emily 2

Chapter 2: Abundance
Two months after moving into her own apartment, Emily had transformed both her life and her body. The scale now registered 300 pounds, a milestone she had celebrated with an extra-large pizza and a custom cake decorated with the number "300" in thick buttercream frosting. Her face had grown rounder, her double chin more pronounced, and her arms now jiggled noticeably with even the smallest movement. Her stomach formed a substantial apron that rested on her thighs when seated, and her thighs themselves had expanded to the point where they constantly rubbed together when she walked.
Emily's day began around noon. She stirred slowly in her king-sized bed, the mattress sagging under her weight as she reached for her phone. Still half-asleep, she placed her first food delivery order of the day—usually something substantial like a breakfast platter with extra pancakes, hash browns, bacon, and a large caramel latte with whipped cream.
While waiting for breakfast to arrive, Emily would reach for one of the many smoking devices scattered around her bedroom. Her collection had grown impressively over the last two months: hand-blown glass bongs, intricate dab rigs, vaporizers, and a rainbow assortment of pipes. This morning, she chose a sleek electronic dab rig, loading it with a generous glob of cannabis concentrate. The device hummed as it heated, and Emily drew deeply, holding the vapor in her lungs before exhaling a thick cloud toward the ceiling.
By the time the doorbell rang, she was pleasantly high, her movements even more languid than usual. She heaved herself out of bed with considerable effort, her breathing already labored from the simple act of standing up. Wrapped in an oversized robe that once had been loose but now strained across her widened frame, she shuffled to the door.
The delivery person had become familiar with the routine—leave the food at the door, no face-to-face interaction required. Emily tipped generously through the app, ensuring the service remained friendly despite the unusual arrangement.
Back in bed with her breakfast spread around her, Emily would set up her phone to record a morning mukbang for her subscribers. She had learned to eat slowly, to savor each bite with exaggerated pleasure for the camera. What would be a substantial meal for most people was merely the first act of Emily's daily consumption.
After breakfast came her social media work. Emily had discovered that short-form content on platforms like TikTok served as perfect advertising for her paid content. She had developed a particular niche that drew significant attention: dressing in skimpy, themed outfits while showcasing her size. Her most popular videos featured her in cow-print bikinis or pig-eared headbands, dancing with surprising agility for someone her size, her substantial body parts jiggling prominently for the camera.
"Oink oink for your favorite piggy," she would say with a wink, or "Moo for more," followed by a giggle that made her whole body shake.
The comments section would fill quickly—some cruel, but many appreciative, even adoring. Emily focused on the latter, occasionally responding to potential high-paying subscribers with suggestive messages directing them to her premium content.
By mid-afternoon, it was time for lunch. Emily would place another substantial order—perhaps Chinese food with multiple entrees, extra rice, and several appetizers. While waiting, she would load one of her larger bongs with premium cannabis flower, taking hit after hit until the room filled with sweet-smelling smoke and her mind drifted into a comfortable haze.
The cleaner Emily had hired came three times a week, maintaining some semblance of order in the apartment. Without this service, the space would have quickly deteriorated into squalor. Even with professional help, the living area remained perpetually cluttered with half-empty food containers, delivery bags from various restaurants, and sticky glasses that had contained milkshakes or sodas.
Her coffee table displayed her extensive collection of cannabis paraphernalia like a museum exhibit of glass art and electronic devices. Despite having enough money to afford the finest furniture, Emily had invested primarily in food, marijuana, and a top-of-the-line computer setup for her videos.
The afternoon would be devoted to recording additional content. Emily had learned what her audience wanted—long, indulgent eating sessions where her enjoyment was visceral and visible. She would arrange multiple food deliveries to arrive in sequence, allowing her to film a continuous feast lasting hours. Between bites, she would take pulls from her vape pen, the cannabis enhancing both her appetite and her uninhibited on-camera persona.
By evening, Emily would have consumed enough calories to sustain several active adults for days. Her breathing had become more labored, her movements slower, but her satisfaction was evident in her glazed eyes and constant smile.
On the rare occasions when Emily needed to leave her apartment—perhaps to sign for a package too large for the delivery service to leave, or to meet with the property manager—she would prepare herself as if for an expedition. Her uniform for these brief excursions consisted of the stretchiest sweatpants she could find and an oversized hoodie that did little to conceal her size but provided the minimum socially acceptable coverage.
Before stepping out, she would load her pockets with snacks—cookies, candy bars, chips—and ensure her "geek bar" weed vape was fully charged. As she waddled down the hallway to the elevator, she would hit the vape repeatedly, exhaling small clouds of vapor that trailed behind her.
Even the simplest errand would become an extended journey of consumption. A trip to the pharmacy would include stops at the fast food restaurant next door, then the bakery across the street, and perhaps the convenience store on the corner. At each location, Emily would order substantial portions, often eating while waiting for the next order to be prepared.
One Tuesday afternoon, Emily had needed to collect a package from the apartment complex office. What should have been a ten-minute round trip stretched into a three-hour odyssey. First, she stopped at the burger place in the lobby, ordering a double cheeseburger, large fries, and a chocolate shake. While waiting for her order, she hit her vape repeatedly, the THC smoothing the edges of her social anxiety as other residents passed by with curious glances.
After finishing her burger in the small seating area, she remembered a pizza place two blocks away that had recently introduced a stuffed crust option she had been eager to try. The short walk left her winded, sweat beading on her forehead despite the moderate temperature. She ordered a medium stuffed-crust pizza with extra cheese and pepperoni "just for the walk back."
By the time she finished half the pizza, sitting on a bench outside the restaurant and vaping between bites, Emily had completely forgotten about the package. Instead, she spotted an ice cream shop across the street. The chocolate-dipped waffle cone with three scoops of different flavors was a reward, she told herself, for venturing outside.
It wasn't until she was halfway through the ice cream, sugar and cannabis creating a powerful euphoria, that Emily remembered the original purpose of her outing. But rather than continuing to the office, she turned around and headed home, the remaining pizza box clutched in one hand, ice cream in the other, the package completely forgotten.
Back in her apartment, the evening routine continued. Another substantial meal, more videos, more smoking. The hours blurred together in a haze of consumption and content creation. Emily's financial app showed multiple notifications of payments received—her subscribers paying handsomely for the privilege of watching her indulge.
As midnight approached, Emily settled into her final ritual of the day: a private video call with her highest-paying patron, a man who identified himself only as "Maximizer." Unlike her regular subscribers, who paid to watch her eat, Maximizer paid triple the rate for one-on-one conversation.
Emily propped up her tablet on the bed, adjusting it to frame her face and upper body advantageously. She wore a silk camisole that strained across her chest and shoulders, the fabric stretching to accommodate her size.
The call connected, revealing a shadowy figure—Maximizer never showed his face, only his voice identifying him.
"Three hundred pounds looks beautiful on you," he said by way of greeting, his voice smooth and appreciative.
Emily smiled, running a hand over her round cheek and down to her neck. "Thank you. I celebrated with cake."
"Of course you did. You're perfect." There was genuine admiration in his tone. "I saw your cow video today. The comments are going crazy."
Emily giggled, causing ripples of movement across her body. "I've ordered a new outfit—piglet ears and a curly tail. Pink, of course."
"I can't wait." Maximizer's voice lowered slightly. "Have you thought about my suggestion? About the goal?"
Emily nodded, her expression turning dreamy. "Four hundred by summer. It seems... ambitious."
"But exciting, isn't it? To think of how you'd look, how you'd feel." There was a pause. "I'd increase my monthly contribution, of course. For motivation."
Emily's hand moved to her stomach, feeling its soft expanse. "I'd need to eat even more."
"That's the idea," Maximizer chuckled. "Is that something you want? To push further?"
In the dim light of her bedroom, surrounded by the evidence of her chosen lifestyle, Emily felt a thrill of anticipation. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want more."
Neither of them specified whether she meant more food, more weight, or more attention. Perhaps the distinction no longer mattered.