Chapter 3: Binge Eating Disorder

Four weeks later

At three in the afternoon, Molly walks out her bedroom. She has just woken up and is wearing some small shorts and her vest from the day of her injury. She tries to pull it down with no joy. Her belly hangs well out the bottom of it now, the material is turning white under her arms where it is stretched over her back fat. Her jawline has gone and been substituted for a double chin. Her legs are very chubby now, littered with cellulite. Her ass is vast and jiggles with every movement she makes. She walks over to the kitchen and starts her day off like she has done every day for the past four weeks: cookies and cream. Only now the amount of cookies is twenty and the cream is five litres.

Molly sits down on the sofa, puts on the TV and flicks to sports before tucking into her breakfast. 'Wait. I forgot the other bag of cookies.' Molly rocks as she uses her momentum to swing herself up to her feet. She thinks, if only I had a way of getting them to the sofa for me. Oh, just put the cookies by the sofa, you idiot. Molly wanders over to the cookie bag and swipes them, eating the first one within two steps back towards the living room. Molly flops onto the sofa, her fat swaying as she hits the cushions. Molly devours the cookies and chugs the cream, rubbing her belly as she does. She watches the sports catchup on TV.

After a few minutes, Molly passes out again until her stomach rumbles and wakes her. 'Are you kidding me?' She looks at the time: 16:30. Oh well, I could go for an early dinner. Molly once again hauls herself up off the couch and into her bedroom. She pulls out her clothes of choice: leggings, the oversized t-shirt, which is increasingly becoming ironically named, and her hoodie, which is now too tight on her. She pulls it down and checks herself in the mirror. Her belly is very obvious, but not as much as her boobs. Since her weight gain, Molly’s tits have gone nuclear. She cannot keep up with her changing bra size so doesn’t bother anymore.

Molly gets in her car, her tummy touching the wheel and drives to the buffet restaurant she visited with Elyna. She hadn’t seen her since that day, and although she loved eating, was dreading the moment when she would have to see Elyna again with her ever-increasing weight. Molly turns into the car park and gets out of her car.

The waiter smiles at Molly. ‘Good evening, Molly. How are we today?’ Molly smiles, now on a first name basis with the waiter, ‘I’m well thank you, Victor.’ Victor leads her to her usual table, in the far corner. ‘Coke?’ Molly nods. ‘Keep them coming.’ Before Victor has even had a chance to move away, Molly is already in the buffet. She uses a tray now, loading up an array of fried goods onto it. She puts 27 chicken wings on, but her tummy grumbles. 'Seriously?' Molly looks around. It is a quiet night. She tips the entire oven dish of wings onto her tray. She spots the scales the restaurant must use to portion control. It reads -4.3 kg. Molly puts the dish back onto the scale: -3.9 kg. 3.9 kg of chicken wings! That’s mad, she thinks. Molly continues collecting various bits of food before heading back to her table where Victor has left her coke and a huge plate of cheesy chips.

It doesn’t take long for the food to disappear, leaving her with a couple of chicken wings. 3.9 kg of chicken wings! I still can’t believe it. God. It feels quite nice. Like, actually kinda good. Her tummy rumbles. Wonder if that scale could measure me, Molly chuckles to herself. She struggles to her feet and wades back into the buffet. Molly stops in her tracks as there is another oven dish of chicken wings there. She walks up to it, picks it up and reads the scale: -5 kg. Oh you’re on, mister. Molly tosses her tray aside and takes the oven dish back to her table.

She gorges on the wings, sauce spread across her chubby cheeks. Dripping down her double chin and into her cleavage. She feels herself a little turned on and stops. Oh my god. Why am I getting horny? She questions as she continues to eat, finishing off the wings. Victor comes over with his usual smile and places down a coke. Molly picks it up and downs the whole pint. Without saying a word, Victor disappears off to get another. Molly gets up again, her belly banging into the table and making a crashing noise. She raises her hand in apology to the other diners.

The dessert room is chilled but steams up as Molly’s sweaty body comes inside. She’s developed a nasty habit of eating as she peruses the selection of treats. She piles up her plate with mainly cakes and takes the now empty bowl for macarons and spoons most of the apple crumble in. Molly walks out the dessert room and spots Elyna. Shit! She must not have seen her because of the steamed up windows. Molly tries to sneak by, but Elyna thinks she recognises Molly. ‘Molly?’ Molly walks by and doesn’t respond. Elyna shrivels her face and realises she must have got it wrong.

Molly sits back down and ploughs through her desserts. Victor returns with her final coke and her bill. ‘Ermmm Victor. This is double what I paid last time…’ Victor looks sheepishly at Molly. ‘Sorry Molly, my boss said that – ahem – because you ate so much, we’re going to have to charge you double.’ Molly’s fat face flushes red. She respectfully nods and sips at her coke. She settles the bill and rushes out, coincidentally bumping her fat ass against Elyna’s table. Elyna calls out, ‘um excuse me!’
Molly hurriedly says, ‘sorry,’ as she leaves.

Molly walks through her front door, out of breath and tired. She sits down on a chair at her dining table but it collapses under her weight, sending her to the floor. Molly cries out in pain, something in her back. She clutches her side as she slides to her kitchen island and props herself up. She looks at her chair. 'Crushed, under my weight. Wow. I always wanted to do that, but because of muscle, not fat.' She rubs her belly, daring to think of how fond she’s growing of it. It grumbles at her and she smiles. Molly spots an unopened bulk order of Pringles. All fifty flavours available in the UK. Maybe a few tubes wouldn’t hurt…

The following morning, Molly wakes up on the sofa, covered in Pringle crumbs. She picks at them as she watches the sports catchup. She goes to get up but her back seizes up. She growls in pain. Gonna need to go to the doctors. Not the rugby club one though. Molly books an appointment at her local GP for later that morning. Molly tenderly gets up and has her breakfast, not noticing 50 empty Pringles tubes surrounding the sofa.

The doctor comes into the waiting room. ‘Molly Dawson?’ Molly waves her chunky arm. She’s wearing her rugby hoodie and the loose joggers, which are now significantly tighter, particularly around her bum. Molly heaves herself up. She had noticed her sides touching the arms of the chair, and was surprised to feel the chair rise with her as she stood up. It drops with a clang. Molly hobbles towards the doctor holding the door open. She is a small lady with a nice smile. She leads Molly through to her office and closes the door behind Molly. ‘No no. Don’t sit down Molly. I need to examine you.’ Oh great - standing, Molly thinks to herself.

‘When was your last checkup, Molly?’ The doctor asks. Molly thinks. ‘Well, I’ve played for Loughborough United since I was eighteen. All my doctor’s appointments have gone through them.’ The doctor seems surprised. ‘So, how come you’ve come here then?’ Molly tries to think of an excuse. 'I've put on a little weight since they last saw me...' The doctor sympathetically nods. ‘That's fine Molly. Shall we start off by taking your weight?’ Molly feels her heartbeat rise. ‘Um OK. Now?’ The doctor nods. Molly takes her shoes off. Gosh, even my feet have gotten fatter. Calm down Molly. You’re overthinking it. Doctors are there to help you, she tries to rationalise in her head.

Molly steps onto the scales. Much fancier than her ones at home. The number rises. High. 121.6 kg. Molly steps off, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, can we do it in pounds?’ The doctor looks at Molly. ‘It won’t change your weight…’ Molly shoots her a dirty look so the doctor switches the scale to pounds. Molly tentatively gets on. The numbers rise again. Even higher. Terrible idea, Mol… 268.1 lbs. Molly stares down at the number, shocked. She swallows and her belly rumbles. She is so hungry.

The doctor looks at Molly processing this. ‘Molly, as I am sure you are aware, you are very overweight. Obese in fact.’ Molly quietly whispers to herself, ‘Obese Mol…’ The doctor continues, ‘have you gone through any stress or life event that may have triggered this bout of weight gain?’ Molly finally steps off the scales, glad to see the numbers go down. She looks at the doctor. ‘I tore my Achilles ten weeks ago. I didn’t really know how to cope with it and I guess things got out of control.’ The doctor nods along. ‘It sounds like you have a binge eating disorder. Do you know what that is?’ Molly nods slowly, ‘I think I have an idea yeah.’

The doctor gets back to why Molly came. ‘Now Molly, would you take your top off? I need to have a look at your back.’ Molly goes to lift her top up when she remembers she isn’t wearing a bra. ‘Oh my god. I’m not wearing a bra.’ The doctor reassures her, ‘it’s OK. Nothing I haven’t seen before.’ Molly smiles and lifts up her top, exposing her big belly to the doctor. She looks at herself in the mirror. Faint stretch marks span her tummy now sagging over her joggers, totally enveloping the waistband. ‘So where is it that it hurts, Molly?’ Molly tries to reach but realises she is too fat to reach the point. ‘You see that tattoo of Winnie the Pooh?’ Molly looks at it in the mirror, now bigger than when she last noticed it. Wow Winnie. You challenging me to a weight gain competition? She jokes to herself. ‘I see it, yeah.’ The doctor presses it and Molly winces. She tries to make light of the situation. ‘I’m surprised you can reach it.’ The doctor giggles as she examines it.

‘Molly, it’s just some bruising of your hip bone. I recommend taking a few weeks rest before getting back into exercise.’ Molly smiles as she puts her top back on. She leaves the doctors and gets into her car. As she’s driving home, her belly rumbles and Molly spots a drive thru McDonald’s. She waits in line and looks at the menu. She drives up to the microphone when it’s her turn and lists off most things in the food menu, four McFlurrys and two chocolate milkshakes. When she goes to collect her order, the server is surprised to see just her in the car. ‘Oh it’s for my family...’ The server looks at Molly and gives her the food and a look that sarcastically says, ‘sure…’ Molly stuffs her face in the car park of a shopping centre. Molly sighs as she finishes her final McFlurry, staring down at her big gut. 'Oh how the mighty have fallen, Mol.'

Molly gets in and throws her rubbish away. She looks at the dining table and chairs. Was it a fluke? Molly gently lowers herself down onto the chair. As it starts to take more of her weight, it creaks. ‘Nope.’ Molly concludes she genuinely crushed a chair. She walks into her bedroom, changing into a tank top and shorts, which leave little to the imagination. Her big cleavage is now on display and her bum looks massive in these shorts. She gets out her phone and goes onto Your Door to order more food. At the top, her achievements can be seen: Chicken Shop Sam’s number one customer, most chicken eaten, largest order of milkshake ever. Molly goes to her profile and looks at the lowly 195 lbs weight. She deletes it and changes it to 268 lbs. The body type automatically changes to BBW. Molly looks at her physique and thinks back to those fat women she saw when she googled it. Jeez, I guess I am one of those now. A BBW. Big Beautiful Woman. Sounds about right to me. Molly smiles at this thought, proceeding to order from her favourite, Chicken Shop Sam. She puts down her phone and naps on her bed.

Molly is woken by the knocking at the door. Molly heaves up and opens the door. It’s the same driver as usual except she’s not on her phone this time. Molly smiles at her for the first time and the driver goes, ‘oh my god! You’re Molly Dawson. The rugby player.' You’re my hero.’ Molly shyly smiles. The driver asks, ‘can I get a selfie?’ Molly nods and poses for a picture with the driver.

Molly walks back to her sofa with her order and switches on the TV. Halfway through her food, she gets an Instagram notification. She has been tagged in the photo by the driver. Molly looks at it. Wow, I actually look kinda hot. The picture is a good light and angle which makes her jaw look defined and her new weight makes her tits look incredible. The comments start flooding in, praising Molly for how good she looks.