chapter 3

5:25pm. Your phone is ringing. You awake unsure where you are for a moment. You try to get up but leaning forward even a bit proves to be a very bad idea. Even with your legs out of the way, your belly presses against the floor and there's simply too many pounds of food in there to be able to move like that.

Carefully you lower yourself on your side and get on your hands and knees. Oof, definitely fatter than ever before now. Its shocking how close to the floor your belly is hanging. An inch of air is between your hanging mound of fat and the cold tile floor.

You crawl to the chair and table and push yourself up using both. Ooh walking is so tricky now. You need to swing your legs sideways in an extreme waddle to keep your belly from bouncing around too much.

Totally out of breath and sweating you reach the phone and call back to Beth.

"*gasp* Hey Beth, sorry I couldn't answer I was...uhh. Cleaning up the bathroom and didn't hear the phone until it *gasp* was too late"

"Oh...the dinner. Today. No, I haven't forgotten. Yeah 7pm at Little Rome, I remember. I'll see you there. Haha yeah I'm...starving. Haven't eaten all day really. See you there, bye!"

You sit on the edge of your bed and cradle your upper belly in your hands. Very, very full still. No aches or trouble breathing though you realize so some of the food has settled. You waddle to the shower again as you're covered in cream, ice cream, chocolate and crumbs. Your belly is so massive you can barely maneuver yourself in the confined space.

6:15pm. Showered, good smelling, hair done and with light makeup you look dashing. Light auburn hair cascading on your shoulders, cute plump lips, beautiful green eyes. Very round cheeks, but with cute dimples even with the slightest smile. And for a long time you avoided a double chin, but its finally there. Not very big, but noticeable.

But underneath the slight double chin the story is very, very different. The nicely cut deep green dress does very little to hide your huge size. Its the biggest size the plus size store had and its borderline outrageous on you. The dress is designed to to flow nicely down from the upper waist, just under the breasts. It isn't. Your outrageously large gut pushes it way past the design and stretching the fabric to its limits. The short sleeves are pulled to their maximum size and still your massive upper arms bulge out of them. The bust is also at least a size too small for your breasts showing much more cleavage than is appropriate. And not just that, your breasts actually form bulges of pale fat where the bust of the dress starts.

You sigh from both frustration and arousal. You bought the dress only a month ago and it was a fit. A snug fit, but a fit nevertheless. You spin around, slowly and supporting your stuffed belly and can't believe just how far the green mound is jutting. Probably almost a feet further than your breasts. As a side effect the dress is radically shorter than designed, the hem rising to mid thigh revealing two thighs the size of tree trunks. And the thighs mashed together all the way to the knees, not really even brushing against each other anymore, but rolling instead.

7:05pm. Everybody turns to look as you enter the restaurant. You eat there so regularly all the waiters know you and greet you by name. Most of the customers don't know you and stare at the gloriously obese woman slowly making her way between the tables, bumping into a few tables with her behind.

Beth has chosen the same booth she always does. The sofas on both sides are comfy and generous, but this time the table is awfully close to your tender belly still seriously bloated with more food than most people eat in a week. Its a tight fit and your upper belly is brushing against the table quite sensually as you finally settle all of your fat in front of Beth.

"Hey Beth, sorry I'm a bit late. I had some, umm, problems with my car." you say in a husky, out of breath voice.

"No problem. I already ordered for us though, but I'm sure you'll be pleased. I asked the waitress what's your favorite. She told me you've lately often ordered the pasta sampler. That's not really my style, but I ordered one for both of us. I thought maybe I should indulge a bit once in awhile too." Beth smiles and looks directly at your bloated gut.

You've never managed to figure out Beth. She's fit and athletic, not an ounce over 120 pounds even after Thanksgiving. She has seen you blow up first from your lowest adult weight of 210 pounds to a 300 pound porker. Then a few years of holding back your appetite enough to stay the same size and finally giving up and opening the floodgates of gluttony. And now? Its been a few months since you last went to a doctor who was shocked to weight you at 447 pounds. Yesterday you might have guessed 460, but since waking up today you've found hights of gluttony you didn't even know existed. Probably 470 now, maybe even more.

And here you are, a few hours after passing out on your kitchen floor stuffed to bursting with pounds of food and messy like a pig. You spread your legs just a bit, enough for your belly to drop a bit, but not so much that your dress would start to roll up along your thighs. Beth has just ordered a four pasta sampler for both of you. Its something you usually eat when you're starving and want to get stuffed fast. Definitely not something you would have even considered ordering at your current state. Madness. You should have insisted on salad.

But here's the thing: you're hungry. Still kind of full, very bloated, fatter than you ever imagined possible just a year back. But you feel your mouth water just thinking of the amazing pasta they serve here. And the "samplers" are famous for being very, very generous in size. Its more like four normal platefuls of pasta - only all in different taste. Your mouth isn't the only thing growing moist. You're pretty sure you've never been this aroused in public. And definitely not this bloated. Somehow being public and being forced to behave only adds to your excitement - and hunger.

"Mmm thanks Beth, I told you I haven't eaten a proper meal all day so I'm really hungry." you lie blatantly.

Beth chatters of her latest hobbies: tennis, horseback riding, yoga. You pretend to be interested. Of course it's obvious that you have absolutely no interest in sports, nor the capability anymore either. You are unsure if you even have the capability to get up from the table after eating, what, all four pastas? Mmf, so out of control now. Aroused. Hungry. You have no idea if you can fit all that in or if you can even move in the case you succeed, but you feel so deliciously helpless. You'll eat anything put in front of you. Like a greedy hog.

The odd thing about Beth is that she never judges your size or your obviously gluttonous lifestyle. If anything she seems intrigued but has never asked why you're so fat or why you eat so much. That's why she's the only close friend you have that is thin. She probably doesn't understand why you've let yourself get so fat, but she sees that you enjoy it. And sometimes she even helps with small things like getting you another sundae at your favorite buffet when its obvious getting up is something you'd rather not do.

Then the food arrives. Four tall cup-like plates filled brimming with fresh, hot pasta. You remember them all by name. Prosciutto mac-n-cheese, sausage quadratini, carmela's chicken, carbonara. Looking at the pile of food within your reach, you feel deep sexual lust towards the food.

There has always been a sexual undercurrent in your relationship with food, but you realize you've opened a new chapter in it. You know beforehand that each forkful entering your mouth, each sensuous chew, each labored swallow will give you pure sexual pleasure. You can't remember being quite this aroused with man before. And here you are, in public, with a friend sitting three feet across and about to have sex. Outrageous!

You should excuse and leave. Say you're not feeling good. Anything, but stay and feed yourself into some kind of food orgasm. Can you even keep yourself from making noises? You remember your loud moans and groans from your session on the kitchen floor.

As is so very obvious, you have never been a person to use willpower when it comes to carnal pleasures. So you stay. And pick up the fork. Fill it. Push it past your lips.

"Mmmmf!" you cry, but quickly gain control.

"Uh, sorry Beth. I never remember how amazing the food here is."

She smiles and tells you not to worry. Then tastes herself and agrees its delicious. The chatter dies out. Beth knows you don't talk much while eating. Still, between bites she tells about her newest boyfriend. You nod and mumble "ok" absent mindedly. The first mouthful really caught you off guard causing a minor earthquake deep under mounds of your belly and thigh fat. Luckily after that you feel steadier and more capable of not making loud sexual noises. The fork keeps entering your mouth at lightning speed, three times the speed Beth is eating.

So good. In few minutes the sausage quadratini is gone and to your own amazement you feel almost no difference. Maybe slight tension in your upper belly right between your breasts, but even that passes. Then you realize you're probably so aroused you couldn't feel discomfort even if there was some. Good.