You haven't noticed, have you?
Your meals keep getting bigger.
I know why. You've been too busy stuffing that face. Haven't paid attention to anything else in weeks - well, months now - and it's pretty obvious. So focused on satisfying those indulgent cravings and that constant, bottomless hunger, all you can think about is more. You eat to feel full and full for you means overstuffed. You can't even help it anymore.
I can't believe you haven't even noticed that double chin you've been growing, the way it pushes and spreads against your neck when you're bent over your meal and shoveling down all that food. How your belly jiggles with every step and spills into your lap a little more everyday. The way your arms don't quite touch your sides that well and your chest swells and your thighs rub. You're so fat now, you don't even realize, either sitting down too engrossed in gorging on flavors and textures, or too focused on making it to the door for delivery or into the kitchen because fuck, you need more, right?
Did you think that button flying off the other week was a fluke? Or needing to unzip your pants after every meal is a coincidence? The seams straining and groaning trying to contain your widening form. You must be completely unaware of the fact you're constantly tugging down your shirts and readjusting those clothes that used to fit you so well. They still do, actually. Maybe too well, from the glances and looks you get from friends and family and strangers after you surface from finishing your huge portions already asking for dessert.
That mindless haze that takes over when you eat makes it hard to notice how fast your body - and mind - is changing. You must keep forgetting those moments of surprise when you catch your reflection or see a recent photo. At how big and soft you look now. You obviously don't forget how it makes you feel. The throb that runs through you, the hunger it provokes, and the way you need to eat so much more later because of it. Before-you wouldn't recognize the behavior of current-you, not the way you've fully given yourself to the gluttony and hedonism.
Now, instead of worrying about how much you've eaten, you just sit back and pat your stuffed belly with a satisfied sigh. Rub the tender fullness in big slow circles. You don't even think twice, or at all, as your hand drifts lower and lower greedily seeking more pleasure until you're rutting and writhing as much as your beached body lets you, only realizing then how truly full you are - of how you only want more of it. Accepting with every bite and every orgasm that it's the only thing that gets you over the edge anymore. That it's the only thing you crave.
You're so heavy now. Sensitive. Insatiable.
You haven't noticed, not really. Because, well, that's how you are all the time. You're lost to the bliss of this. You want more. You need more. You get more.
You can't help it. You've conditioned yourself so well.
It's unlike anything else, isn't it? So easy, so simple, so rewarding to let go and give in to that growing pleasure.
It all feels too good to stop.
