By steve aka
She wakes up at half past two in the afternoon, screaming to be fed breakfast. She'd spent the better part of the night in a feeding binge and hadn't fallen asleep until just after 3 am. Her binge probably would've lasted longer, but all the fast food and pizza places were closed by then. She'd produced so much garbage from her binge that I nearly filled our dumpster to overfull. If her eating binges keep up like this, we'll have to increase dumpster sizes…again! Luckily, they'd already come for the daily emptying of it because she'll most likely do it again today.
Oh, but where was I? Ah, yes…breakfast! I quickly fill one of the dessert carts with donuts and wheel it towards her room. She is screaming at the top of her lungs about how hungry she is and calling me all sorts of names for starving her to death. This is how she normally wakes up in the “morning.” I put morning in quotes because she rarely wakes up before noon and usually sleeps at least 14 hours a day. The rest is spent lying in her specially reinforced customized ultra-wide king-size bed (which she hasn't been out of for about 5 years), eating and watching TV.
I enter the room. There's a KFC commercial on the TV, which is making her drool profusely. She sees me and immediately shouts, “Well, it's about fucking time!” Her voluminous jowls and chins quiver and flap with anger; her face is beet red with anger. “I'm lying here, starving to death, and you're out in the kitchen fuckin' around! Probably eating my food! Get over here, quick, and gimme that grub!”
I do as I'm told. When it comes to food, I take my baby VERY seriously. As soon as the cart comes into reach of her pudgy little hands, she grabs the first box and starts shoveling donuts into her mouth, almost instantly making a big mess. She moans in pleasure as she does this. Donut after donut, box after box, she devours them like she hasn't eaten for weeks. After about five minutes and 100 donuts, she swallows hard and says, “Well don't just stand there, dummy! Can't ya see I've almost finished with these! Go get me another cart and fix me my breakfast!” She then goes back to her gorging like I'm not even there.
I run and get her another cart, then go and prepare her breakfast. No matter how late in the day she wakes up she always wants to start off with breakfast. I've almost finished it off when she yells to me from the other room to get her another cartful of donuts. I bring them into her and tell her that breakfast is almost ready. She just grunts and says through a mouthful of donuts, “Well, it's about fucking time!”
I finish making her breakfast and wheel in the first part of it just as she is finishing off the last donut. Her eyes get wide with gluttony and drool pours from her donut-goo smeared mouth when she sees the overburdened cart full of pancakes, waffles and French toast, all dripping with butter, plus various syrups, jams, chocolate sauces and 24 cans of whipped cream. I wheel the cart over to her. I stand transfixed, watching her amazing feat of gluttony and think about how lucky I am to have such a dream woman.
She shovels in a whole pancake and takes a bottle syrup and pours it into her mouth, downing about a quarter of the bottle. She then takes a can of whipped cream and squirts almost the entire contents of it into her mouth, following that with some chocolate sauce.
The upper portions of her giant breasts are each nearly covered by smeared donut goop and most of the top portion of her paunch as well. Her fat face is almost blotted out with cream and goo as well. Her long blonde hair is matted with food particles, not just from this morning's feast but from last night's as well. Her cheeks are pudgy beyond belief, pushing in on her dainty little pug nose. Her piercing blue eyes sit far back in fat crowded caves. And her small, girlish chin is dwarfed by a hanging sack of flabby chins and neck fat that wobbles as she eats and hangs down nearly a foot and a half.
Her upper arms are mammoth, nearly four feet around. They're so ladened with flab they hang down over her forearms, nearly engulfing them if they themselves weren't so enormous. Each forearm is two feet in circumference, and they themselves are so flabby that they nearly engulf her fat hands. Each hand would be small and dainty if it wasn't for the fact that they're so blubbery. It's really a miracle that she can move her hands and arms at all because they're so fat, but she does, and nearly at warp speed as she shovels food into her mouth without benefit of silverware (it just slows down the eating process, according to her). In fact, the movement of her arms and mouth are the only parts of her body that get any form of exercise at all, the flab shaking, rippling and quivering as she grabs food to shovel into her fat face. The best part is when she really gets them moving, like now, and the flabby parts that hang down smack into each other and her voluminous sides, making loud slapping and snapping sounds as she eats.
Her breasts are sights to behold. Each one is about eight feet around, and they hang off to each side and touch the floor on either side of the bed. They are naked, of course, since clothes are too restricting and, with the way she eats and moves, she just shreds them to pieces in about a week, anyway. The only time I cover them, or at least try to, is when I put a blanket over them to act as a bib when she's eating hot and greasy food so she won't burn herself.
Her belly is truly the most awe-inspiring part of her. Easily the dominant feature on her beautiful blubbery body - and the first thing you notice about her when you enter her room. The thing seems to have a life of its own, rising up off her bed at least seven feet, then bulging out in front of her for about 12 feet where it hangs over the foot of the bed and plops firmly onto the floor and there spreads out another four feet in front of the bed. It writhes and quakes, and gurgles and groans, depending on how little or how much food it's been forced to contain.
Her legs are completely buried by her belly, but I get a chance to see them three or four times a day when I use a hoist and sling device with a winch to lift her gargantuan belly off of them to clean her. Her thighs are at least 11 feet around and nearly engulf her lower legs, which in turn are each seven feet around, and they hang down and completely engulf her feet. In fact, in order to see her feet you need to peel back about a foot of blubber before you find them. They're about a size four in men's shoe sizes, but if she did wear shoes, they'd have to be about ten inches wide to fit over her bread loaf feet. They're so fat, her toes aren't even visible unless you peel the foot fat away from them.
If you were to measure her around the waist, which would be an incredible task, she'd probably be about 25 feet around. I do know that she's 17 feet wide, from broadest part of hip/ass to broadest part of her hip/ass on the other side. Each saddlebag hip flops over the side of the bed by about two feet and almost touches the ground at her sides.
I haven't been able to weigh her in about six years, but when we did weigh her last time, at a truck scale, she clocked in at 1,983 lbs. Her appetite has increased SO much since then and she's gained SO much weight that if I had to estimate a weight for her now it'd be at least three tons!
“Hey! Hey, dummy! Quit standin' there gawking at me! I'm almost done here, moron! Go get me the rest of my breakfast!”
Damn! It never ceases to amaze me how much my little pudge-ball can put away. She's already eaten 350 donuts, 100 pancakes, 80 waffles and 10 loaves of French toast. Not to mention all the syrup, jam, chocolate sauce and whipped cream.
I hurry off to the kitchen to get the rest of her breakfast. This cart has 15 dozen fried eggs, 25 pounds of bacon, 90 sausages, five whole hams and 30 pounds of hash browned potatoes, all for my little glutton. She launches right into it, downing a dozen eggs in less than a minute and starting in on one of the hams.
“Mmmrrrf! Hey, dummy, when I'm done with this wimpy little breakfast, I'll be ready for some lunch. But bring me a coupla dessert carts first; I wanna get some sweets in me before my blood sugar gets too low. And don't skimp on the cakes like last time! I expect at least one full cart of nothin' but cakes!”
Uh-oh, I'd better get back to the kitchen. I've got a lot of work to do.