Chapter 1 - 🥞emily

[Chapter 1 of 1]

Snug in her cozy little cottage in the French countryside, Emily couldn't help but smile. The welcome heat of the fireplace embraced her with a warm hug as she carefully put the finishing touches on her long-awaited morning meal.

Taking care not to spill, she shook a can of powdered sugar over a stack of three expertly-cooked waffles, covering them in a layer of sweet, fluffy snow.

"Done!" She smiled widely, picking up her plate and making a short journey over to the table.
At long last, Emily sat down, the wooden chair below her moaning in agony as soon as she planted her fat rump down on it. Its complaints fell on deaf ears, however, as the groaning of another had drowned it out: that of its master's stomach.

Breakfast, after all, was the most important meal of the day, and Emily certainly didn't forget that. Before the plump 19-year-old was a feast fit for three, if not four full grown adults. Emily was a big eater, however, and she wasn't going to let anything get in the way of her and her food.

Spread out across the table was a smorgasbord of various foods that she had prepared for herself. To her left was a plate piled high with pancakes, drenched in a thick layer of maple syrup and topped with a pat of butter. Next to that was a tall glass of fresh orange juice, moist with condensation produced by the humid summer air. Two pieces of toast, generously slathered with peanut butter, sat on a napkin beside it. To her right were three additional items. Two muffins sat together on a plate, accompanied by a bright yellow banana.

Those were only the sides, however. In front of the pudgy girl sat the main course: a large plate piled high with hash browns, a slice of peach pie, and two large waffles covered in a thick coating of powdered sugar.

Emily would have paused for a moment to admire her work, but she was far too hungry to delay any longer. After all, she had skipped second dinner yesterday after the stuffing she gave herself from first dinner had left her passed out on the couch til morning.

Without a moment of hesitation, she dug in.
Emily's first victims were the two muffins, for no particular reason other than the fact that they were the first she had prepared, and therefore had had the most time to cool off. A culinary connoisseur like her knew that nothing was worse than burning your tongue and ruining a perfectly good meal.

Her lips parted to make way, her second chin and fat-filled cheeks wobbling ever so slightly as they did so. They came together again soon after biting off a third of the pastry, but not before letting out a moan of pleasure from the depths of their owner.

"Mmm..." she moaned, chomping off another third of the blueberry muffin, "The French sure know how to bake the most delicious pastries". The final third soon found itself traveling down her gullet after the first two.

The second muffin happened to be her favorite flavor: chocolate chip. It disappeared into her mouth even faster than the first, a few loose, half-melted chips falling free and staining her buttery coat as she devoured it.

As soon as the second muffin began its brief journey into her belly, Emily reached for the glass of orange juice to her left. Carefully guiding the slippery glass to her lips, she tilted it, letting the cool, sharp flavor flood her taste buds. The liquid then found itself traveling down her throat, washing down the second muffin and making room for more food.

Setting the half-filled glass back down on the table, Emily's plump arm jiggled slightly as she reached for her next target: a tall stack of pancakes.

In the time it had taken her to eat the muffins, the syrup had soaked into the cakes, saturating them in thick, sugary goodness. Emily had planned this, of course, and she took the opportunity to pour on another layer of syrup. To her, and to any other sane girl, there was no such thing as too much maple syrup.

After setting down the now much lighter jug, Emily slid the plate over and got to work, reaching for the place next to her plate where, normally, a fork would have been.

"Oh, drat..." Emily frowned, gazed over to her silverware drawer.

Too lazy to bother getting a fork, Emily instead picked up the first two pancakes with her hands, folding them in half like a taco. She held the thick, makeshift sandwich up to her mouth, letting the sugary syrup slowly flow onto her tongue.

Emily was probably one of the most patient people around, but even she lacked the willpower to continue teasing herself. In only a few bites, she devoured the two cakes and picked up the other two, gobbling them up just as quickly.

While most people would be completely stuffed at this point, Emily still had room for plenty more. Being as big as she was, her body needed a fairly large amount of calories each day to maintain itself. With an appetite as fierce as hers, of course, she never failed to hit this number, eating what her ever-growing body needed and then some.

The chair below her meaty rear-end moaned again as she made quick work of the banana and two pieces of toast, washing them down with another swig of orange juice. The wooden throne below her, though expertly crafted by one of France's finest artisans, could only support so much weight. And as Emily continued to fill up her belly with more and more food, that threshold came closer and closer to being reached.

It gave forth another moan of pain as Emily swallowed a bite of the peach pie, almost as if to curse its fate of being forced to spend its life under the big, bulky rump of the obese French girl. Its eternal punishment only seemed to grow worse with each day as her gluttonous habits caused her to consistently pile on more and more weight. Her bulging gut swelled out further with each meal she stuffed between her cheeks. Her thick thighs only seemed to grow bigger and fatter with every bite she sent down her gullet.

Before Emily could bring a napkin up to her face to wipe excess pie filling off her lips, a loud belch escaped from the depths of her tummy. "Excuse me!" she quickly said, more out of habit than necessity.

Meanwhile, below the pudgy girl, her chair was still holding on for dear life. If it could think, it would have predicted its end one hundred pounds ago, but yet here it still was, persevering against all odds. Nevertheless, nothing could last forever, and it seemed that Emily's seat had finally lost the long war of attrition. This was the end of the line. After a long, terrible siege, the wooden fortress had at last surrendered to the vast, fatty army above it.

Snap!

"Wha-" Emily squeaked, dropping the waffle in her mouth as a result. The crispy morsel fell to the ground, only to be flattened by Emily mere seconds later as the legs of the chair below her snapped in two, sending her careening towards the floor.

Panicking, Emily's fat fingers clutched the tablecloth in a feeble attempt to save their overweight owner. Their efforts were in vain, unfortunately, and she continued to fall backwards, taking the tablecloth and everything on it with her.

The butterball let out a quiet "Oof!" as her back hit the floor, a series of loud crashes around her causing her to instinctively hide her face under her arms.

Oh dear, oh dear... she thought to herself, cringing harder with every successive crash.
Once the cacophony was over, Emily slowly opened her eyes to survey the destruction before her.

Thankfully, she was unharmed, save for the generous amount of sticky syrup that now occupied her hair. Broken plates, glasses, vases, and, most tragically, ruined food joined her on the floor.

Emily she turned around to face the mirror across the room. She was a mess. Her fall had left her covered from head to toe in powdered sugar, syrup, and crumbs.

"Oh dear," she mumbled to herself, watching as a glob of syrup dripped out of the fold between her first and second chins. "What a way to ruin a perfectly good morning. I suppose I'll be needing a shower..."

* * *

The light hiss of running water drowned out the sound of Emily's bathroom scale, moaning in agony as she stood atop it. She shifted around slightly, establishing her footing while the disc below her spun quickly behind the glass. Emily watched the small, circular piece of cardboard with dread as it spun around, the single second it took to do this seeming to take an eternity.

Then, abruptly, it stopped.

Emily looked down with an all-too-familiar look of disappointment. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she waited for the disc to correct it's error and spin backwards. The numbers didn't lie, however, and as such stayed put.
287.

"Three pounds?! I gained three pounds?!"

She looked down with a huff. "It's...probably just water weight." She giggled to herself, conveniently forgetting about, among other decadent acts of gluttony, the whole cheesecake she had consumed over the course of the previous day. "Either that, or it's broken."

Emily confidently stepped into the shower and closed the curtain. "After all, I've been doing a great job sticking to my diet..."

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