Fat Trimmings Vol 2

“Feed Me. Tease Me.”

Listen to her moan.

“Feed me.” She pleads.

“I want to get fatter. I NEED to get fatter. I know you know that. You’ve seen how much I’m begging for food. I’m aching for food. Won’t you give me some? Won’t you help me grow? I want to get bigger and bigger. I want to feel my belly bulging outward as you feed me. Stuff me silly.”

She grabs her round already stuffed belly to prove her point. You’ve already filled her past where so many others would go, could go. But she’s panting, not from a struggle to eat but with desire for more. She looks at you and quietly oinks. It’s a whisper. But it’s there. A soft, gentle oink.

“I want to be a pig, a BIG - FAT - PIG.  Won’t you make that happen for me? Make me your not so little pet piggy. I want to be your pet piggy so bad.”

As she snorts and oinks some more, she gets up and begins to dance. Her fat flows every which way as she swings her large and sensuous hips. Her hands slide up her sides and cradle her underbelly as shakes it with both hands moving in opposite directions like she’s shaking a set of maracas to a rhythm all her own.

“Watch me jiggle. Watch me shake my big fat butt. Is it big enough for you yet? It’s getting bigger by the day you know. I popped another pair of pants just this morning. You keep feeding me and soon enough every piece of clothing I own will have burst at the seams. I’ll have to get a brand new wardrobe. Of course, with the way you feed me I’ll outgrow those clothes quite quickly too. It might just be more economical to lounge around naked.”

She flops onto the bed, and you can hear it creak under her weight. It is a symphony of strained wood mixed with popping seams.

“Would you like that? Would you like to see my waddling around here naked with my big belly bouncing and my pendulous breasts swinging free? You can make me jump as I beg you for more food. Every time I need to eat you can watch my whole body jiggle as I hope up and down and plead for you to feed me. And it takes a lot of food to keep me full. I need to be full. Won’t you be the one to fill me?”

Her eyes are wide and wistful. She wants it. You can tell. There’s no lie here. She needs it. She needs to be fed in more ways than one.

“I’ll be a good piggy for you. I promise. Would you like to see me jump now? Watch out. All that motion might just make my bra pop off right now. Everything on me is so tight. I bet you if I move enough all this fat will just spring free.”

You can see that her prediction is already coming true. You don’t need to wait to see the results of what you’ve been doing with her. Already fat is bursting forth from clothes that won’t last much longer.

Her double chin wobbles as she nuzzles your arm.

“You want to call me names? I know you do. I want you to.”

She licks your fingers looking for chocolate. She kisses your hand and begins to plead.

“Won’t you call me names? You want to. You do.”

She sits on her knees with her fat hands pressed against her fatter thighs.

“Come on. Let’s hear it.”

She bounces up and down in anticipation, and you watch as her entire body jiggles. She moves in waves of fat with each section of her dancing to a different time signature. Her double belly is thick and heavy and moves more slowly than her pendulous breasts which, even in her barely fitting bra are wild and seem to move in all directions at once.

“Call me a piggy. Call me a cow. Come on. I deserve it. Look at what I’ve done to myself. Look and how fat I’ve gotten. Shouldn’t I be ashamed of all this? Tell me how ashamed I should be. Tell me just how fat and naughty I am. That’s right. I’ve really let myself go. I should be ashamed of myself. I should just bury my face in cake. Would you like that? You did bring the cake, didn’t you?”

She oinks and moos and slaps her own ass. She is back and all fours a crawling toward you with every part of her wobbling.

Then she pulls away from you in a way to tease you, but you can see the genuine fear in her eyes as she does so, the anxiety over the possibility of not getting to stuff her greedy cake.

“You did bring the cake didn’t you?” She repeats, trembling like a junkie as she does so.

“Please tell me you brought the cake. You know how much I love to stuff myself with cake. Go ahead. Put it right on the floor. I’ll show you what a good piggy I am. I’ll get on all fours for you. I don’t need my hands. I’ll just shove my fat face right into the cake and wolf it down. I can’t help myself. You know that. I need cake inside me right now. My tummy can’t bear not eating. So watch me. Watch me stuff myself with cake. You like that don’t you? Soon enough my big apron of a double belly will be dragging along the floor as I do this. You might as well get me a trough- or a funnel.”

She rubs her flabby thunder thighs together as she writhes in pleasure on the bed. She doesn’t even need to be touched, though she sure will welcome it. Just the idea of what you’re going to do to her is enough to get her going.

“Get me a funnel and feed me more. Make me fatter faster. I’m all yours. Feed me till I can’t hold anymore. Stuff me. Feed me more. More. MORE.”

You’ll never truly be able to fill her. You’ve made a monster, and she’s all yours.

“Oink oink. Please. Feed me. Oink oink. Feed me more.”

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“Laurie’s Eating Habits”

Laurie can’t stop eating.

Whatever she sees, she needs to consume. She is not picky in the slightest. More than that, there is nothing she wouldn’t try, seemingly nothing she hasn’t tried.

Laurie is a foodie. That’s what she likes to call herself. She likes to pretend that she is adventurous, that she is culturally aware, that she enjoys the community aspect of food and eating.

“It is a beautiful thing,” she says, for people to gather together and share their time and their bounty. It is a beautiful thing to welcome others to your table and enjoy joining them at theirs. If the whole world shared their food with others, the world would be a better place. This is how Laurie justifies her actions. She is a connoisseur, a cultural ambassador, a friend to all. And this may all be true. But it’s not the whole truth, or even the most important truth.

The truth is Laurie is a glutton.

And fancy food be damned. She doesn’t need a five star meal from a gourmet restaurant. It’s just the same as anything deep fried at a fair. Laurie is just as likely to eat pork rinds as she is to eat foie gras, chicken wings as frog legs. She will stuff herself silly with whatever is in front of her. She doesn’t give a damn about culture either.

Call them chips or crisps, it’s all the same to her. Hell, serve them however you want. She loves potatoes every which way. Boil them. Mash them. Stick ‘em in a stew. Serve them fully loaded with sour cream and bacon, the more cheese the better! That’s probably Laurie’s favorite, but she’ll eat everything else. Laurie doesn’t judge. She may tell you that she prefers curly fries to straight ones, but she doesn’t really care. It’s the same with preparation. She’ll eat them naked, but she prefers when they’re being used as a vessel for cheese, and gravy, and ranch, and bacon.

Always. Bacon.

But even without the bacon, she’ll eat french fries (or chips for those across the pond), by the platter, by the bowl, by the whatever serving vessel you wish to serve them in full. She’ll eat them fresh or soggy! It doesn’t matter.

Laurie won’t stop eating.

She used to be thin, you know. But now she’s quite bulbous. Fat upon fat. Her gluttony is evident. It seems like everything about her has doubled. Her weight has doubled. Her chin has doubled. Her belly has doubled. She is twice the woman she used to be and has twice the appetite she used to have, and her appetite started out as enormous.

People have asked her to stop. Family. Friends. They’re worried about her. She used to be so pretty. They’re worried about her health. They’re worried about the state of their furniture when she comes to visit. They beg with her. They plead with her. They berate her, call her names, shun her. Refuse to eat with her once they’ve realized that her habits and unwanted pounds are rubbing off on them as well.

None of this phases her though. There is always food to be had, and Laurie is going to have it. No matter how many times she rips her clothes in public. No matter what the cost is either in coin or abject humiliation. She’ll pay it every time because, in the end, there’s always one simple truth that she keeps coming back to.

Laurie can’t stop eating.

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“What If? Part 2”

Yes. She could do it. She would do it. At least….she would give in just a little bit with just one little bite of this cupcake and see how it feels. No more than that! Just the slightest bit of a sweet treat…

Her teeth grated against the cream cheese icing and she rolled the dollop of sweet cream on her tongue letting out a soft moan as she did so.

It all felt so bad and yet so right.

Just a nibble.

That was what she would allow herself, a small bite of the cupcake as she thought about what she would look like if she let herself go, if she let herself become the truly obese whale that she knew she was capable of becoming.

She pictured her apron of a belly rolling out over thick cellulite covered thunder thighs that pressed together as she sat, as she walked- no, as she waddled. Yes. She pictured her entire body swaying from side to side as her thighs chafed together. She pictured her giant ass cheeks crammed into ripping sweatpants and bouncing up and down in every direction, too fat and soft to be controlled.

She shuddered at the idea of being a slave to gravity with roll after roll of jiggling flab far beyond her own control. The thought of herself being so fat that she needed to take heavy breaths just from standing was giving her heavy breathes right now.

The nibble became a full on bite. The bite became second and then, without a second thought, she was cramming the remains of the cupcake into her mouth and licking the remains of the frosting from her lips.

Then that first cupcake became a second, and a third.

Why had she bought a pack of six?

She was supposed to bring these to other people. Right? Yes. Her fat cousin’s birthday. She was going to taunt her with an entire six pack of cupcakes with plump pig faces piped on just for her fat cousin to eat.

But now…

She could eat them all herself, couldn’t she? She could be a naughty little piggy just like her pathetic fat ass cousin. She could give in and gorge herself.

Yes. Just another. And another. Finish the pack. Just this one time.

But what if this really is the start of something? Something so much bigger? What if this is the first step down a road she can’t come back from. She could be running into a future from which there is no escape and walking down this path now would mean waddling in the future.

And wouldn’t that be great.

These cupcakes were so moist just like she can feel between her legs right now. The thought of that future… it’s… alluring to say the least. She could give her gorgeous life up and let her cousin be the one making fun of her for a change.

Could that happen? Could she really become fatter than her pig of a cousin?

She could. She could dwarf her cousin completely. She could see herself being so big, so stuffed by deserts that she needs a motorized scooter to get around.

No more perfect life just struggle and weakness and all she would have to do is to keep giving in. Let things take their natural course. Be the fatty she has always secretly wanted- no - NEEDED to be.

She could start by eating another six pack of cupcakes… or more.

Yes. She still needed to needed to get to her cousin's birthday. And it would be rude not to bring a gift. So she’ll pick up another six pack of cupcakes for her fat cousin…

And another dozen just for her… a baker’s dozen and a scone!

Could she really eat all that? Could she really bring herself to binge in such a display of gluttony?

There was only one way to find out.

She was going to get so fat wasn’t she?