You’re so stuffed, so packed with junk food and sweets, that all you can do is whine helplessly. You’re breathing heavily and you don’t think you’ll have the strength to lift your flabby body from the chair without help. All you can do for now is press your pudgy fingers delicately into the dome of your enormous tummy and let out a burp followed by a moan of relief.
You just kept eating and eating. You’ve been letting yourself go for months now, overeating at every meal. You look down at your body, and you can see all the pounds you’ve put on recently.
You’ve gone up a couple sizes in pants, and now nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. Your belly gets in the way. The rest of your body is getting pudgy too. You’ve put on about a hundred pounds and it’s all gone to your belly, thighs, hips, and butt.
You’re out of shape, because the only exercise you’ve been getting is waddling to the fridge or pantry. Stairs are getting much harder, they get you out of breath embarrassingly quickly. And even hoisting yourself from a chair is a humiliating ordeal, your fat thighs quivering with effort, your ass swaying as it’s pulled forward by the momentum of rocking your fat gut out in front of you.
Everything is an effort, even eating. You wheeze a little when you stuff your face, you eat so quickly and so fucking much that you’re out of breath constantly. You prefer to have things brought to you now, it saves you the trouble.
You can feel yourself jiggle when you move, your pants got tight and then your replacement pants got tighter still. You wear mostly sweats now with plenty of room for your impossibly big belly. And now, stuffed as you are, you need someone to take care of you, reach the bloated parts of your tummy with a soothing hand, reach under your gut to get you off.
You did so well. You gobbled down everything I put in front of you, sweet and rich. Now all that food, all that excessive eating, is catching up to you. It’s really starting to show.
You sure are a sight right now, shirt riding up on your engorged belly, pants undone and straining to contain your love handles. You jiggle as you try to sit up into a more dignified position. Your stuffed stomach protests and you wrap your arms around the gigantic curve of it.
God, you’re bloated and obese and you can barely move. And it’s so fucking hot
