After I got back to school, I continued to grow. I was eating nonstop, and, of course, even if I hadn’t been hungry all the time, Sally was always around to encourage me. How could I resist? But finally I happened: I outgrew all of my clothes. Sure, I loved wearing overly tight clothes, the feeling that something might tear if I breathed in just a little too deeply, but it was starting to become indecent.
Sally took me to the mall to celebrate my new high with some ice cream. And also to buy me some new clothes. I’m gaining so fast that it’s difficult to find clothes to fit my expanding bulk. Today, I’m wearing a pair of tight jean cut-off shorts. My wide soft buns push against the seat. My ass has grown so fat that the lower half of my generous butt hang out of the shorts and they are beginning to wedge up my ass crack. I have to keep pulling them down as I walk. I don’t mind, though, since it’s just another sign of all the weight I’ve put on. Soon, I’ll get so big that I won’t even be able to wear these anymore. The idea makes me so excited. Sometimes I can’t imagine that a girl could get any bigger. I think that I may have reached my limits.
I’m wearing a button down shirt, filled to its capacity with my heavy milk bags. Under my breasts, my globular belly swells out like a beach ball, so much that I can’t button the lower buttons. I simply tie the shirt in a knot under my bra-busting boobs so that no one will notice.
I can only button the shorts if I suck in my belly. When I exhale, my belly rolls hangs over the snap and obscure it. The snap on my shorts keeps popping open as I walk, so that I have to refasten it every few minutes. My big bouncing boobs strain the shirt so much that the buttons across my chest are ready to go flying across the room. Walking around the mall is a challenge. Too out of shape. Just following Sally around is enough to get me winded.
“Stop walking so fast!” I gasp, my enormous bosom heaving. “I’m not as fast as I used to be.”
“It’s your own fault for getting so damn fat, Amber!”
”Is that so? And just who’s the one who’s been feeding me?”
Sally smiles wickedly. “Be quiet and eat your ice cream.”
“When I finish it, will you buy me another cone?” I ask sweetly.
“Of course!”
“Goodie!” I cram the remaining ice cream in my mouth at once and quickly chew it up, knowing that the faster I eat the more extra food I can get Sally to buy for me.
“Don’t you ever get full, Amber?” smiles Sally. She pretends to be annoyed, shaking her head. She knows that doing that causes her colossal chest to shimmy and shake; it drives me wild. If I could, I’d jump her right now. I’m just afraid that I might crush her beneath my massive bulk!
Sally buys another cone and brings it over to me. I grab at it but Sally holds it just out of my reach. She’s taller than I am and, besides, it’s difficult for me to reach up.
“What are you doing?” I pout, “Give me my ice cream! You know I can’t reach that high. I can’t stretch my arms up. I’m afraid to even move, this outfit is so damn snug. Do you want me to rip out of these clothes?” I turn slightly to give Sally a good view of my blubbery love handles, spilling over the sides of my taut shorts, the waistband cutting deeply into my expanding paunch. The backs of the shorts are pulled so tight across the cheeks of my bum that the back pockets look ready to tear. I’m getting back at her for jiggling those jumbo tits at me. Now she’s the one ready to explode; she’s biting her lip and shaking slightly with desire.
Finally, I give in. Sally knows how much I want that cone. She knows that I’ll do anything to get another bite to eat. I feel like I’ll just waste away if I’m not constantly stuffing my fat face.
“Ugh!” I reach up, groaning with the strain. As I do so, I hear the fabric of my clothes whining dangerously. I’m pushing it to the absolute limits. With my flabby arms above my head, my bloated belly pushes outwards. Pop! The front snap busts open, allowing my tubby gut to roll out ever so slightly more. My hefty hooters press against the shirt, already stretched as thin as tissue, pulling the gaps between the over-stressed buttons even wider and revealing brief glimpses of the heavy duty bra beneath.
A couple of scrawny high school girls wander past, pausing briefly to stare at the scene.
“Oh. My. God,” breathes one of the girls, giggling, “Look at the size of that blimp! She’s huge. I’ll bet she weighs a ton!”
“I can’t believe anyone could let themselves get so fat,” agrees the other one. “And look at her grabbing for that ice cream. You’d think she was starving or something. I can’t believe that other girl’s playing keep away. That’s cruel! It’s not nice to make fun of a fat ass cow like that. She probably can’t help it being greedy.”
The girls leave but they walk by again a minute later, apparently just to make sure that their eyes weren’t deceiving them. Sally and I think it’s hilarious.
“Keep it up,” I whisper to Sally, “Don’t give it to me until after they’re gone. Let’s have some fun with them.” As the girl walk by, I say loudly, “C’mon, Sally, give me the cone! I’m soo hungry, just one lick!”
“No way, porky!” retorts Sally, “You’re already way too fat. Look at yourself! You can’t even fit in your clothes anymore. This is for your own good, Amber. If I didn’t keep this away from you, you’d probably just eat till you popped, you greedy pig, you!”
The little girls scurry away quickly, whispering excitedly to each other. That should keep them entertained. I can’t help but feel a little sorry for them, the skinny little things. They’ve probably never felt the satisfaction of a full belly like I have. I know that they have no idea how full and cozy it feels to carry this extra meat.
“Enough, fat girl!” laughs Sally, pushing the ice cream cone into my chubby hands. I eagerly cram I into my mouth. Mmmmm. So good. Especially since just waving my arms like that was enough to work up a sweat. I hardly ever exercise anymore so little movements like that sure do tire me out. It’s a good thing that this mall has escalators or that would have been it for me.
“You never would have been able to get it, Amber. I’ll be you just would have fallen over backwards before you could have grabbed it, weighted down by that giant ass of yours!” She slaps me lightly across the rump, causing the cellulite-packed shorts to wiggle and bounce.
“No,” I reply through a mouthful of ice cream, “that’s why I have this titanic potbelly and huge boobies, to balance everything out.” I hold the ice cream cone into my mouth while I refasten my shorts.
I pull my long strawberry blonde hair away from my eyes (it fell into my face while I was struggling with Sally) and put it into a ponytail. Reaching behind my head was the final straw, though, and one of the buttons across my bust shot across the hall. Good thing those girls had already left. That might have put an eye out!
“Looks like it’s time to get you some new clothes, Amber,” said Sally, “I don’t think we can delay another minute.”
“Do we have to? That little ice cream game really tired me out. Why don’t we just sit down for a few minutes first? Pleeeease?” I nudge up against Sally, my bare, rounded potbelly rubbing against her arm.
“Well, okay, that shouldn’t do any harm. Let’s go sit down.” Sally takes me by one chunky arm and leads me over to the nearest bench- it just so happens, though, that we’re in the food court. I can’t help it. Apart from two ice cream cones, I haven’t eaten anything since we left for the mall. My tubby tummy starts to gurgle.
“Sally, can I get a bite to eat first?”
Sally looks me over, her eyes resting on my wide thighs and ballooning stomach. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah, c’mon. It’s not like it matters if I bust these clothes open, right? I mean, we’re here to get new ones after all!”
“Good point! But what do you feel like having?”
“How about you get me some burgers first and we’ll see where we go from there, okay?”
“Okay, sweetie. You just sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
Suddenly I have a problem. “I can’t sit down, Sally! These fucking pants are so tight that I can barely bend in them!” I quickly grab the two flaps of the fly - the snap had come open again - and press them together, squeezing my titanic knockers up and out as I do so. Sally bites her lip, I can see, fearing - hoping - that I’ll pop right out of my overtaxed bra. Not yet. I grin broadly. Sally helps me squeeze into a booth in the corner; the table’s bigger so we’ll have more room for all the food I plan to eat. Oh, I’ve grown sooooo big! As I sit down, my bloated belly forces the snap on shorts open again. I pull the flaps together again.
“I’ll bet you can’t wait until I’ve got some new shorts in my size,” I whisper, “Then you won’t have to always worry that I’m going to explode out of my clothes, huh?”
Sally flushes red thinking about it and hurries away to get me some food. She comes back a few minutes later with two McDonalds burgers and milkshake.
“Ah! Now this is a good start,” I say, “But you’ve only brought back two. Aren’t you hungry too, baby?” Sally laughs and pokes her tongue at me. I literally inhale the burgers. I don’t think I even stopped to chew. As I suck down the milkshake, I wave at Sally to go to grab something from the pizza hut. Always ready, Sally jump up and rushes off, her knockers swaying and bouncing inside her filled-to-capacity shirt. When she brings the pizza back, I’m just getting my momentum. I fold the pizza in half and slide it into my mouth, tearing off large chunks and smearing sauce all over my face.
“Looks like you’ve had enough to eat, Amber,” says Sally.
“Not on your life! Hic!” I stifle a hiccup. “Now be a good girlfriend and go grab me some tacos. Oh, and a Mexican pizza. I love those things.” Sally does so. She’s so wonderful! I knew there was a reason to keep a skinny broad like her around, I think jokingly.
Half an hour later, I ‘m finally satiated. Oof. Of course, there’s still plenty of food- I was so excited that I kept sending Sally back for more without even stopping to think about how much room was left in my poor, poor big, billowing, ballooning tummy. Oh, I’m sosososo stuffed that I know walking will be difficult. Deep down I wonder - can eat any more? Could I swallow a single bite more without bursting?
“C’mon, Amber! You can do it!” coos Sally. She’s wriggling with excitement, causing her huge hooters to shake and shimmy. Her encouragement is all I need. I stuff another burger in my mouth. Chew chew chew. Munch munch. Gulp. It’s all so good that I can’t stop! What’s happening to me? I’m so bloated that I can hardly see straight but I can’t stop eating. I’ve reached a new level. Hot dogs. French fries. More burgers. Everything disappears into my massive gut.
“Easy there, girl,” says Sally, concerned. “Don’t overdo it. We don’t want you to make yourself sick.”
“No,” I mumble, “Don’t wanna be sick. Wanna eat. Eat more! Sally, hand me some more food! I’m not going to stop till I’d tried every restaurant in the mall! I’ll either finish it all or bust trying!”
What have I done? What have I started? I’m growing bigger every day. I haven’t stepped on a scale in weeks. Afraid to see what my new weight is, how much I’ve plumped up. I used to be tiny, now I’m a huge blimp. How big can I get? Sally got me out of the window then, but she wouldn’t be able to do that today. I’ve blimped out so much that there’s no way I’ll ever fit through Sally’s window again. Soon even doors will become too tight for me to squeeze through! I’m getting fatter and fatter every day because I never stop stuffing my face.
I’m such a greedy, greedy pig. Can you believe how much I’ve eaten? Two plates. Three plates. Four, five plates. People are staring. I keep eating. I’ve got to keep eating, can’t stop now. Must keep stuffing, muching, crunching, growing, growing bigger fatter. I am getting so fat. So huge. I must look like a whale. Like a blimp. My stomach is huge, hanging in front of me, stretching the button down shirt to its limits. The buttons are straining, the pale flesh of my overstuffed belly visible through the gaps.
“Still hungry, fat girl?” asks Sally evilly. She waves a cookie under my nose - the last bit of food on the table.
“No, Sally! You know I can’t resist chocolate!” My overloaded belly is groaning and gurgling; it’s gorged beyond all reason. I reach out a pudgy hand and grab the cookie away from Sally. I can’t resist. No matter what happens I have to eat that cookie!
I lean back, groaning. Bang! Bang! Bang! The buttons shoot off of my shirt and go flying.
I lie flat on my back. So completely stuffed. One more bite and I’ll split wide open. My shorts are open, my enormous, mountainous stomach busting through the “V” of the zipper. My breathing is labored. My arms and legs are spread. Hic hic. Hiccups wrack my body. Oh, too much. My plump face is smeared with sauce. I feel like everyone in the food court must be staring at me, staring at the huge blimp girl who can’t stop eating. What’s happened to me? Why am I always so hungry? Eat and eat and eat and eat. More food. More candy. More more more. Never enough. Never full. My stomach swells before my eyes.
I’m huge. Growing bigger and bigger every day. I love to eat too much to stop. Can I swallow another bite without popping? Doubtful. I’m ready to burst. No more. I simply can’t. Too full. Stuffed. Absolutely stuffed to the gills.
Sally escorts me to the clothes store. I need to buy a new shirt, can’t just walk around in this overtight bra. My monstrous juggs are nearly overflowing it, my massive cleavage is pushed up and out by the straining garment.
“Bring me something decent,” I say, “I need something that’s going to fit over these giant boobs without busting open.” I sit down and rub my overgorged stomach as Sally runs off to find some clothes. I wonder, looking around, if anything in this store has a chance of fitting me. Especially now, since I’ve probably gained even more weight after that incredible binging session.
Sally brings me a turtleneck sweater. It barely fits over me; it’s as tight as a second skin, hugging the ample curves of my paunch and tits. I turn to look at myself in profile. RRRRIIPPP! The sudden movement causes the stitches along the side to tear suddenly. The soft adipose flesh of my love handles spills out. The store clerk isn’t happy at all. She’s frowning at us, but Sally promises that she’ll pay for anything I break.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Here, hold this turtleneck for us. I have a feeling we might have some other stuff to add to the pile in a few minutes.” She turns to me. “Well, guess that rules out that. Maybe I can find you a sarong or something that you can let out to accommodate that every growing gut of yours,” says Sally, thinking hard. She hands me a pile of pants. “I don’t know what your size is anymore, since you’ve been inflating so fast. So try some of these on and let me know what fits.”
I heave myself to my feet and waddle into the dressing room. It’s a tight fit- I’ve grown so wide that I almost get stuck in the doorway! I can feel my thighs brushing both sides as I pass through. Inside, I latch the door and tug down my skin-tight shorts and unbutton my shirt. I only have to touch the shirt buttons lightly to cause them to come right out of their holes; their grasp was pretty tenuous to say the least. I admire my big, pale body for several seconds in the full length mirror, kneading the dimpled meat of my full, round buns, held in check by my skimpy, stretched black panties and rubbing my swollen pot. The body band of my bra is digging into the rolls on my back. The clasp is just begging for release. With a little struggle, I unhook it, allowing my boobs to pop out and expand to their full size. Ahhh, that feels so much better…
Next order of business- the pants. The first pair are a size 16. That’s no good, I can’t even pull them over my thighs. My gargantuan butt keeps getting in the way. The second pair are a size 18. These make it all the way up, but I can’t pull the snap across. I struggle for a few minutes in a futile attempt to get that damn snap hooked. No dice, he button and hole and miles away from each other and I don’t feel like walking around with my gut sucked in all day. No, I wasn’t people to see my belly at its maximum size, in all its glory. The next pants are a size 20.
Wait a minute. I pick up the old shorts to read the label. It’s been torn out. Oh, yeah, I forgot, I did that so my mom wouldn’t find out how big I was getting. She’s such a snoop. I do notice that the rear stitches have been under too much stress for too long; they’ve gone all loose without my rear in there pushing out against them. In front, the snap looks like it’s been popped a few times too many. The threads holding it in place are frayed and loose. These shorts are definitely on their last legs!
No more stalling. I pull the size 20 pants up. They pass the thighs, and I wriggle my butt into them. I pull the button and hole together. They meet but barely. I let go and they spring apart again. Peering down over the arc of my belly, I see the problem. It’s that huge gut!
The next pair are size 22. I get into them without two much difficulty and I can even just button them, although my lower pot hangs over the waist in two flabby rolls and hides the button from view. The problem is the zipper won’t close. I yank on it but it’s stuck. Looking in the mirror, I can see the black material of my binding underwear through the gaping hole left by the open zipper.
Last pair - it’s a 24. They fit - sort of. They’re tight but that’s the way I like them. They show off my meaty legs and explosive curves just fine. I think I’ll take them. I’d just better be careful not to make under sudden moves until they’re mine. Bending over to grab my brand shirt is hard work when you’ve got as much extra padding as I have and it’s even harder. Straining, I swipe at the shirt, desperately trying not to lose my balance. I’m so round that it might not be possible for me to get back up once I’ve fallen over. I need Sally to help me stand up most days. I almost always insist that Sally spend the night to make sure that there’s someone to help me out of bed the next morning. Of course, there are other reasons that I want Sally to stay over, too, if you know what I mean…
Damn it, this is way too hard for a fat girl like me. Bending over is hard work, so I squat down and try to grab it again. Squatting is almost as hard as bending. My chubby belly bunches up into three distinct rolls before me and pushes my large knockers up to my plump double chin, partly blocking my view. There! I finally got it without tumbling over. Now it’s just a matter of standing up again. I push my hands against the opposite walls of the stall and try to heave myself up. What a joke. I’m carrying way too many extra pounds to get up that way. I lean forward slightly, pressing my fleshy hands against the low slung changing room bench. Grunting, I push up with all my might. Slowly, I manage to get myself in a position where I can get back on my feet. The whole time the bench was creaking like it was about to split. Just another side effect of being as big as a cow, I think happily.
On my feet, I quickly pull my old shirt around me again. Hopefully, Sally will have found some new ones in decent size while I’ve been changing. I button it as far as I can, sucking in slightly to reduce my massive cleavage.
Once I get outside, though, I realize that Sally has forgotten all about finding a looser shirt for me. She’s been distracted by something totally different.
“Look!” squeals Sally, pointing to the house wares section. “There’s a scale in the corner. Let’s see how much more weight you’ve gained!”
Sally drags me over to the scale. Of course, it’s all show. I was waddling after her willingly. If I’d really wanted to stay off the scale, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to resist. I’m so hefty that Sally wouldn’t have been able to budge me an inch if I’d put up a fight. Sally’s reached the scale. I know because she’s not leading me any farther. At least, I think it’s a scale. I can’t see it over my own protruding belly, so I’ll have to take Sally’s word for it that there’s a scale there.
I gingerly step on it and listen to the spinning dial. Whir. Whir. Whirrrr. This takes forever, how high can my weight be? Sally is hopping with anticipation. Finally, I hear a click and a clunk. Something’s wrong. What happened? I lean forward to peer over my vast waistline but see nothing but my own protruding gut.
“Well? What’s the verdict?”
Sally smiles at me. “Looks like I’m going to have to pay for that, too.’