64 oz of eggnog

Somehow, I ended up on the naughty list again this year... Green lace hugging my massive titties and hanging belly. The smell of freshly baked food. And the aroma of 64 oz of homemade eggnog. Watch me try- and succeed- at fitting every last drop into my poor, bloated belly. It's so rich. Every gulp nearly makes me gag- and you can hear my stomach gurgling loudly as it protests what I'm putting it through. I belch. I clutch my jiggly belly, rubbing it and trying to soothe it. But I don't stop. I'm a greedy holiday hog who needs more and more.

To cut through the richness, I devour frosted mini cupcakes one after another, frosting smearing on my lips. But it isn't enough. I'm craving something more:** thick, cheesy homemade lasagna**. Layers of pasta, meat and cream that make my belly swell even bigger. While it's warming up, I rest my poor belly on the kitchen counter, like the lazy, decadent hog I am. The bloating makes me_ whiny and talkative_. Derailed gym attempts, foods I like and dislike, and details about what I would do for you- if I was your feedee.

For Christmas, I just want to be** accepted** as the fat, lazy girl I've become. _I want to be bloated beyond belief. _Thighs spread wide, burping and moaning and sloshing. Just a pathetic feedee, _ruining herself _for your pleasure. Watch me turn myself into the perfect Christmas ham. 🍻