Constant Consumption 2

Chapter 1

As the morning light filters through the curtains, she awakens to the now familiar sound of her own deep and heavy breathing. With a reluctant groan, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, her feet hitting the floor with a thud that reverberates through the stillness of the room. Rising slowly, she feels the comforting heaviness of her body, each movement a reminder of the indulgence that has characterized her recent nights. The floorboards creak beneath her as she lumbers down the hallway, each step a testament to her size.

Arriving in the kitchen, she launches into action, tearing through the cabinets like a ravenous beast. Her hands move with purpose, pulling out pots, pans, and every food item that catches her eye. The countertops feel uncomfortably close now, her belly pressing against them as she reaches for the last box of cereal, making it clear just how much harder it has become to navigate her once-familiar kitchen.

Soon, the table is a feast: fluffy pancakes dripping with syrup, crispy bacon piled high, and eggs fried to golden perfection. She dives into the spread with gusto, savoring each bite, the flavors exploding in her mouth. She eats until she is stuffed to the gills, the warmth of the food wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

With a satisfied belch that echoes through the quiet morning, she leans back in her chair, a smile stretching across her face. Today is a new day, and as she wipes her hands on a napkin and gets ready to start her day, her mind can’t help but think of what she will be able to stuff her belly with next.


She is me, Lorena Bento, aged thirty-three. Yes, that’s right: ever since my last visit with Loretta, my old college friend, I’ve found myself opening the door to permission in a way I never thought possible. That evening spent together—laughing, reminiscing, and indulging in all the food we could manage—shifted something inside me. I realize now that I’ve been holding back for far too long.

With every bite, I feel a thrill of liberation. The restrictive thoughts that once plagued me, dictating what I could and couldn’t eat, fade into the background. I allow myself to savor whatever I want, guiltlessly diving into bowls of creamy pasta, towering slices of cake, and piles of buttery popcorn while watching movies.

I can see the transformation happening, both in my body and my mindset. I’m on my way to getting as big and fat as Loretta is, and oddly, I couldn’t be happier about it. Each extra pound feels like a badge of honor, a symbol of my newfound freedom. The thought of indulging without restraint fills me with excitement, and I can’t help but embrace this journey.
In the mirror, I watch my reflection change—curves softening and expanding. I feel powerful, liberated by my choices and unashamed of my desires. The image of Loretta, vibrant and unapologetic in her own skin, fuels my determination to revel in this journey of self-acceptance and indulgence.

As I rummage through my closet however, I realize that I’m down to just one or two work-appropriate outfits that still fit me. The rest of my wardrobe hangs like forgotten memories, remnants of a past where my body felt lighter and more manageable. Most mornings, the temptation to simply throw on a pair of stretchy leggings is overwhelming. They embrace me like a second skin, allowing for the kind of comfort that makes me forget the constraints of my work attire.

But wearing those leggings comes with its own set of challenges. Being bigger changes everything. I move more slowly now, every step requiring a little more effort, a little more time. Tasks that once felt effortless now leave me breathless, and I often find myself winded after just a short walk across the office.
At home and at work, my body seems to have a mind of its own, constantly bumping into things. I knock over cups, topple over papers, and even break the occasional decorative item with my butt, belly, or hips. Sometimes I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, even as feelings of frustration bubble beneath the surface. It feels as though the world has shrunk around me, and I’m struggling to navigate it with this new size.

I’ve even started bumping into people more often, the spatial awareness I once took for granted slipping away. Recently I had such an encounter that really opened my eyes to just how much I have been changing, when I literally bumped into this really cute guy at my office named Melvern. The impact sends a folder full of papers tumbling from his hands, scattering across the floor like leaves in the wind. My heart races with embarrassment, and I immediately start apologizing, my cheeks flushing.

“I’m so sorry, Melvern! I didn’t see you there!” I exclaim, my voice a mix of mortification and panic.

He looks a bit flustered but manages a warm smile. “It’s really no problem at all, Lorena. Don’t worry about it.” His kindness softens my embarrassment, and I feel a flicker of gratitude for his understanding demeanor.
I bend down to help him gather the papers, but the effort proves to be more difficult than I anticipated. Bending over feels like a monumental task, my body protesting the movement. “Really, I can help,” I insist, determined to make amends.

“No, really, you don’t have to,” Melvern replies, though I can see the sincerity in his eyes.
But I squat down anyway, and just as I reach for a paper, a loud tearing sound shatters the moment. My heart sinks as I suddenly feel a strong draft on my backside, and I know in an instant that I’ve torn my pants!

Mortified, I freeze for a second, both of us staring at the evidence of my embarrassment.

“Oh God!” I whisper, horrified.

With my back pressed against the wall, I slink away, trying to hide my humiliation. I can’t look Melvern in the eye as I make my escape, rushing out of the building like a ghost, desperate to find refuge in the comfort of my home.

Once inside, I hurry to my room, shedding my torn pants and swapping them for a cozy pair of leggings. The soft fabric feels like a warm hug, but the memory of the encounter lingers, a reminder of my awkwardness and the new reality of my body.

From that day on, Melvern has been extra sweet and nice to me whenever he sees me at work. He greets me with a warm smile, always quick to compliment me. “You look lovely today, Lorena,” he’d say to me, his eyes twinkling with genuine kindness and a perceived infatuation.

He often offers to bring me coffee and donuts from the break room, insisting, “Don’t get up. Let me get that for you.” At first, I’m surprised by his attentiveness, but it quickly becomes a comforting routine. Each time he appears at my desk with a steaming cup of coffee or a warm pastry, my heart swells a little more.
As the weeks go by, Melvern ups his game. He starts bringing in chocolates and candies, leaving them on my desk with little notes attached. “Just a little something to sweeten up your day,” one reads, the handwritten message bringing a smile to my face.

Each sweet gesture feels like a balm for my insecurities, a reminder that despite the challenges of my new size, there are still moments of joy and kindness in my everyday life. I can’t help but look forward to seeing him, my cheeks flushing with warmth whenever our paths cross.

With every sugary treat he leaves, I feel a growing connection between us, and while I may still be navigating the awkwardness of my body, Melvern’s kindness makes the journey feel a little less daunting–and a lot more fattening!