Amusement Park Pounds- Part 2

Everything felt tight. She was just one day away from her twenty-day goal, one day away from what had to be the park’s limit on lost revenue, but Carly could barely make it from her priority parking spot to the entrance. Her everyday clothes had grown so constricting of late that she hardly had access to her full range of motion, and every step, every breath, left her certain she’d split another seam. Getting dressed in the morning was becoming a more and more difficult task and she cursed herself for always wearing her clothes as tight as she did, no problem in the days before she’d committed herself to a refund at all costs, but now, leaving her all but bursting out of her button-ups.

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She could feel the new heft in her tits, feel the way they spilled out of the tops of the bras that were growing more and more difficult to fasten. She could feel the newly developed jiggle in her thighs and ass, feel the way her lower half spread out further than it ever had when she sat down. Her gut was getting rounder and rounder as she filled it over the course of the day, and it was getting harder to contain the growing ball within her ever-shrinking clothes. Her button-ups were lifting to reveal a slim silver of flesh just beginning to jiggle, while the waistband of her practical slacks had to be pushed below her growing belly the second she began to stuff herself with one of Silver Wave’s generously portioned meals.

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Despite being entirely alone, she’d grown red that morning feeling the fresh layer of fat now coating her entire body jiggle as she’d jumped up and down to try and work her thick ass into her slacks, and she was tired of packing on weight this quickly just to prove a point. She was going to get her money back, and then it was nothing but celery sticks and jogs around the neighborhood.

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She made her way over to Smiles, a pancake restaurant she’d been frequenting the past few days, and ordered the double Smilers combo: a mound of happy face pancakes, a mound of happy face waffles, and side orders of bacon, hashbrown, and blueberry muffins. Blueberry muffins as a side had mystified Carly the first time she’d perused the Smiles’ menu, but she’d acquiesced after calculating that the double smilers combo was the restaurant's most expensive dining plan option by a wide margin. As delicious as the fluffy, golden discs were, especially when slathered in the readily available butter and drowned in their flavored syrup, Carly had choked down the last few bites the first time she’d attempted it, the ordeal leaving her so full that the thought of movement made her want to gag. Just yesterday, however, her fourth attempt at the behemoth, she’d finished and found herself peckish again by lunch, a growing trend she was trying to avoid too much thought about.

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After devouring the double combo with relative ease, she visited the Pirates Pub for a platter of fish and chips to cover lunch and an unnamed snack cart for a few soft pretzels for her snack. She was parked on a concrete bench situated next to the snack cart, scarfing her third pretzel in between dunks of butter sauce, when a loud pop rang in her ears as her pants suddenly became exponentially more comfortable. Her slacks were no longer leaving an angry red line where they were forcibly fastened because she’d burst the button the clean off, the amount she’d put away finally becoming too much for her now ultra-revealing wardrobe. She couldn't help burping at the sudden change in pressure on her fattening middle and her hand flew to cover her mouth, the embarrassment only setting in at the realization that the snack cart's cashier was watching her with a slack-jawed expression.

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She leaned down to search for the lost button, her burgeoning role bulging between the open flap as her gut strained against the buttons of her top as well, but gave up after a few seconds of ineffectual search. Face growing even redder, she crammed the remaining bite of pretzel into her mouth and stood unsteadily, holding the flaps of her slacks together with one hand. The only benefit of a situation brought on by Silver Wave’s corporate greed was their willingness to sell wherever one may need to buy, and Carly was able to snag a pair of Silver Wave branded sweatpants for the low price of $69.99.

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As difficult as it had been to admit, she’d grabbed a large, well aware that her typical medium would likely squeeze around the middle more than she would like. Just a day and a half of meals to go and all this would become a funny memory. Another example of Carly's stubbornness gone just a bit too far. She tossed her destroyed slacks in the gift shop bathroom and inspected herself in the mirror. Even clad in much more forgiving sweatpants, Carly couldn't help but glower at her reflection. She was looking dangerously chubby. If this little dining plan misunderstanding weren't due to end any day now, she’d almost be worried.

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When the deeply anticipated day came and went without so much as a letter from park management, Carly began to grow a bit concerned. She was scarfing down an oreo crumble-topped funnel cake, another treat that had become a recurring favorite of hers, and smudging her phone's screen with whipped cream and powdered sugar as she plugged numbers into her calculator app. Perhaps thinking that the park's financial department would notice an overage of a thousand dollars was misguided. It was a big park. After finishing her cake and her calculations, Carly came to the conclusion that $10,000 was a reasonable upper limit. Spending $10,000 on a $2,000 plan would have to be noticed by someone, and that meant only 44 more days of park food before she could finally eat a salad. It also meant admitting a few realities, like the necessity for larger clothes. She burped as she hauled herself to her feet to order another funnel cake, and swiped to her open browser. She had some online shopping to do.

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Two weeks later Carly sat in Cheesaira, the park's borderline offensive amalgamation of Italian stereotypes made edible, scarfing down a plate of Parmesan-coated fettuccine alfredo so aggressively that her quickly rounding face was covered in white sauce. Her computer was open on the table in front of her but was receiving no attention in the face of her gluttonous revelry, and the restaurant's few patrons, Italian being an unpopular choice among vacationing children, were watching her with wide eyes. A butter-soaked breadstick was clutched in her free hand and she took periodic bites as she crammed herself fuller and fuller of cheese-slicked carbs, her mouth so stuffed with the calorically dense food that she could barely bring her lips together when she chewed.

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The absolute certainty she had about her 66th day of the dining plan being her last clearly served as a comfort in the face of the weight she was piling on, and even a cursory glance at her body revealed that her figure had suffered under the weight of the 2,000+ calorie meals she was packing away at least three times a day since her little revenge plot began.

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She hadn't yet given up enough to admit that sweatpants and leggings were likely the practical choice for her seemingly unstoppable expansion, and was instead now crammed into the slightly larger pair of gray work slacks that were still fighting to contain her swelling thighs and ass within them. The seams of her pants seemed ready to burst open with an inch of movement, and the button was fastened so low about her hips that her rounding basketball of a belly pushed over the waistband and obscured the tightness of the button almost entirely. It was clear that fighting her way into those slacks that morning had been a massive struggle she’d been on the losing end of, and the gaping of the pants’ button combined with the zipper’s refusal to cinch higher than halfway made the unwearably undersized pants look almost obscene. Her growing ass was threatening to split the poor fabric, and when she sat for her second meal of the day, she’d reddened at the obvious creaking of material ready to throw in the towel.

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She’d all but exploded since setting a hard time limit on her eating, and it was almost as if giving herself even the slightest permission to grow was all the green light her body needed. The bottom button of her blouse was undone to allow her protruding middle to bloat out unobstructed, and the sleeves of the top, despite the larger size she’d ordered, strained against the growing pudginess of her arms.

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The buttons gaped most dramatically around her heavy, swollen tits, and the fabric stretched to near translucency did little to hide the fact that she’d long outgrown the bra she was attempting to stuff herself into. She was spilling over the bra from every possible point of protrusion, and between the bra and the blouse, the clothing confining her upper body almost looked painful.

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She snagged another breadstick and shoved it down, then grabbed her oversized milkshake glass for another glug, the butterfat, cream, and chocolate blend now a twice-daily staple she couldn't live without. She knew she was just a few pounds away from outgrowing the fat clothes she’d purchased to cover herself for the duration of her park feasts, but that knowledge did little to slow the pace or volume of her binges. The more she ate, the hungrier she began.

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The food was so good and available in such quantities that she was no longer able to stop herself, and despite how much was piled in front of her, she devoured it to the last greasy bite. The meals were making her less and less full, and as she found herself getting hungry more quickly, she was taking larger advantage of the size of her snacks. Just a few weeks ago she’d been scouring the park maps for a healthier option, and now she was searching for the largest snack she could purchase that the meal plan would allow. The marked increase in gluttony was adding up, and as she ate herself out of another set of clothes, she was beginning to feel her swelling gut bounce lightly with each step as her shirt failed to contain it. Getting dressed was beginning to grow painful again, and worse than that, it was taking so much more time that she’d almost been late to the park meal plan’s breakfast window that week. She would size up just one more time. The 66 days were almost over.