Billie Eilish: A Tour To Be Remembered (Patreon)

--- Stress Management ---

Billie stared at the photos from her most recent concert. They were glossy perfection. Each one showing her framed perfectly against the lights and pyrotechnics that the stage hands had put together for her. Billie was not an overly vain woman. She, though famous, was not obsessed with herself the way that other more vapid and business minded celebrity women were. Yet, she felt drawn to the photos for some reason. She seemed. . .different somehow. Billie could not put her finger on it. She was dressed garishly in some ball gown that was “artistically” slashed in various places. It did not show off her body, but it gave the important illusion of showing herself off. People would see a flash of pale skin when she twirled, but nothing distinguishable. It was a very masterful piece of illusion and art. The kind of thing she loved to put on. She shrugged, tossing the photos down and texting her approval to her various managers and publicists. As she worked, she took handfuls from the bag of potato chips that rested next to her. She threw the greasy, salty snacks into her mouth and returned to managing her tour. There was a surprising amount of work to be done, things that required her immediate attention. A full dinner would have to come later, but some snacks would help now.

Forgotten by Billie, the photos lingered on the small table in the tour bus. She paid them little interest, far more drawn into work and her chips. However, there was truth contained within the pictures. Billie was different and she had seen something. Buried under the layers of fabric was a small potbelly, chubby thighs, and bigger breasts. Billie had gained a little over ten pounds. They had slipped onto her as the tour started. She couldn’t manage her diet as well as she could when home. She snacked between stops while on the road and then dined heartily once the bus stopped at the particular city. The sedentary nature of sitting on the bus meant that Billie was not burning as many calories as she possibly could. It was a recipe for weight gain. Something that all popstars had to go through: the struggle of keeping tour-weight off. This was something that Billie had yet to experience in full. This was the largest, most complex tour she had ever done. She needed all of her focus on tour matters: costumes, dance choreography, and various other tasks. With her focus sent in so many directions, it was hard to guess whether or not she would handle the challenges of touring. . .much less the challenge on her own waistline. Truly, the tour was going to be the greatest test put to the young star in a number of ways.

--- Immediate and Forthcoming Problems ---

“I really think we need to demote whoever is in charge of keeping my wardrobe in order.” Billie said, trying to tug a shirt down. This stop was a small concert, not worth the extreme effort it would take to get her into a more garish costume. So, Billie had decided to do a throwback. Baggy jeans and a low cut top was the uniform for the day. The only problem was that her top was about a size too small. Even as a crop top it wouldn’t work. She looked down, tugging on her shirt she tried to force it down over her stomach. Perhaps because she was concerned with making the curtain time, perhaps because she was worried about the potential problems down the road with a wardrobe that was too small, Billie did not really notice the real culprit: her belly. A bouncy ball of dough had well and truly formed on her stomach. It was soft and pliable and utterly pale given Billie’s reticence to go out in the sun. “There is no way that something I bought is too small.” Billie grunted, much to the dismay of her manager and assistant. Her breasts and belly bounced more. For a moment it looked like the shirt might stick where it was supposed to, but a couple breaths saw it rolling back up over her gut. Billie sucked air in, trying to remain calm, but this only succeeded in forcing her stomach further out. She looked pregnant, several months along with a food baby. Her manager and assistant considered saying something, but they had worked for other celebrities and were afraid of the reprisals that might come with body-image suggestions. They instead left Billie to think it was a simple accident.

“Back to baggy, I suppose.” Billie rolled her eyes, tossing the shirt away. She walked towards her personal closet. Her belly was visible even from behind. It wrapped around, love handles fully formed. With each step, her manager and assistant winced. They knew that they should say something. . .that each day that passed would only dig them a deeper hole later on. Billie might forgive them after putting on 25 pounds. . .but would they forgive her after 50? The question hung heavy in their minds. Yet, as many in the industry, they decided to wait. They watched Billie try clothes on, each silently promising to themselves that they would blame the other. Billie, on the other hand, leafed through her closet. Shirt after shirt glided by as she moved the hangars. They were all absurdly expensive for how ratty they looked. The old adage of spending a lot of money to look trashy was certainly true. “Okay, how does this look?” She flipped a strangely dyed green and red shirt and snuggled into it.

“Oh, excellent!” The manager said, gritting his teeth.

“It’s going to catch headlines.” The assistant said, tapping her foot.

In reality, the shirt was less than flattering. It wrapped around her stomach but billowed out around her back. If anything, it made her look twice as fat than she actually was. Moreover, with her penchant for baggy jeans, it looked like she was trying to hide something. Billie studied herself as best she could. The tour bus had little in the way of mirrors, mostly ones that showed only from the bust up. From that perspective, Billie looked quite decent. Her breasts had filled out with the weight gain. She looked much more womanly and less boyish. There was something flattering about how the cups of her bras now pressed into her shirt. It fit strangely well into the look that she tried to cultivate for herself. “Guess it will have to work anyway.” Billie mused, trying not to sound as flattered as she felt by her reflection. A combination of catching a good angle and trusting the people around her gave the singer a false sense of security. Surely, she thought, her manager would tell her if something was off. Checking her bleached hair a final time she started to walk out of the tour bus. Her stomach swayed, further giving the impression that she was pregnant. From behind, her pants had a bit more swish to them. The supposedly baggy jeans didn’t look quite so baggy around the rump area. While they were thick jeans, the hint of a jiggle could be seen. The manager and assistant winced one more time before watching Billie exit the bus.

--- Rumor Mill ---

“It's awful.” Billie said, tossing the newspaper across the table to her Manager. “The vultures are circling again.” She tapped the headline which, in big and bold lettering, read “Billie Eilish. . .Expecting?!”. She slumped down onto the table, face amongst the various dishes brought to her by the restaurant staff. She and her manager were sitting at a little cafe. The newspaper that Billie had tossed had an incredibly unflattering picture at the front from her last concert. Billie did indeed look pregnant. Her belly was popped out infront of her, straining at the yellow shirt that she was wearing. “Fuck, I knew it wasn’t a good idea to eat before going on stage.” She moaned. “But I was so hungry! I had to have something.” That “something” that Billie mentioned was about 14 taquito snacks. She had gotten a sudden craving for them and had sent her manager out to fetch them for her. It had been delicious, but she was unsure if it had been worth it now. The world seemed to think that her accidental food baby was a real baby. “What are we going to do about this?” Billie asked, unsure of how to approach the situation.

“I say let it lay low.” The manger said, sliding the paper out of the way like it was radioactive. “The press wants you to respond so that they can have more articles to write. You are in the middle of a great tour, let them focus on that.” He said, trying to keep Billie feeling optimistic. Many tours had been ruined because of a star’s mental downturn. It was the most important that Billie felt good about herself and the direction she was heading. Even if that direction ended in a couple extra donuts at breakfast. While she did not look that much bigger, the article was not wrong to speculate on Billie’s condition. She was indeed looking rounder. Shirts rode up more, her belts were tighter, and she filled out her chairs a bit more. All the beginner signs of weight gain were there. It wasn’t completely unreasonable for the press to assume there was a deeper cause behind it. Maybe, the manager thought, the article could work on his behalf. It broke an uncomfortable truth that he would never say to Billie. “If you’re worried about working out, we could start to find some gyms that would allow private sessions.” He offered, hoping that he had not overplayed his hand.

“Nah.” Billie responded, buttering up a roll. “I think you’re right.” She then slathered the roll with jelly before taking a deep bite out of it. The roll was quickly gone, devoured by the hungry popstar. Another quickly followed in its place. With a raised eyebrow the manager watched Billie’s stomach slowly fill and bloat outwards with her meal. “Jusch. . . umph. . .excuse me. . .gotta ignore them.” She spoke with her mouth full for a second, excited to down the second roll. Billie continued to eat, quickly moving onto devouring several strips of bacon. With each bite the manager winced. It wasn’t that Billie was choosing the worst meals or food, just that she was clearly eating too much. The kind of incidental habits that are easy to form, but hard to break. While overeating on some breakfast biscuits was incidental, the trouble was if that overeating spread to chocolate or sweets. Billie scarfed down the set of bacon strips before turning back to her manager and smiling. “We don’t want to give them things to write about and going to the gym would definitely do that. I’ll just lay low.” she smiled, forking a large piece of fruit into her mouth. As he watched, the manager was afraid that the press was very shortly going to find plenty to write about.

--- Further Denial? ---

Billie was halfway through a concert when she noticed that her button was undone. It was strange what things she noticed when she was on stage. Here, in front of thousands of adoring fans, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that her button was undone. Moreover, she couldn’t stop thinking about how it could have possibly come undone. She had been put into her costume by her wardrobe assistants and they left no stone unturned when working on her outfits. She tried to push it out of her head and return to her singing. She walked across the stage, waving an arm and holding the mic up to her black painted lips. Mysteriously, she thought that something might be different with her arm. It seemed different somehow when she would catch glimpses of it. It was the same pale color as always, porcelain white. Yet, it seemed different. The crowd roared and she was dragged back into her performance. What Billie was beginning to realize was that she was noticeably chubby now. Her button had come loose thanks to the wiggle of her belly, now shaped into a cute, round pot shape. Her arms seemed different because there was literally more of them. Inches of fat had seeped onto her biceps, creating a jiggly cushion. The rest of her body bore similar signs.

The baggy jeans were no longer quite as baggy, with bits of her love handles showing or the impression of a thickening thigh pressing into the material. The tour weight had finally become noticeable. Hundreds of photos snapped by rabid fans were posted to Instagram or sent on Snapchat with the tagline “chubby?” as if Billie’s own fans couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Yet, Billie continued to perform. In truth, she had done her best to deny and push away the thoughts that something was off with her appearance. Partly because she had enough work to do otherwise, and partly because she remembered the sting of the news article. It would be something close to defeat and shame to admit that she needed to examine how she looked. Yet, raw denial has its limits and Billie was fast approaching them. With a wave of pure excitement pouring from the crowd, Billie began to jump up and down. With each shove of her chubby legs, thankfully hidden behind thick jeans, her fat belly bounced up and down. Nearly 180 pounds of Billie jiggled on stage. Her belly, its cute navel on full display, forced her zipper open more and more. Further, with each hop Billie began to realize what had happened to her body. Billie Eilish had gotten fat.

She finished jumping and twirled, using the dance move to mask her self inspection. Suddenly, all of the signs were revealed to her. The way her top rose up when she moved too much, her thighs rubbing together on days when she walked too much, and why she never quite felt full anymore. She had little idea of how to handle the revelation. Obviously, she couldn’t stop performing. But, the more exuberant and lively she was, the more likely people were to notice. Sickeningly, it dawned on her that the press would most assuredly be reporting on this development. The headlines flashed before her eyes: Billie the Blimp, From Bad Guy to. . .Fat Guy?, Piggie Eilish. The paparazzi and gossip columns would undoubtedly be ruthless. Thankfully, the next song was slower and more relaxed. Billie brought her arms closer, swaying back and forth. She felt her chest rise and fall, her breasts having grown just as much as the rest of her. Billie continued to sing, the mic being knocked around to either side by her breasts as she swayed gently. Billie tried to put herself as much into her music as she possibly could, dancing and jiggling away. If nothing else, she could dance her feelings away for a night. Tomorrow and the days ahead would be hard, but she would find a way through. For the time being, however, she just had to dance. Thoughts thrown aside for the moment, Billie finished the night's concert.

--- Worth the Work? ---

“God, this fucking sucks.” Billie said between panting breaths. She had just completed another workout, part of her mid-tour training and weight loss plan. She had met with her manager who then had consulted with a fitness instructor. While they could not do much on tour, moving from city to city constantly and having media tours daily, they could at least begin the process of reversing the pudgy damage that had been done to Billie’s belly. She was nearing 200 pounds of doughy fat when the plan was finally enacted. It was not a radical plan, but required the kind of work that was hard for someone who had never explored physical exercise or appetite restraint. Alternating days of body weight exercises, the kind of thing easily done in a small tour bus, along with limited calorie intake and fasting. While it was the kind of thing that an actress used to action roles in a movie could do easily, it was not so simple for a woman who had only ever sung songs and hung out with friends indoors. It was evident from the way her fat hung that Billie had never explored physical exercise.

Pale rolls, soft and floppy had formed on her body. The kind of fat that was unrestrained by muscle and allowed to billow in any directions that it saw fit. She had chubby arms that wobbled back and forth with simple movements, calves that had already started to overwhelm her ankles despite not being that fat. The centerpiece to Billie was her torso. A singular wall of gut fat, hanging over the lip of any pants or shorts or spanx that she put on, made itself highly visible. Soft and only starting to curve at her belly button, it spoke of fat and an apple shape yet to come. Adding to the upper body fat were her breasts. Full and fat, they hung down heavily onto her stomach. Billie had always had deceptively large breasts. Her shirts and outfits seemed to hide that, save when she jumped or danced, but now it was more than obvious how chesty she was. Her breasts knocked into one another when she moved her arms or shifted her body even slightly. Needless to say, thank to tabloids and gossip stories, Billie was hyper aware of her body and how it moved. Bordering on paranoid, she noted each and every unasked for movement and what it felt like. There had been one particular ride through an ill kept country. The entire time Bilie had winced and blushed as the bus had hit potholes and divots in the road. Her body had sloshed, literally sloshed, back and forth and up and down. Yet more proof, at the time, of the changes that she had to make.

Yet, those changes in behavior and body had come slowly. . .if at all. Days of struggling through halfhearted workouts and dieting had only seemed to make her hungrier and irritable. “Fuck, that’s it.” Billie said, hoisting herself off the floor. Her doughy body was covered in a sheen of sweat.  Droplets of salty water ran and skittered over her rolls. Billie forced herself up, shaking from the exercise that she had performed. With her pushups, situps, and planks done, she was now forced to go into the next facet of her training: cardio. She was supposed to lightly jog and walk a mile. This was all done on an empty stomach, in order to make sure that she was burning fat. It was not entirely radical, but it was highly annoying. Billie stepped out of the tour bus and onto the pavement of the road. Exiting the tour but she might have been recognized, but once she got out of sight she would look like any other out of shape woman taking a walk. In a way, her fat had become her greatest disguise. While it afforded her little benefit otherwise, she could at least take her walk in peace. It was the cherry on the shit sundae.

The walk proved to be quite torturous, with Billie’s fatigue and hunger growing with each step. She had not eaten anything all day so her stomach, currently flopping exposed between workout bra and shorts, growled at her. To make matters worse, she was feeling the strain of the fasting in other ways. She was lightheaded, delirious, and her muscles had weakened considerably. She was truly coming to the end of her rope. She walk-jog-heaved herself down the road, doing anything that she could to keep her feet under herself. It felt like the road was stretching further and further out from her. Heat waves rose from the pavement as uv heavy rays beamed down, seeming to bake and burn her pale skin. Billie was a creature of the night, she couldn’t tolerate such brightness. Yet, the worst of it all was the hunger. It only grew as the walk went on, calling out more and more. It was ignorable, at first, when she was down in the vicinity of the tour bus. It was in a secluded area of the city. However, Billie’s feet slowly carried her towards the scenic downtown. Shops and restaurants began to dot and then cover the road on either side. A tourist trap full of places to waste money on treats, meals, and gimmicks. It was the last thing that a woman on a diet needed.

“Oh god. . .” Billie mumbled, feeling her stomach rumble. Her hands unconsciously rubbing the soft slab of dough. It was awful being fat. . .but it was almost more awful feeling hungry. She slowed to a walk and continued down the line of stores. Her brain screamed at her to turn around. She had enough steps, she only had to return to the tour bus. There she could have some safe, less calorie laden food. While less than appetizing, it would at least keep her on the straight and narrow. Before her stretched the row of shops, a bazaar of temptation. The celebrity continued down them, her ghostly pale hair swishing in the light breeze. She felt odd, out of body in a way. She was so hungry that she almost didn’t feel like Billie Eilish. Instead she was some other hungry, chubby, sorely tempted girl. People passed her, eating ice cream from a shop or carrying take home bags from the trendy restaurant. However, tempted she was, Billie knew she couldn’t go into one of those. She was far too underdressed and too sweaty from her exercise. That only left her with the gift shops. The fact that she was even considering the kitsch shops spoke to how far she had fallen and how desperate she was to indulge. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

It almost did feel like she was the one doing anything. She slipped in through the door to one place, telling herself she would only ask if there was a restroom. She had no money or wallet, so she couldn’t buy anything. That should have stopped her. . .yet it only meant that she slipped two candy bars into her pocket instead of buying three. It wasn’t her, Billie told herself. It was some other fat girl who was doing all of this. She wouldn’t be one of those celebs who was caught doing something petty, stupid, and annoying. She was only partially right. She ended up doing the deed, she just wasn’t caught. The chubby woman slipped out the way she had come in, chocolatey sweets poking out from the pocket in her too-tight shorts. She unwrapped them as soon as she got out into the street. The first one was stuffed into her mouth at lightning speed. Chocolate smeared over her face. It wasn’t even that well made. Cheap chinese candy shipped over to con Americans for $5 a bar went straight into her stomach, followed by two more bars. It felt amazing. The entire walk back Billie felt herself regaining her strength. She didn’t mind the bounce of her belly nor the swing of her breasts. She was just as sweaty and exhausted as she had been when she started. . .save that she was finally full.

When she entered the tour bus, Billie grabbed her phone and sent a simple text to her manager. Diets off.

--- Living It Up ---

News travels fast for celebrities, especially news of radical body transformations. When Billie forced her way up to 280 pounds she knew that it was going to make headlines around the world. The extensive tour footage even seemed to document her gain. Each new city that she visited got to see the further improvements that constant snacking and indulgence made upon her body. Billie was fuller, fatter, and freer than ever before. Her breasts and belly had taken the lion's share of the of the weight, becoming heavy and fat. The changes reached deeply into Billie and her physical presence. The pale woman was now just. . .different. her gait a mixture of proud swagger and necessary waddle to handle her bulk. Her gut, divided into two thick rolls, sloshed back and forth with her breasts acting as swaying top sails. She was so heavy that she even had to lean back a bit in order to compensate for the weight. Billie was hardly an active woman, so she did not possess the musculature necessary for the constant addition of body fat. It was like the weight hung even more heavily upon her, turning her movements into a shadow of how a much fatter woman would move. Some speculated that this was an act, others speculated that it was foreshadowing for future growth. Billie did little to dispel either rumor.

“Oh. . .mmmpgh. . .thisch is a good one.” She said to her manager, showing her phone. The two were seated at a restaurant somewhere in the deeper part of the South. The kind of place that would just as proudly display a counter for in-house heart attacks as they would a customers served counter. The food was thick and greasy, the air almost viscous with floating oil from the friers and perpetually working grill. Billie had insisted on the detour. In the past she would have wanted to go to fancy Art Haus or Indie Lounges. Somewhere that was slacker chic but spoke of a deeper connection to art. Now, however, she just wanted to eat and enjoy herself. The tour map more resembled a Guy Fieri planned vacation than it did something a platinum artist would take. Yet, it was happening all the same. “Piggie. . .mmpghp. . .Eilisch. . .oohhmpp. . .quite the imagina-shun on thesech trolls.” Billie spoke through her food, holding and devouring a burger in one hand while keep thing phone balanced in the other. She wore a crop top, allowing her fattest stomach roll to flop freely at the restaurant; rolling up on the table even.

“Oh yeah, I had seen that one.” Her manager said, taking a glance away from his paper to inspect the phone. It was smeared with grease from Billie's meal, but behind that showed a rather rude tweet. Billie had always been interested in a ground level view of her celebrity. She was interested in what people were saying about her in the most raw way possible, rather than it being filtered through various publicists and managers. This had been both a blessing and curse, yet it seemed to be more blessing these days. Billie smiled and retracted the phone, tucking it between her stomach rolls so she could focus on the burger and rest of her meal as it deserved. She bit into the mass of cheese, sauce, and fat. Droplets of fat and grease flowed from the burger, spilling onto the plate, table cloth, and her alabaster skin. She chewed heartily, savoring the texture of the food. Each bite made her edge further forward on her chair, fluffy buttocks hopping and bouncing towards the edge. Eventually, when her upper stomach roll ran aground, she would adjust herself back in place. With an “oomph” she would meet the back of the chair, filling it with her barely clothed ass. Days like this, feasting days, meant that Billie was severely dressed down. Gray sweat shorts and a ratty crop top. The perfect thing to enjoy a fattening parade of food in.

“Yeah. . .itsch. . .buuurrrpp. . .fun to schee what thingsch they can schay.” Billie didn’t bother so much with table manners anymore. While not a complete slob, she took to the darker parts of fat-dom naturally. She was a supreme appetite, a gluttonous eating machine without compare. It was like all her life she had been begging to be released and allowed to eat as she pleased. Meals stretched into one another, snacks acting as the bridge. Yet, for all the weight and what the trolls and online gossip, Billie seemed happier than ever. While the despondency and depression had always been intertwined with her brand in a marketing way inasmuch as a statement of personality, that aspect of her seemed to fade out more and more. She was happier, prouder, and more readily willing to display herself. While the initial chub had been the kickstart and 280 was a significant milestone, it seemed like there was much more weight coming in Billie’s future. “God only knowsch what. . .uuumph. . .isch gonna happen after thisch tour is over.” She sighed, finally finishing the massive burger. She slapped her stomach, patting the large expanse of fat. She looked at her manager, smiling like a cat. “I want you to collect as many write ups as possible.”

--- Months later Biggie Eilish Makes an appearance. ---

Billie Eilish waddled towards the set. She could feel the heat coming from the stage lights. Her larger body was so much more receptive to little things like that. Billie had become even more acutely aware of her body, the weight that had piled onto it, and the changes from her increased body mass. She had continued to pack on the pounds, filling all but her tightest clothing with her doughy body. Her wardrobe had evolved to meet the demands of her now close to 400 pound body. Her butt had grown into a nice, round rump. It bobbled behind her as she waddled out onto the stage of the talk show, lifting and dropping heavily. A chorus of jiggles spread through the rest of her body. Though large and heavy, her booty lagged proportionally behind the rest of her body. Her breasts now required custom bras to contain their heft, especially when she was going to be dancing or performing. When she sang they seemed to swell to two or three times their size, blooming as she sucked air into her lungs. It was getting to a point where the more-than-melon sized teardrops were ougrowing even the custom bras. Similarly, her stomach was a clothing problem. Making all but the most tent-like shirts tight, her stomach had fully folded into two rolls. They were of equal size, dominating her form. Billie bulged out of most outfits that she was still able to wear. But, besides her waistline, the most shocking thing was that she had gone back to her iconic black and green dyed hair.

“Billie!” The host of the talk cried as the heavy star took to the stage. The crowd roared, eager to gobble up the sight of the heavy woman. The host stood, his eyes also drinking in Billie’s heavy waddle. She lurched from side to side, stomach spilling out of the intentionally small shirt. A couple steps and the shirt rose up over her second stomach roll, tucking itself neatly under her massive breasts. Her boobs would undoubtedly stretch and distort the shirt. Most likely, by the end of the interview, the shirt would have a distended U-shape, more than able to show the fullest extent of her cleavage rolling around. The host smiled broadly, putting his arms out to try and hug Billie. He did not have much of a chance of wrapping himself around her bulk, but he would get swamped by it when she hugged back. After the hug, the two danced to the music a bit. Even with small movements, she was trying to avoid burning calories or provoking her body to sweat, Billie jiggled like crazy. Her every movement was more lewd than intended, especially with her fat flopping further and further out as she danced. Just for fun, and to really get the crowd warmed up, Billie jumped around; turning herself in a semi-circle as quickly as she was able. Her ass was pointed at the crowd and she took a rare moment to shake it for the cameras. Her butt jumped up and down, bounding to the music. At the same time, still visible thanks to the size, her zeppelin breasts slapped against her upper belly roll and even her knees as she was doubled over for her twerking. The audience roared, their own applause almost synching up with the clap of her ass cheeks and slap of her breasts. Eventually, due to lack of physical fitness, Billie had to settle down. She threw herself into her seat, the white chair threatening to collapse under her.

“I see we’re going for bravado today.” The host said, winking at Billie as he took his own seat. He was a funny man, upjumped from standup comedy and given a primetime slot because of network dispute. Billie couldn’t recall his name, not that it mattered much. Hosts came and went these days, too often for a celebrity to care.

“Big girl has to make a BIG entrance. Billie said, showing her body off for the cameras and audience. It was rare for her to be so jovial, but she had felt so much more at ease with herself since bulking up. She and the host smiled, waiting for the audience to calm down. “But honestly, I do this sort of thing so that other women of size know that they are loved and their size is valid. I’ve struggled with my body image for years, it’s a really painful process.” She sighed, remembering the torture that she had done on behalf of her perception of what was “right” for a woman. Thankfully, she had realized what a crock of shit it all was. Diet culture, fitness gurus, and industry hacks had done little to do anything other than give her an aching hole that had to be filled. Thankfully, she had begun to fill that hole with sweets and sugar, rather than things that were actually damaging. “Not that the current path I’m on is perfect, I still struggle plenty. . .but at least its more with my belts than with my mental state.” She laughed, trying to tug her pants up and over her enormous belly. Her body jiggled and sloshed heavily, her gut pushing up and making her breasts tickle Billie’s second chin. She tried two or three times, using her fat to build up momentum. The ladies in the audience went wild, with the host clapping and laughing to encourage them. Finally She gave up, too tired to continue.

“We joke, but that is a really important message. It’s incredibly admirable for you to have taken up that banner.” The host said, tapping his cards on the arm of the chair.

“Just have to life my life.” The obese singer said, shrugging. Her body filled the small chair, piling over the side. Billie had come to expect tightness from her life and the things around her. It was welcome to her now to find that she was too big or too wide for something, it was yet another facet of her life to challenge. “The more you get bogged down in diet culture and being a slave to the scale the worse you are going to feel. At this point, I’m free from a lot of guilt that I used to feel.” Billie smiled, taking a small moment to adjust her outfit. She tugged on her shirt, causing her breasts to flop and roll. She worked her doughy forearms, the bones of her wrists having long since been buried under fat,  to get them back into place. A noticeable “oooooo” went up from the crowd, the ladies in the audience highly interested in watching the larger than life celebrity adjust herself.

“I think they like the new Billie.” The host said, making a motion to quiet the crowd.

“They better. . .there’s going to be a lot more of her to come!” Billie said, her further words drowned out in a roar from the audience. It was good being fat.