Ye who are about to read a weight gain story! We salute thee! Those who would rather avoid this tragic fate, turn back while you still can!

Another short piece while I work on Brendon's story. Enjoy it! It's not much, I know, but hey. This is what you get.

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“You sure you don’t want to take it easy there?”
These were the words that had been repeating themselves in Mina Right’s mind over and over again for the past three hours, as she stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself without blinking without pause; harsh judgment in the back of her eyes, as she looked over her bloated form. How had it come to this? How had it come to this?
Staring back at her, her reflection held the answer to that. A lead belly stomach of black fur, ruined by her own personal collection of stretch marks over the years, and partially obscuring her own thighs—which—were properly squished together like so much cheesy lovers in a romance novel. These were to swell into her own hips, which were allied with her shelf of a rear end in making her spherical, and keeping her ham-sized arms from actually hugging anyone.
The answer to her question, “How had it come to this”, was staring her full in the face. Four-hundred and thirty pounds of soft blubber coated her frame. Four-hundred and thirty pounds worth of nightly binges, of buffet visitations, and five, six, or even seven course meals, over the space of the past two years. That was the answer to her question.
Mina ate and ate and ate.
And ate.
And ate.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was doing, she thought. She knew what it would do to her figure. She knew, and she reveled in it. And why shouldn’t she? The feeling of her frame swelling out every day, the immaculate taste of all the fatty, greasy, sweet, delectable foods that she allowed herself to enjoy on a daily basis. It was too much for her to turn down.
It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it. Mina was a smart woman, who had a habit of playing with stocks, and making a mint, thusly coming away with more money than a single person had any right to.
It wasn’t like Mina had any right to be surprised when people called her out on her less than stellar eating habits. Of course, that didn’t stop it from hurting. When her friends stopped hanging out with her because she was quote-unquote “disgusting”. Didn’t matter. She was a business woman. She cut ties with one person after another.
She still had friends where it counted, but today…when one of the few staunch allies, that she still had, spoke out; well? It had gotten to her.

And it hurt.
Mena closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears, though they came of their own accord anyways. Bountiful chest heaving with choked sobs, Mena wobbled out of her bathroom. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt, and it wouldn’t stop hurting. She ran out of her bathroom in some mad-cap dash, blurring past most of her home until she stopped sometime later in her kitchen, out of breath, doubled over, and clutching at her stomach.
When she finally recovered, everything else became a blur; Mena had finally stopped paying attention. She just wanted everything to stop hurting for a little while. For people she cared about to stop hurting her. Maybe that was why she was on the couch with a tub full of ice cream, bawling her eyes out as she stuffed herself silly.
Mena cried and she ate. Mena cried and she ate. Mena cried and she ate.

Bittersweet tears.