High Life

Chapter 1

Okay, so my story is pretty crazy. I came from a really traditional family. Mom’s a lawyer, dad’s a doctor, and they’re both very conservative. I mean, they even sent me to catholic school. Since college though, it’s been a wild ride.

When I started college – go Tigers – I was so innocent, cute, and tiny. I was 5’5 120 lb olive skinned brunette with perky boobs, toned legs, and a tight little ass. I was in great shape from playing volleyball all through high school, but I was way too short to play D1.

I guess college is where things really started. Honestly though, I was pretty diligent then. Like I went out a lot, but I was in the gym doing squats, abs, and cardio every day. Still, I put on the freshman 15, but I wasn’t worried about it. The weight landed on me perfectly. By the end of the year, I was up to 135, but it was all in my ass and tits. My waist literally had not grown an inch. Maybe I was up 15 lbs, but I was turning into a bombshell.… so like, why worry?

After freshman year, I kept up the partying, but my workouts were enough to control my weight. I mean, I still gained a little more . Maybe 5 lbs or so by senior year. It wasn’t much. I still had a perfect ass, C cups, and a flat stomach, but it was just enough that I started to lose the tone in my abs. Seriously though, I DID NOT CARE. I looked good. I had my pick of guys. If I wanted a hookup on the football team, no problem. If I wanted the smart guys, you know, the future millionaire types, I could have them too.

Anyway, after college I had to get a job. I hadn’t really taken the whole academic side of things too seriously, but I landed a job as a social media coordinator for a fashion conglomerate based in outside of Miami. I got to go to photo shoots, steal clothes at sample sales, rub shoulders with models etc. I even jumped in some shoots when they were looking for a girl with a more athletic shape. Plus job aside, I was in Miami working with models. I had easy access to the best nightlife. It was so much fun. I was rubbing shoulders with athletes, drug dealers, and billionaires, but I was so broke.

By the end of my second year in Miami I was rooming with this russian wannabe super model Svetlana. She was trying to make it big. We’d live the highlife out on the town, but our place was a shit hole. On top of that, I had so much credit card debt it wasn’t funny. I needed to grow up.

I started looking for jobs that paid a little more, but I wasn’t really qualified for much though. I wound up taking this pharmaceutical rep job. It had like, no base salary, but they said I could make a lot in commissions. I figured I’d try.

I was not good at working for commissions. Within two months I got fired. Luckily, my old gig took me back. Well, sort of. They said they’d found someone more qualified, but took me back as an assistant. I was on set all the time now which was fun, but the money was even worse than before. I was getting desperate. That’s when I bumped into Dave.

Dave was a few years older than me, but I knew him from back at Memphis. He was a structural engineer. I knew he was smart back in school and he was sooo nice. I even thought he was kind of cute. I used to flirt with him a little because I knew he had a crush on me, but he never seemed like millionaire material to me, so… I really didn’t give him the time of day. Now though, a nice guy with a stable high paying job, he was my dream. I knew right away that I was going for him.

I really hadn’t changed. Well, maybe, I’d lost a little since college. Hanging out with models all the time will do that. Anyway, I was back at 135, a total bombshell, with access to even the most exclusive scenes in Miami’s night life. Dave was an engineer who knew no one in Miami who was in town for a two year assignment to build a bridge. He was an easy catch.

So anyway, a few months after I started fucking Dave I moved in with him. He was living on the 50th floor of a Brickell apartment on the company dime. It was so much better than the Model City slum I was living in. On top of that, Dave treated me like a queen. I literally didn’t pay for anything for like two years. Cabs, food, drinks whatever, Dave paid for it all. It was bad. I was so spoiled and totally taking advantage of him.

I was so complacent that I started to get lazy and put on a little weight. Then even more than a little. After a year and a half, I was up to 150. All the weight was still landing on me nicely, but I’m not tall. My ass was perfect just starting to look a little juicy. My thighs had softened a little, and I had Ds now. My waist was still thin, but my stomach no longer had any tone. I mean I was still hot by normal standards, but around the models, I felt chubby. I didn’t care though. I had him wrapped around my finger. Then he asked me two questions:

Would I marry him?
And would I move back to Memphis when his assignment was up the next month?

How would I pay for anything without him? Could I just get another sugar daddy? At 150 surrounded by models, who was going to be into me? Would I have to get roommates again? Would I move back into a dump like before? Wasn’t Miami getting more expensive? Could it be even worse? Did I have to marry him? Was there even a fucking choice?

I said no.

I didn’t care. I loved rubbing shoulders with the elite and living the highlife too much. I was staying.

With Dave out of the picture though, my self esteem took a real hit. I knew I needed someone to pay for my lifestyle, but I was surrounded by 5’10 120 lb, stick thin, skinny bitches all the time. Really, I was just curvy and maybe a touch soft. I thought I looked fat. It started to take over my identity. I started wearing loose “fat girl” clothes to cover up how “big” I was. I was the fat friend. You know what the fat friend has a license to do? Eat.

At photo shoots, no one touched the trays of snacks. Now I did though. When we went out, it was always margaritas and water. Never food. Now I’d have nachos. What did it matter? If I was the fat friend, who cared? No one was looking at me anyway, so I’d just have to ride the coattails of my friends and whoever was paying for them.

Not surprisingly, my little spiral was rough on my figure. I packed on 20 lbs in like 6 months. My thighs had thickened, filling in my thigh gap. My arms had lost their tone, and my belly now had a small soft layer of fat on top. My once loose clothes were starting to get tight, but I literally could not afford anything new.

It wasn’t all bad though. My ass and tits were growing faster than anything else. If anything, my hip to waist ratio was getting more extreme. A little piece of me started to notice something though. Was getting looks from guys? Was it possible I was a little more than just the fat friend? That seemed too crazy.

A few months later, I walked into work wearing a way tight black dress. I’d picked up right after Dave left. It used to be loose, but now? Now it was the same as everything else I owned. Fucking hugged every curve in my body. You could see exactly how thick my thighs were getting, how big my ass was, and my big tits. It even hugged the little belly I’d started. Nothing was left to the imagination. I was so self conscious. I was trying to find a way to hide, but the shoot director was headed right for me.

He asked me if I would jump in the shoot. He said they needed a girl with curves for this one and he hadn’t bothered to look for someone because he figured I’d be perfect. He even said they’d give me a few grand if they used the shots.

WHAT?!?!. Was I about to be a professional model? Hadn’t I put on like 45 lbs? Did he just call me curvy? Was I not a fat girl? Did he say a few grand? Was I hot?

It was an earth shattering. My identity totally shifted. I wasn’t fat. I was curvy. Weren’t guys into curvy girls? I was hot.

After that, my modeling career kind of took off.

I got my swagger back. I wasn’t an afterthought anymore. I’d go out with the other girls and get just as much attention. Maybe more, after all, I was the only curvy one in the group. I didn’t need to starve or look like these skinny bitches. My curves were my asset and living the high life just accentuated them. Champagne? All day. Caviar? Yes please. Cheesecake? Why not.

I already had a little social media presence from my work in fashion, but once I started modeling it exploded. Guys thought I was hot and girls loved seeing me living the highlife. I was totally tiktok famous. I even started getting appearance fees. Like people would just pay me to come to their parties. Or sometimes it wasn’t even parties, just guys who just wanted me to be their arm candy.

Everything kind of kept going smoothly like that for a while. Well, I mean as smoothly as it can. Living high on the hog like that has it’s costs. I never stopped putting on weight. After about 18 months, I was around 220 lbs and thick. No way I’d let myself get fat though.

I was in denial. Even still I started to notice some weird stuff around that time. First, my modeling contracts started to say “plus sized.” Those extra two words bugged me, but so I just blocked them out. Way weirder though, on some of my arm candy appearances, the guys would take me out for dinner and order a ton of food. Like way too much, but they’d want me to eat it all. Oh, and people kept asking me to make eating videos for tiktok. Like, I’d seen them on other accounts. It didn’t seem that crazy. So I made one and people went nuts. So I kept making them.

Not surprisingly, I worked my way up to 250lbs pretty fast. I was clearly more than curvy now. I had a fat ass now and my tits were huge and starting to look fat too. My thighs were as big as my waste. My waist and belly were proportionately small but there was no denying that I was getting fat.

That’s when my agent sat me down for the talk. He told me it was fine that I’d gotten bigger but that the plus sized industry had a ceiling on how fat they wanted girls. I wasn’t there yet he said, but if I wasn’t careful, I might find the offers slowing down.

I tried to slow down after that. I didn’t want to be too fat to model, but it was so hard. I got paid to party. My followers loved my extravagance. Guys paid me to eat big dinners. Tiktok loved watching me eat. I HATED exercise. Probably worst of all though, I loved eating.

Anway, I did try, but I couldn’t slow down. My ass kept getting fatter, my thighs thicker, and boobs heavier. Even my waist was starting to thicken. As I got heavier, the modeling gigs started to dry up. When I passed 270, I was probably down to two a month. By the time I hit 290, all I had left was fashionnova and even there I was the fat girl.

With my modeling career imploding, I became increasingly reliant on my appearance fees. Parties paid well. I kind of had become a fringe pop culture icon. People were obsessed with my extravagant life. I think to them I was like a fat Jersey Shore.

I made way more money as arm candy though.

Yeah, I get it. I’d turned into an escort. It was good business though. Rich guys wanted me to stuff my fat ass and growing belly into a tight dress so they could parade me around town showing me off. Guys must like fat girls after all. If they paid extra, I’d let them stuff me and fatten me like a pig. The elite are so kinky. Sometimes afterward, they’d be so excited, they’d even offer me money for sex. Like a lot of money. $10,000+ sometimes. So…. yeah...

Living like that, I was getting really heavy. My belly grew thick and heavy but my ratios were still insane. My tits got even bigger as they fattened and grew heavier. My ass was my real money maker though. I got huge. It stuck out behind me like a shelf behind made two fat beach balls on top of tree trunk legs. I weighed 350 lbs. I was having a harder time moving and waddling around. I couldn’t keep doing this. I had to get out. So I did.

Now, I’m out of the game and the public eye. I married one of my richest clients and made all his fantasies come true. Oh, and I won't tell you how big I am now… but he hasn’t let me get any smaller ;)