"DADDY!!! CANDY NEED CHANGING!!" The stupid maid feeding me is sprayed with slobbery shreds of rotisserie chicken as I squeal my demands. Another brings more deliciously dead flesh to my bimbo lips and I start chomping and chewing. I've eaten sooooo much today and it shows all down me. My triple chins are slathered in drool and a thickened layer of grease. Alfredo sauce and custard and thick egg yolk are slopped generously across my adorable face and chest. Usually I wear a table-cloth sized bib made of sugar paper so I can devour all my sloppings at the end of each day but me already eated it today. Whoopsie! Daddy and my Puppies get ready to change my diapey. I can’t believe there are people who don’t wear diapeys, they're sooooo comfy and it means me get to shit and eat at the same time while some dum-dum does all the hard work cleaning me! Tee-hee! A princess should never have to wipe her own heiny! I eat so much I need changing approximately every 3 hours. My brothers are always here to help, they love serving their special big sister. They're 11-years-old twins, both big strong boys. They have to be since they're always lifting parts of widdle baby me, running around all day to keep Candy happy. Their bodies are muscly from the work and they only wear their dog-chains and special metal belts that give them shocky when Candy wants fun-fun times. They can get whiney but I make Daddy punish them when they’re being bad boys. Also, they’re always punished together, no matter which one of them fucks up. Their time-outs usually involve them not eating for a few days. Me love to gorge in front of them knowing they're starving.
First they lift up my massive tummy-tums, their muscly little bodies drenched in the sweat dripping from under my gut. Then Daddy crawls in and removes my diapey. The poopy stench is apparently extra-stinky and has caused servants to pass out, but my family are used to it by now. Me think it smells quite nice. As this is going on my stupid, useless ugly Mommy is feeding me a couple measly wedding cakes as a between-snacks snack. Daddy starts to clean out his little Princess only there's something wrong this time, I'm not quite finished shitting and as a result go potty all over my customized bed. Mommy is distracted by my little oopsie and since she's not paying attention I bite her fingers in my overzealous glutting. She SHRIEKS as a loud CRUNCH sounds from between my teeth. Ah well, maybe that'll teach the stupid bitch to pay more attention when she's feeding me! The mess is cleared away (not the first time it's happened) and a couple bottles of talcum powder and ointment are applied to my titanic tuchus and elephant legs and little girl noo-noo to make sure I don't get any yucky diapey rash. Once my tummy is set back down I really start gorging. In the 15 minutes those retards took to change me Candy only got through 12 wedding cakes and 9-dozen boxes of donuts. "DADDY!!! BABY NEED BEDDY-BYE SNACK, NOW!!!" It's almost sleepy time, but before I go to sleep each night I simply must have one more meal, my bedtime snack. It’s usually about 500 cookies, 60 chocolate cheesecakes, 20 apple pies with warm custard and about 6 gallons of ice cream. I know it's only widdle but me a sleepy girl and I like to make sure it's all finished before I go asleep. "DADDY! Don't forget it's my birthday tomorrow! Me want HUNDRED times the pwesents I got last year!!" "Of course, Princess" he replies nervously, I drift off to sleep, dreaming of tomorrow’s feast.
~~~
I awake early the next afternoon. I’m covered in my own sleepy drool and instantly craving breakfast. I can tell Mommy and Daddy have been working hard through the night to get me ready, I turn 14 today!! My beautiful blonde hair has been washed and styled, my impeccable face has been wiped clean and my teeth brushed, all while I sleep. My torn up Minnie Mouse shirt has been replaced with my favorite pink halter top, it reads "Little Slut" and comes to just under my boobies. I can feel my diapey has already been changed since I usually take a few massive dumps while I sleep. My fluffy pink slippers still reside on my deliciously plump feet keeping my cute little piggy toes warm. "DADDY!!! WHERE'S MY FUCKING BWEAKFA--" I'm cut off by a troupe of 15 servants (I’m guessing, I can only count to 4) entering from the kitchen, each pushing trolleys stacked high with cakes and pastries and donuts and cookies, all for sweet little me. There are serving bowls of jam and honey and chocolate sauce and far too many delicious treats to waste time mentioning. I squeal like the spoiled widdle girly I am at the site of all this numminess. "WELL DON'T JUST STAND THERE, USELESS CUNTS!!! BWING IT TO MEEEEE!!!" They do as they're told. I furiously grab as much as I can reach, not even thinking as I use my own arms to cram it all in my mouth. The Puppies help too and before I've even finished the first cart I'm a mess with sugar and icing and crumbs and all sorts of feeding wreckage. I don't care as there are other carts and me desperately hungwy. I finish all of it in less than 5 minutes. This is just the first phase of my breakfast and I eventually get 3 more convoys of food brought to my bedside.
I eat non-stop every day but usually my meals are split into my breakfasts, brunch, a couple of lunches, supper, dinner, tea and my bedtime buffet. Each meal has dessert and there’s constant snacky-snacks in between. However, on my birthday the entire day consists of just one giant meal, which is unfair if you think about it as it's my birthday and I'm getting fewer meals than usual. They're lucky I'm too hungry to complain, and traditionally save that punishment for after my birthday.
“Okay, baby girl” Daddy announces, “it’s time for your presents!”
My eyes light up, pulled from my sleepy eating. Me love getting presents, me a special spoiled girl! My gifts are brought in by some of the children who work in the kitchens, they’re all orphans, adopted to serve me as cheap labor. Daddy knows I love seeing underprivileged kids bring me more presents than they’ll ever have. I hooooowl as stack after stack is brought to me. Play jewelry and dressup clothes, princess dresses and ballerina costumes, new animal stuffies and obviously I get a shit tonne of food! Most importantly there’s none for the other children! Yaaay!
I spend the entire day gorging. Mommy and Daddy and my brothers and all the slaves are worked to the bone so I may be content, which of course I'm not. I eat far too much food to list it all, not that I pay attention to what it is. I just lay back and let someone else cram it into me. No one else gets to eat on my birthday, there's just no time. I remember when I was 4 (I was such a cutie at only 480lbs) I didn't give a flying fuck about having friends but my parents still threw me a huge birthday party and invited all their friends’ kids to come along. There was a massive buffet but I told Daddy no one else was allowed to eat any, it was ALL for me. I ate the entire thing and there was none left for any of the other children. Of course, by my current standards that buffet was pathetic, it would barely constitute a snack nowadays and it's hard to think I could have been so neglected, poor helpless baby!
At 10 o'clock I pull myself away from my birthday feast. I'm absolutely covered in food. My adorable face is masked, perfect features lost beneath a layer of forgotten feasts. My blonde hair is clumped together with icing sugar and jelly and whatever else I ate today. My hands, my tiddies, my gut and the sheets all around me serve as a beautiful glutinous collage to gluttony. Then they bring it in. The biggest birthday cake I have ever seen, taller than daddy and almost as wide as Candy’s belly! My stupid family starts to sing Happy Birthday to me but I just don't care. I don't want their love, I want that cake! I drool like a retard at the mere sight of that beautiful caaaaaaake!!!!!!!! "SHHHLUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPDADDY!!! BWING CAKE NOW!!! I WANT IT NOW!!! WANT NOW! NOW NOW NOW!" I begin to cry, straining helplessly towards the cake, my tongue stretching outwards. I clench my fists and thrash my arms, kicking my legs and bawling to make Daddy feel terrible. Daddy orders the servants to haul it to my bedside. "AND THIS BETTER NOT BE THE ONLY ONE!!!! YOUR WIDDLE PWINCESS IS STARVING!!!" "Oh no, Candy..." he meekly replies, "...there're 5 more in the kitchen just for you..." I don't even have the energy to grunt at him, in love with the giant cake. I smack my lips like a longing toddler as it approaches, I excitedly fill my nappy but I'm too distracted to care. It finally comes within reach and I bury my face into it like a little piggy-wigg eating from a trough, guzzling deeper as my hunger explodes. Happy Birthday to me!