BBW, Stuffing, Stuckage - a chance encounter of the expansive kind
Corey couldn't stop staring at the woman in the booth across from him.
She was a magnificent spectacle of a woman.
She was tall, pretty, but those things weren't what made her impressive. No, what made her impressive was the size and shape of her. She was a very fat, very bloated, blond beauty, and she was clad in a near-splitting pink dress that clung tight to each and every extra inch of curvature on her corpulent, fleshy figure, letting everyone see just how out of shape she really was, or rather, how rounded her shape had become through eating and laying about.
She would be a pear-shaped princess were she standing, that much was clear. Her thighs, spread out under the weight of her body, were nearly enough to fill the entirety of the two-person bench seat, and even seated, the massive volume of her pale white legs was evident, the dress being a tad too short to cover the bulk of her monstrously thick, thunderous thighs.
Resting on her lap was her round, bulging belly, swollen from a life of laziness, coupled with god knows how much indulging. It was there, big and heavy, jutting out in front of her, leaving only a small space between the softness of her body and the firmness of the table she was sitting at, and it was protruding out further still with each bite of food, testing the dress more and more with every passing minute.
Resting on the great, glutted globe of her stomach were the two, relatively small, globes of her breasts, not on display particularly, but looking to be unsupported, drooping ever-so-slightly off to the sides of her overfed midsection. This was the one place where the word 'massive' didn't apply to her body. They were large, compared to the average woman, but when attached to a figure of such magnitude, they seemed small. Shapely, yes, attractive, undeniably, but out of proportion with the overall fatness of her figure.
All told, she looked to be a veritable goddess of gluttony, a very chubby woman, her body swollen from untold amounts of eating. She was a monument to a modern life of indolence and overindulgence, barely able to fit her fat body between the booth and the table, a rosy, rounded, whale of a woman, looking stuffed to capacity and yet, continuing to force even more food down her face.
She was a big woman, soft and flabby looking, like ten pounds of pudding poured into a two pound bag, and still, despite all of this, she continued to gorge herself, seeming to be entirely apathetic to the way her already round figure was slowly getting thicker, swelling at that moment with high-calorie Italian food, soon to be swelling more permanently with the consequences of her appetite, her broad, juicy body becoming burdened by even more layers of heavy, gelatinous fat. Beyond that, she seemed not to care. She was apathetic about the sheer size of her flabby, well-fed body, or that she was eating more food than a small family might.
Truly she was a sight to see.
Corey had to say something to her.
This woman, he didn't know her name, had just dropped out of his wet dreams into his reality, how could he miss this opportunity?
But what would he say?
He sat back a little longer and watched, trying to find the words to approach her.
He noticed she looked upset. In the minutes between plates, she would sigh heavily, her soft, pretty face, framed by pink, chubby cheeks and a second chin, looking downcast, frowning. Yet, she kept ordering more, cleaning her plate, then calling a waiter, placing another order, and repeating the process.
Plate after plate, pork milanese followed by chicken alfredo, followed by chicken parmagiano, three very large, very full entrées, each large enough to satiate an average college football player, were presented to the beautiful blimp and consumed by her, in gleeful spurts of greedy piggishness.
It was after the chicken parm that Corey saw his opening.
It was then that the stuffed, swollen stunner stopped her splurging and started massaging the tight, bloated mound that had become of her already soft, chubby stomach. There was that frown again.
This was Corey's time.
He walked up to the booth where this gorgeous glutton was sitting, Hi, uh, do you mind if I sit here?
The girl, at that moment, seemed more concerned with the discomfort caused by her indulging, but she found time between grimacing at the pain of having eaten enough food to give an elephant a distressingly full stomach, to nod.
Corey sat himself down and began introductions. Nothing fancy, just a simple, My name's Corey, what's yours?
In response, she burped. Loudly.
A look of relief flooded over her face with that, and finally, she answered.
Whoop! 'Scuse me! her pink cheeks flushed brighter with embarrassment, I'm Lincoln.
I don't mean to pry, or anything. . . began Corey, but I saw you over here, and you were looking pretty upset. I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?
There was a second where Corey sat there nervously, unsure of what would happen next. Would she be willing to talk? Or would this be the moment that she walked, well, considering how much she'd just eaten, waddled away?
He crossed his fingers.
Lincoln sighed, I guess. I mean, it's just been a really crappy day, know what I mean?
Corey nodded, I think I do. What exactly, though? Like, what specifically made it crappy? All Corey was looking to do was start a conversation with the girl of his dreams, maybe start a relationship with her that could take steps further. He didn't expect her to be as open and honest as she was.
Lincoln slumped a bit in her chair, contorting her cute, fat face in thought before sighing and muttering, Only just met you, dude, but what the hell. Here we go.
And with that, she started talking, and Corey just sat back and listened to her tale of woe.
Basically, I woke up, and from there out, things were crap. Like, straight off, things went bad. Put on my bra, thirty seconds later, the hook rips off the strap, and I'm left there just, like, 'what the mess?' Can you believe that, I mean, look at me, yeah, I'm fat as frick, stupid fat, but you know what, I may got the ass of a world record donut eater, but I'll be damned if my tits got any bigger out o' all that! She placed a hand over one of her unsupported breasts, giving it a quick heft, testing its weight, and dropping it a second later, letting the juicy flesh bounce and jiggle, contained within it's fabric confines. She shrugged, Don't seem any bigger, but damn, they're big enough, I guess. Big enough to screw up the last decent-looking bra I own.
She paused for a second, then let out another belch worthy of a trucker.
Whoops, sorry about that! Ate too much, too fast, you know, got a belly full of noodles and air. Gotta come out somehow, you know? She set her hand back down on round dome of her stomach, the motion sending ripples across her soft, doughy body, and causing yet another burp, 'Scuse me. There we go again! Belly like this, quick eater like me, 's a recipe for a girl getting her gut full of air that wants to get out. Probably about a ton and a half of noodles down there, too, from the feel of it, the only difference is that they ain't trying to escape! All they're doing is fighting over how exactly I'm gonna be fatter 'cause of all this. Whether they want to make it so it's my ass or my gut that's too fat for anything when I wake up tomorrow.
Thoughtfully, she started massaging the exposed expanse of her meaty thighs, I'm guessing. . . right here. Yep, I'm gonna wake up tomorrow feeling bloated as all get out, try to put on my pants, get halfway up over these damn tree trunks I call my thighs, get my fat butt stuck, freak out, fight with my pants for probably like, I dunno, thirty minutes, then give up,
A glazed look crossed over her face as she walked through the steps tomorrow would likely contain, in a bored voice, throw on some sweatpants, drive to the mall, buy some frickin' size 34 wide, or whatever the heck stupid size it takes to cover my giant booty, extra, extra, extra, extra, extra large, quadruple XL, or whatever. Maybe even get the next size up from that for whenever I get bigger. Then I'd stop by Victoria's Secret, get me a new bra in the next size up, and then, knowing my fat self, I'd convince myself to do something ridiculous, like go by Cheesecake Factory to celebrate me finally being a DD cup, and like always, if I do that, I'm gonna end up eating until I'm way too frickin' full, just like I am right now, and that's just gonna restart the whole dang cycle.
Suddenly, it was like she remembered where she was, and what she was saying. She snapped out of her reverie and began apologizing, Oh god, I'm so sorry, I just went off in my own little world for a second there!
Corey wasn't even a little annoyed. He was completely enraptured. The more Lincoln said, the more convinced he became that he had to be dreaming, that any second, he'd wake up, back in his apartment.
But Lincoln was waiting a response, so he shook himself back to life, No, no, it's totally fine! So you started off the day breaking your bra, and that's why you're all upset? But if you like having bigger boobs, shouldn't you be excited? Was there something else?
Lincoln actually cracked her first smile of the evening, though it was a pained one. She continued her story, Oh, no, no! See, that was just the first ten minutes of the day!
She paused for a split second, reflecting, No, there were a couple other things, like I got on the bus, people were giving me dirty looks, and I'm just sitting there like, sorry, my butt takes up two seats, I can't do anything about that!
She shrugged, Well, I mean, I can, but let's be real, there's more a chance of Kim Kardashian getting as big as I am than there is of me ever being anything but fat as heck. But that wasn't even the worst bit, see, the big thing didn't happen 'til a couple hours ago. See. . . I had a doctor's appointment.
She leaned back and sighed heavily, her hands resting on the bulge of her belly, I mean, it was always gonna suck. I'm fat, I know I'm fat, I mean damn, I haven't seen my feet since I was in high school, I'm eating my piggy self through more than a gallon of ice cream every two days, working out approximately never, I knew already that doctor lady was going to be saying some tough stuff. And she did, but I was expecting it. Then, she got personal with me, like walking up to me, getting up in my face, grabbing one of my jelly rolls, shaking it around, saying stuff like, 'ooh, look at it, though, all soft and fatty. It's disgusting if you ask me! You're one of those women who takes up both seats on an airplane, aren't you, you big blob of blubber. What do you even eat on a daily basis? I'm guessing junk food, 24-7, all the Twinkies, all the time. You know what, I'm willing to bet you, if you went on that 'Super-size Me' diet, ate nothing but Big Macs and french fries for a month, you'd actually lose weight, you piggy. Anyways your fat is gonna kill you. So now, here's what you need to do. . .' and she went on, giving me diet advice and stuff, and the whole time, all I'm thinking is just 'hey, screw you, lady!' Know what I mean?
Corey nodded, Yeah, you know you could probably sue that doctor, right? Verbal abuse?
Lincoln shrugged, Yeah, I know, but I mean. . . Frickin' look at me, was she wrong? I've never been on an airplane, so I dunno about that, but first there's like what I said how it is riding the bus, and then just look at me over here in this booth! Each side is supposed to fit two people, or, you know, one ass as fat as mine. she snorted.
And then there's this. She gestured at the table in front of her, I get upset at her for calling me a big, fat pig, and what do I do? Oh, what any great, morbidly obese cow worth her salt would do, just waddle on out, head straight for the closest restaurant and stuff my greedy little pig face until I can't even walk. I mean, yeah, even the doctor had to admit, I don't have any of those obesity-related problems yet, but how long you think that's gonna stay the same with me going around town, shoving every tiny bit of food into my fat face?
She grabbed a handful of stomach fat, a nice, thick, juicy roll of blubber, and gave it a little shake, the action reverberating through her entire upper body,
This isn't exactly a sign of good health, y'know? And if I keep eating like this, she gestured to the four empty platters on the table, I reckon she was right with what she was saying!
Corey was confused, So. . . Wait. You're afraid your doctor was right about telling you you were too fat. . . so you came here to pig out? Like what is that, some kind of 'last stand' kinda deal, like 'I'm gonna eat and eat and eat this one time, get it out of my system, and the diet starts tomorrow,' sorta thing?
Comfort Eating
by Cylon_Bob
by Cylon_Bob
Corey couldn't stop staring at the woman in the booth across from him.
She was a magnificent spectacle of a woman.
She was tall, pretty, but those things weren't what made her impressive. No, what made her impressive was the size and shape of her. She was a very fat, very bloated, blond beauty, and she was clad in a near-splitting pink dress that clung tight to each and every extra inch of curvature on her corpulent, fleshy figure, letting everyone see just how out of shape she really was, or rather, how rounded her shape had become through eating and laying about.
She would be a pear-shaped princess were she standing, that much was clear. Her thighs, spread out under the weight of her body, were nearly enough to fill the entirety of the two-person bench seat, and even seated, the massive volume of her pale white legs was evident, the dress being a tad too short to cover the bulk of her monstrously thick, thunderous thighs.
Resting on her lap was her round, bulging belly, swollen from a life of laziness, coupled with god knows how much indulging. It was there, big and heavy, jutting out in front of her, leaving only a small space between the softness of her body and the firmness of the table she was sitting at, and it was protruding out further still with each bite of food, testing the dress more and more with every passing minute.
Resting on the great, glutted globe of her stomach were the two, relatively small, globes of her breasts, not on display particularly, but looking to be unsupported, drooping ever-so-slightly off to the sides of her overfed midsection. This was the one place where the word 'massive' didn't apply to her body. They were large, compared to the average woman, but when attached to a figure of such magnitude, they seemed small. Shapely, yes, attractive, undeniably, but out of proportion with the overall fatness of her figure.
All told, she looked to be a veritable goddess of gluttony, a very chubby woman, her body swollen from untold amounts of eating. She was a monument to a modern life of indolence and overindulgence, barely able to fit her fat body between the booth and the table, a rosy, rounded, whale of a woman, looking stuffed to capacity and yet, continuing to force even more food down her face.
She was a big woman, soft and flabby looking, like ten pounds of pudding poured into a two pound bag, and still, despite all of this, she continued to gorge herself, seeming to be entirely apathetic to the way her already round figure was slowly getting thicker, swelling at that moment with high-calorie Italian food, soon to be swelling more permanently with the consequences of her appetite, her broad, juicy body becoming burdened by even more layers of heavy, gelatinous fat. Beyond that, she seemed not to care. She was apathetic about the sheer size of her flabby, well-fed body, or that she was eating more food than a small family might.
Truly she was a sight to see.
Corey had to say something to her.
This woman, he didn't know her name, had just dropped out of his wet dreams into his reality, how could he miss this opportunity?
But what would he say?
He sat back a little longer and watched, trying to find the words to approach her.
He noticed she looked upset. In the minutes between plates, she would sigh heavily, her soft, pretty face, framed by pink, chubby cheeks and a second chin, looking downcast, frowning. Yet, she kept ordering more, cleaning her plate, then calling a waiter, placing another order, and repeating the process.
Plate after plate, pork milanese followed by chicken alfredo, followed by chicken parmagiano, three very large, very full entrées, each large enough to satiate an average college football player, were presented to the beautiful blimp and consumed by her, in gleeful spurts of greedy piggishness.
It was after the chicken parm that Corey saw his opening.
It was then that the stuffed, swollen stunner stopped her splurging and started massaging the tight, bloated mound that had become of her already soft, chubby stomach. There was that frown again.
This was Corey's time.
He walked up to the booth where this gorgeous glutton was sitting, Hi, uh, do you mind if I sit here?
The girl, at that moment, seemed more concerned with the discomfort caused by her indulging, but she found time between grimacing at the pain of having eaten enough food to give an elephant a distressingly full stomach, to nod.
Corey sat himself down and began introductions. Nothing fancy, just a simple, My name's Corey, what's yours?
In response, she burped. Loudly.
A look of relief flooded over her face with that, and finally, she answered.
Whoop! 'Scuse me! her pink cheeks flushed brighter with embarrassment, I'm Lincoln.
I don't mean to pry, or anything. . . began Corey, but I saw you over here, and you were looking pretty upset. I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?
There was a second where Corey sat there nervously, unsure of what would happen next. Would she be willing to talk? Or would this be the moment that she walked, well, considering how much she'd just eaten, waddled away?
He crossed his fingers.
Lincoln sighed, I guess. I mean, it's just been a really crappy day, know what I mean?
Corey nodded, I think I do. What exactly, though? Like, what specifically made it crappy? All Corey was looking to do was start a conversation with the girl of his dreams, maybe start a relationship with her that could take steps further. He didn't expect her to be as open and honest as she was.
Lincoln slumped a bit in her chair, contorting her cute, fat face in thought before sighing and muttering, Only just met you, dude, but what the hell. Here we go.
And with that, she started talking, and Corey just sat back and listened to her tale of woe.
Basically, I woke up, and from there out, things were crap. Like, straight off, things went bad. Put on my bra, thirty seconds later, the hook rips off the strap, and I'm left there just, like, 'what the mess?' Can you believe that, I mean, look at me, yeah, I'm fat as frick, stupid fat, but you know what, I may got the ass of a world record donut eater, but I'll be damned if my tits got any bigger out o' all that! She placed a hand over one of her unsupported breasts, giving it a quick heft, testing its weight, and dropping it a second later, letting the juicy flesh bounce and jiggle, contained within it's fabric confines. She shrugged, Don't seem any bigger, but damn, they're big enough, I guess. Big enough to screw up the last decent-looking bra I own.
She paused for a second, then let out another belch worthy of a trucker.
Whoops, sorry about that! Ate too much, too fast, you know, got a belly full of noodles and air. Gotta come out somehow, you know? She set her hand back down on round dome of her stomach, the motion sending ripples across her soft, doughy body, and causing yet another burp, 'Scuse me. There we go again! Belly like this, quick eater like me, 's a recipe for a girl getting her gut full of air that wants to get out. Probably about a ton and a half of noodles down there, too, from the feel of it, the only difference is that they ain't trying to escape! All they're doing is fighting over how exactly I'm gonna be fatter 'cause of all this. Whether they want to make it so it's my ass or my gut that's too fat for anything when I wake up tomorrow.
Thoughtfully, she started massaging the exposed expanse of her meaty thighs, I'm guessing. . . right here. Yep, I'm gonna wake up tomorrow feeling bloated as all get out, try to put on my pants, get halfway up over these damn tree trunks I call my thighs, get my fat butt stuck, freak out, fight with my pants for probably like, I dunno, thirty minutes, then give up,
A glazed look crossed over her face as she walked through the steps tomorrow would likely contain, in a bored voice, throw on some sweatpants, drive to the mall, buy some frickin' size 34 wide, or whatever the heck stupid size it takes to cover my giant booty, extra, extra, extra, extra, extra large, quadruple XL, or whatever. Maybe even get the next size up from that for whenever I get bigger. Then I'd stop by Victoria's Secret, get me a new bra in the next size up, and then, knowing my fat self, I'd convince myself to do something ridiculous, like go by Cheesecake Factory to celebrate me finally being a DD cup, and like always, if I do that, I'm gonna end up eating until I'm way too frickin' full, just like I am right now, and that's just gonna restart the whole dang cycle.
Suddenly, it was like she remembered where she was, and what she was saying. She snapped out of her reverie and began apologizing, Oh god, I'm so sorry, I just went off in my own little world for a second there!
Corey wasn't even a little annoyed. He was completely enraptured. The more Lincoln said, the more convinced he became that he had to be dreaming, that any second, he'd wake up, back in his apartment.
But Lincoln was waiting a response, so he shook himself back to life, No, no, it's totally fine! So you started off the day breaking your bra, and that's why you're all upset? But if you like having bigger boobs, shouldn't you be excited? Was there something else?
Lincoln actually cracked her first smile of the evening, though it was a pained one. She continued her story, Oh, no, no! See, that was just the first ten minutes of the day!
She paused for a split second, reflecting, No, there were a couple other things, like I got on the bus, people were giving me dirty looks, and I'm just sitting there like, sorry, my butt takes up two seats, I can't do anything about that!
She shrugged, Well, I mean, I can, but let's be real, there's more a chance of Kim Kardashian getting as big as I am than there is of me ever being anything but fat as heck. But that wasn't even the worst bit, see, the big thing didn't happen 'til a couple hours ago. See. . . I had a doctor's appointment.
She leaned back and sighed heavily, her hands resting on the bulge of her belly, I mean, it was always gonna suck. I'm fat, I know I'm fat, I mean damn, I haven't seen my feet since I was in high school, I'm eating my piggy self through more than a gallon of ice cream every two days, working out approximately never, I knew already that doctor lady was going to be saying some tough stuff. And she did, but I was expecting it. Then, she got personal with me, like walking up to me, getting up in my face, grabbing one of my jelly rolls, shaking it around, saying stuff like, 'ooh, look at it, though, all soft and fatty. It's disgusting if you ask me! You're one of those women who takes up both seats on an airplane, aren't you, you big blob of blubber. What do you even eat on a daily basis? I'm guessing junk food, 24-7, all the Twinkies, all the time. You know what, I'm willing to bet you, if you went on that 'Super-size Me' diet, ate nothing but Big Macs and french fries for a month, you'd actually lose weight, you piggy. Anyways your fat is gonna kill you. So now, here's what you need to do. . .' and she went on, giving me diet advice and stuff, and the whole time, all I'm thinking is just 'hey, screw you, lady!' Know what I mean?
Corey nodded, Yeah, you know you could probably sue that doctor, right? Verbal abuse?
Lincoln shrugged, Yeah, I know, but I mean. . . Frickin' look at me, was she wrong? I've never been on an airplane, so I dunno about that, but first there's like what I said how it is riding the bus, and then just look at me over here in this booth! Each side is supposed to fit two people, or, you know, one ass as fat as mine. she snorted.
And then there's this. She gestured at the table in front of her, I get upset at her for calling me a big, fat pig, and what do I do? Oh, what any great, morbidly obese cow worth her salt would do, just waddle on out, head straight for the closest restaurant and stuff my greedy little pig face until I can't even walk. I mean, yeah, even the doctor had to admit, I don't have any of those obesity-related problems yet, but how long you think that's gonna stay the same with me going around town, shoving every tiny bit of food into my fat face?
She grabbed a handful of stomach fat, a nice, thick, juicy roll of blubber, and gave it a little shake, the action reverberating through her entire upper body,
This isn't exactly a sign of good health, y'know? And if I keep eating like this, she gestured to the four empty platters on the table, I reckon she was right with what she was saying!
Corey was confused, So. . . Wait. You're afraid your doctor was right about telling you you were too fat. . . so you came here to pig out? Like what is that, some kind of 'last stand' kinda deal, like 'I'm gonna eat and eat and eat this one time, get it out of my system, and the diet starts tomorrow,' sorta thing?
