Chapter 1

After hitting the snooze button for the fifth time, I decided it was finally time to get up.
I hadn't delayed getting up because I was tired, far from it. I must've gotten 10 hours of sleep, easily. It's easy to sleep well after my nightly routine.
Usually it starts with a bowl or two of fine california kush, out of my 3 foot bong, and then a before bed "snack". This snack would seem like a hefty meal to most, but for
my monstrous appetite it's a simple nightcap that concludes a long day of bingeing.

My name is Evan. I'm 25 years old, and I am an addict. A sexual deviant. An anomale of existence. I weigh 597 pounds, though no doubt in less than a week I'll have
passed the threshold of 600 pounds, burying myself further and further into obesity. I'm not some hopeless case of food addiction. I'm not glanduraly predisposed
to weight gain. I'm not one of these morbidly obese people who didn't see it happen. I saw it happen. I knew it happened.
I made it happen.

Every last pound of quivering flab on my lard body, was put here by my own volition. I get a boner just thinking about how massive I am, though one usually doesn't
have to think about it.

Getting up is more than an incovenient break from slumber, it's like a whole workout for me. It takes a good five minutes, and leaves me panting and sweating like a
pig in the heat. Not bothering with a shower, after I heave myself up I lumber over to my closet. I once had a dazzling sense of style, working sweaters, vests,
suits, shorts, all kinds of clothes into my wadrobe. As I grew bigger, and less concerned with appearances I became fond of the combo of a T shirt and athletic shorts.
I still chuckle to myself everytime I order a pair of size 7XL athletic shorts, wondering if the people who make these have ever seen someone so huge. My clothes could
serve as roomy tents for skinnier people. After sliding the huge stretchy fabric over my gigantic ass, I decide against a shirt, who needs one?
I'm ready to do what I got up to do.
Smoke weed, and stuff my gut.

I have a delivery service worked out with "Munchies", a local delivery cahin. I'm their best customer. Every morning, I recieve the same delivery. 2 XL pepperoni pizzas
from dominos, 2 dozen wings from Wingstop, 3 Triple Whataburgers with all the trimmings and extra cheese, 2 chicken fried steak meals from Cotton Patch, and 2 dozen
donuts from Shipleys. That 11,000 calorie bombshell is just the start of my hedonistic binge for the day. I roll a couple blunts, 2 grams a piece, and begin smoking
them, along with a bottle of strong Argentinian Malbec wine. Just as the second blunt is down to roachville, I hear the doorbell. Munchies is here!