chapter 9 - perceptions shift

Eva stared down at her plate, filled with kale, carrot shavings, and various other green leafy decorum. While things like this had once been a staple of her diet, now she couldn’t help but turn her nose up in disgust. There was no substance to the food and it left her feeling empty and unsatisfied. She picked up the glass of wine next to the plate and stood up from the table. She had tried to be a good girl, but this was her only honeymoon and she was going to enjoy herself.


Clint was off doing a rowing session down the coastline with an instructor and she had decided to take the day to relax and get some sun near the pool. What she had not told her husband was that the pool was situated next to a well-stocked buffet filled to the brim with decadent treats and fried morsels. She waddled to the start of the buffet table and using the tongs leveled a large helping of French fries onto a plate. Next, she proceeded to ladle out copious amounts of liquid cheese, and crumbled bacon. Her stomach growled in anticipation. “This is just an appetizer…” she murmured to herself.


Sitting back down at her poolside table, Eva’s plate was stacked to ridiculous proportions. On top of a foundation of cheese fries was a mountain of fried chicken wings, burgers, crab legs and Onion rings. Chugging down the rest of her glass of wine and unleashing a blech she began the task of devouring the stack of feed before her. She tore in with bare hands, not leaving a moment between bites and swallowing, only seeking to sate the hunger in her rapacious tummy. Passers by turned to see the blob of a woman inhaling food and turned away as to not be the fixture of her possessed focus.


Food smeared her face and chest as item after item disappeared from the pile of cuisine. Finally emerging from her trance, she felt relief wash over her as her stomach happily burbled and let up its protestations of hunger. Leaning back into her chair she submitted to the feeling of bliss and “BBBBUUUURRRRRPPP” A roaring blast of gas spewed forth from her mouth. Not even a week ago this outburst would have sent her into a new fit of tears, but this time she felt something different. She felt aroused.

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Eva lay on top of the bed, ferociously rubbing her FUPA and groping the fat across her body. Who needed to be skinny and run for miles? She felt wonderful, and her body responding by bathing her in waves of pleasure. She didn’t need to lift heavy weights or fit into a size zero dress, she just needed to eat and fuck. As she screamed in ecstasy her voice changed. Once possessing a generalized American accent, her inflection became more of that of the Deep American South. Her memories of her time in college on the cross-country team faded away, replaced by trips to the buffet and binge drinking with her fat friends. Rubbing harder, faster and deeper she remembered how she met her husband. Not the gym, but of hooking up at a bar after his friends daring him to sleep with the fattest girl there.


She fantasized about him feeding her. Stuffing her to the brim as she grew even fatter and lazier. She climaxed as the idea of being a fat breeding cow entered her mind. She breathed exhaustedly, her blonde hair dark with sweat and her lard filled body hot red and replete with a layer of moisture. As she tried to compose herself a ring materialized from the nightstand where she had left her phone.


Answering the phone, she heard the voice of her mother. “How is your honeymoon going dear?” her mom asked.


“It’s going well mom, the Island is beautiful, and the resort has been lovely.”


“That’s great hun, I just wanted to quick call and talk to you about something. I know being a newlywed is challenging in its own way. You have all of these commitments and you’re afraid of doing everything right. But you have to have a husband that supports you no matter what, regardless of anything that happens…” Eva’s mother continued on for some time instilling a sense of what it takes for a marriage to work and wishing her all the best.


Eva got up from the bed and ambled over the bathroom to wash off. As she did so she stopped in front of the mirror and turned to look at herself. As she stared into the mirror observing the ample bulky body reflected in it, she was no longer displeased with what she saw. It was becoming harder and harder to remember a time when she was sender and svelte. The curves and contours the excess flesh had given her made her a momentous hyper-feminine form that any man should be proud of. She was a fatty. Maybe she always had been. And she loved it.