"Fat Trimmings" Volume 25

This is a little later than planned, but I really wanted to make this five stories. This came out to over 6,000 words and features new stuff, and a lot of sequels and connections that I hope will be an extra reward to patrons familiar with my work. I received a lot of great suggestions from patrons for story ideas, some of which I used here and some of which I'll definitely be saving and using another time.

For now...

Enjoy!

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

“Just Look at This Fat”

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

I’ve gotten so fat. Uggg. I can feel it. I’m so soft and squishy now and just- Look at it! Just look at all this fat. There’s so much of it now. It’s not even like a little bit of extra junk in the trunk, or some love chub or whatever. I’m not chubby. I wish I was chubby- God I can’t believe I’m wishing I was chubby. But that’s where I am. I’m so far past chubby that I have no choice but to wish for it because I’m so goddamn fat. 

Just look at this gut. It’s a gut. A big honking gut watch me squeeze it, slap it. I lift it up and let it go and it wobble a bit back into its shape like I just slapped jello on the table. And it’s not a pot belly either- certainly not a starter belly. You could maybe call it a spare tire, but it disgusts me so much that the only word I can apply to it is gut. My gut has a matching set of love handles to complete my muffin top. I can’t wear pants without my muffin top lurching over the waistband. Any shirt I wear? That muffin top like to ooze out from under them. Even if I try to wear blouses my belly likes to stretch the buttons so everyone can get a peak at my flabby flesh when I’m sitting down. 

I feel like such a hog. 

Things weren’t always like this. I used to be a hard body. I used to know I was better than everyone and let them know it too. Now everyone lets me know what a big fat failure I am. I used to be the kind of slim and sexy girl who loved to flaunt my body in their faces. Now I’m the big fat karmic victim they love to taunt. 

I wish my breasts were bigger. I mean; just look at them. They’re plump, but they’re so soft and saggy. And they’re nowhere near as large as my gut. That thing makes them look so small in comparison. If I have to be fat, I’d rather at least have huge tits I can be proud of and wave in people’s faces. At least I could pretend that I was just super curvy and not just a super fatty. 

My thighs have gotten a lot thicker though. There’s some curves. I’ve got big juicy thunder thighs now that make me waddle about like a fat penguin. Isn’t that great? I used to be able to run 5ks and now I just shuffle from the couch to the kitchen and back. That’s me, the fat pathetic couch potato who’s just given up. 

And the couch potato life has given me an absolutely massive ass. It’s left a permanent impression on my couch, just the saddest thing about it. I look at the impression and remember how light and tight I was, and it makes me want to vomit. Then I get a look in the mirror and can see the damage that I’ve done to myself, to my once perfect ass, and I cry. I’ve got two big blubbery cellulite covered cheeks where hard muscle one was. 

I miss my perfect ass, my perfect body. I miss being the one laughing at others and not being laughed at. But the food is just too good. I can’t help myself. I’ve completely lost control.

Oink. Oink. That’s me now. I’m the big fat pathetic piggy that everyone gets to poke and make fun of. I’ve tried to lose weight. I really have. But all the good habits I used to have are gone. My willpower is no more. Everything is just so hard, and I’m so lazy, so that’s why I’m so soft. Soft. Fat. Squishy. Piggish. 

And that’s all I’ll ever be now. So go ahead and laugh at me. That’s what I would do if you were me. That’s what I do when I look at my disgusting body in the mirror, when I see what I’ve done to myself. I haven’t had some kind of crazy body positivity awakening. I’m not changing my mind.

Fat people are lazy losers. I’m a big fat lazy loser. Fat people are greedy and disgusting without self-control. I’m greedy and disgusting without self-control. If I had any kind of control, I wouldn’t be so disgustingly fat. I wouldn’t have a blubber belly and broken down dump truck ass or thick tree trunk like thunder thighs. I shouldn’t have these things. I should be thin and sexy like I used to be, but I’m a glutton. I’m a greedy, naughty little piglet who can’t stop eating.

So come on, laugh at me. Laugh at the big fat greedy piggy. That’s me. Oink. Oink. Laugh at your favorite piggy. I deserve it. Oink. Oink. Come on now. What are you waiting for? I’m a big fat oinker here for your amusement. Laugh! Laugh at me, the big fat pig. Would you rather call me a cow instead? Moooooooo. Hell, stick around. I’ll be a full blown whale soon enough, and won’t we all just have a good laugh at me then?

Ha. Ha. Ha.

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

Diary of a Magical Fattener

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

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Ameli. Haha. Why would I bother writing my own name in you? Because it’s funny to me. This is the place for me to put my thoughts isn’t it? I get to control my own narrative, don’t eye?

Of course I do, Diary. And you don’t get to tell me otherwise. I haven’t given you the enchantment to talk back to me yet. Maybe one day I will, but honestly, things I’m learning about AI scare and confuse me, and the idea of essentially creating a magical AI diary and then forever questioning its level of sentience is a frightening rabbit hole that I’m not certain I wish to go down.

No. For now I will keep our conversations completely one-sided if somewhat meandering if day I say it Joycean. Of course I would say Joycean because I’m a pretentious bitch like that.

See that, Diary? Aren’t I fabulously honest? I’m so glad I can trust you, Diary. And in that same vein, I must be honest about something else.

I hate skinny bitches. I specifically hate vain, athletic, annoying, bitchy skinny bitches, and I most specifically hate my roommate, Gloria.

Gloria is one of those pretty girl snobs who thinks that because she’s got some money and lots of looks she runs the world and can look down upon others. She’s one of those hard body active types who loves sports and showing off how toned she is. She’s a fatphobic bitch who looks down on anyone carrying a few extra pounds, and she loves to lord over the fact that she’s so slim and sexy. And she truly is gorgeous, prim and proper, tight and toned.

Or, at least she was.

That’s what you’re here for, Diary. I’ve already started my plan to take glamorous Gloria down quite a few pegs, and I wanted to document my thoughts so I could reflect upon them and relive and savor the whole thing later on. 

Arrogant of me? Perhaps. Somewhat risky of a proposition essentially laying out my entire plan and admission to the mad fattening of another individual. Almost certainly, but that will be slightly less of a worry once I’ve finished implementing a basic confounding charm that will make anyone reading this think they are reading a bunch of trite nonsense.

Anyway, back to Gloria and my plan to turn her into an absolute pig, Gloria the Glutton I think I shall call her, and she will eventually be as abundantly obese as a circus fat lady. She’s going to balloon into a blubbery blob, completely immobile. That’s my goal. 

And I’ve already started. See, manipulating non-magic users has always been something of a passion of mine. Gloria? She’s set to be my magnum opus. 

It started with some dietary changes, encouraging indulgences, a cheat day here and there, then a few extra snacks, and a push to party just a little harder. Gloria started having fun more and working out less. 

Of course, the real fun has been watching her struggle to fit into her pants. 

The other day I watched Gloria struggle for a solid ten minutes to fit into her favorite pair of designer jeans until she simultaneously ripped the back and popped the button off. It was quite the sight to see her new muffin top bulging over the waistband of her pants. I loved watching her newly pudgy pot belly bounce and jiggle, the fat flinging about wildly as she fought as hard as she could against the inevitable. inevitable. 

There’s something extra thrilling about that first break in the confidence, in the moment where the vain, skinny, arrogant bitch realizes she’s not so perfect anymore. I do so love touching the untouchable.

And it was surprisingly easy too. You’d think that arrogant people would have a stronger will and be less susceptible to charm spells. But that’s not true at all. Vain people like Gloria are so into themselves that they’re never open to the idea of being influenced by others, they just assume everything they do is what they want to do anyway. The truly vain or the truly despondent are the easiest to manipulate, and once you break a vain person (like when they break their favorite pair of pants), they become despondent real quick.

It was so easy to get Gloria to go from cheat days to eating junk every day, from a little snack here and there to constantly nibbling. Now as her weight gain increases I get to move on to the next phase: Getting her to give up completely.

Our former athlete is going to find food to be her major comfort item. I’ll turn her into an emotional overeater. She’ll be chowing down for celebrations and stuffing her face when she’s sad. She’ll be a sweatpants wearing slob and no longer the glamor girl she imagined she would always be. Yes. Some charms to encourage her laziness. Some charms to increase her appetite. And some charms to make her feel like all of this was inevitable, that she deserves this.

It’s all right here in my books. That’s what my family has always specialized in, book magic the power of the words that have been written, tried and tested and believed in. These are the words of power at my fingertips.

And sure, I’m technically not supposed to have them. I sort of secreted them away from home. My older sister, Kylie, would have a fit if she knew. She’s very into the idea of being careful with tomes and “not letting them fall into the wrong hands”- by wrong hands she most specifically means non-magic users. She’s made a whole career out of tracking these things down and taking them back, often while inflicting humiliating punishments. That last bit is the one part about the whole thing that I like. Otherwise I just find Kylie to be judgy and a complete bore.

But she doesn’t matter. What matters is that the power is here in my hands as it should be, and Gloria is my thrall to do with as I please just like she deserves for being such a vain and arrogant prick. Now she’s well on the path to being the exact kind of person she’s always made fun of.

And, most importantly, I get to have a whole hell of a lot of fun.

Why shouldn’t I? I need to practice. And I should have fun while practicing. Right? That’s how our educational system should work. And Gloria is the perfect thrall, a deserving thrall, a thrall I’m enjoying turning from a fit and glamorous girl to gluttonous hog.

I can’t wait till she has a gigantic belly for me to shake and squeeze, and thick thunder thighs that make her waddle about like a fat pathetic penguin. I can see myself now squeezing handfuls upon handfuls of big blubbery butt. I want her ass to be huge and spongy and covered in cellulite. And I want her breasts to be big saggy pillows. I want all the not so little things for her two, like bingo wings and cankles and multiple chins. I don’t think two will do. She’ll need at least three.

It will be a glorious day for Gloria, the day she’s no longer able to get out of bed because I’ve turned her into a helpless immobile blob. I look forward to it. But I think for the next step we’ll stick to regularly having seconds at the dining hall and always having dessert. That should keep our piggy plumping nicely.

That’s all for now, Diary. It’s been fun. I’ll be sure to write again when I have more news to share and more pounds to savor.

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

“The Fat Making Notebook Goes to the Mall

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

Asami was bored after work one day, and so she wondered if her local mall would be a good place to find inspiration for how to use her notebook. It was this nagging sensation lately, the feeling that she really should use the notebook more. It’s funny, when she first got the notebook, Asami felt like she had a plan and purpose. She wanted to punish people who were mean to her at work, and even then she found other people to change too which she wasn’t expecting.

Now it felt like sometimes she would purposefully have the idea to go look for mean people say at the beach, or choose to transform people while she happened to be at the park. But this time she neither had a strong desire to go to even go to the mall let alone to purposefully go hunting there.

Hunting?

That was a new thought. She had never considered what she was doing hunting before. Asami thought only that she was doing what was right, punishing people who were vain, who didn’t deserve the privileges that life had just randomly given them. She was rewriting things to the way they should be, and so of course- Of course the mall would be full of vain people needing an adjustment to their attitude. The world would be a better place with Asami using her notebook to make a few changes.

Just a few, right?

She didn’t want to get carried away.

Of course, she reached for the notebook right away as soon as she caught the first skinny blonde bitch looking at her funny.

“How rude,” Asami thought of the vain woman who was clearly looking down at Asami for being heavier. She would need to teach her a lesson.

“The blonde woman in the halter top will gain weight focused mainly on a muffin top within the next minute. Her clothes will grow three sizes to accompany her weight gain, but then she will keep growing until the clothes are clearly embarrassingly ill-fitting and uncomfortable. She will merely think that she has been bad about her diet and will chase herself about the need to get her diet under control and get back to being slim and sexy, but she will find dieting to be quite impossible. She will continue to stubbornly shove herself into clothes that are too small insisting that they either fit fine or will fit fine once she’s lost some weight that she never will lose.”

Wow…. that was… specific, and Asami almost felt light headed after writing it all down. She was so dizzy in fact that she stumbled forward and sat down on a nearby bench without even looking back to see the changes she brought upon the woman who had looked down her surgically altered nose at her.

And that woman certainly did change.

She was what most people would consider a cougar, with a carefully done fake tan and a less carefully done blonde dye job in her hair. Everything about her figure was enhanced, from botox to breast implants, and she dressed the same way she would have if she was twenty years younger than she was. She wore skinny jeans and a halter top that left a sliver of her toned midriff exposed for all to appreciate her belly button piercing. The only thing that wasn’t fake about her was the amount of time she had put in at the gym to achieve such a stereotypically slim and sexy figure.

And Asami had taken care of that with a few strokes of her pen.

The woman’s belly began to balloon, losing any sign of the tone it once had as it quickly surged forward and transformed into a turgid, spongy mass that pushed up her halter top and overwhelmed the waistband of her skinny jeans. Sure enough, the fat rolled all around her like an inflatable pool tube but forming a definite muffin top composed of thick stretch out, very pinchable pudge. Quickly her memories became about how humiliated she was by her fat midsection and yet how she couldn’t help but continuously shove herself into goal clothes and tops that did nothing but showcase how out of shape she was all while she kept promising herself that it would be fine as soon as she started the diet that would never come.

It wasn’t just her belly that grew. Her arms gained flabby bingo wings, and her fake breasts grew extra fat that caused them to lose some of the unnatural perkiness. Her face rounded out slightly, but the majority of the weight that didn’t settle around her gut settled down below. Her thighs thickened until they just started to touch, a sign that if she was not careful she would soon be waddling about, and her ass got far more broken down junk in the trunk that she would have liked. While the jeans grew with her to a point they were now stretched to near their limit, and she had vague memories of barely being able to get them on in the morning.

Her once perfect life was irreparably changed, all while Asami was sitting on a bench nursing her headache.

When the pain subsided, Asami looked up to see a trio of college aged women sitting on a nearby bench taking a series of selfies.

“Oh, they might be fun to change,” she thought as she began to open up her notebook once again.

“Maybe, something a bit smaller this time just to be safe.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose as she brought the pen to the page and began to write.

“The trio of selfie-taking college girls will instantly gain just enough weight to make their faces fat enough to give them permanent double chins in all of their selfies and bellies that they can’t suck all the way in. It will be embarrassing but do nothing to stop their compulsive need to take and post pictures of themselves.”

Asami particularly liked that last bit. She figured that these women must be pretty vain and therefore pretty stuck up and mean to others. It will be nice for those people to enjoy some schadenfreude and get to see the humiliating irony of their former bullies losing their precious perfect looks.

The change was instantaneous as all three women had their previously sharp and or delicate facial features obscured by fat. It was like they were suffering from a bee sting allergy. They each gained chubby cheeks that could at best be described as cherubic and were at worst described as jowly. The ladies also developed doughy double chins that hung around and made themselves known no matter how high the angle of their selfies were.

They also grew thick pot bellies that poked out of their shirts and rolled onto their laps. Asami watched with glee as they finished taking selfies and stopped sucking in their guts and instead let them expand further. She watched them hem and haw over the quality of the pictures before they felt themselves compelled to share them online even though they knew how unkind so many of the comments would be.

When they were done posting their humiliating selfies, their fat tummies rumbled and signaled a need to head to the food court and stuff their fat faces with some greasy junk.

Asami was very pleased.

When she turned back from the trio she had just transformed and looked straight ahead, she found herself staring at a store she had never seen before.

“Katrina’s Closet” she mused as she read the store’s name out loud.

“How odd,” she thought. She had lived in the area for her entire life and spent an incredible amount of time in this mall, and yet she had no recollection of this Katrina’s Closet place ever being here before. Even if it was new, she found she had no memory of its construction or of another store even being in this spot.

As she continued to contemplate the store’s existence, Asami watched a very privileged looking young lady strutting confidently toward the store. She looked like a real bitch in heels and carried herself like the kind of young woman whose daddy has money. When she got to the store she rudely bumped into a fat older woman.

“Watch where you’re going, you fugly cow!” the young skinny bitch proclaimed.

Asami couldn’t hear the fat older woman’s meek response, but she heard the way the vain skinny one continued to lace into her.

“I’m sure you are, you fat old hag, you bloated sow. Why are you even bothering shopping here? I’m sure they don’t have anything in your mammoth size, you whale!” she declared before blowing past the older woman and into the store.

Asami was incensed. She wanted so badly to just open up her notebook and dole out some justice. 

And yet her hand never made a move.

She got up to go into the store, and then just found herself sort of… standing there.

Asami stood there feeling puzzled for- well she didn’t know how long. Things were just overall kind of fuzzy. Then she noticed another woman clearly about to head into the store and whipped out her notebook to see something.

“The woman going into Katrina’s Closet will find that any clothes she wears will always be one size too small.”

It was a quick idea based on a story Asami had read years ago, and it instantly went to work.

The woman swelled just slightly. She lost her muscle tone and every part of her grew softer. Her confident strut disappeared as it became clear that her pants were too tight across her thicker thighs and flabby booty. Asami watched as the woman grew a distinct muffin top that strained the button on her shirt.

And then, just as the woman was starting to reach for the handle of the door, she turned and walked away as if she was never heading to Katrina’s Closet in the first place, as if it never even crossed her mind or existed at all.

Asami quickly checked her notebook to see what she had written. It all looked like it was still there except that where she knew she had written Katrina’s Closet the ink had bled and looked like someone had tried to somehow smudge it out.

“Weird.”

She looked up from the notebook in time to see the two women from earlier walk out of the store, but this time they looked totally different from what she had remembered. The young, thin one was now fatter and older and the fat older woman was now younger and slim. 

“That can’t…”

Asami went to write about them in the notebook, but the pen flew out of her hand and she felt a sting as if she had been hit by a very strong surge of static shock.

Shaking her head, Asami decided it was best to just dismiss the whole affair and move on. She picked up her pen and headed toward the food court.

She was sure she would find more people worthy of transforming there.

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

“The Adipose Zone: Bellies in the Breakroom”

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

You’re walking through a door. On the other side of this door is a sixth dimension beyond the imagination of mere human beings. It is a dimension not just of touch and taste, but of thought. It is a dimension far from the hard edges of our own reality, a softer place as wide as time itself and as large as one’s own imagination.

Observe now, if you dare, a quiet little breakroom in the business law firm of Brockman, Stockman and Burke. It’s an unassuming little place with the kind of care given to its decoration by someone using their fifth thought. It’s here where we find Suzie and Annalise, two interns in the department of mergers and acquisitions. 

Here they’ve come to escape the hustle and bustle of their demanding day and enjoy getting to know each other through quiet conversation over some weak coffee and a box of doughnuts.

But what these two don’t know is that their conversation is taking place in more than just this breakroom. It’s taking place in…

The Adipose Zone.

----

Suzie and Annalise sat at one of the three small round tables in the room with two cups of coffee that Annalise had poured for them and a box of a dozen doughnuts that remained mostly untouched.

“Do you want a doughnut?” asked Annalise as she took one for herself.

“No thank you. I’m not hungry.” responded Suzie as she smiled a simple innocent smile and tapped her fingers against her coffee cup.

“Wow. This is really good.”

Annalise wasn’t one to normally indulge in sweets, or junk food of any kind really. She was the kind of person who prided herself in control, in maintaining her perfect slim figure. Having been one of those mean girls in high school, and even for a bit in college, Annalise was well aware of how society tended to treat women who failed to maintain their figures properly, and in a high powered law firm like this, Annalise wanted to be sure to keep her firm figure and be taken seriously. She wasn’t planning on being a fat secretary!

And yet these doughnuts just seemed so inviting, and as she took a taste of one, she felt an overwhelming desire to just shove the whole thing in her mouth. 

“That must be really good,” said Suzie with all the monotony of reading a name out of the phone book.

“Mmmph yephhh,” mumbled Annalise through full chipmunk cheeks not realizing that she had indeed crammed the entire doughnut into her mouth. 

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” said Suzie as she tapped her fingers against her cup which was still filled to the brim with coffee. 

Annalise finished the doughnut and wiped a bit of chocolate from her lips. She looked down at the box of doughnuts and felt her stomach growl for more. She was already craving a second doughnut but didn’t want to make a further display of herself having seemingly eaten that first one in record time. 

“Go ahead. Have another,” said Suzie without blinking. 

With Suzie’s permission, Annalise indulged herself and began to engage Suzie in pleasant conversation. It was around her third or fourth doughnut that they got around to talking about Suzie’s family. 

“My parents adopted me. Would you like to see them?”

Suzie calmly set her phone on the table and began to scroll through an album of photos. Annalise watched them go by as she munched on another doughnut.

The photos were of Suzie and her family over time. Suzie’s parents were a fit and happy couple, and as time went by Annalise could tell that they were still happy, but they certainly weren’t fit. Picture after picture her family members were pigging out and growing larger. Suzie’s parents grew plump with wide figures and piggish faces. By the time Suzie was done scrolling, her parents were tremendous fatties practically unrecognizable from the fit couple that had originally adopted Suzie.

Annalise let the doughnut fall from her hand as she looked up at Suzie.

“You dropped something. Don’t want to leave a mess,” said Suzie in a creeping monotone that was beginning to take on new meaning for Annalise.

And yet, Annalise couldn’t help but pick up the rest of the doughnut and shove it into her mouth. Her stomach gurgled as her food baby was really starting to grow now as she looked down and realized she had somehow managed to eat over half a dozen doughnuts.

That’s when Carol and Trinna walked in.

Carol and Trinna had worked at the firm for a long time, and when Annalise got first got there, they were everything Annalisa wanted to be. They were fit, powerful women, bosses who were as strong as they were sexy. And while Carol and Tina both maintained their positions of power, they certainly hadn’t maintained their figures. The two had clearly let themselves go.

Both Carol and Trinna were wearing clothes that had fit them much better several sizes ago. They were squeezed like sausages into their office attire as they held onto the shreds of their vanity. They were both sporting big doughy bellies and fat flabby asses with thunder thighs that clapped together as they walked. They had bingo wings and saggy breasts and were well over the line of being chubby and were pushing the edge of becoming bonafide bovines as far as Annalise was concerned. 

Both women wobbled over to the fridge and grabbed some salads.

“Is that really all you’re having, ladies?” asked Suzie without even looking at them.

“Well… ummm… we’re on a diet,” muttered Carol in a meek tone not normally used by a boss to their intern.

“I don’t think so. I think you want dessert real bad,” said Suzie without so much as a smirk.

Carol and Trinna’s bellies began to rumble.

“Y-yeah. I guess you’re right,” nodded Trinna as her chubby hand squeezed the fat around her rumbling tummy.

“There’s a cake in the fridge for Joe’s birthday. You can start with that.”

The two pulled out a large sheet cake in a box and began looking for plates and utensils.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing those things,” said Suzie. And this time Annalise could have sworn she saw the slightest uptick in the corner of Suzie’s mouth.

The two sighed, but as their stomachs roared louder they began to tear into the cake with their hands, hunched over the box like a pair of animals, they didn’t even take the time to sit down instead just shoving handful after handful of cake into their greedy maws, fat jiggling as they went to town. Their fat faces and strained clothes were soon stained with crumbs and frosting.

“You two are such naughty little piglet, ruining Joe’s cake like that. I think you owe him another one,” gently chastised Suzie.

The two little office piggies began to nod with their double chins wobbling and dripping with cake.

“In fact, get two. That ought to make it up to Joe, and a box of pastries as well.”

“Yes. Suzie,” nodded Carol.

“Sounds good. I’m… I’m still really hungry,” admitted Trinna as she wiped some of the frosting from her face with the back of her hand.

“Oh,” said Suzie as the two were almost halfway through the door, and practically wedged into it by their fattened bodies.

“Get Annalise another box of doughnuts as well. She’s going to need them.”

As the two office fatties left to do as they were told, Annalise was horrified to look down and see that she had eaten almost the entire box of doughnuts. There was only one left.

Annalise looked at Suzie’s stone cold cup of untouched coffee and then up into Suzie’s eyes.

She had expected to see eyes as cold as the coffee, dead lifeless eyes like a doll, but instead as she stared into Suzie’s eyes, what stared back at Annalise was a mass of stars, a swirling universe more expansive than she could ever dread to imagine, and as she reached for the last doughnut, only one thought crossed her mind.

She wondered just how fat she was going to get.

-----

Annalise thought today was just going to be another day at the office, an ordinary day filled with ordinary conversation with her fellow intern.

But casual conversation over coffee and doughnuts can turn into so much more when your conversation partner is a native of…

The Adipose Zone.

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

“A Mermaid Can’t Stop Munching

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

God, I’m so bloated. My belly, my precious abs. I can’t see them. Am I get fat? Oh Go, am I getting FAT? I think I might be getting fat. I’m getting fat aren’t I?

I can’t get fat. I’m supposed to be one of the hot ones in the group, a mermaid model that actually looks like what a mermaid model is supposed to look like, not like that seacow Veronica. She’s disgusting. She’s a pig who can’t possibly control herself, so of course she’s the star of this freakshow. She’s a blubbery mass that people love to come and gawk at right before ordering a bunch of fish sandwiches or whatever that are going to send them down the road to obesity.

But those fish sandwiches are just so damn good. I have to eat a few every once in a while. I didn't think that would be a problem. And then after hours… I might have pecked at an extra one or two here or there, or a burger, or some fries.

Am I on the road to obesity?

I’m supposed to be a slim and sexy model. I am a slim and sexy model, or well… I was.

I’m still a model, but I’m not exactly slim with this little gut I’m growing. Or these thighs that are thickening. I used to be ridiculously in shape. It’s what got me this job. I had a body deserving of a bikini model. I had a body that made others jealous, and I loved making others jealous.

I don’t want to be like Veronica. I don’t want to be some tremendous fat ass who eats burgers behind a glass tank on display like some kind of fat animal for people to laugh at. I’m supposed to be the one doing the laughing. I want to be doing the laughing!

But it’s hard to laugh when your face is stuffed with food. And now when I laugh my belly jiggles which is disgusting. And my thighs are soft, and my butt is flabby. I wear a tail for this costume and it’s getting pretty snug. I just thank the lord that it covers up my legs so for now whenever people are taking pictures of me I can mostly suck in my stomach long enough to avoid any real humiliation.

Can you imagine what my friends would say if they could really see how bad things are? When I’m out it feels like I’m working double time to disgust my recent figure flaws, body shapers, flattering clothes, careful angles in pictures. It’s all an act, a desperate act.

But how long can I keep it going?

I should quit before it’s too late. I’m the lucky one. Ashley has gained more weight than me. She can’t hide it anymore. I see the people in the crowd starting to gawk at her too because she can’t suck in her gut enough. I’ve seen the comments on her socials, heard the whispers behind her back and the jeers made directly to her face. She’s getting fat and she knows it. She can’t help it.

That could be me too which is why I need to get control of things, but I don’t know if I can help it either. I can’t just quit. The money’s too good. And the food is too good.

I’m stuck, and if I’m not careful I’m not going to be getting stuck in my costume, getting stuck in seats, hell getting stuck in doorways! Is it truly possible that I could end up just as fat if not fatter than Veronica?

With the way I eat, I have to be honest. It seems more likely that I’ll end up an obese blob than that I’ll lose weight and be a slim and toned hottie again anytime soon. I can see myself gaining, getting laughed at and being able to do nothing but stuff my face and get fatter. I can see the road to obesity clearly because I know the horrible truth.

I’m hungry.