For the Quarterback: A story of love and indulgence

A Day of Reflection

**Chapter 19: A Day of Reflection**

The next morning, I woke up feeling like a shadow of my former self. The light streaming through the window felt foreign, and the weight of my decisions hung heavily on me. I decided not to go to school. Instead, I rolled out of bed, throwing on an old T-shirt that barely covered my big belly. I didn't care how it looked; I was far beyond that point.

Waddling to the living room, I plopped my large butt onto the sofa, feeling the cushions sink beneath me. My body had changed so much—it was undeniable. My butt now filled most of the couch cushion, and as I settled in, I could feel my belly resting heavily on my large thighs. The shirt rode up higher, exposing my soft flesh, and I felt a wave of shame wash over me, a reminder that I couldn't stop this downward spiral.

I grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, settling on sappy romance movies that promised a temporary escape from reality. I couldn't decide what I wanted to eat, so I ordered from two different places, craving the comfort that food had come to represent.

As I waited for the food to arrive, I rubbed my belly absentmindedly, feeling the softness beneath my fingers. Each gentle touch reminded me of how far I had fallen, how I had let myself go. I tried to shake off the negative thoughts, but they lingered like an unwanted ghost.

When the food finally arrived, I dug in with a fervor that surprised even me. I started with a pile of pancakes drenched in syrup, crispy bacon, and fluffy scrambled eggs from one place, followed by a mountain of breakfast burritos and hash browns from the other. Each bite felt like a small defiance against the world outside.

As I ate, I noticed how my old shirt rode up higher, exposing more of my belly. I kept rubbing my own stomach, feeling the fullness swell within me, mixing pleasure and shame. By the time I finished, I felt like I was going to burst, but the comfort of the food momentarily drowned out the guilt.

I spent the rest of the day doing the same—vegging out in front of the TV and filling my fat belly with more food. For lunch, I ordered greasy burgers and loaded fries, devouring every last bite as I lost myself in another movie. It was a cycle that felt both familiar and suffocating.

By dinner, I was fully aware that this had gone too far. I couldn't stop. My body felt heavy, and my mind was a whirlwind of emotions. I realized how I had fallen into Samuel's trap of overindulgence, allowing myself to be tossed aside like some fat piece of trash. Then there was Anthony, who I had allowed into my life in a way I hadn't with anyone else since becoming this—this version of myself.

As I cradled my fat belly, lying back on the couch, the tears started to flow again. My belly and chins jiggled and wobbled with each sob, a physical manifestation of my despair. I felt so pathetic, so desperate for Samuel's attention that I had turned myself into a hog. Yearning so deeply to be desired, I had slept with Anthony simply because he wasn't disgusted by my new fat body.

Was there any turning back? I didn't even know how much I weighed anymore. My thoughts drifted to the scale in the bathroom. Did I dare step on it?

The questions loomed over me like a dark cloud, suffocating and relentless. I lay there, defeated, the tears streaming down my face, wondering if I could ever reclaim the person I used to be.