Carol's Sundae Special

Carol Masterson pushed open the door of the ice cream parlor, and with plodding, wobbling steps, walked inside.  The interior was bright and inviting, with white walls, blue accents, and cheerful light blue mood lighting.  The big, long freezer of ice cream cartons gleamed invitingly next to the cash register, and a white menu on the wall behind the register listed specialty items, like sundaes and parfaits.  It was a cheerful, friendly place.

But to Carol it might as well have been a torture chamber.  She put a hand on her big, drooping belly.  "What am I doing here?" she whispered to herself.

Carol was a 26-year-old graduate student at the University of Texas at Austin.  She had pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes.  She had grown up in a suburb of Houston to loving parents who had doted on her and her brother.  Maybe doted a little too much, because as long as Carol could remember, she'd been fat.  From her chubby years in elementary school she'd grown plump in intermediate school, and in middle school and high school puberty had piled pounds on her already-rounded body.  She'd still gotten plenty of attention from boys, because she had great bone structure and a very pretty face, and because her breasts had picked up quite a bit of her added weight.  But she'd gotten steadily bigger, and by the time she graduated from high school she was over 200 pounds.

Her parents had (gently) warned her about the need to control her appetite when she was living on her own.  But Carol had proven to be very, very bad at this.  She'd gotten into UT as an undergrad, moved to Austin, and spent five years of undergrad and three years of graduate school stuffing her face.  She'd always been a big eater, and swapping her parents' dinner table for study rooms, dorm rooms, and campus eateries had wrecked what little portion control she had possessed.  And of course there was fast food. Carol had always loved it, and when she moved to Austin she realized there was now no one to stop her from getting it whenever she wanted.  Taco Bell, Whataburger, Taco Cabana, Schlotsky's--all the best stuff.

And that was when she wanted something quick and cheap.  Austin was a haven of good restaurants, and Carol made a little money on the side as a freelance writer, so more than once a week she'd splurge and go somewhere really good.  Tex-Mex food, Mexican food, barbecue--Texas had so much great cuisine, she'd decided, and she'd eaten it all and then some.  She just loved it.  She couldn't resist!

So she had eaten, and eaten, and eaten.  And gotten bigger, and bigger, and bigger.  She owned a scale, and she'd known she should step onto it, but every day, week, month, year, she'd found ways to avoid doing so.  She'd just... accommodated.  She'd bought bigger dresses, bigger pants, bigger bras and panties.  She'd learned to avoid chairs with arms and non-handicapped desks.  She'd grown used to her increasingly-large buttocks taking up more than one seat on the bus.  It was no big deal.  Right?

An inflection point had come a month ago.  She'd been tugging and tugging at the waistband of her jeans, but they were immensely tight, and she could barely breathe when she did get them buttoned.  Wriggling them off her pale, bloated thighs, Carol had examined the tag on the back.  Her blue eyes had almost popped out of her head.  4X.  These were 4X jeans.  And they were TIGHT.  Just how big was she?

So, at long last, she'd done the one thing she'd dreaded doing: she got on her scale.  Looking down, she hadn't been able to see the scale, or her feet, past her enormous breasts and jutting, sagging belly.  But her scale could talk, and she heard its numbers all too clearly: "THREE-EIGHTY-FOUR."

Carol had gaped in shock.  384.  384 pounds!  She had turned to the mirror, suddenly acutely aware of just how slow she was at moving, and how much space she took up in her apartment's modest-sized bathroom.  Her great bone structure was swathed in pale, plump cheeks and jowls, and she had a heavy double chin that wobbled when she moved her mouth.  Her breasts were HUGE; she knew she wore J Cup bras, but she'd never truly registered their massive size until now.  They drooped down onto her very big belly, which she'd known for years covered her vagina but which she now regarded in a new light.  It had two big rolls that bisected it, and it sagged halfway down her thighs.  And her thighs were so big!  They were bigger around than some of her friends' waists.  Her arms were covered in fat, fat that drooped downwards when she stretched them out.  Her hips were massive, and she packed a serious set of saddlebags.  Her calves were flabby and floppy, just like her upper arms.  Finally, with a cringe, she turned around.  She had acres of back fat, oozing over and around her bra straps.  Meanwhile, her big white panties put her gigantic bottom on good display.  It was three feet wide.  No, it was MORE than three feet wide.

Carol was just stunned.  384 pounds!  And she was only 5'3".  All the denial and avoidance she'd lived with had come crashing down, leaving her with the naked truth.  She'd (mostly) learned to be at peace with the fact that she was fat.  It hadn't (really) been all that big of a deal.  But 384 pounds!  She wasn't fat.  Not JUST "fat."  Not ONLY "fat."  She'd reached the size where it was increasingly accurate to call her "huge."  Or maybe "rotund"; she remembered that word from a spelling quiz, years ago.  And it was only sixteen pounds away from... 400.  400 pounds.  That was a fifth of a ton!  And she could weigh that much before the year was over!  She was immense!  And she wasn't even 30 yet!

So for the last month she'd tried to alter her diet.  She hated exercise, but that was all right; she knew diet was more important to weight loss than exercise.  She'd eaten more salads.  She'd drank less soda, and much less beer.  She largely avoided fast food, and when she did find the urges too powerful to ignore, she'd carefully watched her calories.  She'd counted calories in general, scrupulously keeping her daily intake under the magic 2000 calorie mark.

And it had worked!  She'd actually lost weight.  Only five pounds; as she stood in the ice cream parlor, Carol "only" weighed 379.  But it had been weight loss.  It was possible.  This wasn't some hopeless quest.  It wasn't beyond her abilities.  She COULD lose weight.  Maybe not all of it.  She'd probably never be skinny.  No, she'd DEFINITELY never be skinny.  But that was fine.  She was fine being "fat."  She just didn't want to be "huge."  She didn't want to be "rotund."  And that seemed doable.  Right?

"Ma'am?"

"Hmm?" said Carol.  She'd been standing at the counter.  She was wearing jeans and a pink t-shirt with red hearts on it.  Both of them were, of course, very big.  She had reluctantly purchased some 5X jeans, and they gave her big bottom and thighs and belly plenty of room.  The t-shirt was a little tighter, and it clung rather pointedly to her heavy breasts and big, jutting belly rolls.  The lowest roll, which also bulged against her jeans, currently sagged down onto the counter.  She was wearing her red hair up in a messy ponytail, and she had cute earrings on.

"What'll it be, ma'am?" asked the serving boy.

"Oh, um..." Carol twiddled her chubby fingers.  She should just walk away.  Tell him she was sorry for taking up his time, and walk out the door.  Go for a walk!  It would burn some calories, right?

"Do you need a minute?"

"Oh, uh..." Carol glanced over at the rows of ice cream cartons.  Her heart was hammering in her chest.  All of a sudden a yearning of incredible power ripped through her big body.  Her mouth began to water.  A month of salads and water and portion control had set her body and mind on fire.

"Ma'am?" asked the serving boy.

"Unh," grunted Carol.  A trickle of drool oozed down her two chins.  She hastily wiped it away.  "Oh, yeah, can I have one of your caramel fudge sundaes, please?"

"Sure," said the boy.  He tapped the digital register.  "What size?"

"Extra large."

"You got it.  Coming right up."

Carol handed him her debit card with a thudding feeling in her chest.  Part of her felt sick and guilty.  Part of her felt thrilled and alive.  She would have been bouncing up and down if she weren't so incredibly heavy.  She smacked her lips, wetness glimmering at the corners of her mouth as she watched the boy make her sundae.  Those four big scoops of ice cream.  Those dollops of fudge.  Those heavy drizzles of caramel.  All that whipped cream.  All those sprinkles.  She put a hand to her belly.

"Here you go!" he said brightly, handing her the massive vat of ice cream.  Carol was practically trembling; her fat body jiggled faintly from the subliminal motion.

"Th-Thanks," she said, and turned.  There was a table in the middle.  She moved towards it, in that plodding waddle she'd long ago mastered.  She pulled out a chair and sat down.  Her big breasts pooled on the table, and her big bottom overflowed the chair on both sides.

She picked up her spoon.  She dipped a bite, careful to get plenty of caramel and fudge.  She slid the bite, oozing with deliciousness, into her mouth.

"OOOHHMMmmmnn," she moaned, and suddenly blushed.  She'd been LOUD.  She looked around.  Two other girls--two much, much thinner girls--were sitting at a nearby booth, both of them enjoying a one-scoop cone.  One of them glanced over, and Carol saw the girl look at her with narrowed eyes.  She knew what she must have thought: look at that pig!  No wonder she's so fat, eating all that!

But Carol took another bite, and suddenly she didn't care.  This was HEAVEN.  All her denial, all her scrimping and sacrificing, all her counting calories and drinking water, it had all built up frustration in her that was now gloriously, beautifully released.  She felt relaxed, alive, amazed as bite after bite of the sundae traveled to her lips and down her throat.  She smiled, blue eyes sparkling prettily.  She was happy.  Really, really happy.

The sundae didn't last long at all.  In fact, for all its huge size, Carol finished it in less than twenty minutes.  As the last bite traveled down her gullet, Carol picked up the vat it had come in and brought it to her lips, drinking the melted ice cream with a greedy gurgle.  A thin trickle of it oozed down the side of her chin.  She made sure to wipe that up when she sat the vat down.

"Ooooorrrpp," she belched softly under her breath.  "Ahhh," she sighed.  She felt euphoric.  This was heavenly bliss.

But immediately the feelings of guilt and regret began to bubble back through her heart.  She looked down at the huge vat of ice cream, which she'd eaten every last drop of.  She'd probably consumed double her daily calorie intake just with this sundae.

And with a chill up her spine, she realized that she could eat more.  She probably wouldn't.  She didn't want to be weird.  But if another sundae, just as big, had been sitting in front of her, Carol realized she could have eaten that too.  And then maybe some Taco Bell.  And a little barbecue.  With maybe a beer to wash it all down.  Or six.

She sighed, sounding tired and resigned.  "I'm gonna hit 400, aren't I?" she said.  She slowly hauled herself to her feet, and waddled for the door.  "Maybe I can just be a BBW porn star..." she mumbled under her breath as she exited the ice cream parlor.

END