Dorah watched her reflection in the mirror...she was disgusted. The rolls of fat poured out of her clothing and stretched the seems to their limits.
Her large ass could easily cover three seats on an airliner, her massive lard filled breasts rested on her plump rolling stomach - the nipples poking through her now tight shirt like headlights. Her thighs were almost being cut in two with how severely her skirt strangled her fat legs, and she feared moving would rip the thing clear off.
In the reflection, she grabbed at her fatty stomach with her meaty hands, the flesh squashing in and out of her fingers, rolling in bouncing waves as she did so. She looked at her face, the folds of fat on her neck had beads of sweat dripping out, her round cheeks shook long after she stopped moving her head.
Dorah felt like sobbing, yet the idea of being a morbidably obese women sobbing at her own reflection was embarrassing enough to make her hold in her tears. She needed comfort, somthing to cheer her up.
A baratone rumbled filled the air, she left the ripples play across her exposed, blubbery stomach. She was hungry.
Although terrified at the power her stomach had over her mind now, she couldn’t find the will to disobeye it and before long she found her self waddling (some how in her now restricted clothing) down the street towards the nearest source of food.