"Shouldn't you maybe save some for your nieces and nephews?"

"Shirt's getting a little tight, isn't it?"

Through every comment, every polite or thinly veiled poke at my weight, I couldn't believe what I was doing. I was visiting my Grandmother in England or else I'd never have gotten away with eating so much. It's just nine in the morning and I can already feel my shirt riding up the underside of my chubby, wobbling stomach. My parents know better than to leave me around so much food and I can only guess that their warnings about me fell on deaf ears because I woke this morning at seven to find the table filled with delicious scents and treats waiting, steaming, ready upon every table! It was Christmas Eve and I know that the food was for the feast tonight, extended family were driving in from all over the country but... I just couldn't help myself. Even if my parents knew better than to leave me around so much food, I'm glad my grandparents didn't.

An hour later and guests start trickling in. I wave nervously to relatives I've never met before, scooting closer to the table in front of me to hide the way my stomach bulges as though I've hidden a beach ball under my shirt. Even my thighs feel bigger, slowly stretching the material of the skinny jeans I'd put on before I realised how much I would be eating. Everyone regarded me with a sort of fascination at first. My parents were both jackals, indeed my whole family are jackals. It's said somewhere up the line one of my relatives had mated with a pig and the genetics had been lying dormant, waiting to come out. I knew I was a disappointment to my parents - no, an embarrassment. Their slobby, porcine shame. I also knew I should stop eating but the moment the thought crossed my mind my stomach gave an upset grumble and I my hand reached for the next slice of beef as though without my controlling it.

By the time noon rolled around I was a groaning, churning, sloshing ball of quivering fat and digesting food. I knew I should stop. I knew the sane thing to do would be to excuse myself to my room and claim I was ill for the rest of the evening, avoiding the spotlight by any means necessary but there was still food around and I couldn't get the smell of it out of my head. If I went to my room I'd be lying there all day wishing I was out here. Stifling a moan I hoisted up my own stomach, blushing as I made a mad half-dash, half waddle between tables. By this point my gut hung down to my knees, a huge flabby dome that completely tore out of my shirt. My arms and legs weren't doing much better, my jeans had all but given up, reduced to struggling to cover my ass as it ballooned out of them. The sleeves of my shirt were torn and all it could cover was my breasts. My cheeks burned as relatives pointed and gasped but all I could think about was the next meal. A whole roast turkey lay on the table in front of me, surrounded by hams and mountains of mashed potato. Wide, wobbling steps carried me closer and I tried to ignore the way the ground itself creaked beneath me. When I lowered myself into the seat I could feel it buckle beneath me but so long as it even slightly held together I would be okay.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" My grandmother, a grey and black jackal whispered in my ear. She lay a reassuring hand on my shoulder and I blushed more as I looked up at her, a mouthful of mashed potato spilling down my second chin.

"Still hungry..." I grunted and returned to my gorging. She wouldn't stop me. None of them would stop me. Gods help me. I could feel my stomach growing with every bite. Every chunk of meat I ripped from the turkey my tummy ballooned out in front of me. It slid, greasy and sweaty down my now naked legs and pushed out further and further in front of me. I couldn't help but think about how I would be returning to school, not the chubby girl who had left for a holiday to Britain but an obese monster of a girl whose stomach couldn't fit in the desks and had to rest heavily on top. Slowly the table in front of me was emptied of the meals and slowly I grew fatter and fatter. My chins widening, thickening as I gulped down rivers of mashed potato and gravy. My arms puffing out like rising dough as I demolished a whole turkey. I felt a cool chill as the underside of my heaving, churning stomach brushed the floor and the last of my clothes fell in ribbons from my bloated, panting, gorging body.

Finally as the table I was leaning against snapped and I fell forward, I realised that I had eaten everything. I fell backwards on my well padded arse, wobbling and jiggling from the impact of my chair breaking beneath me. When the daze had cleared and I was able to wipe the drool from my mouth I realised just the scope of what I'd done. The feast meant to feed tens of families was wobbling around in my massive stomach, so large it pushed my legs aside and brushed the tips of my feet. A belch worked its way out of my throat. Despite the tears of humiliation that stung my cheeks -

I regret nothing!