"Fat Trimmings" Volume 39

Another "Fat Trimmings" Volume this week? Yup. I also expect to have Volume 40 up on Tuesday and expect an extra slice for new 7 dollar tier members tomorrow along with a big news update.

Enjoy!

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

“My Fat Sister”

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

I always wanted a fat sister. To be clear, that’s specifically a FAT one. 

You see, I have had a sister my entire life. Theoretically we’re supposed to be twins, but for most of our lives we’ve always had one key defining difference.

I was the fat sister.

I have always been hefty to say the least with a big blubbery belly and thunder thighs that slapped together when I walked. I had a big fat ass too, but not the kind that drew people’s attention in a positive way. I mean, I guess sure some people were into it. But in my mind it was far too droopy, soft and saggy and covered in cellulite, to be considered in any way attractive. It was the kind of blubber butt that made weighing any kind of decent jeans impossible. If it wasn’t dresses or sweatpants, or some stretchy leggings, I was stuck in these horrible mom jeans that did nothing for my but, or my big belly and meaty love handles.

My sister used to love when I slipped into my “mom jeans”.

I am NOT a mom by the way, just to clarify that. I was just a fat girl, the fat twin.

And my sister, she was a bitch.

It wasn’t just enough for her to constantly put me down, to criticize me under the guise of “friendly advice”. She loved to flaunt her hot body in front of mine. She loved to flash her abs and shake her perfect ass and just throw it in my face how much better she was than me.

Well I took care of that.

How did I do it?

I made a Christmas wish.

And I found a really old spellbook.

And I swapped out her protein shakes for pure weight gain powder.

Also, I fed her while she was sleeping.

And I just generally kept putting food in front of her and encouraging her to eat more.

One or more of those things worked because she definitely got fat.

Let me tell you, I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy anything more than the first time I heard the sound of her thighs rubbing together while she wore a stretched out pair of jeans. And the sight of the muffin top she was sporting, the way her fat belly and love handles just oozed over the waistband of the jeans she had forced herself into, the way the button was practically screaming, it was a really special thing.

Lori grew a big fat blubber butt too. She was really struggling to cram it into the clothes that she loved to wear so much. I don’t blame her. Those designer outfits of hers were really expensive. I almost felt bad when she started bursting out of them, but every new rip, every freshly popped button or blown out seam warmed my heart.

I loved watching Lori spiral. She lost further control of her appetite the more she gained weight. It was like every pound she put on made her crave food that much more. Her precious abs gave way to a nice juicy pot belly. I loved watching it peak out from under her shirts. She was such a  stubborn little piggy, so vain and trying to cling to her denial, but all that did was make things more humiliating because she would regularly wear clothes that did not fit her anymore. She was a chubby girl, but the way her fat spilled out of her clothes made her seem even fatter than she was.

Of course, she kept getting fatter anyway, and eventually she had no choice but to opt for a brand new fat girl wardrobe because all of her old designer clothes were either busted or just something she was unable to slip even past her flabby thunder thighs and wide hips. Her life became that of a messy piggy as she committed to wearing messy sweats and lounging about living the life of a fattening couch potato. Any sense that she was once active was drowned out by the waves of flab that had landed on her once toned body.

Now she barely goes out. The former queen bee is a big fat loser who stays home wearing the same clothes for days at a time as she messily stuffs her face. Sometimes it’s fun to bring friends over just to laugh at her. Her downfall is a consistently popular topic of conversation amongst our family and her former friends. They just love talking about how the arrogant brat has gotten fat. They think she deserves this. It’s karma for years of being so prissy and judgmental. I have to say, it’s really nice to hear that it turns out I wasn’t the only family member to feel the harshness of Lori’s attitude over the years, and I’m not the only one reveling in her blowing up into a buttery blubber butt, a bloated butterball. I heard my aunt call her a piggy the other day and almost fainted.

It’s funny watching Lori at family gatherings as relatives circle around her like sharks, pinching her exposed love handles, poking her soft, spongy belly, criticizing her every move.

“Those pants look a little tight, Lori.”

“Maybe you ought to go on a diet, dear. Watch what you eat a little.”

“You’re getting quite chunky, downright fat even.”

“Do you really need a third helping, Lori?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather slip dessert? I think you should, piglet.”

Lori is a real lard ass, and I love it. I love seeing the former confident queen turned into Queen of the couch, a fat loser who stuffs her face for comfort despite the fact that she knows she’s going to get even fatter. She’s too much of a greedy piggy to stop herself. It’s pathetic, and I’m absolutely obsessed with her downfall. 

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m skinny now. I’m still a fatty. Never did have the time or desire to work on improving myself, but hey, technically I’m the thin twin now, and the fact that my skinny bitch sister, Lori is now the fattest cow I know is more than good enough for me.

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

“The Fattening Stone”

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

Look. The stone was supposed to make Justine fat. Just Justine.

Justine was my roommate, my no good, and by no good I mean goody two-shoes roommate. Justine was always so popular with everyone, so outgoing, so prim and proper and perfect in every way. And she was gorgeous too, a real knockout, ya know? People fell all over themselves to do things for her. It was sickening.

Why wouldn’t they do those things for me, huh? I was smoking hot too. In high school I was the queen bee. I ruled with an iron fist. Then suddenly I get to college and everyone’s all social justice this and woke bullshit agenda that. Suddenly it’s like oh being a mean girl isn’t cool anymore. We’re all supposed to be friendly and body positive. Bullshit. Hot means hot, and being hot means people are supposed to treat you a certain way.

So like, why should I have to struggle to get people’s attention while St. Justine is gifted this perfectly gorgeous body with tight abs and long lean legs and sweet subtle breasts and everything else a woman could want along with friends just because she happens to also be nice. 

Fuck that. I earned my body. I earned the right to treat others like they were beneath me because they were. The one absolute psycho feminist thing I agree with is that I’m not aggressive, I’m a boss bitch and people should keep out of my way especially Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes Justine.

So I found the rock, okay? And it, like, spoke to me, I think. It didn’t have a mouth or anything, but I got like visions and shit. And those visions told me that all I had to do was think about Justine getting fat and she would get fat. I figured that was perfect because it wouldn’t matter how nice Justine was, nobody was going to want to be seen hanging out with a bloated obese cow.

I found Justine in our room, clenched the stone in my fist and thought about Justine getting fat.

And it worked.

Right before my eyes Justine started to blow up like a big fat balloon. Seriously, she became a real butterball in a matter of moments. First it looked like she was going to float off of her bed, but I realized that that was her previously perky butt fattening up, turning into two big cellulite covered cushions and rising like lumpy bread door to push her off her mattress. I could hear the seams of her jeans straining as her ass grew bigger. It was a big spongy dumper as pound after pound piled onto it. Her ass grew out and kept pushing her up, but the fat also moved sideways, especially after the seams of her jeans started to pop. Fat oozed out of her pants.

Justine’s thighs thickened as well. They looked like fat sausages squeezed into her pants until the casings split entirely down her legs and the fabric started to flap uselessly. Her previously toned thighs kept getting thicker, turning into tree trunk like thunder thighs, and her entire lower half was ravaged by cellulite.

But the weight gain wasn’t just limited to her lower half.

Justine’s belly began to blow up as well. Her abs were gone in the blink of an eye, immediately replaced by the soft start of a belly, but even that didn’t last long. It kept growing, creeping outward and spilling onto her fat lap as her belly became a turgid sack of fat. It jiggled as it grew and its size expanded in all directions. Justine’s trim waist developed meaty love handles that met up with her gut which swelled into a generous spare tire. Then her gelatinous gut became a soft, warm, jiggly shelf for her growing breasts.

Those growing breasts strained her top just as her overall body weight strained the bed she was sitting on. Her breasts kept growing in size, but mostly they became softer and saggier and started to weigh heavily on the top part of Justine’s new blubbery double belly. Her breasts undulated as they grew. Her soft quivering flesh began to overflow her bra cups.

Justine’s perfect arms began to swell as well. I had never noticed how perfect Justine’s arms were until they were one of the last parts of her body to fatten up. In that moment I could see how lithe but toned they were. And then in an instant that tone was gone. Her arms blew up with fat and became like squishy marshmallows of sweet flab. She grew billowy bingo wings that jiggled with every panicked movement.

Her face got fat too. Her face getting fat might have been my favorite part because her face had always been so pretty, and it became bloated with fat, round and swollen with the stuff. Her cheeks became jiggly jowls and her chin gave out sagging into a deep doughy second one. Her double chin wobbled hysterically as she looked around the room in a panic.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

And then it happened.

I felt the tightness in my pants.

My own abs were suddenly gone and there was fat pushing against the button of my jeans. And that button didn’t last long. My new belly fat popped it right off, and my new gut filled the gap that opened up while also surging over the waistband of my jeans. I grew a thick muffin top very quickly with my pot belly and my love handles and even a juicy roll of back fat that I could feel growing. I barely had time to squeeze my blubbery belly and attempt to push the fat back into my body when I felt my thighs thickening next.

Those thighs of mine, once so toned, perfect for helping me leap through the air as a cheerleader, quickly developed layer upon layer of flab. I could feel the squishy fat pressing against the fabric of my jeans until, just like Justine, my jeans gave out. The seams popped and my thick thigh fat began to ooze out. In moments I had chunky thunder thighs that pressed together, and together with my growing ass, my days of wearing jeans were done.

My ass ballooned behind me. I could hear it straining the jeans and then blowing out the back of my pants like an overfilled balloon. My perfect ass cheeks, real toned head turners, became blobs of blubber. My beautiful butt, arguably my favorite feature, became a shapeless mess of doughy cellulite covered fat. I felt my fingers press into that soft, pillowy flesh, and I felt that quivering fat fill the gaps between them. Then I felt those gaps shrink slightly, but it wasn’t because my fat ass was suddenly getting any smaller.

My fingers were getting chubby. And it wasn’t just my fingers. While they certainly grew in size, becoming thick like sausages, the rest of my hands grew into chubby mitts as well. Then the fat swelled up my wrists as it made its way up to my biceps and gave me billowy bingo wings just like my roommate.

I felt my breasts grow next, but they didn’t get nearly the appeal of Justine’s. My surging belly seemed to take on even more weight than hers, and my breasts, while certainly growing a good deal larger than they were, mostly just flopped sadly and sagged onto my growing gut. It was unfair. I couldn’t even have comically massive breasts to be proud of, just a big fat gut and a piggish face.

That’s right. The mirror showed me what I feared most. My beautiful face with its angular features was buried under fat. My cheeks swelled up like I was a fat, greedy chipmunk, and then they turned into pathetically sad and jiggle jowls. I grew multiple chins, thick folds of fat that dangled from my face and largely obscured my fat neck. I felt like I looked like an idiot as it seemed like even my forehead grew a little fatter. My nose certainly did. It widened as it got fatter, and I looked rather piggish indeed complete with the beady eyes thanks to the generous size of my jowls.

I’m an obese cow now, a big ball of blubber. The good news is, at least I think Justine is fatter. It’s hard to tell though because we don’t really do much in the way of moving nowadays. We certainly can’t fit on a normal kind of scale at the very least. But I feel like she’s fatter, and that’s good enough for me.

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

“It Starts With a Dare”

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

Playing with Thick Burger can be a dangerous game.

People hear the stories all the time. Hell, it’s impossible to ignore what is happening, the way Thick Burger has clearly contributed to steadily rising obesity rates. At this point, most if not everybody knows at least one formerly thin person in their life who is now clinically obese thanks to the addictive diet that Thick Burger encourages. Pretty much everybody has seen someone they love and care about, or despise with great jealousy go from fit to fat, and even numerous people who have tried to speak out against Thick Burger in the past have fallen into their trap and have become fat, greedy slobs.

It’s honestly very funny which is why so many arrogant people keep falling into the same trap. They think they’re better than the others. They think they’re better than Thick Burger.

It starts with a dare.

Picture this, you’ve got a group of sorority sisters or something, a group of young, hot women who feel incredibly privileged because, for their entire lives, people have fallen all over them because of their looks. They have perfect bodies and the charisma to go with it, and they know that their whole lives are ahead of them. Maybe a few of these ladies have even convinced themselves that this time in their life is primetime for their metabolisms. They’ve all survived the freshman fifteen. They’ve been to plenty of parties and consumed plenty of beer without developing a beer belly. So these ladies can handle Thick Burger right? Sure they’ve heard the stories, but they’re better than that. Just one Thick Burger won’t change who they are.

But Thick Burger is different.

Thick Burger isn’t just added calories. It’s a delicious way to rewire your brain completely. It’s like an addictive drug that’s completely legal. Eating Thick Burger, even just trying it once, is like asking to be fattened. If you eat at Thick Burger you might as well buy clothes from the plus-sized store. It’ll be cheaper than dealing with inflation later on because your body is certainly going to inflate to the point of needing some fat clothes. 

And you’ll call them fat clothes as if they’re temporary as if you’re ever going to get back to being a slim hottie again. But once you eat Thick Burger, there is no going back. You’re stuck in your fat clothes, at least until you grow out of those two. Then it’s time for some fatter clothes. Fatter and fatter still.

But let’s go back to the sorority scenario for a moment.

Picture those vain young hotties sitting at a table inside Thick Burger. They’re in tight low rise jeans and crop tops to perfectly showcase their tight asses and toned stomachs, and they’re nibbling on salads. Perfectly harmless, salad, right? It’s low calorie. It’s quick. And at Thick Burger it’s surprisingly delicious and cheap.

That’s how they get you.

The slim and sexy sorority sisters are eating their salads and maybe even drinking their Diet Cokes, but they’re smelling the burger patties. Their mouths are practically salivating at the smell of french fries and onion rings. And did you know Thick Burger recently introduced mozzarella sticks?

Then the dare comes.

Who will be the first to actually try a burger? Who thinks their truly better than all the fat slobs who are stuffing their faces like absolute pigs? Eventually, all three of the sorority sisters get up to order a burger. They make sure to get avocado on it because avocado is the good kind of fat. While on line they even talk themselves into getting fries. One of them convinces the other two that they should split an order of mozzarella sticks. After all, this is now officially a cheat meal. They might as well go big.

They’re going to go big alright.

You can tell by their order that they’re already doomed. They’ve let their empty stomachs do too much thinking for them, and now those slender stomachs are doomed to become big bloated pot bellies.

One year later and the formerly slender women are cautionary tales. They’re sorority sows now and Thick Burger regulars. They can barely go a day without a double Thick Burger with extra cheese, bacon and avocado along with a large order of fries, an order of onion rings, and an order of mozzarella sticks (no sharing anymore) and an extra thick and cream milkshake to wash it all down.

They’ve got big bloated double bellies, blubber guts made to cram all of this fattening food into without a second thought. Their blubber butts are equally huge, spilling over the chairs that they’re sitting on and you just know that one day they’ll need two, one for each colossal cellulite covered cheek. 

Those thighs of theirs have gotten crazy thick as well, even thicker than the milkshakes that have helped to fill them with fat. All of the sorority sows now have thunder thighs that slap and rub together and force them to waddle about like the slow lumbering cows that they are now instead of strutting like the confident babes that they were. 

They’ve got big breasts, sure, but their claim to fame is the blubber bellies they’re all packing. The three large ladies have lard filled arms too, but thick flabby ones. Bingo wings flop about as they greedily stuff their fat faces with greasy food. 

And those faces, those previously model quality faces with their stuck up noses are now bloated, greasy messes. The three ladies have jiggly jowls a multiple chins that wobble as they stuff their greedy mouths with food. Those stuck up noses are wide with fat and make them look incredibly piggish as they snort while they messily scarf down their latest fattening feast. 

It’s too late for them. They can’t help themselves anymore. They’ve lost all control and become fatter than any of the girls they used to make fun of on campus or in high school. They’re no longer slim and sexy and in control. They’re nothing more than helpless, pathetic, gluttonous pigs with big greedy guts and a bottomless appetite for Thick Burger. 

And what about you? 

You’ve got grease dripping down your chin. You’re hooked already aren’t you? That’s right. You thought you were better, but you’re not. You’re about to be a hopeless pig. You’re already getting soft. Your belly is growing. You thighs are thicker and your ass is softer. Even you face, I can see your face softening and getting piggish. You’re not an obese hog yet, but it’s in your future, and that’s good enough for me.