outsized and impressive. His eye did a quick once over to try to determine if her side step indicated that Sarah no longer fit through the doorframe head-on, but figured that he was imagining things. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk, but Sarah pulled up short and walked behind them to a bench by against the wall where he usually sat on to change his shoes. A pair of running shoes and rain boots rested beneath it. Sarah eased down onto the low bench and smiled up at him. Once she was seated, and he saw why she had avoided the chairs for the bench. Spread out against the bench, her hips were way too wide to fit between the arms of the chairs that faced his desk. Not to mention the enormous bulge of her gut that pushed her plush thighs apart. It seemed to swell out from under her and a little between her huge breasts and became almost totally spherical, straining her fabric of her top and barely moving with each inhale and exhale. It seemed that walking down the hall had left Sarah a little winded, but as she breathed a heavily, her packed belly barely moved. She made a movement with her arms that looked like she was contemplating trying to cross them over her chest, but then thought better of it and rested her plans on her squishy hips. This was not lost on Dr. Williams who noted that her upper arms were probably bigger around than his thighs.

He was at a loss. Sarah had been a pretty good nurse, not terribly fast or productive, but she as an awesome office administrator. She was great with the patients, she had a wealth of nursing knowledge, and she was incredibly organized – as long as she was sitting down and eating. Which she was. Almost all the time. Sarah maneuvered around the small office adjacent to the reception area without really getting out of her chair. Or without wheeling more than a few feet away from whatever she was eating. In fact, things were so efficient with Sarah behind the desk, that he had gotten e-mails from both staff and patients about how great it was. There was only one small problem.

Well, as she sat perspiring and filling up a bench in his office, Dr. Williams was forced to admit that it the problem wasn’t a small one. Since she had begun working at the office, Sarah had gained an almost inconceivable amount of weight. While she had never been slim, he himself could remember a time when she did some kind of roller-skating something-or-other. Back then, she must have weighted less than 200 pounds, but now she was easily double that weight. Yes, if you asked him, he would put money on Sarah pushing 400 pounds. If he saw that kind of change in a patient, over time, he would order some kind of battery of tests, but he had seen first hand Sarah’s eating habits and they more than explained her expansion. It seemed like she always had something in her mouth and never anything remotely healthy. At the rate she was going, he wasn’t sure that a chair rated to hold 500 pounds would be sufficient in a few month’s time.

“So, before we talk about the chair, is there anything else?” Maybe, if he opened it up like this, the harder conversation would follow more easily.

“Oh, there is something else.” He nodded for her to continue. “Well, you know the small supply closet? All of the office supplies are in the back, behind the cleaning and extra medical stuff. I was wondering if we could move them into the office area, rather than back in that closet. There is room under the desk in the front.”

“Okay…”

“Well, it would be more efficient if I was able to access the supplies more easily.” Sarah paused.

“The closet’s not easy?”

Sarah smiled a crooked smile and took her hands off of her hips and placed them, pudgy palms down, on either side of her belly, “You want to know the truth, Doc?”

“Why not?”

“The truth is that I,” she paused, rubbed her palms on her belly and gave it a few pats with each hand, “am having a little bit of trouble getting into the closet, lately.”

“Okay.”

“I guess you could say that it is basically the same problem that I am having with the chair.” Sarah moved her hands from her belly back to her hips.

“Okay.” She smiled at him. He looked back at her, “Do you want to talk about that problem?”

“Not really. What I would really like is that new extra-heavy load chair I e-mailed you about and to have the office supplies moved out of the closet that I am now too fat to squeeze into.”

“You don’t want to talk about that? I don’t want you make you uncomfortable. I just thought you might want to talk.”

She continued smiling, said “Nope!” and with some obvious difficulty, pushed herself from the bench and left the office at what could only be charitably described as a waddle.

Dr. Williams was a nice guy. He was also a guy who was both sensitive to people’s needs and what was legal for him as an employer. In fact, it was probably his niceness that had allowed this situation to reach the point that it had. He didn’t know what to do or what he could do. One thing was for sure: he felt a little uncomfortable when he told a patient who was twenty percent over her ideal body weight that she was obese and then sent her to make an appointment to see a nutritionist with his receptionist who was probably three hundred plus percent over her ideal body weight – and growning.

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It took ten days for the new chair to arrive and for each of those days, Sarah felt sure that the old chair was about to give way. She didn’t know to what weight it was rated and with good reason, she figured. Who thought about that sort of thing? What kind of person had to think about whether or not they would be too heavy for a regular chair? Well, she knew what sort of person: a really fat one and that’s who she was now and, really, it was fine. On the morning the chair was delivered, she was sure that she heard an ominous cracking sound as she sat down, but she had become hyper sensitive to sounds that she made when sitting down, what with chairs creaking, zippers spontaneously unzipping, shirt buttons popping off unceremoniously, and pants splitting along any number of seams.

The Flash Furniture Hercules was a dream and as Sarah parked her ever-widening but on its supple and supporting seat, she felt confident in reaching for her giant McDonald’s milkshake. This chair would support her, she could keep eating, and eating, and eating. After all, it was rated to 500 pounds; there was no way she was close to 500 hundred pounds. Right?

The new nurse, Katie, the one who had replaced her, stuck her head around the corner of the office door and called to Sarah, who stopped sucking on her mammoth shake to swivel around smoothly in her chair.

“Hey, Sarah! It’s my birthday, and we’re having cake in the lunchroom.” The words hit all Sarah like a truck. Cake? And close by. For a split second, she considered if it would be acceptable to wheel herself down the hall on her new chair, but decided against it. Everyone in the office, aside from Janis, made an obviously point of ignoring her weight, but she knew that they gossiped behind her wide, blubbery back. She stood up, knees creaking and back protesting and lumbered down the hall.

Everyone else was in the lunchroom already seated, but Sarah wasn’t about to try to squeeze into one of those chairs, so it was really better that she stand awkwardly in the doorway, trying to angle her body so that it didn’t look like she was filling the whole space. On the table was a absolutely enormous sheet cake; it almost filled up the table. There were only five women in the office and the cake looked like it could feed fifty. They sang and then, with a wink, Katie cut the cake and handed Sarah a heaping piece that threatened to buckle the paper plate. As several pairs of eyes watched her chubby hands accept the huge piece of cake and tiny plastic fork, the phone rang from her desk down the hall. Thank God.

“Oops! Better go!” Although she had no intention of waddling fast enough to catch this particular phone call, Sarah didn’t want to have to stand up (she got so tired doing that) and eat (in front of her co-workers). She made her way down the hall, smelling the sweet frosting and finding herself salivating ever so slightly. God, it smelled great. When she was sure that no one was looking, she lifted the plate to her mouth and daintily took a small bite. Fuck! It was the best cake she had ever tasted in her life. She plopped down harder than usual, but was gratified that her new chair seemed sturdy and stable.

Over the last year or so, since eating had become her major occupation, passion, and comfort, Sarah had gotten pretty skilled at cramming it in. But this cake, it was so unbelievably, fantastically delicious that she even outdid her usual speed. She inhaled it.

And looked up at the clock. Ok, ok, ok, it was ten minutes to five. The office closed in ten minutes, that means that everyone was going to be leaving in ten minutes. If they followed standard office protocols, the cake would be left there for people to pick over for the next couple of days before the remainder was thrown into the trash. If her gut, stuffed as it was with a lunch of three foot-long meatball parm subs and topped off with an afternoon drive thru at McDonalds, could hold out for ten minutes, she could sneak back to the cake when everyone was gone. It felt like the longest ten minutes of her life. She felt an almost physical pull towards that cake and as she rubbed her big, round belly she felt distractedly aroused. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

By five after five, everyone was gone. Even Dr. Williams who was usually the last to leave, after changing into his jogging clothes at the end of the day. Sarah waited another five minutes, want to make sure that no one would come back for a forgotten umbrella or cell phone and then she made her move.

The huge cake still sat covering most of the table in the lunchroom. The others had barely made a dent in it. In fact, it looked like what they had removed from the cake’s vastness wasn’t even equal to the piece she had already eaten. They had probably had a laugh about that. There was a lot left; Sarah estimated that its original dimensions were something like two feet by a foot an a half. After retrieving the cake knife and a fork from the drying Sarah pulled a small, padded chair up to the table and sat down on it. Or rather, she sat down over and around it. Damned, that was uncomfortable, but she was too excited about cake to go and take her chair  She got back up and pulled another, identical chairs next to it and sat back down, one giant butt cheek on each chair. She had made this move almost without thinking, but as she leaned back against two chair backs she thought, “Damn, two chairs?” Her shoulders slumped slightly and her belly rode further out onto her lap. She knew she should feel beyond depressed about how huge her ass had gotten, but there was cake in front of her. A lot of cake. And she was alone. And it was the best cake she had ever tasted in her life. She cut a piece and tore through it in seconds. Then another. The third piece she ate right off of the cake knife. Then she gave up thinking of it as pieces and just dove in, scooping it right into her mouth with the wide side of the cake knife.

There had been a time when she needed to be stoned to reach these levels of serious, mindless, unstoppable gluttony, but no longer. Here she was, cold sober, after a day of sitting on her ass and eating in a full-out binge. Her breath came in gasps and she leaned her free hand onto the table as she leaned forward, but soon moved it to rub small circles onto her distended belly as she packed in more and more golden cake with white frosting. She moaned, leaned back and let out a loud belch. Her belly felt tight and when she looked down, it swelled obscenely in front of her, pushing her thighs apart below it and her breasts apart above it. Her shirt was stretched tight and her pants painful. Even her bra felt tighter. With effort and two hands placed onto the small of her back, she walked to the fridge and removed the gallon of milk the women used for their coffees. She unscrewed the cap and tipped it back, cold and bland against the sweetness of the cake. Then, she fell to her task again.

Big ass on two chairs, one hand clutching her mighty belly, Sarah dove back into the cake, forgoing the knife and just using her hands to scoop it into her mouth. And that was how she spent the better part of the next hour, pausing to gulp milk, unhook her bra and squeeze out of her shirt when it became too restrictive. She sat with a white tanktop riding up over her painfully full belly, stuffing it tighter and tighter. She couldn’t stop. It hurt, and she couldn’t stop.

And then it was gone, she was sweating, and had taken off both her shirt and bra, but she had eaten three square feet of cake. She was a mess, and so was the table and the floor underneath her chair…sorry, chairs, plural. Her stomach aching, Sarah looked around in the bleary haze. She had eaten the whole thing. What was she going to tell everyone? Could she blame the night cleaning crew? She would have to, but first, she needed to clean up the evidence of her gluttonous binge. She struggled to her feet and stumbled over to the sink area. Where were the paper towels? The rack over the sink had an empty roll on it. Shit. With labored breathing, she stooped to look under the sink. Nothing. She heaved herself up again, bumping her overstuffed, bulbous belly on the sink. Where were there more paper towels?

Shit. Shit, shit shit! There were more in the supply closet. The tiny narrow one in the hallway. The one she had her office supplies moved out of because, as Dr. Williams had put in his stall e-mail, “accessibility issues”. The one with the door a third the size of a normal-sized closet door, and Sarah was easily  three times a wide as a normal-sized person. The paper towels that she needed to clean up were in that closet. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her huge stomach.

Well, okay, she thought, trying to calm her panic. If they were near the front of the closet, maybe she could reach them. She knew she couldn’t fit through the door, but if they were within arm’s reach of the door, she could get at them. Well, like so many other things in her life recently, there was nothing else for it. She had to do something. She waddled and wobbled down the hall towards the tiny door. If she couldn’t reach them, she would just have to squeeze into her car and go get some cleaning supplies. Oof, that sounded like a lot of work.

She creaked the door open, it was probably just as wide as the cake she had just scarfed down. The light came on automatically and she saw them immediately, on a shelf to the left of the door. She could reach them. She could do it.

On her first try, she came at the doorway head on. As it was usually the most prominent part of her forward profile, much more so now after the cake binge, Sarah’s belly squeezed into the frame, and was not able to squish far enough to even allow her breasts to get close, although she could see from angling her had down over her chins that she was far too wide to go straight.

She popped her belly out and turned 90 degrees and tried to move in that way, her right arm stretched out in front of her to see if she could grasp the tantalizing close paper towels. Although she wasn’t sure what it said about her body geometrically, she didn’t make much more progress that way either. In the last few months, she had porked out to significant depth in her booty while blimping out in front as well. That’s not to say that as she became more sedentary at work, she hadn’t also spread widthwise as well, love handles pouring over the center console of her car and her shoulders padding out like a linebacker. With the side of her bubble butt and round belly pressing against the sides of the frame, she wondered if she was as thick as she was wide, or had one dimension begun to outstrip the other. Either way, even with as much sucking in as she was able to do (which wasn’t much) she was still just over a foot short of reaching the paper towels. She grunted, trying to push further through, but her belly was too crammed full to have much give. She shifted her weight back onto her left foot and for a split second, she thought she might be a little stuck. Fuck, that would be the worst thing she could imagine. It was one thing to be too fat to squeeze into somewhere small, but it would be another thing entirely to get stuck.

Okay, she was starting to sweat, but she was determined. She was thickest where her belly and butt overlapped, but if she could squeeze her top half through the door and angle her stomach, she might be able to do it. Her breasts were huge and, front ways, wider than the door, but sideways, she could lift them up, each one way more than an oozing, squashy handful and twist…just a little….her shoulders and tits were through. Sarah shuffled her feet forward cautious, but with some force, until she felt the paddling fat around her left hip squeeze into the frame behind her while the left hemisphere of her belly made contact in front of her. She was leaning over farther then she would have liked, but with her blubbery midsection squeezed into the door frame, she was only a little worried about falling over. She stretched out her hand; the tips of her fingers were inches from the paper towels. If she could just squeeze a little bit more. She pushed with her powerful legs and engaged whatever ab muscles she had to try to suck in her gargantuan belly.

“Huff, huff, huff….got ‘em!” She exclaimed. Squeezing her thighs against the doorframe, she pushed back. She was wedged in there pretty tight, but not stuck, she couldn’t be stuck. She grunted as sweat began to pour from her forehead from exertion and nerves. Her tank top rode up over her belly during this extrication and her tight scrub pants crept up her ass in an obscene wedgie. She hadn’t remembered pushing this hard to get in. Slowly, slowly, slowly her fleshy body slid out of the painted wooden frame, not a little slick with her sweat. She stood, panting and jiggling with her shirt exposing her belly, her pants in a ridiculous wedgie, and cake all over her face and tits. The paper towels slipped out of her hands and as she stretched down to grab them before they rolled back into the closet, she her her pants rip right down the seam. At the same time, she heard someone gasp behind her.

Slowly and without a certain degree of dread and sweaty wheezing, Sarah stood up and turned around.

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  • 2 months later...

Katie, the new girl, stood in the hallway facing Sarah. She was wearing a raincoat and had ear buds in. The vision in front of her was of her colleague, cake and frosting all over her chubby face and enormous tits, a white tank top riding up over her monstrous gut, looking slightly red in the face, probably as a result of just splitting her pants. Sarah sputtered, “I…(huff, huff)…I…I…”

Kate’s face moved from an open mouthed gape into a smile that reached all the way up to her dark green eyes. “I knew you would. I just knew it! Oh my god, you…You’re just amazing!” As Sarah’s expression turned to a gape, Katie rushed forward, coming up short at Sarah’s ballooned belly. As if she were examining a rare an valuable antique vase, her hands hovered over Sarah’s girth, almost not daring to touch it. Then, she giggled gleefully and wrapped, or tried to wrap her arms around Sarah.

“Ooooooh, be careful, there’s a lot of cake in there!” That was the only thing Sarah could think to say. Katie squealed and looked into Sarah’s face with almost manic rapture.

“Did you…? No? You couldn’t have!” Katie dashed down the hallway and squealed again. Sarah was stunned, but she waddled confused down the hallway aware of the cake pressing against every part of her belly from the inside. “Holy shit, you did! You ate the whole fucking thing! And you drank that gallon of milk! Amazing!” Sarah’s mind was reeling, a little from the massive intake of sugar and dairy, but mostly at Katie. Why was she reacting like this? Sarah felt like she should be so embarrassed she could die, but she was mostly confused. Katie was staring at her and the wreckage of the break room, focusing suddenly on the chairs pulled up to the table. “Wait, did you sit on two chairs? No way!” Show me, show me, please!” She was practically jumping up and down, her tiny breasts immobile while her ponytail jounced up and down behind her. Sarah shook her head but relented when it looked like Katie was starting a pout. She oof-ed unconsciously as she slowly eased down, her ass – given a little more freedom since the splitting of her pants – fully covering both seats. As she settled, her tank top rode up and her belly pushed her thick thighs apart. Sarah had to admit it felt good to be sitting again, even if the chairs swayed underneath her. She sighed, in slight relief, confusion, and total gut-busting fullness. Katie moved around the table, still gasping; Sarah watched her an absently rubbed her huge belly. “Tell me you got this on video.” Katie asked, staring at Sarah.

“What?”

“I mean, you taped yourself, right?”

“Why? Wait. Why would I do that?”

“To keep track?” Katie looked at Sarah quizzically and pulled up a chair beside her and sat down.

“Keep track of what?” Sarah asked. Katie looked confused.

“Your gain.” As Katie spoke these words, Sarah became immediately self-conscious. She stopped rubbing her belly and became more aware of how much space she was taking up. Katie’s hand came to rest on her massive thigh and Sarah followed it up her slim arm to her narrow, almost pinched looking face. Katie was tiny and she was talking about Sarah’s gain. Sarah felt gigantic. She was gigantic.

“Excuse me?”

“Your gain. I mean, you are gaining right? You’re a gainer, aren’t you?”

“What?” Sarah was totally confused.

“Wait. Hold on a second. You’re doing this on purpose, right?”

“Doing what?” Sarah blush deepened, and Katie stared at her.

“You’re gaining weight on purpose, right?” Sarah stared at her and furrowed her brow. “Oh, shit!” Katie put a hand to her mouth, “Oh, wow!” Katie stood up abruptly. She picked up the empty, over-turned gallon milk carton and put it in the recycling. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? You don’t know about the gaining, feeder, FA scene? You don’t follow this stuff on line?”

Sarah was totally confused. She just wanted to clean up the mess she made, go home and get stoned. Katie was starting to sound a little crazy and creepy. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, I am really sorry and really pretty embarrassed by this situation, so I just want to clean up and go home. I’m sorry.”

“Oh my God! Don’t be sorry!” Katie raced back to the chair and sat next to Sarah placing both hands on her thigh this time. “Can I tell you something? I bought it for you. I was hoping you would eat it. I love watching you eat. You’re so…I don’t know…into it. It’s really exciting. I just assumed that you were, you know, into the whole scene. You’re just so amazing.” She gazed up with adoration into Sarah’s face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sarah was honestly confused and not a little freaked out. Katie pushed the table away from Sarah’s chairs and knelt down in front of her. She put both hands on Sarah’s gut and dug her fingers into it.

“You’re so big and you just keep getting bigger. In the time I have been here you’ve gotten so much bigger and the other girls told me you used to be small, like a few years ago. I just assumed you were doing it on purpose.” Katie got a crazed look in her eye, “It’s just so hot. You’re so fat. I just wanted to… I don’t know, be part of it. I mean, I’ve been following the scene for so long on-line and I think I just assumed that you were into it too, I mean, it just made sense…”

“What scene? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“…and then I come back to get my wallet,” she squeezed Sarah’s belly harder, “and you ate the whole fucking cake! And you’re squeezing into the closet and then you split your pants!” She shifted her hands from Sarah’s belly and squeezed the sides of her ass than bulged onto the chair. “It’s been than the best fantasy fiction I have ever read

“Enough!” Sarah blurted. “What are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean!”

“That’s why I asked you if you videoed the cake. I was sure you had a website. I have been looking for it everywhere, but I assume that people don’t use their own names. Otherwise, I bet they would get stalked.” Sarah let her head fall back, causing her boobs to bounce all over. She placed her hands over Katie’s that were still on her ass.

“Stop touching me and tell me what you are talking about.”

“Really? You don’t know anything about FAs? Feeders? Gainers?” Sarah shook her head, cheeks jiggling. “Chubby Chasers? Weight gain fetishes?”

“Weight gain fetishes?”

“Oh my God, You have so research to do. There are places on the internet, and in the real world where you would be a goddess. Someone as big as you, who eats like you do, who gains like I’ve see you gain. You are perfect. First of all, you are gorgeous…”

“No. No I am not. I am huge and I just keep getting bigger. Not gorgeous.”

“I’m just going to have to show you to prove it to you. Here,” Katie stood up and grabbed Sarah’s bra and shirt from where she had flung them over a chair, “put these back on and I will take you out to dinner and explain everything.” She looked at Sarah hopefully, “Do you need help?”

“No, no, thank you. I can do the bra, but” She slapped her belly for emphasis, “I am not sure I am getting back into that shirt.”

“Oh, God, You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” Sarah did not.

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As Katie insisted on taking them both in her car, Sarah excused herself while Katie joyfully cleaned, to smoke some weed, actually more than she normally would at this point in a day, but her mind was spinning. She was immediately calmed and soon after that, hungry again. That was good.

What was not good was that Katie drove a tiny Volkswagen and after a lot of protesting, convinced Sarah to squeeze into it. With the seat all the way back, she still had a hard time both getting low enough on her aching knees and then stuffing her bulk in. Katie watched with barely contained glee, but had to get out and slam Sarah’s door shut while Sarah rocked and pulled her own ass out of the way long enough for the door to click into the lock. When it did, Sarah surged back into it like a tidal wave of flab. She still spread out. When Katie walked back around to the driver’s side, she could have sworn that the little car was listing to one side. She got back in with a wide grin and a giggle, her elbow brushing whatever parts of Sarah were hanging over the center console.

Sarah was starting to feel a little giggly herself, “I am too fat for your car.”

“Yes, yes, I think you are,” Katie tried in vain to suppress a shudder. They crept down the street, Katie cutting sideways glances at the bulk of Sarah’s body wedged in her car as it bounced and wobbled with every small bump in the road.

“Tell me about this stuff you were going to tell me about,” Sarah was aware that the weed was making her talk funny, but she didn’t care. That was the great thing about being high. She just didn’t care that. She didn’t care that she was in a car with a total weirdo whom she barely knew. She didn’t care that the same car was too small for her tremendously fat body. She didn’t care that after a day of sedentary gluttony, she had eaten an entire tabletop of cake. She didn’t care that she was getting hungry again.

“Well, it will be better to show you, which I will do, but basically there are tons of people out there, men and women, who are really into fat, you know, like turned on by fat people, weight gain, all that stuff.”

“No way,” Sarah slurred.

“Yes way,” Katie giggled. Sarah’s mind drifted hazily back to the pizza store guy, but no, no that has just been a joke. She rubbed the curve of her belly absently. She must have been lost in this reverie for a few minutes because soon Katie announced, “We’re here!”

Asian Garden All-You-Can-Eat Buffet. Sarah gazed up at the neon sign with a look in her eyes that seemed to express that all of her dreams had come true. Katie had the same look in her eyes.

It took a lot of work and sweat to get Sarah out of Katie’s car, but soon they were into the restaurant and getting an appraising look from the hostess. “Table or booth?” she asked, almost sarcastically. Katie looked to Sarah who told the hostess, “Table, please,” before turning to Katie and whispering, “Most booths are a little tight.”

To which Katie whispered back, “Ooh, just wait until you see what I have to show you.”

The chairs at the buffet were wider and sturdier than the ones in the break room at work, so Sarah made due with one, although her ass hung over both sides and her soft back, enveloped the chair where it pressed into her. She didn’t care, though. The pot had worked her into a serious hunger and it didn’t even matter to her that she was still wearing pants that had split earlier that night.

As soon as the waiter had brought their drinks -- water for Katie, beer for Sarah – and cleared them for the buffet Sarah was off, with Katie close behind her. Sarah filled up her plate with her favorite kind of Chinese food, the kind where fried things were covered with sticky sweet sauce. She had such a mountain on her plate, she was afraid it might topple as she speed waddled back to their table. She immediately dug in. Katie joined her a few minutes later, her plate the image of moderation. While Sarah shoveled in her candied, fried fare, Katie placed a plate stacked with egg rolls next to Sarah’s elbow. Without missing a beat, she nodded her thanks to Katie, snatched up and egg roll and demolished it in two bites. Katie pulled an iPad out of her purse, did some tapping and angled it towards Sarah. What she saw on the screen caused her to do what little else could, stop eating. With her mouth hanging open, she watched the video.

A woman sat at a table in what was obviously a Chinese buffet shoveling food into her mouth much in the same way that Sarah had been doing moments ago. She was mesmerized. She recognized the look in the woman’s eyes. She was in the zone and loving every bite that passed into her mouth. And she was huge.

While it was true that Sarah had a shaky, inaccurate conception of how big she actually was, she was sure that she was smaller than the woman on the screen. Well, maybe not by much, they were both well over what could be considered normal sized, but this woman certainly had more than a few pounds on her. She watched in fascination as the woman continued to eat and groan with pleasure and stare up into the camera almost seductively.

“So, wait,” Sarah said, picking up her fork again, “someone taped this women in a restaurant and put it on Youtube?”

“No, silly,” Katie replied gauging Sarah’s reaction, “She made it herself. And she didn’t put it on Youtube, she sells these. This video of her eating for,” Katie tilted the screen and tapped away, “for fifteen minutes costs twenty-five dollars to download,” Sarah almost choked on the syrupy, fried mass of chicken in her mouth.

“What?!” She gulped down the piece of food and immediately stuffed in another one. “People buy this?” Katie nodded, biting her lip. “Wait,” Sarah continued, “did you buy this?” Katie bit her lip again.

“Yes!” she squealed and then clapped a hand over her mouth, “I did,” she continued in a softer voice, “but, Sarah, you are like a thousand timed hotter and so much prettier. Sarah’s fork tapped the ceramic plate, signaling to her that she was done. She had barely noticed plowing through that pile of food. She grabbed another egg roll from the stack Katie had brought to the table and struggled to her feet, plate in hand.

Burping gently and saying, “I’ll be right back,” she waddled back to the buffet, jiggling with every step. What the fuck was happening? Who was this chick? Was she insane? Where were those thick fried noodles? Ooh, and spare ribs? Sarah knew she probably shouldn’t have smoked so much, but now that the switch had been flipped, she couldn’t seem to stop. She huff and puffed her way back to the table as the waiter was bringing her a second beer. She plopped down with a creaking of chair and knees and picked up a rib.

“Show me more, weirdo,” she said to Katie and fell to gorging again. By the time the mound of noodles and pile of spareribs had vanished into Sarah, she was almost out of breath, but she knew all about feeders, and gaining models, and she had seen photos that women bulging out of corsets and laying amidst piles of food had posted and she had seen the responses posted by hordes of men and women admiring their size, their gluttony, and their expansion.

“Well,” Katie ventured when Sarah rocked back on her huge butt and wiped a little sweat from her forehead, “what do you think?”

“I think you need to get me some more food,” Sarah said with some effort, “I’m not sure I can stand up right now.”

“You…you…want to keep eating?” Sarah nodded emphatically, feeling her multiple chins compress against her neck. Katie looked like she might faint, but leapt nimbly to her feet and sprinted back to the buffet.

She returned, balancing two plates piled high with any and everything from the steam trays. Placing them in front of Sarah with a huge grin, she hopped back to her seat, signaling the waiter to bring Sarah a fourth beer. She began to tell Sarah about herself, her life, her hopes, but she might as well have been talking to a wall. Sarah was so used to eating alone and so intoxicated, both by the weed and beer, and by her own endorphins pumping through the binge, she didn’t hear a thing Katie said. Every so often, she emitted a porcine grunt as an acknowledgement that she was still there, but other than that she focused on stuffing her mouth. Crab Rangoon, scallion pancakes, fried dumpling, sweat and sour shrimp, mushu pork, more egg rolls. As she finished her fifth plate, she felt as if she had eaten the entire country of China.

She glanced down at her belly and if she hadn’t already been breathing so hard from the exertion of gorging herself, she could have gasped. She had honestly never seen it so big. It swelled past her breasts (no small feat) and out over her thighs, which were straining. She had slid her pants down below the swell before she sat down, but she could now feel the waistband digging in. She felt both excited and disgusted at the sight. She put one hand out onto it’s dome, the contents wobbling slightly and looked up at Katie who was staring, open mouthed, with a wild gleam in her eye. All of the stuff about people getting turned on by fat girls getting fatter swam back into her conscious when she saw Katie’s eyes.

If she were at home, she would have just turned up the TV, smoked a bit more to distract her from the pain of her swollen gut and gone to sleep, sunken deep into her plush, sagging sofa. But she wasn’t at home. She was in public, gorged to a stupor, with a weird girl who she was pretty sure wanted to fuck her or hunt her for sport. And her car was back at the office. She needed Katie to get her back to her car.

“I think I need you to help me up.” Katie paid the bill and with what appeared like a combination of lust and actual exertion, got Sarah standing up. She staggered out the doors and into the night air and when Katie opened the passenger side door for her, Sarah shook her head and pointed at the back. While it was tougher to maneuver into the back, she could spread out further in all directions. There was no way a seatbelt could have contained her belly, but with the way it was partially wedged in between the two front seats, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t fly out. Katie kept up a steady stream of chatter, but, through the euphoric haze that always accompanied eating so much, Sarah could only focus on each jolt in the road jostling her rock hard belly and jiggling the rest of her flabby frame.

When the finally pulled into the parking lot and finally pulled Sarah out of Katie’s car, the pain had finally started to subside, but she still felt bleary. Katie softly grabbed her puffy forearm, “Can I ask you something?”

“Wha..what?”

“This is just something I am dying to know: how much do you weigh?” The question stabbed through the food and weed and beer euphoria and Sarah’s eyes shot open.

“How much do I weigh?”

“Yeah, I just really, really, want to know.” Sarah felt ice water in her veins. How long had it been since she used the mirror to read the scale backwards? Months, right? God, what was it that night, three thirty something. Shit, that number was probably long gone. She sighed deeply. “I just thought you might tell me, you know, we’re becoming friends, and I thought…” Sarah cut her off.

“Honestly, Katie, I don’t know,” Katie looked crestfallen, “Wait, not that I don’t know if I want to tell you; I just don’t know. I haven’t weighed myself in a long time. I guess, part of my just doesn’t want to know.” Katie spread her arms wide and grasped Sarah’s padded biceps, her eyes saucers.

“Oh, can we weigh you?! Please, please, please?” Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but Katie threw a pout, “We can just run in to the office, right now.” Sarah was feeling like she was about to enter into a full panic. But she wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of it.

“Oh, okay,” she relented. With one hand bracing her lower back and one hand on her overstuffed gut, she waddled after Katie across the parking lot and (huff, huff) up the few stairs and back into the office. They passed her desk and she glimpsed the bowl of candy that she put out for patients, but which she emptied herself every couple of hours, and her new chair. She longed to sit down. She followed a giggling Katie down the hall, switching lights on as she went until they were in front of her old friend, the scale. Without bothering with her shoes – she couldn’t see them anyway, she clumped onto the scale. She almost had to lean back to keep her belly from hitting the upright. Katie’s hands moved to the weights, but Sarah said, “I can do it.” With sweat on her forehead and her bottom lip between her teeth, she set the larger weight to 300 and started sliding the smaller one up the numbers, only slowing after 30 the indicator stayed pinned to the top of the bracket. When she reached the end, which she knew in her heart she would. She heard a near-ecstatic Katie gasp. She moved the top slider back to 0 and moved the bottom weight up to 350. Then, with her back aching from standing and the sweat of panic beginning to roll down her back and form underneath her mammoth boobs, she started tapping the smaller weight upwards, slowly. 355. 360. 365.

Okay, okay. Since she had started to accept her weight a little bit, she has started to feel better. But part of that acceptance was not knowing what her weight actually was. She knew she was so much bigger than she had been the last time she weighed herself, but seeing it for real made her a little queasy. She didn’t want to find out how heavy she was.

And, in a way, she didn’t.

To her increasing horror, as the smaller weight slid up – 370, 375, 380 – the indicator didn’t move. It didn’t occur to her until the top weight was at 50 and the bottom at 350 and the needle didn’t move that she weighed over 400 pounds. How much over, she had no idea.

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OMG so awesome! I love this story more with every chapter. I was wondering where you were going to take it, because sometimes wg stories can start to spin their wheels and just go in circles. I think the addition of Katie and her prurient interests was an interesting wrinkle! I really love the way you wrote her, it seems very natural -- and it's not easy making an "iffy" coincidence feel natural! You managed it, somehow! Again, awesome work and glad to see more! Please keep up the good work :)

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  • 1 month later...

When Sarah finally hauled herself into bed that night after discarding her ripped pants and pulling off her painfully tight bra, three distinct thoughts both troubled and fascinated her.

The first was that she seemed to be unable to lay on her back. For maybe the first time ever, the weight of her own belly and everything that she had stuffed into it was too great. She felt it pressing down on her organs and spine. Her tits splayed out to either side of her chest but they too felt too heavy. She had become and expert at stuffing herself silly and eating to way way way beyond excess. She had gotten as fat as she had in a very short time and the feeling of being in a food coma was one that she had become very familiar with. But tonight, it felt different, like she had taken that one step too far. Too far. That had been the theme of her life for the last few years. Everything had gone too far, but she had never before felt quite so trapped under the weight of her excess.

The second thing on her mind was the weird world that Katie had shown to her. She had been pretty high and engrossed in stuffing her face, but it didn’t seem like it was fake, What did this discovery mean for her? Anything.

God, her gut ached. She couldn’t get comfortable. She rolled onto her side.

The final thing on her mind, as the beer, weed, cake, and MSG did its work and she drifted off into fitful, uncomfortable sleep was how the fuck had she gotten to weigh more than four hundred fucking pounds, and how much over that dreaded number was she?

Sarah had the next day off, so she slept as long as she could, gasping to life from a disturbing dream at around eleven o’clock. Despite the gorging of the day before, she was ravenously hungry and made food her first priority. She had discovered that she could fit three tubes of Pillsbury Cinnamon rolls onto one cookie sheet, and that was popped into the oven. While she was waiting for the rolls to cook, she added some heft to her own rolls with a box of Cap’n Crunch and a box of Fruity Pebbles. For a while, she had tried to make it easier to eat her fill of cereal by filling up a mixing bowl with the sugary treats and pouring in the vanilla soy milk- so much sweeter than whole milk – but that just make the whole thing soggy by the time she had finished emptying her trough. Now she just took the boxes and the milk to the couch and kept refilling them.

Lumbering over to her favorite spot to eat, Sarah assumed the position that she had slowly resorted to over the last year as her ballooning had really taken off. As her gut had gotten really really big and her abs progressively weaker, it was harder and harder for her to place whatever she was eating on the table and lean over it. After sustained growth, her belly began to push her knees apart, and although her thighs pushed back, it wasn’t too comfortable, so Sarah eventually started to rock back and forth, scooping up food and then flopping back on the couch. That was too much effort and, even though it made her a little sick to do it, she started simply laying back into the cushions and putting whatever she was currently sucking down on top of her bloated gut. Obviously, this lead to a lot of spills on her dwindled wardrobe, so she just started eating without a shirt or pants, usually with a dishtowel draped over her gut.

She took up this position for her first three bowls of cereal, but remembered that she wanted to use her laptop to see for herself what Kaie was talking about. She vaguely remembered some of it from the night before. She had said that what made Sarah special for someone of her size was, “You’re, like, big all over; you’re totally proportional.” Sarah had stopped as she crammed an entire egg roll into her mouth. Around a mouthful of fried fat, she had replied,

“There’s nothing proportional about me, Katie. I’m fucking huge.”

“No, no, no, like…I think it is amazing where the human body puts extra fat, right? I mean when a girl gets as big as you, there’s always, or usually, some part of her that really gets superfat, like she has a giant butt and tiny boobs, or like a massive gut, but relatively skinny legs. But you’re big all over, you have huge boobs, a huge belly, huge thighs, a huge butt…”

“I…I get it. I’m huge.” Sarah interrupted, and then crammed in another egg roll.

Sarah opened her e-mail to find that Katie had been sending her links the previous night. She gulped more cereal, finishing two boxes while the cinnamon rolls cooled and clicked through site after site. Jesus Christ. This was even weirder than it had seemed the night before. She was in shock, but also felt something like pride, or some kind of shared empathy or sympathy or something, something weird.

Chomping her way through fifteen cinnamon rolls which she had iced with the icing in the package and a jar of Nutella, Sarah saw a new world . She didn’t know any women as big as she was and she barely knew how to dress herself, but blog after blog showed her that she didn’t need to be crammed into internet-ordered scrubs and gigantic, food-stained sweats all the time. She saw women who were proud of how they looked, posed in sexy ways or posted video of them wobbling their bellies.

What was perhaps the most surprising was the amount of fandom that these women seemed to attract. There seemed to be tons of men who gladly paid to watch videos of them rubbing their bellies, or squeezing into tight clothes, or just eating.

Sarah looked down at the pan to discover that she had the last cinnamon roll in her hand. Breathing heavily, she folded it into her mouth in one choking bite. She swallowed and immediately let out a monstrous belch that caused her entire body to wobble. From her reclined position, she could see the ripples on her huge breasts and belly. She sighed, coming to an inevitable conclusion:

These women were fat, and beautiful, and men loved them and they seemed happy with who they were. There was a range to these women’s sizes, though, and if she was honest with herself, which was hard for her, she was in the upper range. For sure, some women were larger, topping out in the five hundred pound range, but she was bigger than most of them. And she was growing at an alarming rate. And she didn’t really feel like stopping. What did that mean?

What she was immediately sure of was her need to get her expanding ass to the mall and buy some clothes that made her look less like…well, less like a woman who tried to cram herself into tightening scrubs and sweatpants; there were stretch pants in her future! Why hadn’t this occurred to her before? Maybe the weed was really starting to make her dumb. Fatter, she was somehow, sort of, becoming okay with, but she didn’t want to be any dumber than she already was.

She felt pretty dumb when she tried to hoist herself off of the couch too fast and had to give it three tries before she could move her bulk into a standing position. Recognizing the wreckage on the coffee table, she sighed, knowing that she had overdone it, again.

She felt less dumb, when she had the presence of mind to look up the mall’s directory and map on her phone so she knew which parking lot would cause her to have to walk the least. Her goal was Lane Bryant, and…wait a minute…really? Lane Bryant was right next to the food court? Was that some kind of joke? Ooooh, they had Auntie Ann’s Pretzles and Taco Bell. God, what was she thinking? She was still stuffed from breakfast, but the bowl she had smoked in the car ride over was starting to kick in and she couldn’t deny that she was starting to get hungry. This, she thought as she looked down at the glass pipe resting on her gut which was, in turn, pressing on the steering wheel is why you’re so fucking fat. The great thing about a weed addled brain is that it always gives the same answer: Oh well, no big deal…

Sarah shoehorned her way out of her car in the parking lot and began to waddle toward the doors. It was funny, but now knowing that she had blimped out to over four hundred pounds made her knees seem to hurt more and her breath come shorter than she thought it had yesterday. Thank God she had parked close to the elevator.

The smells from the food court wafted towards her sensitive nose as she emerged onto the main floor of the mall. She rolled into the store, expectedly empty for a weekday and was immediately greeted by a woman who seemed helpful and cheerful and chubby. Funny how this woman, Kelli, would be considered by most to be downright fat, standing in front of the perspiring, bulging Sarah, she seemed merely, and almost daintily plump. Sarah was dressed in the last pair of scrub pants she could get up around her ass and a sweatshirt that not only had food stains on it, but was stretched tight across boobs and belly, so that Sarah was sure she could feel a slight breeze on the bottom curve of gut as it surged over her waistband. As Kelli extended her hand to shake, Sarah leaned forward, dropped her purse, bent over to pick it up, and heard a rip as her scrubs split right up the seam.

“Oh, come in, honey,” cooed Kelli, “We’ll take care of that.” Patting Sarah’s over inflated upper arms, she led her into the store.

Two hours of the full attention of the three women working that day, several hundred dollars, and countless, tiring trips to the fitting room, Sarah emerged from Lane Bryant in a pair of leggings, wearing her same tight grey sweatshirt, but toting bags containing new clothes for all occasions. She felt, at once, confident but also shocked to find herself at the outer limits of some of the clothes available off the racks. Kelli, Mary, and Jolene were all sympathetic and stylish, and much, much bigger than average, but all of them easily clothed in the offerings of their employer. Sarah was bigger than all of them, and wanted, as some points to ask if they had women come in bigger then she. But she didn’t ask.

She felt strange, so strange that she could hardly describe how she felt. Horror, certainly, that in a store for fat women, in a country full of fat women, she was at the upper end of the fat spectrum. But that wasn’t all, and it wasn’t total. These women – Katie last night, and the three women today – thought she was beautiful. Or, at least they said they did. And to be honest, looking at herself it clothes that didn’t feel like they were about to burst at the seams, she did feel better than she had in a long time. It would be too much to say that she felt attractive, but seeing those women on the internet, well, it could be her. She felt oddly powerful, like all four hundred and whatever pounds of her could be something that was desirable and something not so bad or weird.

Sarah had little time to think these thoughts, because, just like she overdid everything, she must have overdone it on the pot on her way over, because she had spent way too much money and now she was totally, out of her mind starving. She surveyed the food court like a wolf eyeing a flock of blissfully unaware sheep. What should she eat? How could she choose which restaurant to stuff her face from?

A small voice piped up from the back of her mind, “All of them.”

All of them. She would eat something from each of the – she counted – thirteen restaurants.

Once she had decided, she was committed. Strategy: a clockwise rotation through the food court. A real dish from each place. A challenge.

She placed her bags at a table in the center and dragged two of the flimsy café chairs over to one side. She new from looking at them that she was going to need both.

The first place served salad. Bullshit. Caeser with extra dressing and double crispy fried chicken. Down in minutes, even with the cheesy garlic bread.

Number two was Teriyaki Town. She made an easy call of beef over fried noodles, not too spicy, but the portion was huge. It wasn’t as easy as the salad, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

Next was Burger King. The Triple Whopper with a frozen Coke might have been a bit ambitious, especially so early in the game, but she managed it with a smile and several deep and resonant belches. Three down, ten to go. The chairs creaked as she wobbled to stand up.

After downing two slices of Sbarro stuffed pizza, one of them Philly Cheesesteak and one Supreme, she was really glad that she was wearing one of her new pairs of leggings.

After three grilled stuff’d burritos from Taco Bell, she reached down and let her aching belly flop over the top of them. Her sweatshirt, getting tighter by the second rode up and constricted.

Five restaurants down, eight to go.

Three rolls of prepackaged sushi, heavy on the soy sauce. She swore that she felt herself swelling out in all directions as she oofed and huffed her way off of her chairs to stumble to Chik-fil-a.

With her deluxe chicken sandwich and waffle fries, Sarah trudged back to her seat, her hips brushing the chairs around her and her belly bouncing a little she felt almost too full to continue, but the sandwich was so juicy and so good and the fries we so salty, she couldn’t stop. Could she make it six more restaurants? When the last waffle fry disappeared into her ready mouth, she took stock.

There was a pile of wrappers on the table and three huge bags from Lane Bryant on the other two chairs. There were two chairs under her massive butt. She placed a salty hand on either side of her hips; soft, squishy, huge. She swiped her hands up her hips to where her love-handles slopped over, also soft, squishy, and – holy shit – a lot bigger than the last time that she had squeezed them. She ran her palms around to the main event: the belly. It was taut but still soft and big, really big. She ran her hands around it some more, making small circles. Her nipples got hard. Rubbing her stuffed belly was turning her on. She looked down at her stiffening nipples and knew that as full as she was, she needed to eat more. She needed to eat a meal from six more restaurants.

A roasted garlic, a sour cream and onion, and a pepperoni pretzel from Auntie Anne’s. Sarah’s breathing got heavy.

As she stood transfixed by the rotating column of lamb at the Gyro shop, the sane, rational part of her brain that was still back there somewhere behind her headlong dive into abject gluttony, told her that she should stop. The part of her brain that was expanding as fast as her tits told her to get an extra-large. So she did and with tzatziki sauce running down one chin onto the next, she planned her approach to the final four. She knew these would be the worst to tackle at then end, the ones in which she would have the least control over herself.

A pile of pork fried rice covered in General Tso’s sweetly fried chicken from Panda Express caused her to break out in a sweat.

The liter of sweet tea she got to go with her basket of fried chicken from Popeye’s helped cool her down, but started her feeling some sharp jabs of pain from her gut. She pushed on.

If there was a point of no return, it was when she took her first bite of the Five Guys bacon cheeseburger. She had piled the Cajun fries under the bun, so save time, and the flavors combined to help her forget the pain in the stomach, the sweat on her brow, and what might be the onset of dizziness.

She almost stumbled as she cradled her belly and swayed up to the final ascent. The last stop that could make of break her: Cinnabon. And she wasn’t going to crawl over the finish line, she was going to sprint.

“Can I (hic) have a (burp) box of six, please?” She tried to smile, but she wasn’t sure it was convincing.

With box in hand, she painfully manoevered her bulk back to her chairs. Leaving the debris of her binge on the table, she picked up her bags and started the waddle to her car. She wasn’t sure it if was possible, but she thought she might actually explode and if she did, she wanted it to be in a confined space where no small children would be hurt.

To say that the walk pained her would be an understatement. To say that squeezing her bulk back into her car was a challenge would also be an understatement. To say that the bowl she smoked in the parking lot was small would also be an understatement, but it calmed her waves of nausea and her nervous mind. And one bite at a time, she ate each and every one of the enormous, gooey confections, her sexual arousal growing with each bite until, as she stuffed the last morsel into her mouth, she felt the surge of release and reclined her seat in ecstasy, feeling very wet in her now too tight leggings.

Her breath came in short gasps as she knew that something had changed, something had broken through, and she would never be the same again.

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