Extra Slices #10 - Face It and Fortunes

Here are two more sequel stories to the "Face It" and "Fattening Fortunes" series.

Enjoy!

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“Face It. You’re Immobile”

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You can’t get up, can you?

Of course you can’t. 

You’re too fat. 

Too hopelessly fat. 

You’re a lot of other things too, of course. You’re too lazy, and you’re too greedy. That’s how you ended up getting too fat, getting so fat that you can’t even move on your own. You’re so fat, so impressively heavy that you’re stuck there on your back like a big fat lazy turtle. 

It’s been a long time since anyone’s mistaken you for thin. Hell, it’s been a long time since anybody’s thought of you as anything other than an absolute blob of fat, not just tubby, chunky, fat, or even obese. You’ve been a big bloated blob for quite a while now. But at least you used to be able to waddle. 

Waddle. Not walk mind you. Certainly not run. No. You left running behind the first time you outgrew your pants. Running was for your far fitter days not your far fatter one. Running was the first thing to go as your thighs soften and your ass plumped up. Then, it took a little while, but the walking went next. You grew a big fat blubbery belly and your as doubled in size and sag becoming a soft squishy mess, but your body could have handled that. It was those once toned and athletic thighs of yours that did the trick. They turned to mush and filled with fat, fat that slapped together. And eventually your thunder thighs got so thick that they began to grow toward each other, slap together, press together. -!: then push each other away from one another. It was like all that fat was fighting for space as it widened out your stance. 

This is how your waddle was born. 

It was never an elegant waddle. You used to have such command when you walked, such a confident walk befitting a confident hottie. But fatties don’t walk like that. They waddle. And your waddle was slow and ponderous and awkward as hell. It’s quite the show, well it was. I guess we won’t be getting that show again anytime soon now that you’re an immobile blob of fat just laying there useless trapped by your own gluttony under the massively fat body that you created for yourself. And that’s a shame. I used to love watching you waddle- watching you struggle to even move short distances on your own, constantly breaking out in sweat and having to stop every few feet to catch your breath. Your whole body really got to jiggling when you were doubled over and working hard to breath.

That was so hot.

But now that waddling is done. It got harder and harder, and the distance got shorter and shorter until it was reduced down to zero.

The pants went out the window too. You’re not a pants person anymore. You’re a muumuu wearer if anything. It’s so much more freeing, nice stretchy fabric and easier access to everything so I can help take care of you.

Of course I’m going to take care of you. Who else is going to do it? You certainly can’t take care of yourself anymore, not with your size- being as unbelievably fat as you are. You couldn’t even keep yourself from eating so much that you turned into a big fat blob, you bloated cow. You did this to yourself because you couldn’t stop eating.

You didn’t want to stop eating. You kept begging for more food. This is what you’ve wanted all along. This is the culmination of your desires, to be a big fat mound of flesh trapped by your own body just like you’ve dreamed of. And I’m here just like you asked to stay by your side and take care of you.

I’ll keep the many fat folds that you have nice and clean, run my hands up and down your blubber and lovingly caress every single roll of sweet doughy fat. I’ll squeeze you and massage you to your heart's content. You’ll be such a loved and cared for blob. Whatever you need, I’ll help you with. I’ll make sure you’re as comfortable as possible as you lay here on the cushions made of your own pillowy fat. I’ll even find a way to get you moving, rolling you over every once in a while to make sure your fat ass doesn’t get any sores. You’ll be such a well taken care of piggy.

And don’t worry. I won’t forget the most important part.

The food.

I’ll keep the food coming. I know how much it takes to keep a piggy like you fat and happy. So I’l keep your usual seven meals a day plus snacks going. Breakfast. Second breakfast. Brunch. Lunch. Supper. Dinner. Midnight snack. They’ll all be there. They’ll all be big and delicious just like you. Don’t worry. I would never let you waste away. I’ll feed you as much you want for as long as you want, forever if I have to.

After all, immobility doesn’t mean you can’t keep getting fatter.

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“A Wedding Fortune”

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Samantha was a bitch.

Perhaps that’s putting it harshly, but it was also true. Samantha had spent her life being a spoiled brat, a slim and sexy vixen who always got what she wanted, including all the hot guys that she wanted. And that vanity and privilege turned Samantha from a spoiled brat into a spoiled, and undeniably nasty, bridezilla.

She was nasty to her bridesmaids, her vendors, her in-laws, even her own future husband, Rick, and her own mother. Samantha would not settle for getting anything less than exactly what she wanted even when exactly what she wanted changed every minute. 

Then came her bridal shower.

That’s when she met Madame Zara.

And that’s when everything changed.

Madame Zara’s prediction was simple: “Your wedding will be one of the biggest days of your life- especially for you.”

It was an odd bit of wording that just convinced Samantha that Madame Zara was an odd woman who was wasting her time.

But after that, everything changed.

Samantha began snacking a lot more. She had always been the kind of person who took her diet very seriously. It was another form of control after all. But after Madame Zara’s fortune, Samantha’s careful appetite was left off the reins. Instead she was frequently caught sneaking cookies for working her way through an entire bag of potato chips. It wasn’t like she was sticking to carrots and low fat dip. She was dipping in cheese dips, onion dips, extra creamy guacamole and more. Samantha became something of a dip fiend.

And her favorite part of wedding planning became trying out food vendors for the reception. She began to insist on more and more tastings to get everything right. She would dream and night about redoing the entire menu and then would schedule another consultation to try more food. What usually happened then was that instead of replacing something, Samantha’s new palette and greedy appetite meant that instead of simply replacing dishes, Samantha insisted on adding new ones. She didn’t just add new h'dourves for the cocktail hour and options to the menu. She added entire carving stations and a full sushi bar that wasn’t planned before. It wasn’t enough to just have her wedding cake. She wanted three, a couple’s cake, one bridal cake just for her, and a groom’s cake that she would also have a piece of. And she selected all of the flavors herself after much delicious deliberation.

As a result, Samantha’s wedding menu, and her waistline kept expanding, and her budget, just like her figure, ballooned.

The financial figures were not a concern to Samantha. 

Her physical one however….

Samantha had grown and grown incredibly frustrated by her growing. Up until Madame Zara’s fortune, Samantha hadn’t even considered the fact that she might gain what was a serious possibility. Sure, she was a relentless dieter, but that was more about control than actually working to maintain her figure. She had always been so confident that she would remain slim and sexy forever. Losing her tight figure as it became relentlessly tubbier and forced her to keep tugging on her outfits to get them to fit right was a maddening experience to the fit woman who was rapidly turning into a fat one.

Unfortunately for Samantha, she dealt with that frustration by eating more food.

The once in control, formerly prim and proper vixen took to regularly pigging out and becoming the kind of emotional overeater, and overall fatty, that she used to make fun of.

By the day of her wedding, Samantha was a big beautiful bride. She had had to have several refittings of her wedding dress, and it was still extremely tight and clearly too small on her fattened body. The seams of the dress were greatly strained by the width of her hips and the thickness of her thunder thighs. The fabric aso highlighted her big blubbery belly as it wrapped tightly around her gut and made it stick out. If her belly didn’t endlessly jiggle as much as it did people would have mistaken her for being pregnant and not just a bonafide fatso. 

Of course, Samantha wasn’t the only one who was looking fat on her wedding day. After all, Madame Zara’s message had said “especially for you” which did not limit things to just the bride. It didn’t affect her bridesmaids either. If anything they had lost weight, including her chubby sister in-law whom Samantha had spent a lot of time teasing until the shoe was on the other fat foot. 

Rick, her once fit fiance was already a chubby hubby by the wedding day. He stood there with a bloated beer belly in an ill-fitting tuxedo looking like a real fatty just like his blubbery wife. He looked like he had skipped the honeymoon and gone right to having a dad bod.

Their appearances were the subject of much entertaining gossip amongst the wedding attendees (and amongst all the people who were just shown pictures), and this was especially true as the guests watched them pig out at the buffet. They went totally hogwild, and it was the first of many such occasions as fat husband and fatter wife who would stick together through thick and never thin again.

After all, Madame Zara’s fortune had only said that her wedding would be ONE OF the biggest days of her life.

There was a lot of fat still to come.