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Description
Doodle or Die prompt: N/A (new thread)
Room: NSFW

The old Raelene was the hometown hottie with a hedonistic streak. On one hand, she was jealous of her friends going off to college because of the fabled campus keggers. But it made way more sense to stay put. She didn't want more schooling, and she was also too attached to the area, her close-by family, and her dog. Luckily there were plenty of parties in town and the surrounding countryside. Every door swung open for her. Every host rushed to put a cup in her hand. Beer flowed like wine. In her other hand she held a styrofoam plate buckling under the weight of the snacks she'd gathered: pizza slices and brownies and grilled burgers. She said she wanted a full stomach so the alcohol wouldn't hit her as hard. Really she just liked eating as much as she did drinking. Throughout the course of a night she'd excuse herself multiple times to let out her belt another notch as her tummy asserted its dominance. She'd linger there in the bathroom and play with her Bacchus-approved gut, entranced by the feel of her taut skin and its mirror reflection, shaded though it was by her boobs. Such a good hiding place for her naughty growing middle! Everyone's gaze seemed to stop at her chest and linger there. She'd turn to admire her top-heavy profile. No bra, no problem. Raelene's big, perky tits didn't seem to need the support. But before she could show her girls some love, there'd be urgent knocks at the bathroom door. Other partygoers needed to empty their bladders and Rae-J needed a third plate of food and another refill on her cup. Back to it!

The current Raelene is the culmination of all those repeated indulgences. Her body is the result of all those drained kegs and empty pizza boxes; hundreds of thousands of calories stored and rightfully showcased like trophies. She's fat and she loves it. She's large and she owns it, revels in it, wields the fact like a hammer. Some she strikes are weak. They whine about how hot she used to look and they get discarded. Those that weather her blows are deemed worthy and kept smotheringly close. It nice to have a smaller circle to lavish attention on. It's good to let the fakes and flakes scatter like chaff on the wind. Raelene is done pleasing everyone. Unfortunately that means some doors have closed. Gone are the days where she'd be welcome at any party in a forty mile radius. Certain hosts balk at her table-clearing appetite and hard-to-slake thirst. They clutch their wallets protectively. Others side-eye her cellulite-dimpled thighs and make fun of her struggles to get out of her pickup. So she spends a lot more time at home indulging herself; cooking, snacking, and lazing on the couch watching sappy Wallmark Channel romance movies. Perhaps one day one of her big-citified classmates will return home and see her in the supermarket trying to reach for something on the top shelf. After she knocks some bust-level products to the floor with her rack they offer to help, not even recognizing her as their secret longtime crush. When she introduces herself as Raelene, they stammer trying to reconcile their image of the hot homecoming queen they knew with the bold, brassy beauty basking before them. With their first hug she senses that maybe she can melt their heart of stone with a lot of hard work and some help from her grandma's peach cobbler recipe. Hey- it could happen!

Description
Doodle or Die prompt: N/A (new thread)
Room: NSFW

The old Raelene was the hometown hottie with a hedonistic streak. On one hand, she was jealous of her friends going off to college because of the fabled campus keggers. But it made way more sense to stay put. She didn't want more schooling, and she was also too attached to the area, her close-by family, and her dog. Luckily there were plenty of parties in town and the surrounding countryside. Every door swung open for her. Every host rushed to put a cup in her hand. Beer flowed like wine. In her other hand she held a styrofoam plate buckling under the weight of the snacks she'd gathered: pizza slices and brownies and grilled burgers. She said she wanted a full stomach so the alcohol wouldn't hit her as hard. Really she just liked eating as much as she did drinking. Throughout the course of a night she'd excuse herself multiple times to let out her belt another notch as her tummy asserted its dominance. She'd linger there in the bathroom and play with her Bacchus-approved gut, entranced by the feel of her taut skin and its mirror reflection, shaded though it was by her boobs. Such a good hiding place for her naughty growing middle! Everyone's gaze seemed to stop at her chest and linger there. She'd turn to admire her top-heavy profile. No bra, no problem. Raelene's big, perky tits didn't seem to need the support. But before she could show her girls some love, there'd be urgent knocks at the bathroom door. Other partygoers needed to empty their bladders and Rae-J needed a third plate of food and another refill on her cup. Back to it!

The current Raelene is the culmination of all those repeated indulgences. Her body is the result of all those drained kegs and empty pizza boxes; hundreds of thousands of calories stored and rightfully showcased like trophies. She's fat and she loves it. She's large and she owns it, revels in it, wields the fact like a hammer. Some she strikes are weak. They whine about how hot she used to look and they get discarded. Those that weather her blows are deemed worthy and kept smotheringly close. It nice to have a smaller circle to lavish attention on. It's good to let the fakes and flakes scatter like chaff on the wind. Raelene is done pleasing everyone. Unfortunately that means some doors have closed. Gone are the days where she'd be welcome at any party in a forty mile radius. Certain hosts balk at her table-clearing appetite and hard-to-slake thirst. They clutch their wallets protectively. Others side-eye her cellulite-dimpled thighs and make fun of her struggles to get out of her pickup. So she spends a lot more time at home indulging herself; cooking, snacking, and lazing on the couch watching sappy Wallmark Channel romance movies. Perhaps one day one of her big-citified classmates will return home and see her in the supermarket trying to reach for something on the top shelf. After she knocks some bust-level products to the floor with her rack they offer to help, not even recognizing her as their secret longtime crush. When she introduces herself as Raelene, they stammer trying to reconcile their image of the hot homecoming queen they knew with the bold, brassy beauty basking before them. With their first hug she senses that maybe she can melt their heart of stone with a lot of hard work and some help from her grandma's peach cobbler recipe. Hey- it could happen!