Post from Nico · February 20, 2023

Ninety sticks of butter later, you’re up twenty-eight more pounds.

“The thing is, butter doesn't feel like eating,” you explain early on. You just chugged a blender full of butter and hot chocolate mix, and then whined to me that you needed real food, which was, in this case, a plate of buttery fettucini alfredo and half a loaf of buttered bread. Now you’re spreading butter across chocolate chip cookies while I rub your rumbling tummy. “It doesn't make me full or anything,” You continue. “So I need all my normal food on top of the butter. God, I can feel the calories, though, like each mouthful's going straight to my gut. I feel like I'm about to pop.”

“You look it,” I say, smoothing my hand over your bloated belly, which rises and falls heavily with each breath. I tuck a finger in your deep side roll, then tickle the underside of your left tit where it rests against your gut. You wiggle a little in protest, your chin sinking cutely into the pad of fat around your neck. You drop a hand to the armrest of the couch and begin rocking in preparation to stand.

“What do you need?” I ask. “I'll get it.”

“Glass of milk or something?” You say.

I get a glass of butter.

(pt. 3)