chapter 1

i work in an office full of really nice, great guys. being architects, they're all overworked, stressed out, and spend hours upon hours, day after day at their desks. They're extremely successful, regularly surpassing other firms by leaps and bounds.

but all that time at their desks takes its toll - they're snacking all day - i don't think they realize just how much. and they go out drinking almost every night--endless business dinners that often go on till the wee hours

...they cab it back, sprawled out in the back seat, holding their bloated bellies--filled with expensive wines and rich, heavy food. they haul themselves out of the taxi and waddle up to the to door of their house or their apartment. slowly, unsteadily they make their way inside, holding up the walls as they make themselves a nightcap or five and head over to the fridge to rummage around for last night's leftovers. thinking they couldn't eat another bite, they open the fragrant containers of take-out thai, cartons of spicy pasta, and half-eaten slices of cheesecake. usually they gorge themselves again, sometimes resting their heavy bellies on the marble countertops to take some of the pressure off their backs.

feeling lighter, they are able to eat even more. they can see their tummies stretch and grow, slowly spreading across the cold surface like fudge, or lava. it's like swimming, they feel weightless, invincible--until the tiredness, the complete exhaustion finally overrides the need to stay awake and shove more food into to their mouths and fondle their massive guts

... their size and weight and imbalance only becomes clear to them as they are forced to pick up their engorged balls of fats, heaving, grunting, hauling the weight spilling over their arms, to their beds, or the couch if it's closer, collapsing onto the foam, or the squeaking wires, or the dense futon.

laying on their backs, they marvel at how their stuffed bellies are so round and so high, how even in that position they are a formidable mountain of flesh, of digesting food, of discomfort and pleasure.

immensely turned on by this huge mound of fat bearing down on them, they caress themselves gently, running their hands over the thick love handles hanging over the sides of their padded hip bones, their fingers exploring their own cavernous navels, admiring their massive round shape - heaving up their bellies with one hand, and slipping their other hand under it, feeling around for their hards cocks, engulfed with fat flesh, constantly moving weight around to try get to get to the thick snake hiding in the warm soft nest of soft fat surrounding it. the sensation so overwhelming, they usually pass out before they can get off...

it's around this time i typically come in and take what i want, do what i want, see and feel what i want.