every inch of me is soft and heavy, jiggling with each breath i take. my belly spills over my lap, my thighs rub together with every step, my entire frame wobbling and swaying under its own weight. i can feel my arms pressing against my sides, thick and plush, and even the simple act of standing makes my body quiver. every day, I grow more and more out of shape, but the idea of stopping never crosses my mind. i'm addicted to this feeling, to the sensation of my expanding body, to the thought of getting even fatter. the more i eat, the more i crave, and the heavier i become,
the more satisfied i feel. there’s no limit to how big i want to be — only the endless pleasure of filling myself up, over and over again