"Fat Trimmings" Volume 26

So I said I wasn't going to do this. Then I went away for the weekend, got back, looked at my numbers, said "Oh this won't do. I need content," and then banged this out really quickly, so here we are.

2 short stories. 2,000 words.

Enjoy!

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“What I Wanted”

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They asked me what I wanted, so I told them. What I really wanted to do was eat.

That’s exactly what I said, and they looked at me with the strangest looks on their faces as if what I just said was some kind of archaic, inscrutable, unknowable nonsense.

“But that can’t possibly be all you want.”

And I said… “Believe me. It is.”

Then I went on to tell them that that’s truly ALL I wanted. I told them that if I could do nothing but eat all day, I would be perfectly content with my life, not just content in fact but overjoyed. Eating has long been what I’ve lived for and lusted after. I told them I would love nothing more than to sit around on by big fat and growing fatter ass stuffing my face like an absolute pig with no care in the world save for the choice of which dessert I would eat next. Hell, you could sit me in one of those machines like Homer Simpson in hell and feed me doughnuts non-stop, and I would be enthusiastic about the whole affair.

“But you’re so thin,” they mused.

“Well yes, now. If I could eat with reckless abandon and worry about nothing but that, that would change completely.”

“And… you’d want that? But you’re what so many strive to be.”

“Yes, I get that. I really do. I understand that I’m what most people would consider stereotypically hot, but I don’t care about that. In fact, if anything I’d rather be fat.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Being stereotypically hot is just so much work. There’s so much pressure. People want to tear you down and insult you anyway, so it’s like, why not just get fat and relax? No more gym time. Just lazing about eating, and eating and eating.”

I really couldn’t stress that point enough. It wasn’t like I wanted to get fat. That wasn’t the thing I was seeking out. Getting fat was just an inevitable consequence that I was more than willing to deal with to get what I really wanted. Truly, I was ready to blow up like a balloon if it meant I would get to eat and only eat.

So that’s what I did. I was granted the time and ability to eat as much as I want, and I always want a lot. And I have have blown up accordingly now.

I have a big bulging pot belly and thick thunder thighs that rub together. At first they did that just when I was sitting. They’d gotten real soft and squishy, and when I sat down they spread out and my new little pot belly would gently kiss the tops of them. Now they touch no matter what I do. I waddle from one meal to the next, and when I sit down to eat my great big gut rolls out across my lap.

I’m always comfortable too. I love to recline when I eat, and even if I can’t as long as I can sit my big fat flabby ass is large enough, soft and squishy enough to act as natural cushion and make any sit comfortable- well, any seat without arms anyway. My big, thick, juicy love handles - slabs of fat that they are - make sitting in chairs with arms a big of a challenge. But still, I manage. I can’t complain, even if my big saggy chest causes me some back problem every once in a while.

Plenty of people don’t understand. I get tons of looks and odd words, especially from people who knew me before I got fat. But I just let those insults roll off my rolls like water off the back of a big fat duck. I’m big and beautiful and happy. I eat to my heart's content and that keeps me content. This is a great big glorious life.

And I can picture it getting bigger and better. I can see myself lounging like a big fat queen indulging in hedonistic pleasure non-stop, plump in bed resting on cushions of my own billowy fat all while I stuff myself with whatever I want, ice cream, doughnuts, juicy steaks and full sized pizzas with multiple toppings.

Oh the pizzas!

Four cheese pizzas to start the week. Meat lovers on Monday. Tucking into an array of endless mini-pizzas on Tuesdays and so on and so forth. The indulgences never need to end.

It’s a fantastic situation that can only get better as I eat more and more and grow fatter and fatter. I love it all.

Really, this whole thing just leaves me with one last big fat question.

What do you want?

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“On the Other Side of the Tank”

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Boy, those girls are getting fat!

Okay, the one in the middle already was fat- I mean- not always- I’ve done my research. I know that Veronica girl used to be some kind of big shot swimmer. Well, now she’s just big. She looks like an absolute manatee crammed into her mermaid outfit. 

And that’s why I’m here. I love watching skinny bitches turn into big fat bitches. To watch a skinny bitch go from being on top of the world and falling into the humiliating status as a fat loser, just like the kind they used to make fun of, that kind of schadenfreude is delicious to me. 

You can always tell when a fat girl used to be one of those skinny mean girls. I’ve seen the old pictures she has on Instagram, and you can see the arrogance in her eyes, that sense of superiority. You can look at Veronica’s pictures when she was a hardbodied hottie and know that she was the kind of person who made fun of fat girls. 

I’ve always hated girls like that, the kind of women who bring down everyone, including other women, just to lift themselves up. They’re the kind of girls who always used to make fun of me in high school, to call me a willowy flat chested nerd. Well, I bet you she’d kill to be described as willowy now instead of being called a big tub of lard.

I called her that the other day, shouted it right through the glass as she stuffed her fat face with another fish sandwich. I saw the look in her eyes, and I knew that it hurt. Good. I wanted it to hurt. I want her to be fat and miserable living with the knowledge that she’s forever going to experience all of the pain and humiliation she doled out to others ten fold. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen some people she used to go to school with. They tend to gather in groups at a time, like they’ve made this a personal revenge outing, and, honestly, good for them. I love that for them. Knowing that they’re a part of enjoying her downfall, knowing that they actually get to achieve what all of us bullied people have dreamt of - seeing their bullies brought low and humiliated - that’s a beautiful thing to me.

There’s a lot of her to make fun of, the big bulging spare tire, her fat face with its multiple chins that jiggle as she stuffs herself with sandwich after sandwich. We can’t see her thighs because of the ridiculous looking tale, but we can tell the massive width of them combined. Her thighs must be huge. Every once in a while I think about sticking around late after hours to see if I can sneak a picture of her out of costume, maybe see her waddling to her car. I can guarantee that she has to do that now. Her thighs must be too big to walk normally. That’s got to be extra humiliating for a woman like her, someone who used to be an athlete. To be someone who didn’t just move like the average person but who excelled at it, who hoped to make a living off of the way their body could move and then to be reduced to such limited mobility, to be so slow and lumbering and with her fat thighs constantly pressed together rubbing against one another and reminding her of how fat she is…. That must be the most humiliating thing in the world.

But at least she’s still making money off her body, even if it’s not the way she planned. Now Veronica gets to keep her body on display, showing it off like she used to do while displaying her new found skill of stuffing herself with an endless array of junk.

It’s been a lot of fun watching her show over the last few months. I can see that she’s gained even more weight and that she’s uncomfortable with it. I can see the humiliation in her eyes bite after bite as she eats another fish sandwich. I can see how much she wishes she was forcing it down, but she knows that the truth is even worse. She wants it. She wants to eat. She loves the taste and can’t get enough of it. She needs more even if it means more pounds piling onto her waistline, more laughter in her fat face. She wishes she could be done with all of this, but she knows she can’t be. She needs this job. She needs this food.

And then every once in a while I see the smirk she makes when she looks to her sides and sees the women that are in the same boat.

Oh boy, I mentioned them earlier, but they’re quite the thrill as well, the two skinny bitches who are her assistants, they’re not so skinny anymore. I see them, struggling to suck in their guts as they’re forced to eat more and more. I like to watch them for any new signs of added softness on their previously slim frames. And I always love the looks of desperation on their faces as they pray that they don’t have to eat anymore and get any fatter.

But that’s exactly what’s going to happen to them, and deep down they know it even if they don’t want to accept it. They used to look at Veronica with such a smug sense of superiority, but now they look at her with fear- the fear that they might end up just like her, big fat blubbery messes getting paid to eat and get laughed at and unable to stop.

Maybe they’ll get their own traveling shows. Yes. I could see that, as the Thick Burger girls get thicker, they’ll get too big for the same time. Then you can have three tanks, and each tank will get two new skinny bitches who will eat and eat and eat, blowing up until they too get too big- too fat- for the tank. And then the cycle can continue.

Wouldn’t that be something? 

I’d pay to see that over and over again. I’d pay to buy them a sandwich and get myself one too.

I have to be careful though. I’m not exactly willowy anymore thanks to all these trips to Thick Burger. I’m just like Veronica’s former friends and the people she used to bully, the ones who come here regularly to gawk at and taunt her. We’ve all put on more than a few pounds, me more than most others. I’m a real Thick Burger regular now, and it shows.

I’ve got the big belly and the wide hips, the thick thighs that are night quite touching just yet but might be soon. I’ve got the flabby ass and the start of a double chin. Yes. If I’m not careful, I’ll be a real porker soon. But at least I’ll never be the fattest one here. I can take solace in watching others grow far fatter, faster.

Everything about this is so scintillating. It’s a nonstop feast for the senses. Maybe I could stop. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I could walk away, but I’m not sure that I can.

It’s all just too good.