Fat Trimmings by BS Writer (WG)

[B$fan]

“You Know You Want It”

Come on, big mama. Let me see you reach for it. Reach for that slice of cake. You can do it, can’t you?

I know you want it. I can see the droll mixing with the chocolate sauce around your mouth. Fatty NEEDS more cake. What’s wrong? It’s right here. Can’t you get it? Or is your big ol’ belly in the way?

Yes it is. Look at the big soft double belly. It’s just folding over and then pushing back. You’ve got a big sack of fat weighing you down and holding you in that chair. Come on. Rock. Rock for it. Get that jello moving forward and back. Make that blubber work for you. Spread you fat wobbly thighs and let that stomach hang forward. Get your momentum going and swing yourself up.

You might just tip right over as soon as you get up. We both know how incredibly heavy your belly and breasts are, and gravity can be cruel. But hey, at least if you fall over, once you’re out of the chair, you can just roll yourself the rest of the way here. Roll yourself right on up to this cake and shove your fat face right into it. You know you want to. Forget forks. You don’t even want to bother with your hands. You’ve got a mouth, so get over here and fill it.

That's a girl. Waddle on over here. Swing those thunder thighs. One foot in front of the other and soon you’ll have this delicious cake all to yourself. You can finally sate that hunger of yours. God your belly is big, isn’t it. Look a that quivering sack of jello. There isn’t a shirt made that can keep it contained. It practically moves like it has a mind of its own, and it’s damn near hypnotic.

Swing it for me. I want to see you grab that belly and give it a shake. Lift it up and down, that’s the best workout you’ll get all day. It’s heavy isn’t it? Must be tiring lugging your own fat around all day. That’s why all you want to do is lay down here and eat this cake. You’re so close.

Get on your knees. That’s right. Crawl the rest of the way like the pig you are. Your belly i s practically dragging on the ground. Go ahead now and shove your face into that cake. It’s good isn’t it? Nice and sweet and moist. You’re barely pausing to breathe as you eat it. You’d choke on it if you weren’t so well practiced.

I love watching you from behind as that giant ass of yours shakes back and forth in the air as you eat. You just need the springy little piggy tail, and the picture would be complete. Get you some fatass.

There’s plenty more cake where that comes from. You know there’s always more because you always need more. It’s never good enough for you, is it? Good. You’re my helpless piggy, and that’s just the way I like it.

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“From Eating Like a Bird to Eating Like a Pig”

She used to eat like a bird, you know. She peck at something here and there, here a little fruit, there a little salad. People felt like they barely saw her eat at all. It was no wonder then that she always stayed so thin. She was a skinny one indeed.

Was.

You know where this is going. You know what comes next. It’s the same thing that happens in all of these stories, and that’s what you’re here for. She gets fat. She gets really fat. But the outcome, in this case isn’t as important as the journey, quick though that journey may be.

It started with a few comments, talk about how little she actually ate. Then, talk about how she ate like a bird became talk about how she looked like a bird- but not a particularly pretty one. She was narrow, angular, unpleasant. And all that talk of her lack of eating began to eat away at her.

So she started eating more. She was purposeful at first, methodical. She made a show of ordering large meals, and eating those greater portions in front of people. Of course, the reason she was so thin wasn’t because of a magically gifted metabolism like some people. So as the portions increased, so did the inches on her waistline.

It was barely noticeable at first. She was used to wearing clothes that hung off her skinny frame. So the first couple pounds settled almost invisibly on her body. But slowly the gap between her thighs began to disappear. The waistbands of her pants began to bow outward. When she bent over, the back of her pants began to stretch more and more.

She still liked to peck at foods. More often than not it just happened to be off of other people’s plates. She traded grapes for french fries and bits of salad for forkfuls of mac and cheese. It’s an annoying habit to be sure, but her friends don’t mind it. The more she eats off of their plates, the less they do, built in portion control.

She’s a greedy girl now. A single ice cream scoop is now two. Taking seconds has become shoveling down thirds. And she doesn’t just sample people’s plates. She samples everything at a buffet now that she’s gone from eating like a bird to eating like a pig. And she’s got the body to show for it. She’s a true fat food, a globular gourmand.

Her ass is fat and loose like two huge scoops of ice cream starting to melt. She’s got thighs like ham hocks and a belly like a busted sack of flour. She’s gone from flat chest to bra busting, and her face has gone from angular to cherubic. When her double chin bounces as she chews, she looks downright piggish.

And that’s how it’ll always be from now on. Her appetite shows no signs of ceasing. Dieting is certainly an impossibility. She’ll just be fat and happy forever.

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“The Eating Machine”

They should just get her a trough already. Why even bother with plates?

It’s not like she actually cares about the flavor of what she’s eating anymore. She switches between mashed potatoes to make and cheese to chicken casserole so damn fast, there’s no way for her to keep track of which is which. I once gave her a bowl of mayonnaise and told her it was vanilla ice cream. She didn’t bat an eye.

It’s something to watch those jowls quiver as she moves from treat to treat shoveling down slop, filling her greedy maw like there’s no tomorrow. I used to think of her as a woman, a couple hundred pounds ago.. It was easy then to think of how hot she was and how much even the smallest pounds meant something. That was always the sweetest part of her transformation.

She’s more like an animal now, a pig with nothing more than simple base desires of eating and being pleasured. I watch her quivering cellulite covered ass cheeks smack themselves together as she leans forward on her fat covered elbows (It’s hard to tell she even has elbows because of the way the fat from her ham hock arms drips over them) and slams her face into another bowl of unidentifiable easy to swallow slop that will soon find its way down to filling her gelatinous thunder thighs with even more blubber. The last place the fat will find is her bloated tits, but even then, after all these pounds, they dangle down to the floor with her nipples dragging against plates of scraps and getting covered in gravy or ice cream, or tomato sauce, all in the same sitting. Every part of her will continue to balloon. That’s all she is now, a big fat producing machine.

And it takes so much longer to see the gains now, not because she isn’t gaining constantly, but because the sheer amount of poundage that she’s already packed on makes it nearly impossible to keep track of from day to day.

I’ve taken to a form of measuring with a simple band that sits nicely in the crease of her double belly. It’s a little band of elastic that’s easy to hide there because these days she doesn’t really wear much of anything else. And, on the day it snaps, that’s when I know she’s hit a significant milestone. So we celebrate with an extra special feast. It features an extra expensive chocolate cake that I get flaked with gold foil. She can’t tell the difference and it’s all wasted on her because the flavor of the food is no longer of importance to her. She’s fueled merely by the sensation of filling her mouth and her stomach and knowing that she’s never truly full.

The cake is for me, a little bit of extravagance to watch her eat something just a little fancier, just to break the monotony of it all. Otherwise the game just isn’t much fun anymore. I guess the old adage is true:

Sometimes you really can have too much of a good thing.

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What If? (Part 8)

What if she can’t stop eating?

Forget about exercise. There’s no way she can shed all of this blubber if she can’t stop cramming cake in her mouth.

But this cake is just so delicious, rich and chocolaty and filled with cream that melts on her tongue when it doesn’t end up on her chubby cheeks as she shoves it into her greedy mouth. She wipes that cream off with her hand and admires it for a moment on her sausage fingers before licking them clean and moaning as the cream slides down her throat.

She’s become such a greedy little piggy. She used to be so prim and proper and put together. But the slim and sexy head cheerleader is officially gone, and in her place is a proper porker, a full fledged oinker.

As she uses her chubby hand to scoop up and shovel more cake into her mouth, her double chin jiggles with delight.

The words that she hears from her former friends are cruel: “Piggy.” “Fatso.” “Lardo.”
And the girls whom she used to make fun of now enjoy calling her “Fat ass”, “Porky”, and Jumbo.”

But the food makes it all better. The food makes her forget the pain. So what if she never stops eating? Maybe she’ll just get fatter and fatter.

Her belly is going to start to double over and split into multiple folds of flab. Her thighs are growing thicker and and going to quiver with cellulite covered fat as they press themselves together and outward forcing her to waddle everywhere she goes. Her ass cheeks are going to wobble and rip through her pants, tearing through tight fabric and leaving her with sweatpants as her only options. She is truly on the verge now of ballooning.

She was thin. Then she got chubby, chunky, then fat, and now she if she keeps eating she’s going to reach obesity.

Obese.

An obese pig.

An obese slob.

An obese hog.

That’s what she pictures herself as, not just a pig anymore, a hog- a huge and hungry, hungry, hog. She can’t help herself.

The thought of being obese, of people calling her a hog, of knowing that she has fully succumbed to her urges and her piggish appetite leaves her moaning in between bouts of oinking and shoving more cake into her mouth faster and faster.

People will be so cruel. They’re mean now, but they will be absolutely merciless once they realize she has eaten herself from a skinny cheerleader and could have been supermodel into an obese hog of a woman, a flabby mess of rolls and jowls desperate for her next meal and constantly cramming her chubby cheeks full of food like a fat and lazy chipmunk ready to burst.

They’ll want to squeeze her blubbery fat rolls, poke and pinch and shake her fat gut up and down and every which way. They’ll make a game out of making her drop things and watching her try to band down and pick them up with her fat thighs and blubber belly getting in the way. They’ll tease her mercilessly and spank her fat flabby ass. The lard will quiver as they laugh.

And the thought of it all makes her moan and oink some more. With one hand she feeds herself more cake, and with the other hand she rubs between her legs as she considers the delight question…

What if she doesn’t stop eating?

[B$fan]

“Most Likely to Succeed”
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Everyone always thought she was going to be rich. That was what she was destined for. Everyone knew that with a body like hers, she was going to hit it big.

She was never most likely to succeed, no. Those ones go to the brainy kids, or the spoiled already rich kids with such a hefty leg up on everyone else that their success was guaranteed. But she was certainly most likely to be a rich gold digging trophy wife, maybe even a legitimate model before settling down before days spend by the pool relaxing and working on an endlessly perfect tan. That was supposed to be her life, days full of lounging around a palatial mansion and nights fueled with excess.

Well, she did the excess right, for a little while at least. Partying always came easy and when everyone wants to buy you drinks, the drinks are easy to come by. Of course, when one has a taste for both sugary cocktails and beer that can have a lot of consequences. Calories upon calories begin to pile on, and while dancing the night away can help for a little while, eventually it all starts to catch up with a person.

And that’s what happened to her. It was slow at first, hardly noticeable. Then it became nothing a pair of spanx couldn’t hide, or a full on girdle. And the partying kept going because the partying had to keep going. She never could get a job, first because she didn’t want to because it was beneath her, then because she was lacking the qualifications. See, while all her friends and inferiors went to college and made something of themselves, all that partying and all that booze did not exactly make for someone cutout for 8:00am classes, and, while she was very popular amongst the student body on campus, she was not very popular amongst the faculty- at least the more scrupulous members.

So she crashed and burned and then every job she’d try to get was quickly a wash because nobody likes someone whose going to show up consistently hungover. She thought she would at least be able to coast by in one of those salesgirl jobs at the stores at the mall that practically required girls to be models to work for them, and she hoped to in fact get some jobs modeling, but all of those opportunities kept drying up as her party body grew and grew.

Plus size models are one thing, but ones whose biggest asset are their sloppy beer belly aren’t exactly in demand.

The partying had to keep happening because the people she would meet at these parties became the people she would count on, fiding sugary cocktails and sugar daddies to pay her rent and buy her clothes, something she was needing in a higher frequency.

As the dire straights of her financial situation became clearer to her, even through the alcohol induced fog, her downward spiral continued to speed up. This was inevitable because the stress led to stress eating. And sugar daddies got harder to find as she kept drinking sugary cocktails and started scarfing down sugary doughnuts to boot.

Junk food was never a vice of hers before. She used to make fun of those who ate it regularly. She used to rail against its negative effects. But as the attention and affection began to dry up thanks to all her poor life choices adding up, food became the only source of comfort for her.

So her waistline widened. Her abs which had long ago been buried by booze became further covered in a shelf of flab and her thighs blubbered outward until they rubbed together as she walked. Her prized tight ass that she loved to brag about became covered in quivering cellulite thanks. Of course, all of this weight gain meant needing to replace even more clothes at an even faster rate, and thanks to her prospects becoming less and less, the kinds of clothes she could afford became cheaper, less stylish, bargain bin and thrift store kind of finds.

Third rate clothes meant she lost even more of her confidence which meant she lost even more of her attractiveness to certain people. And the cheapness of her clothing and the sloppiness of the way the weight began to settle on her body, meant that she was no longer allowed in the kind of establishments where the men who could afford to keep her deteriorating lifestyle going would be. Even the fat chasing sugar daddies were out of her reach.

She used to be a bitch because she was pretty and popular and entitled, but as she grew fatter her bitchiness increased with her bitterness as she felt everything she always thought she was supposed to have slipped through her fingers. With every additional pound, every new jiggle, she grew angrier and meaner and pushed anybody who could have helped, who could have supported her away. People tried to get her the help she needed, but in the end her attitude drove them all away. She tried to plead for some of them to come back eventually, but they never did.

But bills don’t care about how mean you get. Bills keep coming. And that’s how she ended up where she is.

Scrubbing toilets is not a pretty job. Even if you did it in a five star hotel while wearing a designer dress with the killer heels to match, there’s nothing glamorous about cleaning the place where other people relieve themselves. But that’s what she finds herself doing.

And it’s not even at one of those five star hotels. No, her attitude, fueled by all the alcohol makes getting a job at any kind of decent place an impossibility. She’s stuck at a flea bitten motel right next to the dive bar she’ll go to once her shift is over to suck down a greasy plate of buffalo wings and a few pints of beer. It’s the kind of place where lowlifes like her come to stay, and lowlifes are not exactly the most careful and courteous when it comes to using the bathroom in cheap scumholes like this. It’s dirty and disgusting work and a complete one eighty for the woman who was once so prim and proper and certain that she would be the one getting waited on.

Her body is also far from what she would recognize as her prime.

Her feet have grown wide and far too fat for the designer heels she used to prize so much. Bella’s sausage-like toes find themselves stuffed into nothing but sensible flats nowadays, cheap flats she still has to replace frequently because their quality makes them prone to falling apart in the weather, it’s certainly not from walking great distances in them.

Above her fat feet are a matching pair of cankles. Her ankles were never something Bella had considered as slim before. They were, of course, like the rest of her body, both slim and toned. But they were such an inconsequential thing when held up against the rest of her athletic form that she never really paid them a second thought. They were just a part of her gorgeous legs.

But now that her cankles, already swollen with fat, find themselves regularly double swollen at end of days filled with menia-l but grueling to her bloated body- labor she was well aware of their painful existence. And they were a part of legs that were now each easily the size of what her waist used to be which meant that getting herself around on them was extremely taxing.

Her legs quiver with each step she takes and each step she takes is part of a slow and ponderous waddle. She used to have a model’s strut and a thigh gap which she loved to brag about. But those days are long gone as she struggles to get around. She used to love wearing either tight jeans or cute dresses that barely went below her pert ass cheeks and showed of her limber legs, but now all of her clothes are tight and much less flattering and finding dresses that show off her legs would be showing off a sea of stretchmarks and cellulite.

Currently her thoroughly unflattering uniform, which is quickly on its way to once again being outgrown, includes a pair of stained dark gray pants. The back of these pants are stretched to near bursting over the mammoth globes of Bella’s burgeoning behind, twin ass cheeks that move with a mind of their own. The front is currently pushed out by her gelatinous double belly the lower half of which fills the front of her pants while the upper half spills over them and swallows up the waistband while simultaneously pushing apart and stressing the buttons on her coffee and ketchup stained shirt, remnants of a meal from yesterday.

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“She’ll Become What She Hates”
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She’s going to become what she hates. That’s the thought that consumes me as I watch her munching on her second doughnut and chasing it with a large iced mochaccino piled high with whipped cream. She is on her way to consuming almost a thousand calories this morning alone, and she seems to be purposefully oblivious to it, just like she seems oblivious to the little sliver of fat that’s poking out from underneath her Underarmor shirt.

She loves to run. Well, she used to love to run a lot more, but now she likes to run just enough to stop here at this wonderful bakery. Her order started out as a black coffee. Then a scone and a black coffee. This became a coffee with cream…. cream and sugar… cream two sugars- three - four. Two doughnuts and a mochaccino right now just like it’s been all week. This is her morning breakfast routine before work.

All those carbs and sugar is going to make for a major crash which will require more sugar with lunch and then a second crash that will make her far too tired to go to the gym like she used to. And soon the scone will be back a part of her breakfast routine as well. Eventually, it’ll big a dozen doughnuts to go so she can bring them to the office for everyone to share.

But everyone would much rather watch her obliviously chow down on each and every one of them.

She’s been a bitch to them all. She’s the kind of high powered good looking type-A, gets what they want even when they don’t deserve it kind of bitch her whole life. She’s done nothing but look down on people and now… well now she’s getting fat.

And soon she’ll be exactly what she’s always hated, an obese slob, a complete pig as she likes to call them, an oinker. I can see it already. By the time she realizes what is happening to her, it’ll already be too late. Then, the only thing to comfort her when her self esteem is shattered is food.

She’ll be waddling in here and double fisting doughnuts as she works her way through and entire box, dropping crumbs down her massive cleavage. She’ll get so fat, her wide load ass isn’t going to be able to handle a stool anymore. That will make her sad which in turn will make her eat even more. She’ll be a whopper of a woman, a double wide emotional overeater who can’t control herself, fatter than anyone she’s ever had the nerve to look down upon.

She’ll become what she hates and hate what she’s become. And there'll be nothing she can do about it.

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“What If?” (Part 9)
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What if she runs out of money?

Food costs a lot of money, and she eats a lot of food.

She looks at her belly in the mirror. It used to be gorgeous, tan, six pack abs. Those abs were at one point her prized possession, something that she love to show off, to lord over others.

Now it’s a gut.

That’s the best word for it. Not a paunch. Not a pot belly. A paunch would be too small. A pot belly might be mistaken for being cute. She has a GUT, a big, pale, squishy, spongy gut. A fat, turgid gut, a sloshy, stretch marked, heavy, saggy gut. It’s a big swinging thing far from her sexy abs. It’s a big heavy sack of fat that hangs heavily, and even when she lifts it, rolls that fat in her her hands, she can still feel her gut’s weight carried by her whole body.

It’s a glorious gut, made more glorious by the fact that she had done this to herself, changed herself so much. She grew this gut likes a farmer grows a prized pumpkin. This is her pumpkin, her blue ribbon gut. It is the masterwork derived from all that she has done.

She knows that she’s not ordinary fat.

Ordinary fat people don’t think about getting fat. They eat more for any number of reasons; it’s what’s available; it’s a craving; it’s genetic. She made herself this way. She knew what she was doing when she fought with herself and chose to stuff her face like a pig, to eat like a glutton to grow her gut. She fought her mind and her metabolism and won.

Her gut is her prize. And it comes with a thick side of thunder thighs.

Thick meaty thunder thighs, and a big blubbery butt. She has fought her and earned being called a fat girl.

And her former friends do so love calling her a fat girl, and fatso, fat ass, porker, piggy. She is a greedy, naughty little piglet, and people let her know it. And they love to let her know it. She has been poked, and prodded and have her belly- no- her gut shaken more times than she cares to remember.

It’s this strange thrill to be such a naughty piglet, to have knowingly ruined oneself. There’s a guilt there that comes with letting go, getting fat, feeling the work of one’s own gluttony, their weighty gut in their hands. And there’s a feeling of tremendous accomplishment too, the perverse tinge of delight that comes with doing what everyone says is wrong, a rush of intense pleasure every time she crams another doughnut in her mouth while rubbing her gut, shaking her gut, fondling her gut.

Everything about her is bigger, her gut, her thighs, her ass, her breasts, even her pretty face is starting to chub out. What if it gets so fat that she doesn’t recognize herself when she looks in the mirror? Is that even possible? Would that be good or bad?

As she thinks about that, her gut begins to grumble, loudly calling to be stuffed with more food which brings her back to her previous question. What if she runs out of money? Her food budget is considerably larger now which means a new revenue stream might be needed to keep herself well fed, especially if her gut and therefore her appetite are going to keep growing. If only there was a way for her to make money while eating….

She looks over to her computer and stares at its webcam as her stomach rumbles

… What if?

(To be continued)

[B$fan]

“Fat with a Zap”

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Once the ray hit her, there went her abs. A lifetime of work, of diet and exercise, went down the toilet as the muscles began to quiver and atrophy and spill outward in a thick roll of flab. Her sexy washboard abs had been her prized possession, her go to weapon when flaunting her body in front of others. And it was all going to waste, turning into a turgid pot belly, a big blubbery gut.

The idea of going from the peak of physical fitness to a pig sent her into a panic.

It was rather funny to watch her scream and try to push the fat back in. Her hands gripped at the roll of fat and pinched, punched and squeezed to try and make it so that none of this was happening, but of course it was. She was doomed. She just didn’t want to admit it yet.

As she squished her belly fat, she screamed again when she noticed that the hands that were pushing against the fat were now fat themselves. She held her hands up to her face and examined the sausage-like fingers. Then her attention shot downward.

That’s the moment she realized that her thighs were now touching. It was undeniable. Pale, pasty pudge was pressing together.

It took some work to fully assess the damage down there. She had to push her new belly out of the way a bit, but her legs were now safely what one would call thunder thighs, and they were quickly filling with fat and cellulite and bordering on being called tree trunk. They were graced with saddlebags and a matching set of cankles. Even her feet were swollen with fat. She would have stayed fixated on them if it weren’t for the ripping sound.

She felt the back of her shorts tear as her ass ballooned outward, two jumbo jiggling cheeks. Her hands flew right to them and she felt the soft, pliable flab ooze between her fingers. She tried with her ass to squeeze it all back in just like she tried to do with her big fat pot belly, but this too was an obvious failure. The bulging blubber kept pushing forward as her thick muffin top grew fatter and fatter blooming outward and over her overtaxed pants.

As she heard the laughter around her, she felt like a big bloated pig at a fair, a fat hog being weighed and measured and presented to others as a show to gawk at. She felt like in an instant she had gone from popular princess to a piggish loser- because she had. She knew in an instant she had lost everything she prized most, her slim and sexy body replaced with that of a fat girl. She was a fat girl now. A lard ass, a pig, a cow, a big fat fatty.

Oink oink. Call her Fatso.

The only thing the ray left her with was her beautiful face. Once perfectly angular, it was only slightly softened. When she hung her head in shame, a small double chin would form, but other than that she stayed completely recognizable so everyone who knew her would be able to tell that the fat woman in front of them was indeed the one they had known as a skinny bitch. It was an incredible curse to make sure that everyone knew exactly who it was they were making fun of.

To ensure that she would never lose any weight, the fat ray also was sure to readjust her appetite. Her body was now craving fatty foods, grease and sugar. An overwhelming sense of hunger had overcome her, and without thinking about it, she eagerly plowed into the stack of burgers that was set in front of her. Midway through she realized what she was doing and tried to stop, but it only took a few seconds and a few tears in her eyes to realize that that was impossible. She couldn’t fight the hunger. She went right back to stuffing her face with full knowledge that this was her future. Her thoughts were clear and she had to acknowledge that her destiny was to consume and grow fatter as the ray not only grew her fat cells and increased her appetite, but it also slowed her metabolism. Yes. She was destined to be huge.

She wants to begin again. She wishes all of this fat would just melt off of her, but the only thing that’s melting is the impressive amount of butter that she cakes her food in. She tries to fight her appetite but can’t help but gorge herself on greasy food, consistently adding more junk to her trunk.

She hates it all. She hates looking at her body, feeling her body, squeezing her blubbery flab in her hands or even just feeling the weight of her body as the fat swishes about and she waddles through the house. She used to be an athlete, a runner and a cheerleader, so the feeling of her thighs rubbing together and the helplessness of knowing that the thick fat has forced them apart and taken her ability to run away from her is exceptionally distressing. She misses being able to move freely and feels imprisoned by lard.

She especially hates how her face is still fatter but recognizable, how everyone can see from her face that she used to be skinny. She loathes how everyone she ever used to make fun of can revel in her downfall, call her names and taunt her with every mean thing she has ever said. And she hates how her former friends seem to take special glee in her misfortunes and watching her wallow in fat and misery.

But what she hates the most is that she knows there’s no going back. No matter what she does now, she is going to continue to be a big fat piggy forever.

Hopefully she’s learned her lesson and knows better than to make fun of the fat nerdy guys.

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“Runway No More”

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She used to strut. Now she waddles.

Good. She deserves it.

She was always one of those women who had a naturally “hot” body. She didn’t have to work to have confidence and it took even less to get modeling work. People fell all over her without her even having to try. It always came easy to her, and with no need to work on her body, she didn’t really feel a need to work on her personality either.

So she was a cruel bitch, always putting others down. Always without a kind word to say. Her mouth was full of mean names for people, like piggy, cow, or sow.

But nowadays the words that come out of her mouth are few and far between. That’s mostly because her mouth is so often filled with food. She disgusts herself with how much she eats, with how much tighter her already large clothes are still getting. She hates the way her belly sags and her thighs rub together. She feels like a complete slob who can’t get their life together.

And she can’t.

Wouldn’t you like to know what life is like now for this hottie turned fatty?

Without her beauty she is lost. Without her confidence she doesn’t know what to do and so it’s like she’s waddling around in a stupor hoping to find her answers in chocolate bars and ice cream cones.

She could have been a plus sized model, you know. Her body still had the look for it once she started gaining weight. She was thick in all the right places at first. But her fat hatred was so internalized that she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She didn’t want to be seen by others. The scorn of her friends and their sneaky social media posts didn’t help.

“She used to be so svelte and now she’s a pig! #Fit2Fat #Hot2Not”

“She’s a #Piggy #Fatso #LardAss”

“Look at that flabby body! She used to have model hard abs. Not anymore! #BlubberButt #PotBelly #Whale”

That was enough derision to already confirm her anti-fat bias.

Even today she could be at least a fetish model. She could make good money shaking her ass and belly for some strangers. Plenty of people would pay plenty of money to watch her eat. She could live fat and happy if she allowed herself to.

But she won’t. So instead she’ll take the quietest job she can think of, something out of the way where people won't notice the big fat girl or at least won’t take the time to give her a second glance. She takes a job where she feels she will be invisible because people like that were always invisible to her.

And that’s how she’s gone from a supermodel to a maid.

Every day she crams herself into her maid’s uniform. Her belly surges outward and strains the straps of her apron. She is quite the sight with her once pert butt practically hanging out as her flabby ass cheeks sag downward and peek out from underneath her too tight skirt.

She’s a wide woman waddling about, wearing a tight uniform that barely contains her bulbous curves, scrubbing toilets, washing floors and throwing out garbage. Hers is a life of laundry and loathing.

She used to turn heads. Now nobody looks at her. Or, if they happen to catch a glance it’s often with a look of disgust followed by some kind of cutting remark.

She used to be the one with unkind words. Now she is the one who is demean, called piggy, cow, or sow. Occasionally, her former friends will check up on her. They’re the ones who revel in her descent the most. They love that she’s become a fat flabby loser, a subservient sow. They find the schadenfreude to be delicious, and when those catty bitches are around, they always drive her to stuff her face even more. They love to point out that she’ll never be thin again. She’s a lard ass forever, a perfectly plump piggy with no future prospects. They love to remind her about the simple truth of how far she has fallen.

She used to be a model. Now she’s a maid.

This is her life, and she is fat and miserable.

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“Car Trouble”

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Getting out of the car is an issue for her nowadays. So is getting into the car. Hell, so is the simple act of sitting in the car, especially if she’s trying to drive. Her stomach is so large that even with the seat pushed all the way back it still almost brushes against the steering wheel. And she eats so much that she’s going to get to touching it eventually. It’s only a matter of time before that gut is fully pressed against the wheel and she’s not going to be able to move that wheel as it’s enveloped in fat. Her driving days are limited.

Which is probably for the best since her incredibly bulk makes moving in and out of it as difficult as it does. With all that thick quivering flesh that shudders in waves at the slightest movement, getting around at all is going to be limited. As the number on the scale keeps going up, the number of days she has being able to get around on her own goes down.

Just look at her.

She is an absolutely ham beast of a fat woman, a great lumbering mass of blubber with tremendous thighs twice the size of some people’s waists. They are dripping with cellulite rich fat that droop and roll over her knees. Her whole body is composed of shelves of fat sloppily organized into gigantic rolls that fight the eye for attention. Every part of her sticks out far enough to make traversing exceedingly difficult, not just because carrying that much bulk makes her incredibly tired after just a few steps, but because the sheer width of her body made bumping into things more than a habit.

Her double belly lurches forward as if it’s always looking for food. It bounces with each wobbling step eager to fill itself with a new feast. Everything one could think of ends up in that gut. But mostly it is filled with greasy fast food meals and sugary snacks. It doesn’t really matter though. The calories that are consumed are so countless that it doesn’t make sense to track the kinds of food either. It’s just a nonstop cycle of food to fat. She is seldom seen not eating, and that’s why she has such a thick spare tire wrapped around her waist and paired with meaty love handles and thick rolls of back fat.

Her belly even outpaces her breasts which is impressive because her breasts are two massive udders that sage with stretchmarked fat. T. Above them is her fat face with multiple drooping chins. She is a truly obese hog of a woman complete with weak bingo winged arms.

In the opposite direction of her tits and belly, her fat ass justs outward and sags downward, two giant bags of squishy lard. They are overful pillows of fat, huge wobbling cushions that sway every which way whenever she waddles about. Of course, her waddling is limited these days because it tires her so, and that ass plays a big role in tiring her out, that and all the other rolls on her body.

Even eating makes her winded, and she eats a lot. Yes. There’s not much she can do other than eat.

And that’s why her days driving her car are so limited. She’s still gaining weight with no sign of stopping. So soon she’ll stop driving. And eventually she’ll stop walking too. The day is close.

Soon she’ll sit down on the couch and just stay there forever.

[B$fan]

“Tiny Tina Gets Tubby”

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Tina won’t be making fun of fat girls anymore.

That used to be one of her favorite things to do. She loved to show off her body, flaunt her abs, literally run circles around people with her long lean legs. She used to love to show off her metabolism and eat large meals, stuff her face with junk food in front of the fat girls, taunt with the food they wanted to eat and the fact that she could do it without gaining a pound.

“I bet you’re gaining weight just from looking at this. Aren’t you, fatty?” She would tease.

“You fat slobs wish you could eat like me. You wish you had my body, Fatsos. Just look at this abs. Look at my perfect butt. I’m everything you fat piggies will never be.”

Trim Tina, Tiny Tina, Tight Body Tina, that’s what she was known as. Her abs were visible, her legs were tight and toned. Tina’s ass was a perfect heart shape. Even her feet and fingers were dainty. Tina was an incredibly petite person and she rocked it. The only tiny part of Tina that she didn’t like were her breasts, but she made up for that by largely pointing out the faults in others.

She loved to think about mean things to say to people, names to call them, jokes to make. Women she disliked were: Piggy, Lard Ass, Wide Load, Blubber Butt, Cow, Whale, Porker, Oinker, Piggy Piggy Oink Oink. The list could go on. If anything, Tina’s favorite word for people was piglet. She just loved the way that rolled off the tongue.

“Hey there, piglet. What are you stuffing your face with today?”

“You’re a naughty little piglet, aren’t you?”

“Sneaking snacks, aye, piglet?”

“Oink oink, little piglet. This is why you’re so fat.”

And when the words weren’t enough, Tina loved the idea that she could freeze a fat girl with a look and shut them down with a sneer. She loved the power she had to make fat women feel inferior to her.

Tina was on top of the world.

And then Tina fell, both metaphorically and in a very literal sense.

One day, while out jogging, Tina tripped on an unfortunately raised piece of concrete and ended up both tearing her ACL and shattering her knee when she hit the ground. It was a large amount of damage which meant a large amount of being in bed and a large loss of physical activity. Unfortunately for Tina, this did not coincide with a large change to her diet which meant that Tina Tina ended up getting quite large.

You see, Tina ended up suing over her fall and won herself a pretty sizable settlement, and all of the pain from the accident and boredom that came with her sizable amount of downtime meant that Tina spent a sizable amount of her settlement indulging in an incredible amount of food. Tina’s already sizable appetite, combined with a sizable increase in her snacking, meant that Tina’s waistline saw sizable growth, and it was not surprising that she was having to upsize her clothing so often.

Designer jeans and skirts soon became sweatpants, and even those started to be outgrown.

Tiny Tina became Tubby Tina, and she wasn’t just tubby either. She really flabbed out, flubbed up, packed on the pounds.

She got downright fat.

Tubby Tina got some thick thunder thighs, fleshy, flabby thighs long devoid of any of the muscle they used to know, big tree trunks that rubbed together and gave the girl who used to love to run a pronounced waddle. Even her feet got fat, swollen from lack of activity.

Those thighs got pair with a big fat, blubbery butt, an ass that wobbled with each step. Covered in cellulite, her chunky caboose devolved from a pert, heart shape into a shapeless mass of flubber. It was the kind of ass that turned heads and then turned them away in laughter.

Tina’s arms also lost all definition and became flabby limbs with jiggly bingo wings that wobbled whenever she moved her arms. They were hypnotically jiggly. And even her hands grew chubby. Her fingers matched her toes once again as they all became thick like sausages.

Tina’s abs melted into a big piggy pot belly, a mass of jiggling fat that hung over the waistband of any pants that she wore and spilled out from under any of her shirts. It was embarrassingly large and flabby, a real spare tire that threatened to, over time, turn itself into a true double belly if Tina wasn’t careful. Her gut stretched out and came with thick love handles and back rolls to form a large muffin top that wrapped itself completely around her lost waistline. Her pudgy paunch liked to bounce with every movement. It liked to burst buttons and lurch itself forward out past her breasts.

Unfortunately for Tubby Tina, her breasts were the only part of her that remained tiny. In comparison to the rest of her, any growth that they had was greatly outpaced by her burgeoning belly and the rest of her fat body. Therefore, Tubby Tina’s tits stayed tiny and mere became soft and saggy disappointments. Now a fat girl on the itty bitty titty committee, Tina was an easy target for ridicule.

In fact, Tubby Tina had become a big fat target for ridicule now that she was a “greedy little piglet” as people loved to call her.

“Look who got fat. It’s Tubby Tina.”

“Hey, Tubby Tina, you’re a naughty piglet. Aren’t you? Bet you can’t stop sneaking snacks, you greedy girl.”

“You used to be so hot. Now you’re a fat flabby pig. Such a shame, Tubby.”

“Who’s the fat girl now, lard ass? I’m thinner than you, and I love it. No more lording your abs over me. You’ve grown quite the gut, piggy. Tubby Tina with the tubby gut!”

Tina found people she used to make fun of now taking great joy in poking her tubby tummy, pinching her, poking her, shaking her fat.

Her confidence shattered, Tubby Tina felt like a fat loser because that’s what she had become, and the people she used to make fun of were not going to let her forget it.

“Welcome to the world of the porkers, piglet. Why don’t you oink for us, Fatso.”

“Yeah, Piggy Piggy Oink Oink. Oink like the oinker you are, Tubby Tina.”

And sometimes Tubby Tina would give in and oink just to get people to leave her alone.

Tubby Tina knew deep down that this is what she deserved for all her years of tormenting others, and she knew that with her leg and her appetite she was already too far gone. Soon she would be Two Hundred Pound Tina, then more. There was no going back for her.

She was Tubby Tina forevermore.

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What If? (Part 10)

What if they don’t like her?

That’s the thought that’s running through her head as she stares at her computer, looking right down the barrel of her webcam while her finger hovers over her mouse. She’s moments from starting a livestream and her fat body is wiggling in fear. She can feel the cold sweat of nerves, and as her nervous hand trembles over her mouse, hesitant to click on the button to start her stream, that one movement makes her whole soft, flabby arm wobble.

What if they don’t like her? That question keeps echoing in her mind.

She’s used to not being liked. So many of her friends have turned their back on her by now. She’s grown accustomed to the stares that she gets, the jokes at her expense, and the cruel comments that people leave about her on social media. She is painfully aware of how fat she is and how much people love to remind her of how hot she used to be, what a shame it is that she’s put on so much weight.

She’s used to the hate. It’s the same kind of cruelty she used to subject others too until she began to embrace who she truly is.

But this. This is supposed to be different. This is supposed to be the kind of people who will love her body, drool over her fat belly and thick thighs, call her a piggy but in the best of ways. This is supposed to be her crowd. Forget about being worshiped (like she used to be when she was slim and sexy), what if these people don’t even like her. What if she’s not fat enough for them? What if they reject her? Can she handle that?

She has to. Money is running out and she needs more food to stuff her greedy belly with.

So she presses the button.

And she goes live.

And after a timid introduction, as the first few fans trickle in, she’s happy that the picture of her looking extra bloated in her pink bikini was enough of a preview to land at least a few people right away, she got into the main part of her performance.

She begins to dance for her new fans.

She rubs her chubby hands across her thick thighs, sinking her fingers into the soft flesh as she ran them up her chunky legs. Teasingly, she touches her belly, runs her fingers just along the underside of her pot belly as it hung over her bikini bottoms. Then she gives her belly pudge a little flip but didn’t linger for long. She wants to draw the belly play out and save some for later.

Instead her hands slide back to her hips and then around as she begins to gyrate her hips and dance around in a circle.

It’s clear she used to be a cheerleader, and a dancer from the way she still knows how to move her body. Her chunky body with its jiggling fat makes it clear that her days of being a cheerleader are long gone and unlikely to ever return.

The fat around her hips forms folds as she gyrates around. Her stomach bounces and jiggles as she slides her chubby thumbs between her chunky love handles and the waistband of her panties. She spins around and bounces her big ass cheeks up and down. She teases flashing the full thing but leaves just the tempting tops of her luscious cheeks showing.

Then she turns around again and leans forward to give a full view of the tops of her bountiful breasts with her pot belly surging forward and leaning out past her breasts. She uses her chubby arms to squeeze everything together and gives a little shake.

Her chubby hands slide down her chests and to her piggy little gut. She rolls the fat in her hands, gives her belly a shake and slap and smiles as she watches the viewer and subscriber counts go up. Her viewers are putty in her hands just like her pliable pudge.

She looks over at a white box at her side and slowly reaches for it. The fat on her arm wobbles. She opens the box and looks down at its still hidden contents. Her double chin inflates as she looks down and smiles. Then she turns the box toward her audience and they can see the sinful treats she has.

Six deliciously fattening doughnuts.

Can she eat them all in one sitting?

Will she?

Not just yet.

She’s going to make them all wait just a little longer.

[B$fan]

“Beignet and Bust”

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Another beignet, dear?

Of course you want it. You can’t get enough of these sweet treats can you, my little piggy?

I love watching you eat. I could spend all day stuffing your face- and you could too, couldn’t you, piggy? Yes. I’d love nothing more than to lounge around with you and watch the pounds like on.

Sometimes when I’m dreaming I like to play your transformation back in my head, and it’s like a time lapsed photo. There you are standing in your pink bikini with your hands rubbing along you rock hard abs as you turn just enough to show me how proud you are of your pert ass. You look like such a stereotypical hot girl, the kind that knows how hot she is and loves to show it off.

But it doesn’t last for long.

I know how much you secretly love to eat, and know just how to tempt you. It’s so easy it’s almost like you wanted to be fat. But I know you didn’t you hated the idea. Fat people were lazy. They were pigs. I watched the way you sneered at others, shamed them. I heard your cruel, cruel words, and I looked forward to making you eat those words.

So I got you to eat. Pampered you. Fried dough was your biggest weakness. Still is, fatty. I got you eating all the time and soon the pounds began to pile on. You were too vain to notice at first. That made it easier. When those beignet’s started to bust your pants buttons it must have been the laundry that did it. By the time you finally noticed, it was too late. You were too much of a fat lazy pig to do anything about it. I saw to that, fatso.

That’s when your pretty friends turned on you, and all the people you used to make fun of got a bit of their own back. You were the one to be the victim of sneers and cruel words. Your big butt became the butt of so many jokes. And it was hard at first, that sting of karma, to be the girl you always used to make fun of and learn how cruel your words and actions had been now that you were on the receiving end.

But then you just stopped caring, didn’t you?

Because you have me.

Me. And food. And that’s all you need in this world.

So now look at you with that big sloshy spare tire. It’s a huge greedy gut that can’t get enough food. I have to work overtime to keep your big belly full. It’s a real monster that sags heavily and spills out over your lap when you’re sitting down.

And that lap is formed with two juicy thunder thighs. You used to be such a slim and athletic girl, capable of taking off in an elegant run or strutting like a model. Now all you can do is waddle and by now we both love it. You love the feeling of your flesh rubbing against itself. We both love when you envelope my head with those meaty thighs of yours, and I love sliding my hand between them. They are a wonderland of wobbling flesh.

Those thunder thighs are matched by your colossal ass, you big all blubber butt. You really are a lard ass, and I know you’ve come to love it. It’s your favorite feature once again even if it is three times its original size, and only going to get bigger. You want that, don’t you? We both know you do.

And we can’t forget your breasts, your big wonderful breasts. They’re so big that they spill out of my hands. They are huge heavy melons, a heaving bosom that gets its fair share of stares, and I love that they’re all mine. You love that too.

I want to feed you forever, to spend our lives together in bliss with my hands constantly moving food from the plate to your mouth. I know that’s what we both dream about, a world in which I never have an empty plate for you. We’ll grow you bigger than anyone would think possible. That’s the dream that calls to us with the scent of fried dough and chocolate. You’d like these beignets dipped in chocolate wouldn’t you?

So here we are, eating once again, and I can see the look on your fat face, the smile spread from cheek to chubby cheek as I feed you more beignets. Your double chin wobbles as you chew. You want more, don’t you? Of course you do.

You’re always hungry.

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“Getting Into Character”

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It was supposed to be her big break, and all that she had to do was get big.

Rachelle was a fairly successful supermodel with a smoking hot body. She had generous curves, pert breasts with a matching perky ass and a trim hourglass waist that feature delicious abs. She was a statuesque beauty that turned heads wherever she went. She had people eating out of her hands and got whatever she wanted. And often what she wanted was to make people jealous and make them miserable.

It was a sense of power that Rachelle reveled in. She loved to throw her body and her money around and in people’s faces. She loved to taunt others and make them feel in inferior, especially if she was fat. Rachelle hated fat girls. She found them to be lazy and greedy piggies. She enjoyed reminding them of that and was absolutely savage when given the chance.

But Rachelle really wanted to do was act, and while she got roles in a few raunchy comedies and some cheap horror flicks, she had never gotten a chance to get into a movie that would make people think of her as a serious actress, something that would get anywhere close to award recognition.

And then her fat hating antics got the better of her. Rachelle had gone on one fat girl hating rant too many and found herself on the wrong end of being canceled. Sponsors were leaving. Jobs were drying up. Rachelle needed a big gig to turn it all around.

And then, like a miracle, it seemingly came.

A serious movie role that would also help rehab her into a kinder, softer image- emphasis on the softer. The part was Oscar bait, Rachelle would play a young woman, whose life had taken a turn for the worse and managed to turn it back around. The only problem was that she had to gain a sizeable amount of weight to play the down on her luck part. Rachelle absolutely hated the idea of saying goodbye to her perfect figure, even temporarily. She certainly didn’t want to turn herself into a weak, soft, lazy fat ass, but she didn’t see much of a choice. She would lose the weight later and her career would be even better. She could shoot a fitness video to boot!

So on came the doughnuts. Rachelle made a point of trying to eat at least six a day almost as if it were her medicine. And she chased them with thick milkshakes. It was a combination that made her a bloated mess, but she was so determined that she still made sure she ate big pasta dinners and the like toward the end of the day and squeezed in dessert. For a supermodel, she sure was an impressive glutton. And the results came quickly. In know time at all, the skinny bitch became a chubby little piglet, then a full blown fatty – exactly the kind of fat flabby girl she would have loved making fun of.

Rachelle moaned the loss of her abs as her hourglass waistline as it blew out into a thick pot belly and matching love handles. She would stare at herself in the mirror and pinch an inch on her love handles, poke them, prod them and sigh. She would cradle and shake her growing gut even as she shoved more doughnuts in her mouth. That fat pot belly hanging around her middle popped the buttons on her jeans and hung over the waistlines of her pants, even the purposefully stretchy runs. Every shirt became a shirt that rides up. It was a heavy burden that Rachlle hated, especially since it seemed to jiggle at every little movement as a way of reintroducing its presence. It was a humiliating lump of fat, something that people who she used to make fun of would love to poke and prod and tease her about whenever they ran into her. But her gut wasn’t the only thing that grew.

Her thighs became thick with quivering fat. Rachelle had given up running and taken up eating and the result was that her athletic thighs quickly turned to jelly, they grew so quickly and got so big and soft that Rachelle was afraid that if she wasn’t careful she would end up with a humiliating waddle. She found with her new heavier thighs and lack of physical activity she was feeling very out of shape. She felt like she was winded incredibly easy and walking was getting tiring so quickly that Rachelle found it alarming, but she knew she couldn’t stop. So instead of just tiring herself walking around, Rachelle made a point of sitting down more.

And all that sitting on her ass meant that her ass got very very fat. Her prized asset became a fat mushy mess as it filled with soft blubber and coated itself in cellulite. Rachelle hated it. She hated the way her heart shaped ass became a lumpy lard ass, a chunky caboose that swayed with a mind of its own and made every step feel labored and uncomfortable. She felt like a big blubber butt, a wide load, a total fat ass, the very thing she had always hated. Every day she would grab her thickened ass with her thicker hands and cry over what she was doing with herself. And then she would go and eat her doughnuts like a good little piglet.

Rachelle’s breasts had also grown bigger, but not in a good way. Rachelle was already quite happy with the size of her breasts, and when they grew bigger they grew heavier and saggier and became an incredible burden. They hurt her back, a back that Rachelle was also unhappy to see had grown several chunky rolls.

Even Rachelle’s face got fat. She felt like she was looking at a stranger when she looked in the mirror and saw that her cheeks were getting super chubby and her chin had given way to a plump second one.

She now had the rolls for her new roll and looked the perfect part, a lazy pig, a true fat girl.

Filming the movie was hard. It involved a lot of heavy fat shaming scenes and scenes where Rachelle had to show off her fat, bloated body with extreme close ups to show off every inch of pliable, flabby flesh. During one particularly intense fat shaming scene, Rachelle had to stuff her face with food and oink like a pig while girls that looked the way she used to look play with her fat stomach and spanked her doughy ass. But it was all supposed to be worth it.

And then the movie bombed and everything came crashing down.

It turned out Rachelle was a terrible actress, and the intense fat shaming scenes were termed pure hardcore fetish fuel which, in fairness, they were. Rachelle found out later on that the director and executive producer were FAs who had seen her fat shaming rants and jumped at the chance to teach her a lesson. The movie made plenty of money for them from members of the community who loved to share and use the scenes where Rachelle was fat shamed. There were plenty of remixes combining those scenes with the slim and sexy Rachelle ranting about fat people to make it look like she was taunting herself. The whole thing ruined Rachelle’s career for good. And everyone she had ever slightly was happy to see her become a big fat failure and let her know just what a fat loser she had become.

The failure sent Rachelle into a fattening depression. No longer eating food for work, she instead ate food for comfort, and the more she ate the fatter she got which made her depression worse which meant she ate more and got even fatter. Rachelle would eat while looking in the mirror, grabbing her gut and oinking at herself, calling herself a naughty piglet, a fat lazy piggy, a sad saggy sow.

And she was.

Rachelle couldn’t be bothered to work out, and even if she did all of her sitting around and growing her blubber but meant her once stellar muscles were long gone so her days as an athlete were far behind her big behind and her days as a permanent couch potato filled her future. She was a bloated, blubbery, blubbering mess, and there was nothing she could do about it. Rachelle new that she had stuffed her face and eaten herself into obesity. And an obese hog was who she was now. The big o word was constantly in her head. She had gotten obese. She was obese. She was going to get more obese. And she was always going to be obese. Rachelle was due for a future of nothing more than pigging out and growing fatter while her wallet grew thinner, a hopeless descent into obesity and poverty at the same time.

And then the call came in.

People wanted a sequel, maybe even a series, and all she would have to do is be willing to continue getting fatter and humiliating herself. Well, Rachelle figured she was doomed to do both anyway, so she had no choice but to jump at the chance to at least make some money while doing it. So Rachelle answered the call in the specific way that the director wanted to hear her answer.

“Oink. Oink. I’m your piggy.”

[B$fan]

“Swim Star”

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Veronica was a swimming star, all through high school and college. In the water she was graceful and fast. It’s like she was made to do it, and her body bared that out. Her body was long and lean, lithe, just the right amount of tight wiry muscles in all the right places, honed by hours and hours of practice. It was a body that looked perfect in any kind of swimsuit and could easily put on a show in any number of glamorous outfits.

Her success, coupled with her beauty, made her very popular around campus and beyond. Veronica was frequently invited to parties. She hung on the arms of the most attractive people and held up her nose to everyone else. Her success and popularity had culminated in an extreme amount of arrogance, and the pretty privilege that she felt was very real. People cowered before her, especially those she considered to be out of shape, which, thanks to her extremely trim and athletic people, was most people.

Veronica loathed fat people especially, people who she deemed lazy and irresponsible, people to be alternately pitied and humiliated. She had little time for fat people except to sneer or make fun of them.

Her success as a swimmer was great, but it had its ceiling. Unfortunately, Olympic hopeful doesn’t always translate to Olympic athlete. In fact, most great swimmers don’t even come close. And the money for professional swimmers is an even slimmer prospect. So after college, and one last real try at the Olympics, Veronica had to realize that making a career out of the sport she had dedicated so much of her life wasn’t going to happen, and so she would need to pivot.

So, banking on her athletic figure and her popularity, Veronica became a fitness influencer and a swimsuit model. She got off to a promising start, even though some people thought she definitely came off as rude and arrogant sometimes. Thanks to her good looks, even though she wasn’t making friends, she was making some money.

There was just one problem. And it would become a big problem, a big FAT problem.

And in season female swimmer in college may consume anywhere between 4,000 and 5,000 calories a day. Veronica was one of the best and was consistently training year round which meant she was consistently consuming an insane amount of calories daily. Her body craved food, and because she was burning it all off, she didn’t care what source she got those calories from. As such, Veronica was used to constant snacking and eating a ton of junk. She was secretly a junk food junkie, and she especially loved fast food. She was a glutton for big greasy burgers loaded with toppings. It’s why she loved eating at Thick Burger so much.

Thick Burger had plenty of calorie bomb items that were more than just burgers. But they were known for their insane burgers loaded with different numbers of patties and an incredible array of toppings. If their other items were calorie bombs, their burgers were nuclear warheads.

And Veronica loved them. She couldn’t get enough of them. She ate at Thick Burger at least three to five nights a week. It was her heaven.

But Veronica couldn’t keep up her incredible appetite without maintaining her intense training regime and expect to keep the same results. Even though she did cut back somewhat, her appetite persisted, and her penchant for snacking, and most importantly, her obsessive love for Thick Burger remained. Without spending more time in the gym and pool, Veronica’s metabolism hit a wall and the pounds began to pile on.

Veronica was too vain to notice the weight gain at first. And when some of the first couple of pounds actually found their way to her breasts, the one part of her otherwise curvy body that was tiny, she was actually happy. But the positive part didn’t last long. In fact, after the initial growth, Veronica’s breasts didn’t change much accept to sag a little more as she grew more out of shape.

The truth was, Veronica was destined to be a bottom heavy girl. All those burgers made her butt blow up and out. She developed a real dump truck ass, a big wobbly dumper filled with lard and devoid of muscularity and filled with cottage cheese fat.

To outside observers, it was amazing just how flabby Veronica’s derriere became in such a short amount of time, flabby and bulbous. She was quickly becoming what her catty friends would call a wide load. Behind her bloated back, Veronica’s butt was the butt of many jokes. People knew that as it continued to thicken, Veronica’s burgeoning career as a fitness influencer was doomed to fail, and she didn’t have the attitude to convincingly pivot to the body positivity front. As the pudge packed onto her body, it was clear to the people eager to become Veronica’s former friends that she was doomed.

Her former teammates tried to get Veronica back on track at first. They were the only ones Veronica knew that were even interested in doing that. They tried to warn Veronica about what was happening. They tried to give her health and fitness advice, and most of all they tried to get her to stop going to Thick Burger. First they tried to guide her with kind words, then tough but fair words, and then teasing. They hoped that the negative reinforcement would finally push Veronica to give up Thick Burger and find here way back from fatness to fitness. But once it was clear that Veronica’s fat ass was too far gone, the teasing became too much fun to stop. Veronica’s teammates fell on the bandwagon with everyone else who loved taunting and humiliating her.

It was a fun bit of schadenfreude to watch Veronica’s perfect life go pear shaped.

And pear shaped was exactly what was happening to her body as well.

The weight widened Veronica’s hips consistently, and her once athletic swimmer’s legs developed saggy saddle bags as her muscles melted into thick, flabby, wobbling thunder thighs. One would never guess by looking at the poor shape of her fat and flabby legs, especially when combined with her chunky rear end that Veronica had ever been a near Olympic level athlete. And those thunder thighs were not the end of her growth spurt.

After her legs went soft, so did her core. Her core had been the key to her strength, it was a hard earned prized, and her abs eventually gave way and melted into pure belly butter. She grew a big jiggly pot belly, a gut with matching love handles to make the recipe for a delicious muffin top. The pot belly is what really doomed her. The other stuff she could hide with more angles, but a fitness model can’t get by from the chest up, not for long anyway. And the sight of her unseemly gut, and the knowledge of just how much and what kind of junk she was eating, doomed her career before it could even truly take off.

Sponsorships collapsed. The only people that still followed her were the ones who wanted ot see how fat she would get so they could leave all manner of brutal comments.

“She’s gotten chunky AF #FitnessPig #FittoFat #Fit2Fat #FAT”

“She really let herself go. It’s #sad and #gross #Piggy #PorkedUp”

“She used to be an athlete? She’s a fat slob! #SwimNoMore #SwimmertoSwine #SwimPig #Fatso #FatSlob #SwimSlob”

“She’s got a gut and a blubber butt! #SwimmerIsAWhale #Shamu #BlubberButt #PotBellyPig #SwimmerGut #WeightGain #Fatty”

“I want to write a story about her fat downfall! #WG #RoleReversal #Pig #AssExpansion #Belly #Pot_Belly_Girl #Jiggle #Wiggle #Wobble #Gut #Stuffed #PearShaped #PearShapedPig #Cow”

“Grossssss. #ChunkyCottageCheese #FitToChubbyToFatToOBESE #Obesity #ObeseSlob #ObeseLoser”

“How the mighty have fallen. #SwimmersGotABigButt”

“BigButt #PigGut”

The final nail in the coffin of Veronica’s influencer career was when her face inevitably bloated up. Now with a double chin and chubby cheeks, she couldn’t even do well with even higher angle shots. Plus, all that fast food had really done a number on her skin which left her looking like, as her online tormentors loved to point out, a #GreasyPig.

Her social collapse began a cycle of comfort binge eating. Thick Burger was her comfort zone and she sort it more and more often which meant that the pude packed on. The pounds piled up, and Veronica’s already bloated form blew up like a balloon. It was an endless cycle of stress seeking comfort eating and more weight gain until Veronica was settled into a life of obesity. She was unrecognizable as her former athletic self which meant that she was able to fall into relative obscurity from everyone butt her harsher critics who loved to keep her fat life miserable.

Remember the part where Veronica was bad at making friends? That came back to bit her in the big fat ass, and as her funds dried up she found her job prospects were few and far between as well. She had been thoroughly blackballed first because of her arrogance and then because of her obvious downward spiral which left many to question her ability to be a productive human being and not just a sloppy couch potato. It was like all of her drive was gone, but her needs to money remained.

This left her with only one humiliating option, and her comfort zone became her new home. She put on her ill fitting Thick Burger uniform and waddled off to work. It was a life filled with daily humiliations from all angles. Her weight never could settle down, and her fall from grace was a constant source of fodder for the people she had spent so long pissing off. She hated her new job and the humiliation and continued weight gain that inevitably came with it.

But, hey, at least the food was free.

---------------------------------------

“Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed”

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God, I love fatties.

Love them. Love to see them rolling their fat guts and big butts on in here and stuffing their faces full of grease because they just can’t help but make absolute pigs of themselves. It’s a glorious thing to see. Being here at lunch or dinner time, it’s like a hog call. The piggies just come waddling in to get their fill, and with some of our customers it takes a lot for them to get their fill. But that’s what we’re here for, or at least what I’m here for. For other people, working at Thick Burger might just be another job, a way to get by, to make rent with maybe a little left over for spending money. But not me. Thick Burger is my passion.

Fatties are my passion. Specifically, making fatties fatter is my passion.

No. No. I can get even more specific than that. Set me up again. Kristin, what’s your passion? It’s simple. It’s watching people become fatties. The hotter they are at first, the hotter it is. I love watching people who never thought they could get fat go from hotties to piggies. That’s the best part of working here. I enjoy being a fat enabler, an unknown feeder to the masses, the one to secretly add mass to those who think themselves thin and better for it. I take that thinness from them, and I love every moment of that happening.

Sure, I love blubber any which way I can get it. But when you watch somebody who has never been fat, give in to temptation, gorge themselves into obesity- we’re talking going from fit to fat and beyond- that’s something really special. And the fitter the are- the more stereotypically hot they are- it makes the fall that much more delicious. I love skinny bitches getting fat. I mean not just the ladies either. I’m happy to watch a guy go from hunk to chunk. We get plenty of those in here. Big beefy arrogant guys who think they’re all that, and then their metabolism puts them in their place and sits them down on a nice fat ass.

But it’s the arrogant ladies who are definitely my favorite. You know who they are, the ones with the pretty privilege who aren’t used to people telling them no. They get what they want, when they want it and treat the rest of us like peasants. The world is their oyster, and we’re just all supposed to be lucky to live in it as we worship the ground they walk on. They’re the cheerleaders, the sorority sisters, the homecoming and prom queens turned big business bitches, but not in just the “if I were a man, you’d call me bold” kind of way- no the “I’m a bitch and I love being a bitch and get power from demeaning others, other women especially.” I hate those kind of entitled bitches. They think they deserve everything on a silver platter because they’re so pretty and glamorous.

And then I give them their burgers on a platter and it comes with a big fat reality check with a side of pot bellies and thunder thighs. It’s so much fun to watch their worlds collapse as they lose their precious figures and come here seeking their favorite comfort food. It’s a viscous cycle and I love it. You should see how their double chins tremble as they cry into their second milkshakes or shove a third burger into their fat faces.

I love watching them be the ones to go from the one making the fat jokes to the ones being on the receiving end. Sometimes I even slip a quiet little oink oink as I hand them their food. They always look at me in a panic, but I’m never looking directly back at them. I look past them or to the side, just going about my business. It’s cute to watch them get all paranoid. Was I making fun of them? Did I seriously just oink at them? Maybe I did. But by now all this fat, all the jokes they’ve been the butt of have shot their confidence through. They have too much anxiety to make a thing of it. Besides, maybe I didn’t oink at them. Maybe it was all in their head. Maybe it was their conscious telling them what they already know.

They’re a big fat piggy. Oink. Fucking. Oink.

They’ve turned THEMSELVES into a big fat piggy. Their greed, their laziness. It’s why they’re not hot any more. It’s why they’ll never get their slim and sexy body back. They did this too themselves and the oinking is a consequence of their actions whether from themselves or from others. They know they deserve it. This is big fat karma. This is what being fat is like. They loathe it, and I love it. I love watching those who made others suffer suffer in return as they blubber about with all their blubber.

Take my latest favorite plaything, my new co-worker, Veronica. Before she was my co-worker, Veronica. She was my regular. Veronica always loved stuffing her face here at Thick Burger. I would see her all the time. I think she used to be a swimmer or something, but not anymore. Now she’s just another desperate fatty. A greedy glutton who can’t get enough of the grease. She’s a pear shaped piggy with a big jiggly belly. She looks ridiculous in her uniform. It makes her look so incredibly hippie and hugs her thunder thighs like they’re sausages. It doesn’t do her boobs any favors either since her belly sticks out so much more the top just kind of stretches out over it. Poor thing.

I love it!

She always used to order with such a snooty attitude, and now she’s the one taking orders from others. I love the mean glances she gets from her former friends, who - and I’ve seen this- seem to just keep coming here and not being very careful with their own waistlines. They should watch out. Revenge can be very fattening. And if they aren’t careful, they’ll end up chubby as well.

And they’re never careful. This slop is so delicious and addicting that once you start coming here regularly, you just don’t stop. That’s why I’ve seen so many cheerleaders chub up, so many sorority sisters turning into sows.

And it’s why my own waistband is getting tight.

------------------------------

“What If” (Part 11)

------------------------------

What if she can’t eat them all?

That’s what she wonders as she stares down at the box full of a half dozen doughnuts and a thick milkshake, that’s what she needs to be able to eat tonight on her first live stream. She figured that six doughnuts was a nice number to advertise for her first feeding session, an ambitious but doable number. She figured she could even advertise her goal of working herself up to eating a full dozen in one night. That would hopefully get some excited feeders as long term subscribers who would pay extra to fund her “training” sessions.

The milkshake is from one of those kinds of subscribers. She was supposed to make it just a glass of whole milk, but then someone paid her one hundred dollars to turn it into a milkshake, and she made another twenty-seven bucks off of people who paid to vote in a poll to choose the flavor. That’s also why the milkshake is chocolate.

The first doughnut goes down easily. She’s a hungry girl who has prepared for this moment, and she decides to open her show with an adorable nibble, almost as if she’s an adorable little mouse. One nibble. Two nibbles. And then she practically unhinges her jaw like a snake to shove the entirety of the doughnut into her mouth. Its white powder covers her lips and smears her cheeks. She thinks for a brief moment that this might have been too much, but then she settles into her chewing motion, and the rest of the doughnut begins to go down smoothly. She even shows off a little by talking with her mouthful. This causes a smattering of crumbs and power to come sputtering from her mouth.

Before she moves on to the second doubt, she drinks a good portion of her milkshake. The creamy texture is perfect after the dryness of the powdered doughnuts. It lubricates her throat as she gets ready to eat her second doughnut.

This one she devours in much the same way as the first. The key difference is that this one is jelly filled, and when she crams it into her mouth, a burst of jelly comes out and strategically runs down her chin and splatters onto her cleavage. She finishes the doughnut and then makes a big show of wiping her chin clean and then using her hands to clean the jelly off her jiggling cleavage before licking it off of her fingers.

More milkshake follows. Its chocolatey nature plays well with the jelly.

The third doughnut is a little tougher. It’s a chocolate frosted that she makes sure to smear her lips and cheeks with so that she can make a further show of licking her lips clean after being a naughty little piglet. But the amount of fried dough that she has already consumed means she is beginning to slow down.

The milkshake doesn’t really help matters at all. She’s beginning to feel its heaviness now as it settles in her stomach which is rapidly growing heavier.

The fourth doughnut is a toasted coconut, chosen to give more stuff to strategically drop into her cleavage as she bites into it. It also encourages her to take smaller bites to give more time for coconut flakes to fall off of the doughnut and onto her breasts. But now she’s stuck wondering if eating slowly is the best idea or if it’s just giving her bloated stomach more time to feel full, maybe she should just power through and cram these in.

That’s what she does with the fifth doughnut, a second chocolate frosted. It’s much easier to cram into her mouth, fluffier than the more dense coconut doughnut. She nearly chokes on it with her enthusiasm, but she manage to get the whole thing down which leaves her with one doughnut and a sizeable amount of milkshake left to go.

It’s back to the milkshake. She’s a little off her rhythm now because she skipped the last round of milkshake in her eagerness to stuff a whole other doughnut in her mouth. Now she has to drink more of the milkshake to catch up. The milkshake is really beginning to weigh down her fat stomach. It lurches forward and sags heavily onto her lap. It is a turgid mass full of dough and dairy. The milkshake is fighting her. It doesn’t want to go down, but she’s determined. She’s not going to fail this first most important live stream. Everything hinges on this.

So she gets the milkshake down to one last gulp and then saves it. It’s time for a stare down with the last doughnut. As she stared at it, she thought about how far she had come, how thin she used to be, and how far she still had to go, how large and fat she was destined to become. As full as she was she was eager to shove this last doughnut into her mouth because she knew all those calories would bring her closer to her goal of being a truly tremendous cow.

The last doughnut is a Boston cream and it has been specifically chosen for this moment, the grand finale of her show. She dangles the doughnut above her head and then begins to strategically squeeze it with both hands, working its cream out until that cream oozes out of the doughnut and plops into her mouth. She sucks it all down and then squeezes the doughnut into the tightest ball she can and pushes the whole thing into her mouth. She chews. And chews. And chews. And swallows. She’s taken the whole thing in like a champ.

Then she picks up the milkshake, kills the last of it in one big gulp, and turns it over like a shot glass in a drinking competition.

She is victorious.

And then she blows a kiss to her subscribers and leaves them wanting more.

[B$fan]

“Immobile”
---------------

You fat pig. Look at you. Just looking at a piece of food is enough to add the pounds onto your pudgy frame.

It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting and you should feel…. Disgusted.

Do you, Piggy? Do you feel how fucking fat you are, with your gigantic doughy belly? It must be so fat that it’s hard to breathe. It just surges out in front of you, this tremendous spare tire, this globular hanging gut over any pants that you try to wear. It always needs to make an appearance. There is no top in the world that will be containing your muffin top. How pitiful it is to have such a huge jiggly pot belly. How embarrassing it must be to be you.

It is humiliating isn’t it, Piggy? You know it. Admit it, Porker. Admit how embarrassing it is to be such a fatso, a real oinker. You’re a nervous sweating mess just thinking about it aren’t you? I can see the hairs standing up on the back of your fat neck as you think about all of this. I can see your whole body tense, well as tense as it can be with all of the thick rolls and folds of flab that you have flapping about. You’re a giant melting marshmallow of fat, a big flabby mess of a human being. You’re less than a human being. I could call you any number of fat ass animal names, piggy, whale, cow, hippo, manatee, but I’m not sure you’re even an animal anymore. Your fat ass is that useless, that helpless. You’re like a big ball of dough, fat useless, shapeless dough, Fat Ass..

And speaking of fat ass, my god. It’s hard to see now because you can’t even get up anymore, but your ass literally fills an entire couch. A couch! Not just a chari or two but any entire fucking couch. That’s pathetic, Lard Ass. You’re beyond a wide load. Your ass is two monstrous pillows for you to sit all day on. It's a shame. You spent a long time not moving that ass much as all, and every time you did move your big fat butt, it would keep moving on its own full of bounce and jiggle with every movement. For awhile those fat flabby ass cheeks of yours had a mind of their own. Before your incredible fattening, that ass of yours used to be so tight, that and your perfectly sculpted abs. You used to be so slim and sexy, so worthy of showing off your tight sexy body. You used to be so proud of your body.

But now you’re just a prodigious fatty. The only thing you have to be proud of is the perverse fact that you somehow managed to eat yourself into this gelatinous tribute to massive obesity and keep on getting fatter by the day. You could show yourself off today at a county fair winning first prize for biggest hog. To think you used to win beauty contests and parade around with ribbons. Just thing of how much fabrice they would have to use to get a ribbon around your fat waist. Disgusting! You shouldn’t be rewarded for becoming such an incredible glutton, though you could certainly win a ton of eating contests. That’s part of how you got this way.

Your fat thunder thighs are so fucking useless. They can’t even carry your fat ass around anymore. You used to be stuck waddling about, but now you can’t even manage that, you pathetic piggy. They're so huge and jiggly. They're like tree trunks that have fallen down never to get back up because you’re never going to get back up, you fat ass pig. Your thunder thighs are somehow gonna grow fatter and fatter just like you, pal squishy flesh pushing together, rolling over your fat knees. The only thing you can do is eat and watch.

No, you can’t even watch your thighs can you, porker? You fucking whale gut is too fucking big. What a shame you’re such a hippo with a huge hippo gut that’s so fucking large it spreads out enough that you can’t even see over it. I hope you’re proud of yourself, you hambeast. You’ll just have to settle for me describing how fat your useless thighs have gotten, tubbo.

And they’ve gotten huge. You used to be so athletic, and now these things are fat and useless. Your gluttony has made them atrophy. They’re pasty jello, cellulite and stretch mark riddled flab just like the rest of you.

You truly are ashamed of yourself, aren’t you? Ashamed and aroused. Disgusting. You naughty piglet, you bad bad hippo. I can see your heavy chest heaving as I tell you what a weak useless pig you are, you cow, you tub of fat lard. You used to be so fit, so hot, so vain. And now you’ve been reduced to this, an immobile blob, a helpless sack of fat. You can’t get enough of this. It’s all you are now, just this ball of what, a giant wad of fat like melted bubblegum, rolls, and folds of fat. That’s all that’s left of you.

Just fat.

And I love it.

--------------------
“Teacher Butt”
—-----------------

She’s got that teacher butt, that big fat teacher butt, the kind of butt that happens when you spend too much of your time sitting behind the desk.

Sit behind your desk and get a big behind. That’s the curse of the teacher butt. Gott keep on standing up if you don’t want to get that big fat teacher butt. And she’s gotten too lazy. She used to be so slim, athletic. She ran. She played sports. She was a social butterfly who loved to party, but she was also the kind of girl who used to have a figure and a metabolism that she always figured she could count on.

She counted wrong.

Too many class parties. Too many cupcakes. Not enough gym time. Not enough movement period. So now that tight body is going to pot. Just look at how fat she’s gotten. She’s gotten fat all over, but it really started down below, and that’s where it’s most noticeable.

She’s got a big butt, a fat butt, but not a round butt. No, her teacher butt is the big and wide kind, soft and weak, squeezable, pliable, jiggly blubber butt. And on days when she dresses a bit more casual, strutting around in her yoga pants, everyone can see just how big, and wide, and soft, and fat it has gotten. It’s a big, spongy, wobbly, out of shape teacher's butt.

Her students love to watch it wobble. Whenever she takes a step it bounces, but not in a cute way. It has a mind of its own, that big fat teacher’s butt is a sloppy, sloshy mess. It wiggles and jiggles at the slightest movement. It’s redundantly soft, and through the too tight yoga pants you can see the marks of the cellulite.

And that fat butt isn’t the end of things. That may have been where the new softness that the former header cheerleader found herself piling on landed. She’s started growing a bit of a belly as well. Those frequent faculty luncheons led to her abs going away. And in their place came a new pudgy paunch with the pounds piling on pound by pudgy pound. She was getting softer. Students were noticing, and so were parents.

And those parents loved it, especially the jealous moms. So she found herself routinely getting gifts and treats- all kinds of delicious chocolatey snacks for her to stuff her face with. And all that gooey goodness meant she has been growing a globular gut.

And that’s where she is now. She’s not exactly the hot teacher anymore. She’s the chubby teacher, the going on fat teacher. And that’s where everyone knows she’s heading. She’s going to keep getting bigger, fatter. She’s doomed to become one of those fat teachers who the students love to taunt and make fun off behind her big back.

She’s the kind of fat teacher the parents love obsessing over, being catty about to make them feel better about themselves. They love watching her go from fit to fat and can’t wait to see her complete the journey from outstanding athlete to obese cow. And it feels like obesity is coming for the former mean girl turned fat teacher far faster than she would like to admit.

That big, fat, squishy, wobbly teacher’s butt is going to get bigger and bigger. That wide load is gonna keep getting wider until she can’t get through doorways without going sideways.

Keep it up, lard ass. You deserve it!

-----------------------------------------
“Getting Fat at Thick Burger”
-----------------------------------------

God, I’m getting so fat. I used to be such a slim hottie. And now…. Now look at this gut! Just look at it. It’s so freaking big and soft. I can feel it whenever I move around. It’s such a heavy, saggy, weight. Whenever I move, it swings itself around, a big jiggling mess announcing its presence. I can’t stop feeling it, squeezing it, prodding it, jiggling it. It’s just so damn pliable and so far from what it used to be.

Look at how fat it’s gotten! How fat I’ve gotten! And you know I wasn’t always this way? Let me tell you about it.

I used to have rocking abs, the kind that you could grate cheese on. I loved to touch that belly too, a flat belly, a tight and muscular one. I loved to rub my hands all over it. Maybe that’s just always been my thing, like an oral fixation except for my own stomach which I guess makes a lot of sense and probably explains a lot.

That and the fact that the food here is somehow just so damn good. But isn’t that how it works? If it’s good it has to be fattening, right? And these burgers come cook with lard and on richly buttered buns, and you can get them with all sorts of toppings, so I of course just have to get bacon and extra cheese. But the lettuce, tomato and onions are healthy, right? Lettuce is technically negative calories! And I always make sure to order mine with avocado because that’s a healthy fat.

This, as I cradle my bloated belly, looking down at this unmistakable lump of pudge- this is not healthy fat. This is useless fat, fat fat, just thick, stodgy, poke it and feel you finger sink in an entire inch of fat.

But the burger- The burger is heaven, mouth water heaven even as the grease drips down my chin and into the crease of my second one. Do you know you can have up to four patties on one burger? A quad burger is to die for, although, of course…. If I’m feeling like an extra naughty piglet, I get a quintuple. They don’t normally do that because legally serving you that much red meat is dubious, but they’ll do it if you’re a regular… and if you ask nicely… and by “ask nicely” I mean oink for them like the piggy you are.

I used to be a cheerleader, the head of my sorority, and I had a few months where I had legitimate modeling gigs lined up. And now I find myself oinking for my burger at least once a week…. On average- or… well… at least, at least once a week, often more. Oink. Oink. That’s me, Miss Ex-Skinny Bitch oinking for her dinner because she can’t get enough of that grease no matter how fat it’s going to make her- no matter how much FATTER it’s going to make ME.

I can’t control myself once I’m around all this food, and when I’m not around this food, I feel an incredible desire to be be around this food, a NEED. I used to be the kind of popular mean girl who made fun of fatties, and now that I am one, I just want to keep stuffing my face with the greasy, fattening food that made me this way. I’m never going to be skinny again. All this delicious food has weighed me down too much. I used to run half marathons and now the thought of even looking at a treadmill makes me break out in cold sweats, as opposed to the meat sweats I get from eating all of this delicious junk. It makes me feel disgusting, but I can’t help myself. I need to keep coming back for more. I can’t waddle away from all this now.

I used to have such athletic legs, but Thick Burger has turned them into thick thunder thighs, pasty tree trunks covered in cellulite. I’m a big waddling pig with wide hips and a big ol’ lard ass. Everything about me used to be too tight, and now everything wobbles. My pert bubble butt is a flabby blubber butt. It used to be something to brag about. Now it’s something to gag about. I’ve got a big blubbery butt. If you spanked it, it would jiggle on its own. I know that’s true. I’ve done it. It’s such a saggy, sloppy mess. I’m such a saggy, sloppy mess.

Skimpy skirts used to be my thing, the perfect way to show off my figure, but now I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those with my gooey thunder thighs rubbing together and my big fat ass hanging out. And of course, jeans are right out too. My blubber butt and thunder thighs have busted the seams of all of my favorites, and my spare tire makes buttoning the front next to impossible. That’s right, all these gut busting meals have made sure my gut busts my buttons. Nope, it’s just the regular fat girl uniform for me, sweatpants stained with my finger prints from all of the greasy food I love to cram into my fat face.

I should be better than this. I should get myself back under control and on a diet or else I’m going to be an obese slob forever. But I can’t help it… just the smell of this food. The food here is everything. Thick Burger is in control now. And me? I’m not a cheerleader anymore. I’ll never be anywhere close to being in that kind of shape again. And eventually, I’ll look back at this fat body of mine and recall this as being thin. I’m going to be an absolute blob, and I can’t help it because I know the simple truth. I’m not a hot girl anymore.

I’m just a pathetic fatty.

------------------------------------
“From Author to Subject”
------------------------------------

“That’s right. Get on all fours for me, Piggy and eat that cake,” Carl barked at his pet with a voice that was filled with both lust and dominance.

Alana did as she was told. She was his now, his pet, his piggy. She was a far cry from the stuck up- confident skinny bitch of a woman that she was when they first met. Back then she had rejected him for being too fat. Now she dwarfed him in size and would do anything to please him, including getting on all fours and eating an entire sheet cake with just her face like the pig that she had become. She enthusiastically shoved her face into the cake, oinking like she knew her master would want.

“That’s right. From hard body to hog. It’s quite the sight. Prom Queen to pig. You deserve this, don’t you?”

Alana could barely pull her greedy face away from the cake.

“Yes. Yes. I deserve this. Oink. Oink. I was such a skinny bitch. I was so mean to fatties. Now I’m the fatty. I’m your fatty, your pathetic pet piggy. I deserve to be treated this way because I’m a naughty little piglet who can’t stop eating. I’m a greedy piggy. No more hard body for me. I’m all blubber! Feed me. Tease me. Degrade me like I used to degrade others. Make me fatter! Fuck your fat, piggy! Oink. Oink. You’re so much better than me, now, and I need you. Please. OinkOinkOink. I’m so horny for you like I always should have been. OinkOinkOinkOink. Fuck your fat fucking piggy!”

Carl got behind his pet pig, grabbed the wide blubbery hips of the once stuck up princess who used to look down on him, and he thrust himself inside her. With each thrust, his own large belly slapped against her plentiful back fat, and her entire obese body shuddered with pleasure and humiliation.

As Carl continued to call her names, Piggy, Cow, Whale, Fatso, and remind her of how far she had fallen, the degradation got to be too much to handle. Alana shoved her face into the cake and moaned deeply as she began to orgasm. Carl kept his pace, and the pleasure crashed over her in waves. It became a consistent cycle of eating, oinking, and orgasming.

“Yeah. They should like that,” Annie thought as she stopped typing and closed her laptop.

“Is it good writing? Who fucking cares? These people will pay me for anything if I put the word piggy in it enough times.”

Annie had been an English major in college and quickly grew bored with the copy editing job she ended up settling for once she realized trying to make it as a serious writer wasn’t panning out, and she found that the work she ended up doing was largely unsatisfying both in the creative sense and the monetary sense. Therefore, after a few months of giving up writing she had gotten back to it and tried out whatever trends she thought she could do quickly enough to turn around some fast cash.

She had completely missed the vampire fiction trend, and her go at young adult dystopian novels was an abject failure. Next, Annie tried to capitalize on the rising demand for Dungeons and Dragons and other tabletop RPG based fantasy products with a series of quick pulp fantasy adventure novels, but, quite frankly, Annie just never really got the genre in the first place, so her sword and sorcery face petered out even faster than her ‘Your real father is secretly a god and also this world is awful because this blatant symbol of capitalism is in charge and only you can change it’ phase.

All this meant that Annie found herself falling back on the old standby that all writers keep in their back pocket and hope they never have to use.

Smut.

She tried writing vanilla shit at first, but the market was too heavily saturated to make any real impact. Annie read you could make a surprising amount of money writing hot lady fucks dinosaur porn, but then she decided that that was perhaps a bridge too far for her. No. She needed a trend that had a dedicated enough fan base but wasn’t too overly saturated with writers so she could still carve out something for herself.

And that’s what led her to fat fiction.

Annie took to writing weight gain stories with a fervor. And to separate herself a bit more, she didn’t just write any weight gain stories. Her specialty was in degradation, the hot girl turned pig type of genre. She loved to get mean. It was easy to start, she’d just take the names of some of the prettier and more popular girls from her high school and college days and enjoy the idea of these pretty, petty bitches getting super fat and having them get aroused by being called pigs.

At first, Annie had a clear rule. Like any good drug dealer, she didn’t get high off her own supply. She simply wrote stories about abs turning to flab, and tight asses becoming blubber butts. She published some quick e-books. She started picking up commission work, and she used that commission work to fill her patreon with content to attract more patrons. It was a pretty steady cycle with hopeful monetary growth.

But as her work output grew, and the money she was making grew, so did her own desires. She couldn’t help but be turned on by what it was she was writing, and by all of the other stuff that she was reading in the name of research. She had always been a rather trim woman, someone who had been trained her whole life to consider fat people as weak, lazy, ugly, people to be looked down upon. And she admitted to having said her fair share of unkind words. But she began to wonder… what would it be like to live life like one of her characters? To just let it all go and do whatever she wanted? Eat whatever she wanted?

What if she just did it?

What would it be like to truly take control by choosing to give it all up, to find strength by allowing oneself to be degraded, humiliated. She wanted just a taste of what that might actually look like.

And then she met Mike.

Mike was one of her avid readers, and after a long period of talking online, they eventually decided to meet. Mike was a handsome fellow, trim and attractive, and eager to feed Annie. And Annie was eager to be fed. With Mike at her side, Annie ate and ate and ate. If there was an indulgence she could think of, Mike was there to indulge her in it. They engaged in every roleplay scenario Annie could come up with, and soon went about taking many of them a fair few steps farther into reality.

With all the food, before, during, and after sex, and all the lounging around she did when she wasn’t engaging in bedroom antics, Annie began to put on weight at an astounding rate. She went from thin, to chubby to fat very quickly, but she made sure she took enough time to properly monetize her own journey. She took pictures and videos as her life became its own story. She sold it all right alongside her fiction pieces, and she became more popular than ever. People loved to call her all sorts of names online, and Annie loved to hear it.

As for Mike, well, all of Annie’s eating began to rub off on him as well, and soon his abs had turned into a dedicated pot belly and his well chiseled pecs became flabby man boobs. He had gone from a stereotypical hot guy to a chunky fat boy with a gut and moobs and a fat flabby ass, and Annie couldn’t have been happier because it meant that they were finally able to reenact the favorite scene Annie had ever written.

“That’s right. Get on all fours for me, Piggy and eat that cake,” Mike barked at his pet with a voice that was filled with both lust and dominance.

Annie shivered with the thrill of being told what to do, of knowing that this was the life she had chosen for herself. She had willingly become the subject of her own story, a fat pig to be controlled and humiliated by others. She was free of anything other than what she wanted to do. All her smut, all of own degradation, paid for everything she would ever need, and she was happy.

“I said eat you fat fucking pig, you useless sack of lard. All you’re good for now is eating, and fucking, so eat, piggy. EAT!” Mike commanded.

Alana smiled and did as she was told. She was his now, his pet, his piggy. She was a far cry from the stuck up- confident skinny woman that she used to be. Now she dwarfed her fat boyfriend in size and would do anything to please him, including getting on all fours and eating an entire sheet cake with just her face like the pig that she had become. She enthusiastically shoved her face into the cake, oinking like she knew her master would want.

“That’s right. From hard body to hog. It’s quite the sight. Prom Queen to pig. You deserve this, don’t you?”

Annie could barely pull her greedy face away from the cake. Its taste was incredible, and her hunger was second only to her desire to degrade herself further.

“Yes. Yes. I deserve this. Oink. Oink. I was such a skinny bitch. I was so mean to fatties. Now I’m the fatty. I’m your fatty, your pathetic pet piggy. I deserve to be treated this way because I’m a naughty little piglet who can’t stop eating. I’m a greedy piggy. No more hard body for me. I’m all blubber! Feed me. Tease me. Degrade me like I used to degrade others. Make me fatter! Fuck your fat, piggy! Oink. Oink. You’re so much better than me, now, and I need you. Please. OinkOinkOink. I’m so horny for you like I always should have been. OinkOinkOinkOink. Fuck your fat fucking piggy!”

Mike got behind his pet pig, grabbed the wide blubbery hips of the once stuck up princess who used to look down on him, and he thrust himself inside her. With each thrust, his own large belly slapped against her plentiful back fat, and her entire obese body shuddered with pleasure and humiliation. She loved feeling Mike’s fat gut and thinking about how it used to be washboard abs. She was happy that she had destroyed him too so that there was no way he would cheat on her. No woman would want his fat flabby body now. The former ladies’ man was all her. He would be her master and she would be his big fat pet piggy forever.

As Mike continued to call her names, Piggy, Cow, Whale, Fatso, and remind her of how far she had fallen, the degradation got to be too much to handle. Annie shoved her face into the cake and moaned deeply as she began to orgasm. Mike kept his pace, and the pleasure crashed over her in waves. It became a consistent cycle of eating, oinking, and orgasming.

Eventually the two collapsed and lay there entangled in fat and food and bliss, and Annie sucked cake from her fingers and thought about how wildly happy she was. Then she pressed the stop recording button and dreamed about uploading her latest video to her website.

She was her own best selling story.

------------------------------
“What If?” Part 12
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What if she doesn’t want to stop?

These feeding sessions are getting extra intense, not just the ones she does on live stream, but the ones she does with her knew feeder boyfriend. He’s so loyal. So kind. So cute. He started out as a fan and then became so much more.

Now he loves to feed her, tease her, and play with her. And she loves it all too, especially the feedings- the stuffings is what they are. She is always stuffed until she feels like she can’t move and it is pure unadulterated bliss.

Her stomach is getting bigger. It’s been a generous potbelly for a while now, but with each feeding it gets stretched further. All the eating that she does ensures that her belly is pretty much always bloated and has become the predominant feature of her fat body. It is a spongy gut that sags and bounces whenever she walks. It leads the way as she enters any room, and it loudly announces itself, peeking out from any shirt that she tries to wear, either under the fabric or through gaps in the buttons. It is flabby flesh that jiggles at the slightest movement and consistently begs for two things: More food and belly rubs.

The belly rubs really help out. With all the food she consumes, she needs to be rubbed down to make more room in time for whatever video it is that she’s going to shoot. And it just feels so good, to have her flabby flesh touch, caressed, squeezed, patted, prodded, jiggled, anything. She loves it when her feeder whispers in her ear and calls her names, tells her what a naughty piglet she is, reminds her of how thin she used to be and how fat and out of shape she is now.

And she is getting very out of shape. She can still dance, but it’s not for nearly as long as she used to when she first started her live streams. And all the added fat, the fuller belly, thicker thighs, wider hips, all of that excess flab has made her movements more clumsy and awkward. She doesn’t have the same dancers grace she did when she started and was chubby to borderline fat and not knocking on the door of full blown obesity. She makes up for it though with the sheer amount of movement. Her stomach sloshes, her thick thighs quiver, her as bounces as her wide hips sway. Everything moves – often to a rhythm, and it is always hypnotic. Her dance sessions are still one of her biggest money makers even if they don’t last as long as they used to because she’s getting winded sooner.

That’s the problem. That’s why she’s worried that she might have to stop eating so much. She’s all for gaining more weight. She has no delusions about being a slim hottie again. No. She knows she’s a big fat piggy for the rest of her life. But how fat is she going to get, and – more importantly – how long is she going to take to get there? She wants to be able to milk as much content out of what she does as possible which means that she wants to keep her gain steady but slower so that she can draw out her dancing, draw out the kinds of play that she does, draw out the amount of food that she’s eating so that she doesn’t hit a major plateau and get stuck there for too long.

So she might have to cut back on the extra curricular feedings and keep all of her big stuffing moments till she’s on camera?

But then what will her boyfriend think? How can she please him?

She wants to please him. She wants to make him feel good. Making him feel good makes her feel good, and she wants them both to be in that forever state of bliss, entangled together, flesh on flesh. She wants to feel his arms around her, his touch as she squeezes and plays with her weighty fat in his hands. She wants to be fed by him because that’s what arouses her the most, especially because she knows that’s what arouses him the most.

So if she has to cut back on the extracurricular feeding sessions, at least a little bit. Than she’s going to have to figure out something special to do for him instead.

What might that be?

(To be continued)

[B$fan]

“Big Sister”
---------------------

Cindy was a snobby sorority sister, the classic stereotype. She was a hard bodied hottie with a trim waist and pert bubble butt, toned legs and perky breasts. She was the kind of prim and proper princess who had come to college used to being the prettiest and most popular woman she knew. She had been head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and prom queen. She joined her sorority and wasted no time in angling her way into power.

She was also one of those southern California sorority girls who loved to flaunt her tight bikini body all year long. One of her favorite things to do was get people drooling as she pulled her lithe body out of the pool. Cindy loved to show off her perky, perfect butt in the tiniest of bikinis. She was a tanned and toned goddess, the envy and desire of all.

Well, some of Cindy’s littles began to find Cindy’s vanity and arrogance to be incredibly irritating, and they grew jealous of her ability to get the attention of anyone she wanted, so they decided to put an end to Cindy’s reign of dominance by putting an end to Cindy’s slim and sexy body.

And their plan started with feeding Cindy’s ego. There were lots of compliments, and an endless array of them. And there were plenty of remarks about how jealous they were of Cindy’s looks, her slim figure, and her ability to eat whatever she wanted without gaining a pound. They pushed Cindy’s popularity and kept her as the center point of as many parties as possible. And once the feeding of her ego went as far as they could take it, that’s when they took their plan to the next stage, feeding her stomach.

The parties became the perfect place to fill Cindy with heavy beer and cocktails, and once she was good and liquored up, it was easier to ply her with food. And when she was inevitably hungover the next day? Lots more food to make her feel better. Then, because people were just nice and Cindy was just so deserving of them, she was given gifts all the time, baskets and baskets of junk food to snack on, and because she was convinced that she could stuff her face as much as she wanted without gaining weight, stuffing her face was exactly what she did.

And all that eating eventually had the desired effect, not one that Cindy would have wanted of course, but it was exactly what her rivals wanted. Soon, Cindy was getting fat. The party pounds were piling on, and all that junk food was leading to some serious junk in Cindy’s trunk.

The first thing to cave on Cindy was her abs which became to cave outward into a soft and spongy pot belly. Her doughy gut jiggled with each step, and it would have made buttoning her jeans difficult if her sorority sisters didn’t keep strategically swapping them out for secretly larger sizes. And any that they didn’t get in time, well the wash had obviously shrunk them, worn out the bottoms enough to make the rip.

That was the next thing that grew big and fat, Cindy’s bottom. Her perky butt ballooned into a blubbery mess, covered in cellulite. It looked ridiculous in the string bikinis that Cindy still insisted on parading around in. Her chunky rear wobbled up and down and attracted equal parts stares and snickers. But everyone was careful not to insult Cindy to her face lest she catch wise to what was going on. They wanted to keep her fattening as much of a secret as possible until there would be nothing Cindy could do anymore.

So Cindy kept plumping up. Her clothes kept getting tighter and replaced. And people kept noticing but not saying anything. It was a dangerous cycle with devastating effects on Cindy’s waistline. Her beer belly became a full blown beer gut, a turgid mass of jiggly fat filled constantly with alcohol and snacks. It was a permanent bloated food baby that poured over the waistbands of all of her pants and spilled out from under all of her shirts. It made every t-shirt an unflattering crop top, and while her breasts also got bigger, her belly outpaced them by far and drew any attention away from her bigger but softer and saggier breasts.

Her belly would spill onto her fat lap when she sat down. This lap was so fat because of the thick, wobbling thunder thighs she grew from all of her partying, grazing, and gorging. Her thighs grew fat, and when she sat they spread out like big lumps of melting butter and pressed together. They were starting to press together even when she was standing, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Cindy would have to start waddling around.

Her chunky caboose followed suit, becoming even bigger lumps of fat that wobbled about with a mind of their own. Her flabby ass cheeks could barely be contained in anything that she wore, let alone her precious bikinis.

And it was one of those bikinis that led to Cindy’s ultimate downfall.

At a pool party, drunk Cindy went on one of her tirades about several of the girls that were there, and, silently but unanimously, everyone at that party that had been a part of fattening up Cindy decided that this was the time to bring the fat girl back down to reality. The comments flew! There was oinking! Mooing! Cindy the Cow became a very popular nickname. And there was so much pinching, and prodding, and poking.

Cindy couldn’t escape it. She was surrounded by humiliation. Every taunt she had ever thrown, every gesture, every cruel judgemental act she had ever engaged in, it was all paid back to her in that moment. And, as someone shoved a delicious piece of cake in Cindy’s mouth while oinking at her, Cindy stepped just the right way to get her bikini bottoms to burst and elicited another loud round of laughter that last for far longer than Cindy would have liked. She was detained from getting her fat ass inside until everyone who wanted to got a good look at what her formerly perfectly pert butt had turned into, a bloated, blubbery, cellulite covered mess.

Cindy didn’t wear bikinis after that. She didn’t wear much in the way of fashionable things. Once her sisters stopped swapping out her clothes, Cindy settled into a life of sweatpants. See, Cindy’s weight kept climbing as she became an emotional overeater. She became something of her sorority’s pet pig, a party trick people enjoyed pulling out the make fun of. As she became more of a recluse, her tan skin became pale, and she turned into a total fat loser.

That’s how she is nowadays, a big fat loser. She works a menial office job. Her once promising future is gone, and she’s just another stereotypical fat secretary, the butt of plenty of office humor because of her big flabby butt. And that’s all she’ll ever be, a big fat fatty forever.

A lot of the women in her office, women Cindy would have felt superior to and looked down upon in the past don’t even call her by her name. They just call her Fatso.

Cindy still looks at old pictures of herself, and she finds it hard to believe she was ever so smoking hot. As she cradles her pale, fat, gut in her hands, she misses the tan abs that used to be there, but she knows that the fat girl she is now is a result of her own mistakes, her greed, her laziness, and mostly her arrogance. She has been crushed by the weight of her own vanity and is stuck with her obese frame, Fatso forevermore.

-------------------------
“Hunk to Chunk”
-------------------------

Look at him. He used to be so hot, a real ladies man you know? He used to be a playboy, a player, a cheat. Well, now his options are far more limited. He used to have his pick of women, now it’s just his pick of wing sauces.

Look at that fat face, that stupid, doughy, double chinned face. He used to have a model quality face. His whole body used to be model quality. He looked like he was chiseled out of granite. Now he looks like he’s been molded out of Playdough. He was an arrogant jock, a hardbodied bully. And now he’s just a doughy fat boy, a chunky, chubby, lumpy, fatty, a fat boy through and through.

Look at fat boy eat. He really knows how to stuff his face. Back when he was an athlete he used to eat plenty, but back then his arrogant ass would work those calories off, but now that ass is just sitting down and getting fatter by the day. It’s good for nothing but splitting pants. Fat boy here has definitely ruined more than a few jeans from his chunky butt bursting out of them.

He really has gone from hunky to chunky, the guy everyone admired to the fat loser everyone makes fun of. It’s the perfect karma for a guy who used to love to flaunt his body and taunt others, even to the point of physically bullying them. He used to make so many people’s lives a living hell, and now what goes around comes around and makes him round, very very round. He is a real porker, an absolute pig who can’t stop stuffing his fat face. The fatter he gets, the more food he needs. His weight gain and the rejection he faces because of it makes him sad, and his sadness makes him eat, and it’s a vicious cycle that has turned him from an arrogant playboy to a fat pathetic loser.

His mighty muscles have gotten puny, replaced by layers and layers of fat. He used to be tight and trim. Now he is fat and flabby, a saggy collection of folds and rolls, a well-fed hog of a man, a full blown oinker. He is known by many nicknames: Piggy, Porker, Oinker, Fatso, Tubby, Fatty, Pumba, Fat Boy. And he’s more than earned them all.

He used to have abs, cheese grating abs, abs that he loved to flaunt in front of everyone. They were the kind of abs that he would arrogantly shoehorn into any conversation he could. Well, now he’s got a flabby gut, a big beer belly, a pot belly so large that it also likes to interject itself into conversations, either through loud rumbling to signal his piggish hunger or peeking out from under his shirts so that everybody can see the his stretch mark covered spare tire. His abs were his favorite feature. Now his gut is his greatest source of embarrassment.

But it’s not his only source of embarrassment. He used to have tight pectoral muscles, a well sculpted chest, and now look at him. He’s got big bitch tits, jiggly moobs. Thos big saggy moobies swell out and fill his shirts embarrassingly. He looks like he might need to consider a bra for his man boobs. They’re soft and saggy and sad just like the rest of him.

His thighs used to be athletic, but now he’s bloated with heavy tree trunk legs and a blubber butt with two plump cheeks that people love to tease him about. He is an embarrassingly flabby fatty.

His reign as king is over. He’s a fat loser from now on, and everyone else gets to revel in his downfall.

------------------------
“What If” Part 13
------------------------

What if she hits 300 pounds?

That’s quite the number, quite the LARGE number, an impossibly large number that she had never considered before. Before she went on her gaining journey, long before she accepted that that’s what she was doing, she was just one hundred and ten pounds, and hitting three hundred pounds would mean that she would be almost two hundred pounds heavier than when she was a slim and sexy hottie.

And if she can reach three hundred… what’s another ten pounds? Ten more pounds would make her a full two hundred pounds heavier. And then another ten pounds on top of that? She would be three hundred and twenty pounds, and if she reached three hundred and twenty pounds, she would officially be twice the woman that she used to be.

She wondered what that would look like, being so hugely obese that there would be enough of her to make two of her.

She would have a huge spare tire, a rumbling ever hungry gut. It would be so big that it wouldn’t even be a single rolling ball of fat. It would be a big, soft, jiggling double belly, a segmented fatty mush, a huge amount of turgid fat hanging over her pants and working its way down toward her knees. And she could see herself eventually growing a big fat sagging belly that does reach down to her knees, a sloshing mass of gelatinous fat. She used to have a sexy six pack, abs that made people jealous, and she’s been growing this belly fatter and fatter, and it’s a truly bulbous blubbery thing.

Speaking of blubbery things. Her ass cheeks have already grown from being tight and perky to being a full on blubber butt. They would be massive mounds of quivering flesh, pants straining- and bursting- ball of blubber. She can easily imagine her flabby butt cheeks spilling over chairs, breaking chairs. She can see herself eventually growing so large that her incredibly fat ass takes up an entire sofa.

At 300 pounds, her thighs would be touching down almost to her knees. She would have quivering thunder thighs, full of soft wobbling flesh that rolls over her knees. She would never be able to go anywhere without waddling about. She used to have a strut like a model. She used to be able to run marathons and do back handsprings as a cheerleader. Now she’s a fat waddling piggy who gets winded walking from the couch to the kitchen, and it’s only going to get worse.

She knows that she’s so far past the point of no return. She’s going to keep stuffing her face endlessly and outgrowing all of her clothes. Luckily, her streaming work is doing well enough, and she gets plenty of donations from her fans to pay for her immense food budget and her new clothes, and that’s why she knows that she’s doomed to get fatter. They’re enabling the inevitable.

Three hundred pounds?

It was a number that seemed to be impossible for so long. And now it seems like it’s just a new beginning. And it thrills her. It drives her to eat more, to see how much she can cram into her face. She wants to stuff herself more and more so she can grow more and more, faster and faster.

Four hundred pounds?

Five hundred?

How big will she get?

How big can she get?

(To be continued)

[B$fan]

“Stuck Up Snob to Desperate Hog”
-----------------------------------------------------

Nicole thought Darren was a fat disgusting pig, and when she was thin she would always reject and humiliate him. She loved making fun of Darren. She loved taunting him with her slim and sexy body and then making him feel inferior. Nicole knew that Darren was a fat loser, and she was sure to remind him of what a fat loser he was.

Of course, now that Nicole was a fat loser, Darren was her best dating option, and she was stuck with him.

Nicole used to be the hottest girl in high school. Then she was the hottest girl in college. She went from being the head cheerleader and prom queen at her school to being the president of her sorority. She had climbed to the top of the mountain and used her tremendous position to look down on others.

Along the way Darren seemed to follow her around like a fat sweaty puppy. He was the nerd she got to do her homework in high school. He was the loser who worked part time in the school dining hall in college. He was seemingly always around her periphery which made him a frequent target of her insults when she wasn’t also ordering around because it was so easy to get him to do stuff for her even though she clearly wasn’t interested in him. She loved dominating people thanks to her incredibly hot body and undeniable confidence and charisma, and Darren was no exception.

And then Nicole went on a tropical vacation where she either contracted some sort of disease or insulted a local who put a curse on her. The jury was still out. The point is that Nicole came back from that vacation in a hunger filled haze, and she went from being a prim and proper woman with an eye toward the glamorous to being a junk food addicted slob.

Nicole began to stuff her face with reckless abandon much to the horror and or chagrin of her friends. Many tried to help her break her addiction to fatty, salty, garbage quality food, but many others embraced Nicole’s changes and were eager to see her consume more and more in a delicious taste of schadenfreude. They reveled in Nicole’s downfall as her desire to consume consumed her.

Nicole was always the kind of person who was a picky eater. The one thing she liked to indulge in was an array of salads, but even then she never filled them with less healthy options like bacon or large amounts of cheese. Now? Forget salads! She was eating lots and lots of cheese alright, but it was stacked high on burgers and pizza. She was turning into a slob as she stuffed her face with whatever she was presented with. Beer turned her shredded abs into a jiggle beer gut. At every party, she appeared plumper. Nicole was porking out in front of everyone, and everyone loved it. Her arrogance made her blind, and her piggish, greedy nature soon turned her from sorority princess to a big fat pig.

She grew a big fat ass, and at first that got her even more attention, but as it grew and grew it quickly became too much ass too much to handle. Her blubbery butt had too massive jiggly mounds that frequently split her pants to reveal her overtaxed undies and her cellulite covered cheeks. Her thunder thighs with their saggy saddlebags were natural companions as they began to constantly rub together. Nicole’s confident strut was turned into a slow, awkward waddle, and her hoggish hips frequently knocked drinks off of tables.

As Nicole’s weight soared, people around her grew bolder with their taunts, and a favorite punishment for her party fouls was to make her oink while her belly fat was pinched and poked. People loved to watch Nicole’s face flush bright pink with embarrassment as she was brought low with humiliation time and time again. They liked to laugh and tell her how it made her look even more piggish.

That piggishness eventually cost her her presidency and her spot in her sorority. Her sisters could put up with her weight gain, but it was the reckless abandon with which she ate and the way she had become such a complete slob that gave the sorority such a poor look that it was decided that the hog needed the old heave ho out the door while her hips could still fit through it.

With the pounds still packing on and the rejections and humiliations piling up, Nicole turned to the only loyal friend she had left, food. She became an emotional overeater which is to say that she over-ate all of the time. She was constantly seen with a snack in her hands which often elicited plenty of catty comments that drove her to eat her snacks even faster and with more volume which meant her own volume was increasing as she continued to put on more weight at an even faster rate.

And after college, things got even worse for the hottie turned hog. Nicole’s fall from grace had shattered her confidence, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty’s fat ass back together again. With her formerly inflated ego irreparably damaged because of the humiliation that came with her inflated size, Nicole found her once promising future slipping through her fat fingers. She couldn’t get a grip on any kind of good job, and she struggled to keep the menial ones she could find. She briefly got a job at Thick Burger, but her eating habits and poor work ethic ended up getting her fired. It was yet another bottom in a seemingly endless line of them.

Getting fired from Thick Burger didn’t stop her from going there. If anything it made her want to go there more to stuff her face with the food she found to be so incredibly irresistible and yet so incredibly fattening. This of course made her own bottom grow wider, fatter, more shelf-like. And what little savings she had were being swallowed up by the bills for the food she was stuffing her fat face with.

Now she’s such a fat hog, desperate for any kind of positive attention that she’s shacking up with Darren. She’s realized that that fat slob is the best she’s ever going to do now that she’s gone and ruined her figure. She went crawling back to him, practically throwing herself at him once he paid her any kind of mind.

He loves it, loves the attention, loves how far Nicole has fallen. He loves that the cheerleader who used to make fun of him is now the fat slut that absolutely worships him. He loves it when he makes her talk about how hot his fat, greasy body is. He loves feeling the weight of his big belly fat belly on her head as she goes down on him. She makes him feel like a king, and she is his pathetic pet piggy.

Nicole knows this. She’s reminded of it all the time. In fact, “Pet Piggy” is tattoo on her flabby butt cheeks along with a picture of Porky Pig. She has another tattoo on her flabby bicep of a fat greedy hog with its mouth wide open and slop spilling out. On the tops of her fat saggy breasts she’s been tattooed with the words “Oink. Oink,” and she wears a fake gold necklace that says “Hog” on it. Nicole frequently wears ill-fitting outfits with pig theming on it. She’ll wear anything Darren insists on her wearing. One of his favorite things for her to wear is a pair of pink track pants that have the word “Piggy” written across the back, and they look ready to burst any day now.

She’ll do anything Darren asks including going out and stuffing her face in public. She can often be seen at places like Thick Burger scarfing down junk food, absolutely stuffing her fat gut until she’s almost too full to move and yet finding room for more. Darren loves to put her out there in places where she will be seen by her old friends or by people she used to make fun of so that she is constantly humiliated over and over and over again for turning herself into a fat, sloppy hog who is destined to get fatter because she can’t stop stuffing herself.

Nicole is a broken woman, fat and flabby and so used to a life of humiliation that she has turned her degradation into a cause of her arousal. Lust at her own downfall is her fat body’s natural defense mechanism to deal with the ruin that she has brought upon herself. If she’s going to be a big fat piggish loser who suffers through daily humiliation as a kind of cosmic karmic revenge, she might as well get off on it.

Darren’s going have Nicole making videos next. There are plenty of people who will pay to see the princess turned pig pork up even more. The story of her going from hottie to hog, a babe with a tight ass to a blown up fatty with a blubber butt should pull in the big bucks.

Nicole’s humiliating future is bright.

She has all the makings of a real cash cow.

--------------------------------
“Playing Pretend”
--------------------------------

She likes to pretend that she hasn’t gained weight, that her stomach isn’t a fat sloshy mess, that her pants aren’t ripping because her ass has completely ballooned. She’s completely stuck in denial about what she has become and what she is still becoming, a fat girl who is getting fatter.

She likes to pretend that she’s still the slim and sexy hottie that she’s used to being. That’s why she keeps insisting on wearing clothes that have stopped fitting her ages ago. She has convinced herself that they still fit fine and that she still looks amazing in them. Or, if they rip or the button pops off, she pretends that it’s because they are old or they’ve shrunken. She always gets annoyed at the pants. It’s never her problem. She can never get upset with herself. She’s slim and sexy and perfect. That’s the arrogance that has distorted her reality.

And that reality is a fat one.

She’s a plump little piggy now, a tubby ball of lard with big tits and an even bigger ass. Her massive mammaries up front rest atop what will soon be an undeniable mountain of a belly. And behind her are two heavy jiggly counterweights in blubbery butt cheeks covered in cellulite that wobble with every single lumbering step she takes. Those steps are slowed by the outrageous swaying motion of her terrifically thick thunder thighs which rub together hard enough to make starting a fire a not entirely outrageous concern. She certainly helps keep the baby powder industry in the black, and yet she still insists her playing pretend and acting like she’s just deliciously thicc and not a full-on cow.

She still has the nerve to make fun of fat people despite her own obvious figure issues. She still loves to look down on others to taunt them and tease them. Although her barbs have less of their desired effect now that it’s clear she’s full of hot air and belly fat, she insists on doubling down, deflecting from her own imperfections and insecurities by focusing on those of others. Never mind that she regularly calls people whom she is fatter than pigs, that’s all part of playing pretend.

It’s amazing how far her denial is able to stretch, somehow farther than her pants which is saying something, especially since even her hands have gotten fat. Her previously slim hands host to delicate piano fingers are now chubby, greedy, greasy mitts with thick sausage fingers stained by the junk food that she constantly binges on.

She likes to pretend she eats healthy food because she loves avocado. It’s a good fat! And she loves to lounge about feeding herself grapes like she’s a rubenesque Roman empress. However, the chocolate covered strawberries that she favors are still covered in chocolate, and avocados don’t mean much when you pair them with bacon and slap them on a greasy burger or on slabs of toast with goat cheese and fried eggs. And that’s not to say anything about the chips and cookies, and Cheetos. If it’s deep fried, if it’s loaded with sugar, and/ or if it is smother in cheese, it is a particular favorite of hers. She is a junk food junkie, constantly stuffing her fat face with anything greasy and fattening, or sweet and fattening, or insert food descriptor of your choice and fattening. If it’s fattening it’s been a part of fattening her up.

And that’s why pretend time is getting ready to come to an end.

Because soon just the right button is going to burst. Too many pants will have been split to deny how fat she is getting. She may even ride her denial all the way up to the point of her breaking a chair, but reality is going to come smacking her in the face soon. And when she does it’s going to be harsh.

Once the illusion is broken, all of the catty bitches who have been talking shit about her behind her back will pounce. And all the people she used to make fun of are going to line up to get their revenge, to pinch and prod and taunt her. She’s going to have to get used to the one being called piggy. She should start practicing her oink. It’s going to be hell for the vain vixen who will still be the center of attention but for all the wrong reasons. They’re going to be teasing and taunting her until she waddles off squealing “wee wee wee” all the way home.

Soon. It will all happen soon. Fatty is gonna learn the hard way that karma is a bitch.

Playtime’s over, piggy. Oink. Oink.

-------------------------------------
“Yummy Yoga Instructor”
-------------------------------------

She was the yummy yoga instructor, the one that made everyone jealous with her hot body as she led a bunch of people who were far less fit than her through a series of stretches, some more challenging than others. She was a role model to many and the object of desire for many more. She wasn’t mean about it. She did her best to never look down on or demean others, and she was a universally loved and respected yoga instructor because of her skill and her demeanor governed by patience, kindness, and positive energy.

But the thing is she also had a secret.

She is a foodie. Outside of class she loves to indulge herself in all sorts of decadent delights, and she’s secretly a real junkfood junkie, a closested snack sneaker, a naughty little piglet. And all of those sneaky snacks have led to some not so sneaky pounds piling themselves onto her previously petite frame. That’s how she’s gotten where she is today.

She has porked up.

If she wasn’t in front of the class and leading it, a passerby would never think she was an instructor. They would think she was a chubby girl taking class to try and lose some stubborn pounds, some pesky pudge.

Her butt has gotten broad. It is soft and spongy, a squishy cushion for her to sit on, and it comically stretches her leggings. She’s quite self conscious about it whenever she has to do any poses that require her to demonstrate them with her chunky cheeks pointed toward her students. She can sense them chuckling behind her blubbery backside. Her ass used to be so tight and perfectly perky, and that’s part of why it’s so embarrassing to have it become this loose saggy mess, a set of jiggly cellulite covered cheeks. She’s wary about bending down because she knows it draws attention.

Her ass has always drawn attention, but not in this way. Sometimes she used to hate the stares because she felt like she was being objectified. Sometimes she played into them because it made her feel good about herself and brightened her mood. But now, anytime someone stares at her fat flabby ass, she worries that they’re judging her, questioning her ability as a yoga instructor. Who would want to work with a yoga instructor that can’t keep herself in shape, someone with a big booty and ballooned as hers as become. And it’s not just her bloated butt that’s her only problem area.

Her thighs have gotten thick, but her muscles haven’t gotten any stronger. If anything she finds herself struggling to hold some of the poses for as long as she used to. She’s still pretty flexible with her legs, but now when she flexes her flesh wobbles. Her thunder thighs are the real deal. She is cursed with spongy saddle bags, and her thighs are chubby things that jiggle as she moves. They are quivering limbs filled with fat that is threatening to rub together. She’s had to subtly adjust and widen her stances to keep her thighs from touching. It’s a sensation she loathes the idea of feeling, and yet she fears that the day will come where she won’t be able to escape it anymore, the day when her thighs will touch and refuse to be apart, the day she’ll stop walking and start waddling. The idea of it ties her stomach in knots.

Speaking of stomach, hers has gotten a noticeable bulge to it. She used to have a very slim and trim waist but no more. Her tiny middle has been replaced with a muffin top and a tubby pot belly. She used to regularly hold class in just yoga pants and a sports bra, but no more. She couldn’t bear the idea of exposing the flabby flesh of her sloppy spare tire to her class. Her little gut often gets in the way of some of the poses she’s doing, and her love handles love to strain the sides of the leotards she’s forced to squeeze herself into. When she moves her belly moves. It swings and jiggles and bounces and throws off her balance. It is the most annoying part of her workday and the thing she is consistently self conscious about. She’s heard numerous people whispering rumors about her being pregnant only to laugh at her pot belly once they realize that she’s really just let herself go and gotten chubby. She used to have pride in her slim abdomen, but now she’s just another pudgy porker with a paunch.

It’s not all bad news though. Her breasts have given her a bit of a confidence boost as the previously petite pair has grown considerably. However their perkiness has been lost and their size and their sagginess pose their own problems when she poses even in the best of sports bras.

The fortunate thing is that her yoga instruction business is booming. Despite all the pounds that she has packed on, her clientele base has grown. It is largely to do with the fact that even when she was thin she was always so friendly and helpful to all of her clients, even the larger ones. And even though she’s now bigger than some of those clients who have since lost weight, they still love her. Now she is poised to be, not just a piggy, but a beacon of body positivity. If her fat ass can do it, so can they!

And sure, she’s lost most of her snootier clients, and she still faces lots of rude comments and laughter, judgmental stares and sneers, and an extraordinary amount of self doubt that wasn’t there before the fat found its way onto her previously thin body, but things are looking up as she makes more money than ever.

And the increase in profit is important because her food bills keep consistently increasing too which means the end of her weight gain is nowhere in sight.

------------------------------
“What If” (Part 14)
------------------------------

What if she can’t stop growing?

Getting to three hundred pounds really was a breeze, and getting passed four hundred seemed to come and go even faster. It seemed like she just needed to look at food to put on weight, and between her feeder boyfriend and her wealth of online subscribers through a variety of sources, she was looking at a lot of food these days.

Her boyfriend was insatiable in every way, in the bedroom and in the kitchen and the two often met. Their bedroom play always involved huge amounts of food, sometimes almost full meals, and that was saying something especially when those almost full meals came so close behind actual full meals.

And meals were also mostly sent to her by her online feeders, so she had to eat all of those. It was free food plus money to stuff her face with it. Her entire career at this point revolved around the idea that she would be able to fill herself with whatever people presented her to eat, and she was expected to be good piggy and eat it all while recording herself and oinking as she did so. So she had no choice but to keep herself constantly eating beyond the measure of a pro-athlete with absolutely none of the workout that goes with it. The only form of exercise she got was from lifting food to her face or performing in the bedroom, but even that got less and less as she ended up being a much more passive performer. At her weight she just couldn’t do the things she used to do when she was three hundred pounds.

When she was a mere three hundred pounds she could still dance.

That was an embarrassing thought, to realize that she had blown herself up so much, gotten so fat, that she realized she was beginning to think of being three hundred pounds as her thin days.

She used to be one fifteen! She was a cheerleader!

And now she missed being a three hundred pound fatty because at least she was thin enough to dance.

She got one the scale again to check her weight and needed her feeder to read the number out loud for her because she couldn’t see it over the expanses that were her massive breasts and even bigger belly. She had wanted to get one of those scales that read the number out loud for you, but her feeder insisted on keeping this one. Her helplessness added to the arousal, and the scale also had a five hundred pound limit, so the idea was to keep it until she broke it which she had to admit with a shiver seemed inevitable. Then she would have to move on to something a bit more industrial.

Four hundred and thirty-six pounds.

That’s what the scale read. That’s what her feeder proudly announced as he needed both hands to shake her tremendous double belly.

She used to be one fifteen.

In order to even get back down to three hundred pounds, she would need to lose an entire her and it still wouldn’t be enough. Four hundred and thirty-six blubbery pounds meant if she went on a diet and lost half her current weight, she would still be almost double her starting weight at two hundred and eighteen pounds. To be a lithe almost two hundred pounds again! What an impossible number. She was far closer to quadrupling her starting weight. She did some more math in her head, managing her money had made her good at figures even if she wasn’t good at managing her figure.

To be quintuple - five times - her starting weight, she would need to be five hundred and seventy-five blubbery pounds. The difference between that weight and her current weight was only one hundred and thirty nine pounds. When she was one hundred and thirty nine pounds she was just starting to lose her grip on her popularity, people were only just starting to really take notice of her weight gain. The difference between her current body weight and double her starting weight of one hundred and fifteen pounds was two hundred and six pounds. She was FAR closer to quintupling her original weight than reaching double her starting weight.

And five hundred and seventy-five pounds was dangerously close to six hundred. She doubted that her feeder and her fans would let her quit there. Six hundred and ninety pounds would be six times her starting weight. Would that be enough?

How big was she going to get?

When would it end?

(To be continued)

[B$fan]

“Janey’s Got a Gut”
-----------------------------

Janey is a glutton. She wasn’t always that way. In fact, her diet used to be painstakingly controlled. But that control was done mostly by Janey’s fatphobic mother, an incredibly vain woman who had grown up as a head cheerleader, prom queen, and sorority girl who was in the phase of her life where she was desperately trying to live vicariously through her daughter and was hanging on far too tightly.

And as a result of her mother’s meddling, Janey was indeed a slim, trim popular girl and also a huge bitch. She was vain and with a terrible attitude, especially when it came to fat people. She loved to put them down as a way to distract herself from her own terrible insecurities. She was quite the bully and, if anything, her vain mother was proud of it.

But once Janey got to college and away from her mother, things began to change. The specter of her mother hung over her for a couple months, and get her away from indulging too much. But as her vain best friend and roommate, Tanisha, began to put on the freshman 15, it seemed inevitable that Janey would eventually follow. And once she began to indulge even a little bit, the dam quickly broke.

It turned out that Janey absolutely loved to eat. Sure, she did her fair share of drinking beer at parties as well, but it was in the dining hall where she really went to work. The dining hall offered all you could eat, and, damn, could Janey eat. She would spend her time having the largest lunches and most decadent dinners she could. She would combine cuisines, sample multiple desserts and always have seconds or third of every course. It was like she was making up for lost time.

And in response the pounds began to pile on quickly as she blossomed into the fat girl that she was always meant to be. She grew a big round belly, a gelatinous gut that always entered a room far before the rest of her, and then shook and swayed on its own whenever she would move. Janey went from having abs, to a paunch, to a pot belly, to a sloshing spare tire that divided itself into a big double belly and served as the perfect symbol of her incredible gluttony.

Her perky ass tried hard to keep pace, expanding into a tremendously fat and flabby rear end that constantly knocked stuff off of tables and eventually needed two seats to even fit it wherever she went. Her ass had ballooned into a complete blubber butt, and she quickly became known as a lard ass wherever she went.

But she didn’t seem to mind. As she waddled about thanks to her tremendous thunder thighs, all of the comments that came her way seemed to bounce right off her fat flabby body. She knew she deserved them. She felt like maybe she was dealing with some kind of karmic fallout, but really the truth was that she was happier than she had ever been. It turns out that a lot of her bad attitude was from being hungry all the time.

So Fat Janey went waddling about making amends, taking all the mean comments that came with it, and grew fatter and happier by the day. And it wasn’t just her. Janey’s habits were in line with her roommate’s, and by the time they graduated college, Janey and Tanisha had gone from being a couple of hotties to the fattest hogs on campus. They waddled about with the bulging bellies and fat asses. Their hips were so wide that they could barely walk through most doorways individually let alone side by side. After college they eventually got an apartment together and owned a couch for a short amount of time that they had to squeeze themselves into. Eventually, they grew out of that particular couch, and once they broke it, they upgraded to a larger and more structurally sound one.

Janey, of course, felt a fair share of heat from her mom, but with summers home, and then in between graduating college and getting an apartment with Tanisha, Janey’s habits became to rub off on her vain mother who began to blow up right alongside her porker daughter. She doesn’t have many comments to make nowadays since she’s busted out of everything but the stretchiest of pants.

And that’s where things stand today. Three slim women turned into big fat fatties. Their gluttony abounds, and it shows no signs of slowing down.

--------------------------
“The Pig Statue”
--------------------------

You shouldn’t touch strange pig statues that don’t belong to you.

I suppose the broader moral is that you shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you, but things like pig statues are especially a no go. Really, common sense at this point should tell you that things like that are bound to carry some sort of curse on them. You think people just make little golden statuettes of pigs just to be quaint? What a foolish thought.

So take this as a warning already and stop picking up strange pig statues because you’re just begging for trouble. Just ask Sofia.

Sofia was a model. She could have been a supermodel if she could control her wandering hands. Despite all the money she was making from her modeling gigs, she was the kind of person who loved looking in dingy little shops for deals. She was a sucker for fun thrift store finds and loved to visit dark little antique stores looking for unique finds.

Here’s another little hint. Dark little antique stores are the best place to accidentally pick up a cursed pig statue. Avoid them at all costs. If you must go to an antique store in the first place, perhaps to find an end table to complete your bedroom set, avoid the dusty ones. The dust level of an antique shop increases the chances of picking up a cursed item, especially a cursed pig, exponentially.

Sofia was in the dustiest shop imaginable.

And I tried to warn her, but, being the arrogant know it all bitch that she is, she had to go ahead and pick up the pig statue.

Immediately a tingle ran up her spine and the untold hunger of a gluttony god store in the pig for a millennia - or a simple witch’s spell that had been placed on it that morning (hard to say really - surged through her. With the most intense rumbling in her stomach, she hurried off to the food court.

Once there, she began to stuff her face with an incredibly sloppy meatball parm hero. It was something to watch this glamorous woman in her designer clothes shove a hoagie in her mouth like a hog. She gave no care to the sauce and cheese as they flew from the bread and onto her nice white shirt. She didn’t care about the bloating sensation in her belly as her precious abs began to melt away and a small but noticeable pot belly began to surge forward and strain the buttons of her top. Instead she cared only about finishing the sandwich and moving on to the bag of chips that came with it.

The chips were demolished in what seemed like mere moments. Her greedy hand crushed them and shoved them into her mouth without heed to the crumbs that were flying except to occasionally scoop some out of her cleavage with her grease and sauce covered hand. Once the chips were done, she chugged her soda in short order, adding another color of stain to the canvas that was her shirt, and finished with a loud and rather unladylike burp.

And so ended her first course.

The next course was a feast of Chinese food that left her covered in the remains of lo mein, sesame chicken, and spicy boneless spare ribs. After that came rice and beans and half a dozen empanadas, and this was all finished off with a generous sampling of three different cheesecakes.

The button of Sofia’s pants had completely blown off by the time she finally came to and realized the amount of gawkers she had watching her food driven spectacle. She burped again and walked, really waddled, away cradling her incredibly bloated food baby as pictures of videos of the incident already began to circulate online.

The curse kept up its work. Sofia found herself ordering huge amounts of junk food, eating pizzas not by the slice but by the pie and always with a side of both mozzarella sticks and garlic bread. She was transforming herself from a slim and sexy hottie to a hog, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The inevitable quickly came from all that eating. Sofia’s bloated belly stayed permanently bloated from all the junk food that she stuffed it with. Even if there was nothing in it, it was still a big sagging, deflated looking ball of turgid fat that dropped down toward her fat knees. It has become an enormous thing weighed down by greed, gluttony, and gravity. Her abs, her most prized part of her body part, have turned into the thing she hates the most, the gelatinous sack of fat that is her still growing gut. Her segmented belly is something to behold and is so large that it pushes herself far enough away from tables to make getting food and other tasks something of a challenge. Of course, navigating this challenge is also the only exercise she really gets these days, unless you count chewing as exercise.

Her ass has ballooned in size. Nowadays when she waddles to the food court, she needs two chairs just to fully support her voluminous backside, one for each gargantuan, cellulite covered cheek. And her fat ass still spills over the sides of those chairs. She has broken numerous pieces of furniture much to her chagrin and to the delight of others. Luckily, whenever she breaks a chair her well cushioned ass breaks her fall and she basically goes from sitting on a chair to sitting on two beefy beanbags.

Sofia’s thighs are massive tree trunks as well, juicy thunder thighs that greatly hinder her movement and limit her to a slow ponderous waddle. Her movement is extra slow because the burden of her incredibly high weight leaves her winded after every few steps. Her thighs are each twice the size that her tiny model waist used to be. The loose fat of her thick thunder thighs droops over her fat knees and comes with obvious saddlebags and cankles that rest above swollen, fatty feet.

Sofia still models today, but it’s a very different kind of modeling. She hates it, but she reluctantly had to turn to mukbanging and fetish modeling to pay her massive food bill along with the rent for what has become her messy pigsty of an apartment. She stuffs her face and plays with her fat, humiliating herself just to get by.

So yeah, don’t go into any antique shops. And if you must, don’t touch anything. Definitely don’t touch any pig statues, not even the cute little porcelain ones, just to be safe.

That’s a lesson that Sofia had to learn the hard way.

----------------------
“Obesity Virus”
----------------------

It couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple.

And by a nicer couple I meant it couldn’t have happened to a bigger pair of obnoxious, stuck up assholes. He was a personal trainer, and she was a glamorous model, and they loved to flaunt their bodies and make fun of people, especially fat people.

Then they got sick. He came down with it first, but she got it much worse from him. At first they thought it was a cold, but it wasn’t. It turns out, as they learned far too late, that it was a virus, an obesity virus. He probably got it from one of his fat clients who came in with a cold one day, and then he gave it to her. But the origin of the virus doesn’t matter. What matters is what it did.

It cranked up their appetites and crushed their metabolism. It drained their energy to exercise as well. In short, it was their worst nightmare come true. They began to eat more and exercise less and so their hot bodies soon became coated in fat.

They tried going to doctors, but once the doctors heard about their lifestyle changes the only advice they could give was to stop eating like pigs and get their fat asses off the couch. But they couldn’t do that. They were too hungry, and the fatter they got the lazier they became. They became the worst kind of fat people stereotypes, everything they used to loathe and make fun of.

By the time one doctor finally realized what was going on they were already well on their way to obesity, and it’s not like the doctor had a real cure anyway. She could only tell the couple more of the same. A virus is not an infection. There are no antibiotics to take for the obesity virus. They just had to let it run its course and then focus on diet and exercise.

But it became impossible to tell whether or not the virus had run its course and they were just being pigs of their own accord. And their efforts to engage in diet and exercise were met with quick and humiliating failure.

Now he’s a fat boy, a big pig of a man with a jumbo spare tire that hangs over his pants and a flabby set of moobs that rests on top of it. He’s no longer hardbodied and handsome. He is a portly, piggish man with a boarish appetite and the lack of manners to match. His gym t-shirts are all now stretched to their breaking point and stained with food and grease and sweat. They don’t cover his big fat belly which shamelessly spills out from under them. His sweaty muffin top encompasses his middle.

His ass is fat and disgusting too. It’s blown out behind him and ruined all but his stretchiest sweats. It’s a big fat wobbly cushion. He’s a perpetually winded rhino with a great big rump. And that ass is joined by his thighs that have grown fat enough to rub together and cause an untold amount of chafing. He’s fallen so far from the capable athlete that he was. It’s ironic that his every day “uniform” is pretty much exclusively gym clothes given that he doesn’t go to the gym anymore now that he’s a weak, pathetic fatty just like the people he used to make fun of and call losers. He’s the lazy loser now, a fat assed couch potato whose only exercise comes from lifting his arms from his meals to his fat, double chinned, face when he stuffs it.

She’s not any better. In fact, she’s worse. She’s become an absolute hog, a truly obese woman who out classes him in weight but not in matters. She’s a great slob when it comes to eating. It’s like she’s given up entirely and just gives in to her constant greedy cravings with reckless abandon. She used to be so driven and put together, so glamorous, and now she’s too lazy to care about her appearance. She cares about constantly eating, not about how much of her meals end up running clothes that she’s going to outgrow anyway.

Her belly is massive, a jiggling mass of flesh divided into two thick rolls that encircle her middle, a thick upper segment, and an even larger, doughier segment that fights to free itself from the confines of any shirt she tries to wear. She hates the size of her ponderously large paunch, but she knows she’s too far gone to get rid of it, so instead she just doubles down and makes her double belly even bigger. That’s why it’s such a sizable sack of fat that she has taken to angrily shaking with one hand while she stuffs her face with the other. It’s funny when you think about how trim her middle used to be, and how much she used to love to show it off. Now, she hates her gut, but because of its sheer size and ability to quickly outpace and escape any new shirts she might wear, she can’t help but show it off.

Her blubber butt has blown up as well. She’s a true lard ass now, which is ironic because that was always one of her favorite things to call other people when she made fun of them. She’s a wide load with a huge, spongey, shelf of an ass. Each massively bulbous butt cheek swings on its own as she waddles about. Her wide hips knock things over, and she elicits all of the laughs and mean comments that she used to relish throwing at others. Her blubbery behind is a chair breaking thing to behold.

And it comes with tree trunk thunder thighs that swing awkwardly as she waddles about. They’re built atop thick cankles and fat feet with chubby sausage toes. Her breasts have gotten bigger but are mostly full of sagging fat that has left them covered in stretch marks, and her gains up top have been easily outpaced by the pounds that have piled on everywhere else. Even her arms have gotten fat and developed big flabby bingo wings. She used to be proud of her toned arms. Now there is nothing that she is proud of, and all that does is drive her to stuff her fat face even more. Her double chin wobbles as she eats fattening meal after fattening meal.

They’re both big fatties now, and obviously they can’t get work as a personal trainer or model anymore.

So where do they work?

They work at Thick Burger of course. They spend their time being berated by customers while serving them their food. They are belittled and bullied as they take out the trash or scrub a toilet. They can feel the weight of the world weighing down on them even as they watch the weight of their regular customers increase. But the schadenfreude of watching slim hotties turn into fatties, suffering the same fate as them isn’t enough to dull their pain. For that, they can only rely on each other.

But hey. At least the employee discounts are good.

---------------------------
“What If” (Part 15)
---------------------------

What if this is it?

What if these are the last steps she ever takes on her own?

That’s what she’s thinking as she takes her slow, lumbering waddle back to what looks to be her permanent spot on the couch.

Could this really be it? Could she have actually succeeded in eating herself int immobility? If these were her last moments of moving under her own power what should she do? Should she celebrate? Is this what she’s always secretly wanted? If she didn’t want it, how else could it have gotten this far?

When she started all of this, she was so slim. She was the pretty, popular girl with a wealth of friends and a family that was proud of her. She was the envy of all, and yet she was beloved. She could get anyone she wanted. She had been a cheerleader in high school in college. She had even gotten work as a model. She was the model that other models envied.

Would they envy her now? If they were here to watch the girl who used to strut down the runway struggle to waddle back to the couch one last time? No. She knows they’d spend all their time laughing and oinking at her. They’d be snapping pictures and saying all sorts of mean words.

“Piggy. Cow. Whale.”

But do any of those words do her justice anymore? It feels like she surpassed them all long ago.She still eats like a pig, but regular fat people are pigs. She used to call chubby girls pigs all the time. She is not chubby. And her ass is filled with lard, but how many people in the world have an ass as heavy as hers? It’s an amorphous blob so large that she’s not sure it’s fit to be called anything. Even cow– Yes. Cows are certainly larger than pigs. She would call an obese person a cow, and she is certainly an obese person. But even obese doesn’t fully describe her now. She’s not just obese. She’s not even just super obese or morbidly obese. Normal people get obese.

She’s special.

She is an immense woman.

Whale would seemingly be the most appropriate, but even that seems strangely limiting to her. And as far as she’s concerned her massive body has no limits save for the immobility that she is soon to experience.

Her face, once slim and slender and of model quality is now completely unrecognizable. She doesn’t even think her own family would recognize her buried under all of that fat that comprises her jowly cheeks and multitude of chins. Her face is now fat and flat with fat. Her chubby cheeks have caused her eyes to look beady, and she has an overall piggish appearence. Her many chins sag downward toward her bloated chest and wobble against her thick, fat neck.

She has fat shoulders and fat arms. They used to be thin and toned, and now the fat rolls over her elbow. Her bingo wings wobble endlessly as she lifts food from her plate to her mouth, one of the few tasks she can still do easily by herself nowadays. Her forearms and wrists are bloated with fat to the point of becoming whatever the arm equivalent of cankles is, and her big fat ham hock arms end with big, clumsy, fat mitts for hands which each end in thick sausage fingers with enough added surface area to make them perfect for scooping leftover sauce or whatnot from her plates like the good piggy that she is.

Her chest is massive. Her two pendulous breasts way her down and the only thing that gives them an illusion of being anything other than two sagging bags filled with bowling balls that want to reach as far down her body as humanly possible, is the fact that she has her massive belly to prop them up. Even then, the massive sagging tits rebel and try to find a way to droop more down the side of her belly, but she is so immense, so spherical with fat, but even the sides of her belly push the stretch marked breasts up at least somewhat.

Her belly is a sight to behold. She wonders if it even deserves to be called just a belly at this point, or a gut, or even a spare tire. It’s really just a sack of fat– No – it’s a fully segmented double belly, so it’s really more like two gelatinous sacks of fat loosely stacked on top of each other and both sloshing about whenever she makes the slightest movement. She is a jiggling mess with rolls and folds that she can’t even begin to reach herself which is now why she needs a team of her loyal subscribers to help her.

She’s so weak, pathetic and helpless.

And her gut is so gargantuan that it hangs down near her knees, well past her nether regions. When she sits down it spills out almost entirely past her fat lap.

And that lap is extremely fat. It is wide, couch spanning wide, as her massive tree trunk thighs, well past the thunder stage, spread out oozing across the cushions and pressing together. Her thighs are the things that will ultimately do her in. They used to be slim but athletically built, toned and capable of carrying her long distances and at great speeds. Now she takes forever to waddle anywhere, and soon she won’t be moving them at all. Her thighs, each far larger than her waist used to be, are above her thick cankles and they’re all supported by her fat swollen feet that just can’t take the immense weight anymore.

She needs to sit down on her fat ass, an ass plush enough to serve as its own couch. Each mammoth cheek moves of its own accord although the sheer weight of her flabby lard filled cheeks does make them sag even as the size of them causes them to stick out like a broken down shelf. Her ass used to be so perky and tight. It used to turn heads. Now the only thing it does is knock things over when she turns around. Her bloated behind is a blubbery mess, and she knows that the next time she sits on it, she’s not getting up on her own again.

It’s a miracle that she’s still standing right now, honestly, a testament to how athletic she used to be when she was a slim hottie. That past is the only reason she’s still standing in the present, but it won’t save her from her immobile future.

She is over 700 pounds, well over six times. She never bothers remembering the exact number anymore. Why bother? What’s the difference between five, ten, even twenty-five or thirty pounds at this point? It’s wild to think that she could half her body weight and then half it again and still be considered clinically obese. What a fatty she is, a complete tub of lard, a flabby fatso.

A ball of fat. That is what she could likely best be described as, not a pig or cow or even a whale, a ball of fat. But then again, maybe not. Balls have shape. She’s a blob of fat, full of jiggling lard and devoid of any other shape unless that shape were to simply be called fat. She is just fat.

Fat.

Fat.

FAT.

Fat is what she is. It’s all she is at this point. Her previous existence as a functioning human, a slim and sexy popular girl, a mean girl, a chubby curious girl, it’s a distant memory. It all feels like another time, another reality. She just is fat now. All she is, all she will be, is fat.

She waddles closer and closer to the couch. One foot in front of the other knowing each step would be one of her last ones. There’s a determination in her furrowed, sweaty brow. Getting back to the couch will be one last athletic accomplishment, a sheer show of will to get her gluttonous body there in one final show of autonomy.

Soon she begins the slow, arduous task of turning her mammoth body around. Her gigantic ass is like a space shuttle ready to dock with a space station for the last time. She shivers with anticipation as she knows once she sits down she will never get up by herself again. This is the final moments of her mobility.

One last step.

One rock back and then…

Plop.

The entire couch creaks loudly under the pressure of her immense weight as her massive ass settles into the permanent indent it has carved for itself. This is it. She rests easy now and breathes knowing that she has fully surrendered to her helplessness. She is a pathetic pig, and she is content with that.

To cement her new status as an immobile hog, and to celebrate her crushing of the 700 pound barrier, one of her feeders– she is unsure of which one since she has so many that come and go at this point— brings her an extra large pizza to eat on camera for her many adoring fans. It has extra cheese and the number 700 is spelled out in pepperoni.

She does her duty and begins to consume the slices one at a time. Cheese and grease drip down her chin as she scarfs them down. The slices go down easily. Her gluttony is well practiced at this point. The challenge only happens once the second pie is brought to her, a full blown meat lovers. This takes her longer, but it’s mostly because she puts on a show. She moans and groans and rubs her belly. At some point she demands that her feeds rub her belly for her while still stuffing her more.

As she stuffs herself she thinks about all the food she’s eaten to get here. How many pizzas has it been? How many doughnuts? She couldn’t even count the doughnuts by the boxes at this point. Thousands of meals have enlarged her corpulence. Over five thousand, over six, seven. How many more? How could she even count her snacks? For her snacks are what others would consider meals. What even is a meal for her at this point? She doesn’t have meals. She has feasts. Pregnant ladies eat for two and she eats for an entire nuclear family and their dog. She has been eating like an Olympic champion training for fatness. She deserves a gold medal, or at least a blue ribbon like the good show hog that she is.

She remembers how she was at the beginning of all this, how thing she was, hot hot she was. She remembers all the way back to that first cupcake, to the moment she first decided to indulge herself, to let herself go. Back then she thought she would maybe just get fat. Sure, she thought there was a chance she would be weak and pathetic, but nothing like this. She didn’t think when she first took a bite of that cupcake that her hunger would grow to be so all encompassing. She never imagined she’d make her living as a fat fetish model stuffing herself and debasing herself for the amusement of others.

She never dreamed of immobility.

And she certainly never realized how much she would love it all.

As the second pizza stretches her stomach against the muumuu that she’s wearing, she thinks of all the clothes that she’s outgrown, the glamorous outfits she destroyed with food, the buttons she burst, the pants she ripped. She thinks about how each outgrown outfit has been left in her immense wake, artifacts of the slim and sexy woman she used to be and every step on her journey from 115 pounds to over 700.

As the view count in front of her continues to rise, she reflects on how much her social media accounts have grown, how many more followers pay to live vicariously through her decadence, who worship her, who pay through the nose to demean her, who keep her so well fed. She wishes she could dance for them one more time, but she knows those days are long behind her. The most she can do is give them a few shakes of her massive jelly belly and moan at their approval as she gorges herself more and more.

She eats the entire pizza and grabs one of her feeders by the chin.

“Now where’s my cheesecake?” she asks with hunger still in her eyes.

“This piggy wants her dessert.”

The feeder bows to his mistress.

“My apologies, Mistress, but we are not done yet.”

“What’s next?”

“We are bringing you some Thick Burger.”

Are eyes glimmer with that familiar hunger as she licks her lips and gives her awaiting belly a squeeze.

“Sounds delicious.”

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You can see this story collection continued on my Patreon: http://patreon.com/BSWriter (where several more volumes are already posted.)

There are thousands of words worth of content spread across a multitude of stories currently found exclusively there. This is "Fat Trimmings Volume 15" and I've already published "Fat Trimmings" volume 20 and so much more. "Fat Trimmings" Volume 20 is an extra large edition that features 5 stories spanning almost 8,000 words and is available on my patreon right now: http://patreon.com/BSWriter