Chapter 4

I hit 800 on my 31st birthday; it was an important milestone for me because of what happened on my birthday. I had been gorging like a madman trying to reach it before the day I was a glutton before but this was me forcing myself even harder than my usual. I’d still eat my 3 meals a day but when each one took 3 hours my entire day was spent stuffing myself like a bottomless hog, I was getting lazy with my personal grooming too, I hadn’t shaved in 8 months or cut my hair in somewhere over a year, so I even looked like a beast, a big fat hairy animal who dug into his fattening feasts with more grunts from gasping for air between huge mouthfuls of a rich pasta or handful of pie being crammed into my bloated fat face than I ever said words. The night of my birthday was especially memorable, I hit 800 the night before and after my overfed body finished digesting all I had given it and turning it into even more fresh fat to surround my poor strained skeleton and went out for the first time since I had started trying to get to 800. My encourager took me to a Brazilian BBQ restaurant where despite the food being so delicious it was all you could eat, and I indented to test that. We got into the restaurant at 4 for an early dinner and didn’t leave until 9, I sat at a booth with the table removed laying with my back against the wall and my tremendous mass of a belly on my lap. This proved useful as I had them add plates to my table like paunch, the soft fat allowing the heavy plates a good resting spout before I put it right before my face and shoveled food in with my hands, silverwares for someone who doesn’t eat for more time then they spend sleeping in a day, I needed my 30,000 calories a day. I knew my shirt was getting stained from all the excess that my hands let fall before I could cram it into my mouth, the delicious sauces covering my shaggy beard and making me wonder if it’d really be worth it to replace my 12-xl shirts. I’m so fat I’ve transcended from being a normal human to something else, I really have become an eating machine, putting on more weight every day and soon walking would become too much, my weight would start climbing like never before. After 5 long hours of cramming food into my gullet I was finally sated, I knew my blubbery face was a mess, and my shirt was literally wet with a mix of sweat and sauce but I had a smirk on my face showing just how satisfied I was with my display as a hog. I managed to transfer to the scooter after letting some of the massive quantity of food I had consumed digest, my encourager was happy to help, pushing hard on my engorged belly with both hands and still barely able to get any use from the massage with all my bellyfat in the way, but I loved it, just like I did him. The problem occurred when the scooter stopped moving after 5 feet, the motor was no longer strong enough to move my lard which was bad news, each of my hips were bigger than my encourager, which given his size meant a lot. The restaurant managed to find a pair of canes and I barely made it to the van, having to painfully fight fatigue and the amazing colossal weight that was my body. Every muscle I had strained to keep me up and slowly moving, my paunch pushed out so far I couldn’t reach the front and it sagged all the way to my knees. I was disappointed in my ride home, I probably burned a few thousand calories in the slow walk to the van, I couldn’t have that anymore. That night would be the last time I went out, ever.