Little Miss Piggie

Ursula

Seeing as I'm spending Halloween tipping the scales at 605 pounds, I decided to go as Ursula from The Little Mermaid. I certainly was fat enough. I had a triple belly. My breasts are stretched out blobs of fat now. My upper arms can't get close to my body. Pretty soon I'm going to end up looking like a beach ball. In the meantime, I was able to use a wheelchair to attach tentacles to I managed to squeeze myself into an x8 stretch v-neck dress. It was a struggle getting the necklace around my neck. I roll into the party and head right for the punch bowl. They've got rum punch and I'm ready to let loose tonight. My lady comes as Ariel. Our contrast is striking. I'm nearly 6 times her size. God, I can't wait to get even lardier. My mother is coming over for dinner tomorrow night. She doesn't know that it's my 600-pound party and that other feedees and BBW models will be over at my house to celebrate...She's in for the shock of her life. 

I'm so glad that we set the camera to capture my latest weigh-in. We've been watching it a lot lately to help set the mood. We're working on building a special comparison package in addition to the weigh-in. We have to film it in the bedroom since the bathroom is currently being remodelled. I've pretty much outgrown it and I'm only going to keep getting fatter. It makes sense to just do it not. I'm breathing heavily by the time I walk into the room. The camera has trouble capturing all of me as I waddle closer to it.  I find it extremely erotic that I fill up the entire frame. It's proof of my desire, focus and drive. 

"Are you ready? Do you think you've made it?" I laugh. "Judging by my third chin, and the newest layer of cellulite covering me, I'd say, yes!" The scale informs me that it's ready. I hold my breath as it's calculating. "You are currently 600 pounds. Based on previously entered calculations and with the current software update, new data is now available. You have gained 10 pounds. Your current BMI is 94." 

I lean against the bed before lowering myself down on it. I'm 600 pounds...Oh my God. I'm 600 pounds. I'm half a ton. I'm enormous. But I did it. "Are you ready to celebrate your new pudge, baby?" My wife treats me well. "I think we'll have a little private pre-party before...you know, explore together where those calories went." I press my fat against her, engulfing her against the door. "You're so fucking fat. You're like a big pillow these days!" "Well, if things keep progressing the way that I want and the way that I hope to, I'll be mattress sized. Do you think you can handle that? I guess then I could really be your enormous wife then!" 

"What do you think about a next goal of, oh, I don't know, maybe...me having a BMI of 100?" I press into her a little harder. My middle roll just about covers her entire face. "That's how many more pounds?" I sit in the customised desk chair because it's the closest thing I can park my puff into. Getting really hard to stand for long periods of time these days. "Let me check my phone. So, you're 5'7...What would I need to weigh in order to have a BMI of 100 if I am 5 feet seven inches tall?" "640!" I exclaim. This has to be magic. "That's what I've been dreaming of!" "I know! And it's only 40 pounds away! I know that party that we're gonna have next week is certainly going to aid in that! We're going to have Mongolian BBQ!" 

Her smile gets even bigger. "What?" "Well...you know your mother is going to flip now that you're the big 600. Can you imagine how insane she's going to be when you tell her you're gonna gain 40 more pounds? Or should you just wait until you're 640 and then show up and struggle to fit through her front door?" "I think we should play it out...but I'm inclined to wait. Hey, do you think you can get me some cheese and crackers? I'm fucking starving."