They're asking me to put on another two hundred pounds for next year's photo shoot. The same arrangement as last year just bigger numbers. Like every year, I am tempted to say no, but the money is just too good, I think I'm getting used to being spoiled like this, and I don't know at the moment what other choices I might even have to earn money.
My first shoot at 18, I was barely a hundred pounds. They initially came to me outside the freshman dorms saying that I had such a pretty face, and had so much potential, they needed me in their magazine. For their offer, they said they'd give me $100 per picture they took, and $1000 for each photo they printed. They took about a hundred pictures, and printed seven in their spread. I hadn't seen their online magazine prior to the shoot, but when I did, I must admit I was intrigued. I saw retrospectives of women who had put on weight over the years.
As I began to make sense of this, about a week after the print magazine was available, they sent me a copy, with an offer to do another shoot the next year. If I was interested, I was to gain 30 pounds.
Considering I'd made over $17,000 last time, which was quite a supplement to my meager income, I agreed for another shoot. When the check came that year, I received $130 for each picture taken, and $1300 for each one printed. They took 150 and printed four, so I made off with $24,000. At the same time I was getting used to being an average sized girl, I was also getting used to the easy money.
The following year, at age 20, the contract was for 170 pounds, and $170 per picture they took (175) and $1700 for each picture printed (5). Simply for being a plus-sized girl and doing a four-hour photo shoot, I was making more than any of my friends. And I got my first of many fanmail letters.
The next year, they required me to step it up a little and gain sixty pounds, and the rate was $230 per picture taken and a corresponding $2300 per picture printed. They also did a special shoot for when I eclipsed 200 pounds, and I received a separate check for that. I was beginning to realize (and worry) that I was slipping toward supersize land, but the $28,000 check and the $62,000 check I received helped ease my concerns.
For the next year, when they stipulated that I must weigh 300 pounds for the photo shoot, I began to realize that eating was becoming a major part of my life. :eat1: Hardly an hour went by when I didn't eat something, usually with a lot of calories. As I calculated my likely check for that year, I began to realize that I was becoming addicted to the money and to the lifestyle. Being paid to get fat was just too amazing. Scores of fan letters of adulation was also an ego-booster I couldn't--and didn't want to--shake.... The thin me, and any aspirations I had ever had of going back to being thin, were a memory.
That year was the first time that they did a retrospective spread for me, which meant that I got paid again for all the pictures printed. At 22 years old, and 300 pounds, I received a check for $104,500 and realized I was going to be hooked. To sweeten the deal, in last year's contract, they offered to reimburse me for my grocery and dining costs, which worked out to be almost $30,000 for the year. Looking over the layout, I saw the changes in my face, and in my body, and realized that my face, though much softer and rounder was still very pretty. Perhaps this is what the scout meant by potential?
Signing the contract to gain 100 pounds in a year up to 400 made me feel a bit giddy, like I was agreeing to something naughty, and was also a test. Could I really gain two pounds a week for a whole year? Sure enough, I did, thanks to an increasing appetite and a growing fat-positive attitude. They did another retrospective that year, which meant even more money. Including the reimbursement for food, I received a check for $188,000. I bought myself a house with a pool that year.
For yesterday's photo shoot, I gained 150 pounds. At 550 pounds, I am now one of those women who everyone sees as definitely huge. At restaurants, at the grocery store, at the theater, heads turn and people stare. At only 24 years of age, I am the superfat woman! The woman at the finance office congratulated me on making it to the supersize 20-page layout, and my jaw dropped when she and the executive producer told me how much money I am making. Including the special 500 pound mid-year photo shoot plus yesterday's, plus the special retrospective layout, I will be having over $450,000 transferred to my account this week.
I did the math this morning with my accountant. In one year's time, at 750 pounds, I may be hardly able to even walk. But with another retrospective photo set, including each 100 pound increment of my weight gain, plus the usual 250 photos taken at $750 a piece, I stand to make over $1.1 million dollars next year.
A representative of the company says they have only ever had one other 1000+ pound girl, but if I were to continue on with them, I would get an entire magazine dedicated just to me. And the money, I can't even begin to calculate. :smitten:
Three years later…
The food reimbursement portion alone for my pay this year was over $100,000. My accountants are handling the receipts. Two years ago, I was 750 as the company demanded. The following year, they bumped the weight requirement up to 1115, to show that I was gaining a pound a day. And they came to my house and took a roll of pictures every day. At around a thousand dollars a picture, I was earning more per day than I did either of the first two years. The solo magazine was a big success, apparently selling over two million print copies.
This last year, they raised my quota to 500 pounds, and I made it, but am now completely immobile. My understanding is that at this moment, I am the fattest woman who has ever lived, and I have a pictorial history documenting the process. I also have a collection of hundreds of the steamiest love-letters from strangers who write that they adore me.:batting: At the moment, my estimated net worth is around $40 million, at only 27 years of age.
For next year's photo shoots, they say they want to take pictures of me with a food tube inserted in my mouth, and in the meantime, they want me to drink from it every day. I thought about quitting for a moment, but the money is just too good, the food is free, and I have my own personal care assistants now who bathe me, comb my hair, do my make-up and nails, and pretty much take care of my every need. The company nutritionist estimates that if I can consume 30,000 calories per day, I will be able to retain over three pounds each day. I don't have any idea how much money I would make at that point, and considering my lifestyle at the moment, I don't much care. She estimates that in five months' time, I can be over a ton, and by another year, I could be 2700 pounds. Considering the fat I have everywhere surrounding me now, I don't know where it would go, but I am curious to see!
The fat now just billows upward and outward. As I suck on the new tube for the first time, I look past it to see my body. When I look down, I see my fat chins resting on a roll of fat encircling my neck, resting on the fat of my shoulders and chest. The fat there is so thick that my attendants' deepest massages cannot come close to my ribs or collarbones. The only places where they can touch bones at all are my skull, my hands, and my feet. My elbows and knees are buried in the fat of the upper portions of my extremities, though from my view, I cannot see them at all. If I make an effort, I can raise my hands to see them, and with assistance from my attendants, I am able to see my toes and my calf-rolls at the outer edges of my belly. My breasts I generally keep harnessed in custom-made 110 inch MM-cup brassieres. My buttocks span the width of the bed, my thighs touch for a full three feet forward from my well-hidden treasure,:blush: great sacks of fat that extend well below my knees, and were recently measured at 90 inches around each, while my calves partially submerged beneath my thighs measure a solid 45.:blush: My upper arms measure 60 inches, and the lower arms 30. My arms are almost too heavy to lift.
Company artists have come in to draw me, to provide estimates of what I will look like as I continue to gain, as per the contract. In the '4500 pound' drawing, my body looked like a heaped collection of fleshy beanbags with my toes and fingers poking their way out of the smallest bags furthest from the central largest bag of my massive one ton belly, and my face resting atop it all as if embedded into a wall of fat.:happy: I noted especially the details of the face, my eyes like slits, with green and pink eyeshadow, my cheeks creased deep with fat rolls rolling outward from my head, and surging up six inches from my jaws and my cheekbones, my mouth between a crevasse of cheeks and chin, barely visible with plump scarlet-painted lips wrapped around the base of the pulsing feeding tube. :kiss2: This is my future?
My first shoot at 18, I was barely a hundred pounds. They initially came to me outside the freshman dorms saying that I had such a pretty face, and had so much potential, they needed me in their magazine. For their offer, they said they'd give me $100 per picture they took, and $1000 for each photo they printed. They took about a hundred pictures, and printed seven in their spread. I hadn't seen their online magazine prior to the shoot, but when I did, I must admit I was intrigued. I saw retrospectives of women who had put on weight over the years.
As I began to make sense of this, about a week after the print magazine was available, they sent me a copy, with an offer to do another shoot the next year. If I was interested, I was to gain 30 pounds. Considering I'd made over $17,000 last time, which was quite a supplement to my meager income, I agreed for another shoot. When the check came that year, I received $130 for each picture taken, and $1300 for each one printed. They took 150 and printed four, so I made off with $24,000. At the same time I was getting used to being an average sized girl, I was also getting used to the easy money.
The following year, at age 20, the contract was for 170 pounds, and $170 per picture they took (175) and $1700 for each picture printed (5). Simply for being a plus-sized girl and doing a four-hour photo shoot, I was making more than any of my friends. And I got my first of many fanmail letters.
The next year, they required me to step it up a little and gain sixty pounds, and the rate was $230 per picture taken and a corresponding $2300 per picture printed. They also did a special shoot for when I eclipsed 200 pounds, and I received a separate check for that. I was beginning to realize (and worry) that I was slipping toward supersize land, but the $28,000 check and the $62,000 check I received helped ease my concerns.
For the next year, when they stipulated that I must weigh 300 pounds for the photo shoot, I began to realize that eating was becoming a major part of my life. :eat1: Hardly an hour went by when I didn't eat something, usually with a lot of calories. As I calculated my likely check for that year, I began to realize that I was becoming addicted to the money and to the lifestyle. Being paid to get fat was just too amazing. Scores of fan letters of adulation was also an ego-booster I couldn't--and didn't want to--shake.... The thin me, and any aspirations I had ever had of going back to being thin, were a memory.
That year was the first time that they did a retrospective spread for me, which meant that I got paid again for all the pictures printed. At 22 years old, and 300 pounds, I received a check for $104,500 and realized I was going to be hooked. To sweeten the deal, in last year's contract, they offered to reimburse me for my grocery and dining costs, which worked out to be almost $30,000 for the year. Looking over the layout, I saw the changes in my face, and in my body, and realized that my face, though much softer and rounder was still very pretty. Perhaps this is what the scout meant by potential?
Signing the contract to gain 100 pounds in a year up to 400 made me feel a bit giddy, like I was agreeing to something naughty, and was also a test. Could I really gain two pounds a week for a whole year? Sure enough, I did, thanks to an increasing appetite and a growing fat-positive attitude. They did another retrospective that year, which meant even more money. Including the reimbursement for food, I received a check for $188,000. I bought myself a house with a pool that year.
For yesterday's photo shoot, I gained 150 pounds. At 550 pounds, I am now one of those women who everyone sees as definitely huge. At restaurants, at the grocery store, at the theater, heads turn and people stare. At only 24 years of age, I am the superfat woman! The woman at the finance office congratulated me on making it to the supersize 20-page layout, and my jaw dropped when she and the executive producer told me how much money I am making. Including the special 500 pound mid-year photo shoot plus yesterday's, plus the special retrospective layout, I will be having over $450,000 transferred to my account this week.
I did the math this morning with my accountant. In one year's time, at 750 pounds, I may be hardly able to even walk. But with another retrospective photo set, including each 100 pound increment of my weight gain, plus the usual 250 photos taken at $750 a piece, I stand to make over $1.1 million dollars next year.
A representative of the company says they have only ever had one other 1000+ pound girl, but if I were to continue on with them, I would get an entire magazine dedicated just to me. And the money, I can't even begin to calculate. :smitten:
Three years later…
The food reimbursement portion alone for my pay this year was over $100,000. My accountants are handling the receipts. Two years ago, I was 750 as the company demanded. The following year, they bumped the weight requirement up to 1115, to show that I was gaining a pound a day. And they came to my house and took a roll of pictures every day. At around a thousand dollars a picture, I was earning more per day than I did either of the first two years. The solo magazine was a big success, apparently selling over two million print copies.
This last year, they raised my quota to 500 pounds, and I made it, but am now completely immobile. My understanding is that at this moment, I am the fattest woman who has ever lived, and I have a pictorial history documenting the process. I also have a collection of hundreds of the steamiest love-letters from strangers who write that they adore me.:batting: At the moment, my estimated net worth is around $40 million, at only 27 years of age.
For next year's photo shoots, they say they want to take pictures of me with a food tube inserted in my mouth, and in the meantime, they want me to drink from it every day.
I thought about quitting for a moment, but the money is just too good, the food is free, and I have my own personal care assistants now who bathe me, comb my hair, do my make-up and nails, and pretty much take care of my every need. The company nutritionist estimates that if I can consume 30,000 calories per day, I will be able to retain over three pounds each day. I don't have any idea how much money I would make at that point, and considering my lifestyle at the moment, I don't much care. She estimates that in five months' time, I can be over a ton, and by another year, I could be 2700 pounds. Considering the fat I have everywhere surrounding me now, I don't know where it would go, but I am curious to see! The fat now just billows upward and outward. As I suck on the new tube for the first time, I look past it to see my body. When I look down, I see my fat chins resting on a roll of fat encircling my neck, resting on the fat of my shoulders and chest. The fat there is so thick that my attendants' deepest massages cannot come close to my ribs or collarbones. The only places where they can touch bones at all are my skull, my hands, and my feet. My elbows and knees are buried in the fat of the upper portions of my extremities, though from my view, I cannot see them at all. If I make an effort, I can raise my hands to see them, and with assistance from my attendants, I am able to see my toes and my calf-rolls at the outer edges of my belly. My breasts I generally keep harnessed in custom-made 110 inch MM-cup brassieres. My buttocks span the width of the bed, my thighs touch for a full three feet forward from my well-hidden treasure,:blush: great sacks of fat that extend well below my knees, and were recently measured at 90 inches around each, while my calves partially submerged beneath my thighs measure a solid 45.:blush: My upper arms measure 60 inches, and the lower arms 30. My arms are almost too heavy to lift.
Company artists have come in to draw me, to provide estimates of what I will look like as I continue to gain, as per the contract. In the '4500 pound' drawing, my body looked like a heaped collection of fleshy beanbags with my toes and fingers poking their way out of the smallest bags furthest from the central largest bag of my massive one ton belly, and my face resting atop it all as if embedded into a wall of fat.:happy: I noted especially the details of the face, my eyes like slits, with green and pink eyeshadow, my cheeks creased deep with fat rolls rolling outward from my head, and surging up six inches from my jaws and my cheekbones, my mouth between a crevasse of cheeks and chin, barely visible with plump scarlet-painted lips wrapped around the base of the pulsing feeding tube. :kiss2: This is my future?
