This is a custom video, no names are used!

"Premise: You play a pop star who just finished a world tour. You immediately decide to treat yourself and start binging. As you continue to stuff yourself you get bigger and bigger with your appetite growing more out of control than your belly. After eating yourself huge, a snide comment from your assistant gets her on the menu. Realizing the power, you decide you’re going to keep your ravenous ways and anyone who disagrees will end up in your belly.

Includes: Implied overeating and vore, simulated weight gain, outgrown clothes, burps (can be fake), hiccups (can be fake), no nudity

Scene One: You’re dressed a slim as possible (spanx, etc.). You’re in clothes that button, with a belt.You’re on the phone, “I’m sorry, did you just tell me no?” You’re p*ssed, “do you know who I am? I am THE Delilah Dee. I’m the biggest pop-star in the world. I just finished my sold out World Tour. And I’m exhausted. Oh shut up. I’m the one who revolutionized the music industry. So when I say I’m going to take some time off, I’m taking time off. And when I say I want to indulge a l*ttle, I’m going to indulge a l*ttle. So you go be the world’s luckiest manager and do what I say while I sit on my butt and chill.” Hang up and check yourself out, “g*d I’m flawless. I can’t believe she’s trying to tell me what to do. Whatever, I’m the worlds sweetheart, I do what I want.” Pick up the phone again, “hey, assistant. No, I don’t care what your name is. I want you to go to every fastfood place in town and get me one...” you pat your belly, “no, three of everything. And do it now.” You hang up and l*ck your lips.

Scene Two: You’re dressed in the same clothes but with a bloated belly. You’re surrounded by empty plates. From now on you burp and hiccup throughout, the ones in the script are for emphasis. “I am so full! But that *BURP* h*t the spot.” You rub your belly, undo your belt and undo your pants button, “ah, that’s better... now I have more room for dessert.” You look around and see nothing, “what the? Did I eat *hic* it all?” You pull out your phone, “hey, *urp* assistant, you messed up! You clearly didn’t *urp* get me enough food. Well I finished it all and I’m still hungry. Are you arguing with me? Do you know who I am? Now get off your fat butt *hic* and get out there and get me more!” You hang up and belch, “oof, actually, I am a l*ttle full. Eh, oh well, she’s already going. And besides, I’m the greatest, I deserve it all.”

Scene Three: You’re now dressed in clearly outgrown clothes that are hanging on by a thread. They button, but barely. You continue to burp and hiccup throughout. “Oh my *URP* g*d, will you stop. I know my cheat day has turned into a cheat *hic* month. But who cares? Oh you do? Well whatever, I’m the star here. You’re just a manager.” We hear a door bell, “who’s that? That’s my *hic*... personal trainer” you clearly lie, “yup, that’s them... gotta go!” You hang up “ha, I can’t believe she fell for it.” You go off screen and we hear you open the door, “you’re late.” You slam the door and come back with bags/boxes of food. “G*d, I haven’t eaten in *urp* hours, I’m starved!” You dig into the food.

Scene Four: You’re even larger with clothes that can’t even button. Your face is covered in sauce. You continue to burp and hiccup throughout. You waddle on screen picking your teeth, “no, no *hurp* I have not gained weight! Those paparazzi pictures of me getting carried out of the all-you-can-eat buffet were just... at a bad angle.” You pound your chest to settle indigestion, “yes, I know that five people had to carry me! I was there.” You rub your bloated belly, “and that buffet should expect a *urp* lawsuit! Clearly, I was not done eating! I’m the real victim here!” You roll your eyes, “whatever, I’m the highest selling singer of all time and you’re just a *hic* dumpy manager.” You hang up. You look at yourself, “huh, maybe she’s right, I have been feeling a l*ttle... pudgy.” You then snap back, “no, I’m flawless. I can do anything! In fact, where’s that *urp* assistant? She was supposed to bring me my afternoon pies minutes ago!” You pick up your phone, “yeah, whatever your name is, where are you? Ugh, I didn’t ask for your life story, I want to know where my food is?” Your face drops, “you’re where? You’re getting me larger clothes?! Who told you to do that?! Oh, you thought I would appreciate it because I busted the seams of everything else? How rude. You’re just covering your tracks because you shrunk all my clothes in the wash! Now quit w*sting time and bring me my food!” You hang up. “How dare she! I’m a star. I’m not getting fat. *BURP* She’s just some assistant. She’s the one gaining weight. And it’s making her look... mmm just delicious.” You l*ck your lips, “you know, this is her fault. She’s the one who has not stopped bringing me the food I demand that she bring. Hmmm, I think no one is going to miss her and I deserve whatever I want.” We hear a knock and you smirk. “Dinner *hic* is served”.

Scene Five: You’re huge. In a sweatsuit if possible, fully packed with towels/pillows around down your pants and pillows up top, etc. to simulate a full body weight gain. You continue to burp and hiccup throughout. You’re on the phone while liking your fingers, “yeah *hic* that’s so strange. I can’t believe the police can’t find her.” You roll your eyes and scoff, “no, she really was the *urp* best assistant. Could have used some salt, but really the best *HICURP*.” You rub your belly, “I mean, yeah, the best, I’m sure we’ll find her soon. ANYWAYS, can you get me a new assistant? I’ve been doing my own chores for like three days now and it’s dumb. A *urp* star like me shouldn’t have to lift a finger.” You stifle a belch, “in fact, why don’t you come over tomorrow... we’ll do lunch. No, it has to be tomorrow.” You groan as you rub your gut, “See you tomorrow. Bye!” You hang up quickly and lean back and rub your comically huge belly, “oh I cannot wait to eat her! She is the worst. How dare she try to manage my life! I’m the best! I’m the greatest! I’m, I’m *urp* stuffed! I love this feeling. I’m going to absolutely eat everyone that bothers me! Managers, record label execs, paparazzi, *hic* everyone. Oh, that brat thinks she can knock me off of the top of the charts? We’ll see how well she does after I eat her alive.” You rub your belly, “and who’s going to stop me? I’m a star,” you belch, “Ugh. But I need to rest. And then find another *hic* assistant.” You l*ck your lips, “or maybe two.” You slap your belly and belch again, “well whatever, a star like me gets whatever she wants eventually, and I what I want to do is eat everyone!” you waddle off camera and laugh."

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