Chapter 2

I hit 500 when I was 26, I had found an encourager in my area who found nothing better than to admire my bulk, I gotta say I couldn’t argue with that either, anytime I got to see my lard in a mirror I was thankful that my belly covered my erection - the big pile of blubber had some uses after all. I liked that I could reach down to the bottom of my belly which was on my generously wide hips and lift it up like a sack, I knew that it was there through my eating, spending hour after hour, day after day shoveling food down my gullet, everything from piles of sweets to hearty meals that could feed a whole family, I ate to my heart’s content. My encourager did nothing but promote this behavior. He’d spend dinners with me seeing if I could fit just a little more into my ever expanding belly, when we were home he’d strip and sit on the couch next to me rubbing my sizeable paunch and I loved every second of it. I’d lay there, a food filled pile of fat, breathing heavily while my body worked to digest every calorie I put in it, he’d kiss me all over. He’d start at my soft thighs, my wide legs seemed to drive him wild, from there he’d rub my lower belly, it was nothing but fat and we both loved that, he’d grab it with both hands and squeeze it gently so that he’d feel how taught it was. Then press his hands into where my stomach was, get some oils and massage my food laden mass, hearing me groan and moan in deep pleasure from the sensations, what was even nicer than what he did with his hands was what he could do with his mouth, while he gave me a belly massage that got me going, he would kiss my belly, moving up to my swollen mantits, he’d suckle them knowing that they were a pleasure spot for me since I had more and more trouble reaching my, ahem, inner self. They had gotten large by this point, about an inch and a half across and when he licked them intensely, the pleasure combined with knowing just how much food I had consumed that night and his hands all over my belly got me into levels of pleasure that I could only wish lasted longer.

We’d spend days together that were monuments to my gluttony, he’d take me to a restaurant and I’d end up sampling 4-6 meals for a regular person, all of it would neatly fit into the huge gut. I had come to love just how big I was getting, my walking had moved from a stride in college to a waddle at work to now a slower shuffle, gravity as they say was beginning to bring me down as my barrel thighs would rub against each other and my monumental behind shifted cheek to cheek. I had to have specialty furniture at work; my office chair was barely able to contain my gigantic ass. I’d spend all day eating, my 2 dozen doughnuts had moved up to 5, I’d shovel them into my mouth as fast as I could, the first 20 or so before I even got to work, I could barely wait until I got to my desk before starting on the other 40 for breakfast. My coworkers had some level of disgust at my behavior; I worked hard on my projects but not nearly as much as I did on my own self.