BS Writer

A Final Update

Hello,

I know my previous exit was extremely rushed, and I apologize for that. But unfortunately it really is time for me to go.

I thank you all for your support and apologize for the work left unfinished. That was not my intent, but it is clear that I need to stop what I am doing right away. There is no other way forward.

I have republished this page for today to allow for anyone who wants to to back up my work for personal use only so that you do not feel I have scammed you.

Please under no circumstances repost it anywhere.

What I will tell you is this, be careful. Be careful with this stuff. Be careful what you do with it. Be careful with how it might shape you. I let my writing consume me, and while I made some very good money doing it, it has had some real negative consequences to my life, and I cannot deny its dangers, so like you would for a gambling or alcohol addiction, please if you find yourself needing it, get help.

Thank you.

I Am Done and Sorry

Sorry for the quick deletion, but the time has come when I cannot do this anymore. I thank you for your understanding. Trust that no more payments will be taken from you as I unpublish this page.

"Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 9

Here is the latest chapter of "Model Made to Waddle". A week after a very fattening ladies' night, Ariel visits her vain family.

Enjoy!

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Ariel got a lot of who she was because of her beautiful family. That basically means she grew up in a house full of vain catty women and grew up to be the perfect example of one. Growing up, Ariel’s family was competitive and she prided herself on coming out on top.

But even so, that didn’t mean she liked going back, and she was especially not in the mood to do so now. It had been a long week already.

It had started after that ladies night. Ariel was pretty sure the night had been fun, even if her memory of the night was fuzzy. She remembered enjoying herself and eating a lot of food, that was not odd for her on nights like that, especially lately. And Ariel was starting to worry that that was becoming a problem.

Ariel had at least been attempting to diet, to be in control. But that ladies night- It was like something small had broken inside her. First, she woke up the morning after with an absolute monster of a hangover. Luckily for her, the other ladies had all stayed over, and, being in far better shape than she was, they made breakfast.

It was a big breakfast.

First they helpfully gave her a fresh Bloody Mary, a little hair of the dog to ease her hangover. And then came the bacon, greasy yet still somehow crispy and obviously delicious. They were served along with some hashbrowns, and after that came the main event, a stack of pancakes drowning in butter and syrup, and she managed to eat the whole thing with a side of cantaloupe as well. After that, she was given a banana and peanut butter smoothie and settled down for a nap before lunch.

It was a familiar story for Ariel. She remembered the last time she had really partied and fell into the same comforting but food heavy cycle. Lunch was mac and cheese. She didn’t know how much she ate, but she knew it was delicious and then came with a strawberry and banana smoothie and another nap. Then there was dinner. By then the ladies were also extremely tired, and nobody was up for making much. That meant that they just ordered some pizza. Ariel was pretty sure she ate two or three slices, but couldn’t put her finger on the exact amount. She also had some cheesy garlic bread, a last minute edition when Kelly remembered that she had wanted to make it the night before but had gotten distracted by the loaded nachos. Ariel didn’t mind at all. The garlic bread was delicious.

And for dessert that night, Ariel was left to her own devices. She was in the mood for cake, but after seeing that there was apparently none left, she settled for some vanilla ice cream (thankful that Kelly had thought to buy her more) and covered it in whipped cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles. It was a pleasant little dessert right before she slipped back off to bed.

The next day she woke up and felt fine. But that’s also when she realized just how much leftover food she was stuck with.

What would she do with it?

She would eat it of course.

Ariel had earned a week of lazing about and grazing. And all of the food that she had in her house made that incredibly easy. She sat around indulging in whatever it is that she wanted. The leftover creamy chicken alfredo lasagna was three more meals. She made a lunch of some leftover nachos. (Those were soggy and did not heat up well, but she ate it all regardless.) The ladies had apparently ordered way too much pizza so she still had six slices to work through over the next three days. And snacks, there was so much snacking to be had. There were still bags of candy, some cupcakes, the ice cream. 

She told herself she was probably indulging too much, but every time she felt concerned, another part of her called herself a coward. And now she was seeing the damage. After a week of working through leftovers and then indulging on whatever takeout food she wanted (Chinese one day, Indian another, more pizza after that) the evidence of her indulgence was clear for the first time.

Her pants didn’t fit.

Try as she might, the button of her designer jeans did not want to button. She grunted. She growled. She hopped up and down and rolled on her bed. Ariel was thankful that nobody was there to witness this small humiliation as she did what so many other women have been through but which until now Ariel had never even dreamed she would worry about, a fight to fit into her pants. 

It took what felt like forever, but eventually she was able to get the pants buttoned, and when she let her stomach go, it didn’t pop the button loose, but she could feel how tight it was. To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement, and what that tightness did was send her mind into a spiral of excuses. It couldn’t have been the sheer amount of food that she had eaten that week. It must have been water retention, her time of month coming up, a poor washing job that had shrunk her pants.

Slowly, and with far more effort than she wanted to admit, Ariel peeled the pants off and tossed them aside. She quickly picked out another pair. Ariel hadn’t given this selection a lot of thought. It was just the pair of pants that happened to be at the top of the draw. But those pants also happened to be a slightly older pair, more well worn and with a slightly stretched out and more forgiving waistband. It closed just fine, and Ariel breathed a sigh of relief. 

This might have been one of the worst things that could have happened to Ariel. If she had picked up another tight pair of pants or two, she might have panicked and really locked in on a diet, but the fact that she immediately slipped into a fitting pair of pants just served to confirm Ariel’s suspicions. There wasn’t something wrong with her. There was just something wrong with that pair of pants.

She paired the pants with a blouse that she had chosen because subconsciously she knew it was flattering. (If Ariel had thought that she needed to wear something flatter she would have screamed.) Then she went downstairs and ordered herself some avocado toast (complete with a poached egg on top) for breakfast and helped herself to some oatmeal raisin cookies that Kelly had dropped off the day before while she waited.

When the avocado toast, which she ordered with a shot of espresso and a strawberry and banana smoothie to go with it arrived, Ariel ate it quickly while thinking about how she was supposed to visit her family. On another occasion it might have been a moment of triumph, an opportunity to flaunt her success. At worst it normally would have been a chore, but heading into her family’s house while being anything less than one hundred percent felt like she was about to walk into the lion’s den.

She was going to need another cookie or two to steel her nerves and get her through it.

Ariel’s immediate family consisted of her vain mother Wendy, the primary cause of her own cruel and catty demeanor and the driving force for why she was so in love with and concerned about her appearance, and her sisters. Ariel had three sisters, Sophie, Liz, and Dana. Dana was Ariel’s successful older sister, the oldest in the family. Sophie was the youngest, about to be a freshman in college. And Liz?

Liz was the fat one.

It was always a point of contention with the family. Liz, often simply referred to as Lardo by her sisters, was consistently bullied by her siblings. She was the fat, dumpy practice dummy her family members used to sharpen their claws on and brush up on their pettiness. Liz seldom received a kind word, even from her mother who frequently viewed Liz as nothing more than a sullen disappointment, especially when she was weighed (metaphorically and literally) against her sisters. 

This was especially the case now that twenty-three year old Liz was still living at home, something neither of her older sisters had done. Sophie had gone away to college and pretty much never returned. Ariel had stayed home for the beginning of her college career, but that was so her mother could help keep a better eye on her burgeoning modeling career, and once that took off than Ariel was out of the house too and exploring the fierce spirit independence that seemed to fill all of the women in the family, all except Liz that is. 

Liz never had a desire to go anywhere. She never had a desire to do anything. (At least that’s what it seemed to everyone else.) She had a simple vet tech job, which meant she got to be around animals all day. She occasionally went on dates, but nobody particularly thrilled her. She liked living at home because it saved her a lot of money on rent. Really, the only thing Liz was ever truly upset about was her weight, and even that was because of the pervasive prodding of her family. If they would get off her fat back about it, she would probably be fine about her weight as it was. But they showed absolutely no sign of cutting her fat ass some slack. Case in point-

“Hey there, Lardo.”

Immediately, Liz regretted opening the door for Ariel and felt her heart sink into her plush stomach. 

“Hey, sis,” she muttered. 

Ariel just lowered her sunglasses in the cliche dramatic fashion that she was so very fond of and proceeded to look Liz up and down and delivered the same sentiment that she would have given if she had been stricken with blindness. 

“Still fat, I see.”

Expecting to see Liz’s usual dopey frown on her doughy face, Ariel practically fumbled her sunglasses when she was instead greeted by a smile. 

“Actually, I’ve lost a little weight!”

For a moment, Ariel just sorta there trying to perceive any small change to Liz’s large figure. 

“Oh. Have you? I don’t see it.”

Her attempt at being cutting was cut off by a gleeful Liz with evidence in hand. 

“Yup! I’m down like six or seven pounds. Not a whole lot, but look!”

She ran her hand along the inside of her pants and gently pulled at the waistband of her jeans to fully demonstrate how much room she had. 

“These are so much looser! See?”

While her eyes traveled down and watched Liz finger the waistband of her pants some more, her mind wandered back to earlier that morning and the tightness she had experienced trying to squeeze into her own designer jeans. They had been too tight, almost as if Ariel had grown out of them- which Ariel knew she hadn’t but the fear… it lingered… and the pants she was wearing now weren’t exactly loose….

No!

Ariel shook the negative thoughts loose from her pretty head. Those pants weren’t tight because of her. They had shrunk. And these pants weren’t tight. They fit perfectly. Pants weren’t supposed to be loose. Her pants were purposefully chosen to fit her like a glove, to hug and perfectly showcase her perky perfect ass. She wasn’t getting fat. Her sister was just a fat idiot.

“Well then, get some new pants that actually fit, you fat fashion disaster.”

After seeing that her last remark left her peppy sister satisfyingly crestfallen, Ariel strutted past Liz and into the house proper. Once she walked into the living room, she was greeted by her youngest sister, Sophie who was lounging on the couch stretched out and working her way through a bag of potato chips.

“Hey!” called out Sophie right before stuffing another handful of chips into her mouth.

“Hey.”

“Liz still showing off her pants?” asked Sophie with her mouth full of chips.

“Yeah. Lardo thinks just cause her pants are a little loose it’s suddenly a big deal.”

Ariel’s eyes went to that bag of chips, and her mouth practically started to water.

Sophie, oblivious to Ariel’s hungry stare, kept eating chips while talking trash about Liz who had just walked back into the room but was remaining completely silent.

“I know, right? It’s pathetic, like she thinks she’s suddenly not fat.”

“I know. And she’s still such a fat ass,” agreed Ariel with a vigorous nod that did not break her concentration on the chip bag. It was like she was a predator sizing up her prey.

And like a slow-witted calf at the watering whole, Sophie didn’t notice.

“SUCH a fat ass! What a piggy. Oink! Oink!”

Suddenly, Ariel reached down and snatched the bag of potato chips right out of Sophie’s hands.

“Speaking of oinkers, you better be careful with all these chips, sis.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday weekend.”

Sophie lunged for the chips, and as Ariel looked down at her whiny brat of a college aged sister, she couldn’t help but notice the way her normally flat stomach bunched up into a bunch of tiny rolls, the lower most of which was threatening to roll over the waistband of her jean shorts and into her lap. Sophie was normally a perfectly put together goddess, just like Ariel. In fact, Ariel had considered Sophie to be the perfect protege, she had just graduated high school as prom queen and head cheerleader and now celebrating her nineteenth birthday was poised to take over college and the world.

But those rolls? They were tiny but they were new, and Ariel was ready to have a little bit of fun at her younger sister’s expense, especially since doing so would take her mind off her own slight weight gain- no - not weight gain- off the unfortunate drama of shrinking on of her favorite pairs of designer jeans.

Ariel let her sister reach for the chips again before pulling them away once more.

“So you’re going to have chips, and cake, and what else, piglet?”

She danced away has she shoved a handful of greasy potato chips into her mouth.

Sophie threw a pillow at her and jumped up from the couch, practically lunging right over the back.

“Shut up. And give me back my chips.”

But Ariel was too quick and began to run around the couch, keeping it between her and her sister while eating more of the chips.

“Make me, loser!”

She took the time to stick her tongue out and then ate more chips without caring for the crumbs she was leaving on the floor.

This caused Sophie to move to plan b.

“MOM!” Her screamed bellowed through the house, a well practiced high pitched whine that could only be produced by the baby of the family.

And as if she had been waiting for her cue, Ariel and Sophie’s mom, Wendy entered from the kitchen and soon stood between the two tapping a foot that came loaded with disappointment.

“Are you two seriously fighting over food like some naughty, greedy little piglets? Shame on you two, acting like a couple of oinkers. I’d expect this from Liz, but not you two.”

“Sorry, mom,” They said in unison.

Liz, who had been standing there unnoticed for most of the previous conversation, just rolled her eyes at the casually snide remark from her mother and hit Sophie on the arm.

“Hey, birthday girl. I just bought some more chips if you just want a whole new bag.”

“Oh! Perfect!” squealed Sophie.

With that, Sophie followed her fat sister into the kitchen for chips, and whatever other snacks she decided she wanted along the way.

“Sophie better be careful, mom. Or she’s gonna turn into a real sow,” Ariel said without a hint of irony.

She was incapable of noticing that her own slim figure was being threatened by the first few stubborn pounds that would turn her slender stomach into a plump pot belly and her toned model’s thighs into thunder thighs perfect for waddling. Ariel had a new target to cast her judgmental eyes on, her sister Sophie, and that was more than enough to distract her from her own shortcomings, her own bad habits- her own FATTENING habits.

Ariel didn’t even realize she was eating more potato chips until her mother snatched the near empty bag out of her hands.

“I don’t want to talk about Sophie right now.”

“What? You’re not expecting me to be all excited for Liz or something now, do you? So she lost a couple pounds, so what? She’ll gain it all back and more in a month. She’s still a cow.”

“This is about Dana.”

“Dana?”

“Dana’s getting a divorce.”

“Again?”

“Yes. But this one’s not going well. She’s moving back in and well… be nice.”

“Nice, why?

“Because your sister is going through a tough time, and-”

“Did she get fat? Oh my god, did she get fat and that’s why she’s getting a divorce? Did her wife dump her fat ass?”

Ariel’s eyes went wide as she imagined the possibilities. She loved her sister, but seeing Dana go from slim and successful, the sexy older sister, to being a fat loser living back at home, that was just too juicy, too funny. For years, Ariel had grown up in her sister’s shadow. Dan was also prom queen. Dana was also head cheerleader. But Dana was also valedictorian. She was class president. Sorority president. She was some big shot in… Well, to be honest Ariel never really paid attention to what Dana did exactly for work. She did… business. And throughout it all, including now three marriages, she had remained successful and slim and sexy, never getting that classic office chair butt. But perhaps the stress had finally made her crack? Perhaps late nights at the office stuffing her face with takeout had left her overstuffed into some pants that didn’t want.

Once again, Ariel’s hands ran along the sides of her own legs, feeling the fabric of the tight jeans without her even realizing it.

Was it cruel to be thinking like this about her own sister in Dana’s hour of need? Definitely, but Ariel couldn’t help that. Her and Dana had spent so many years making fun of other people together, and if Dana had taught her anything it was that the best time to show strength was when the other person was at their weakness. Hit them while they’re down and never let them back up. That was the key to power, to dominance.

In a weird way, Ariel thought that this was exactly what Dana would have wanted. They had grown up in a catty sibling rivalry, alternating between fighting side by side and fighting each other. They had sharpened their swords steel to steel, and now it was Ariel’s turn to claim a final victory.

It was thrilling.

“She’s not fat.”

Her mother’s words hit Ariel like a brick of disappointment.

“But things aren’t easy right now, and she’s going to be in quite the mood already and I don’t want to spoil Sophie’s birthday dinner. So. Be. Nice.”

“Whatever. I get it, mom. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Better.”

“Better.”

“Good.”

“You’re welcome.”

And then, instead of just continuing this game, Wendy turned to walk back into the kitchen and left the bag of chips on the living room coffee table.

Ariel immediately pounced on them.

She couldn’t stop herself. There wasn’t anyone in the room to show off to. She wasn’t even hungry. But there were chips, and she had a sudden compulsion. Her hands grew greasy as she dug around the bottom of the bag, and then she tilted the bag upward to let whatever crumbs were left fall into her mouth, something that left her cheeks and chin rather greasy too.

This was of course the exact moment that Dana walked in. Ariel heard her before she saw her.

“Wow. You’re really making a mess with those chips.”

“Like you made a mess with your life?”

“Oof. I guess mom told you, huh?”

“Yeah. She also said to be nice.”

“And?”

“When have I ever listened to mom?”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Love you too, sis.”

Ariel walked over and gave her big sister a hug.

She wasn’t nearly as big as Ariel would have liked.

Ariel had been hoping that her sister had turned into a full on fat ass, a real cow with a big fat behind that was the kind of blubber butt that spilled over the sides of chairs that it managed to not break. She had hoped that Dan would come waddling in with her slim stomach replaced by a loaded up gut sagging over the waistband of her pencil skirt, and apron of saggy, useless, flabby fat. She wanted to see a Dana with thick thunder thighs completely with saddle bags that stretched out the sides of her skirt and threatened to burst it at the seams. She had been hoping that her older sister’s face would now be piggish with jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin that hung down in front of her thicker neck. Ariel wanted to savor the sight of of sister that had turned into a total sow, an absolute oinker.

Dana was not that fat.

But she wasn’t that thin anymore either.

Ariel could feel the subtle squishness of Dana’s softer body, and she made sure to squeeze her hard enough to feel Dana’s new pot belly, which was still small but noticeable, as it pressed against her own stomach.

And at the same time, Dana felt that Ariel’s stomach was softer than usual as well.

In that hug, there was a softness to Dana’s arms and she knew it as well as Ariel. So in response, Dana made a show of hugging Ariel even tighter, as tight as she could. The hug had become some kind of competition with no real winner to be declared, but it did give Dana time to contemplate the small changes to her younger sister. There was the new weight to her belly. There had been the slightest bit of jiggle when she raised her arms for the hug, and Dana took the time to look down past Ariel’s shoulder to confirm that Ariel’s perky butt was indeed a bit bigger. When she finally let go of the hug and stepped back to examine Ariel fully, she could see that the gap between her thighs was the only thing about her that was smaller. Was even her face a little softer, or was that just wishful thinking?

Ariel wasn’t fat. She wasn’t chubby. She hadn’t even gained as much weight as Dana had, but to the well trained and catty eye, the signs of future fatness were definitely there.

Dana had been going through a lot of hard shit lately, and the fact that her slim sister was getting softer was a small win that she wanted to keep riding for a while.

“You must still be hungry.”

“Well, I just had those chips and-”

“Come on. That wasn’t even a real snack. You deserve better. Let’s go into the kitchen and find something good to snack on.”

“I guess….”

“I’m hungry too.”

Ariel smiled at those words form Dan, and her eyes traveled down Dana’s torso, past the breasts that had grown slightly bigger but definitely saggier down to the tubby tummy that had replaced her sister’s abs and was now pooched out, a jiggly little pot belly that extended beyond the waistband of her pencil skirt. She really wanted to see that pudgy belly fat roll onto Dana’s lap when she sat down. Plus, another snack would be nice.

“Sure. Let’s eat.”

In the kitchen, Wendy had made a cheese plate, a classic tray of various cheeses and cracks with some veggies as well. It was the kind of standard thing one just puts out for people visiting, a little bit of something fancy.

Sophie was tearing into it like an animal, putting various bits of cheeses onto crackers like they were simple Lunchables. She’d devour one mini-sandwich and move right on to the next. Crumbs scattered on the tray, but she didn’t care. She only stopped to pick up stray pieces of cheese or to make herself another sandwich.

Meanwhile, Liz was nibbling on a pair of baby carrots.

Ariel didn’t hesitate to join her young sister at the cheese plate and quickly put a piece of sharp cheddar between two garlic salted crackers and bit into it. This was followed by some amour cream and onion crackers smeared with a healthy bit of brie.

Meanwhile, Dana went inot the fridge and pulled out a half empty tub of hummus and plopped it on the table. She picked up a carrot and dipped it in the hummus. Ariel thought about joining her but chose a pita chip instead of the carrots as her hummus vessel. 

As Liz watched this happen, she reached over and plucked up a piece of broccoli to chase her carrots with while her mother helped her self to an apple slice. Wendy nibbled on that smal piece of apple as she shook her head at her daughters.

“What’s gotten into you all? You should slow down.”

“And you should have served this with some salami or something,” snorted Ariel snidely in response.

“Oh! I think we have some in the fridge!” shouted Sophie.

A few moments later, and a package of salami was being torn into and added to the now not very delicate cracker sandwiches. Eventually, even Liza gave in and had herself a few, but not nearly as many as her sisters. The sisters ate quickly and ate everything. Their mother stuck to apple slices and occasionally a bit of brie. All the while, her slender hard edged face remained frozen in constant consternation.

The look of judgement went unnoticed by Ariel and her sisters, especially Dana who didn’t even wait for the platter to be completely finished before she was already off to the pantry to look for the next thing.

“Are you kidding?” scoffed Wendy.

“You’re looking for more food? You’re all going to ruin your appetites for dinner.”

Ariel just wagged a pita chip loaded with hummus at her mother.

“Mom, if you didn’t want us to eat, why did you make this whole platter?”

“Yeah, with the like four kinds of crackers and chips,” chimed in Sophie.

“I was being nice, and welcoming.”

“And you didn’t expect us to eat it all?” asked Ariel.

“I expected my daughters to show a little restraint.”

Liz just kept her mouth shut, metaphorically, as she nibbled on another another carrot.

Ariel just rolled her eyes.

“And then what? We’d just throw away the rest.”

“Yes. We’d do the tasteful and sensible thing.”

“Realy, mom? So wasteful. What about all the starving kids in Africa?” asked Ariel with her tone laced with heavy sarcasm.

“I don’t care. I care about my daughters acting like a bunch of piggies.”

“Not all of us are acting like piggies,” muttered Liz under her breath, a comment that went unheard by the others as Ariel slammed her hands on the kitchen island and began to shout.

“Get off our backs, mom. Face it, you’ve raised a bunch of stone cold hotties- mostly, and we can afford to eat a little bit of cheese and crackers.

That’s when Dana came waltzing back in with a brand new package of double stuffed Oreos.

“I’ve got the good snacks!” she cheered, and her sisters responded with excited squeals of their own.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Cookies?”

“Double stuffed Oreos!” shouted Sophie as she clapped and bounced on her seat.

“Calories, tons of wasted wasted calories. I don’t know why I even bought those.”

“Because Sophie was whining about wanting them,” chuckled Liz, another comment that didn’t get a reaction because everyone was too busy focusing on the cookies.

“Get off my case, mom. I’ve been going through a tough time lately. I need this.”

“Tough times lead to tubby tummies if you’re not careful,” chided Wendy as she poked her finger into Dana’s pudgy belly.

The room went silent and the air was thick with awkwardness until Dana plucked and Oreo out of the package and defiantly bit into it.

“Well, you know what? I’m going to eat some damn cookies and enjoy myself,” she said before finishing off the cookie with her second bite.

“Fine, but I don’t have to watch this. Try not to spoil your appetites for dinner, though the way you’re eating today, I doubt that’s possible.”

And then Wendy stormed out of the room and left her daughters to devour the cookies.

Three of them did while Liz just helped herself to a pair of them and then leaned back and watched her sisters pigging out.

Later, after eating plenty of cookies and chasing them with a very full glass of milk (an satisfying 2%), Ariel slipped outside to sneak a cigarette.

That’s where Liz found her.

“Still sneaking out of the house to sneak cigarettes like you’re back in high school?”

“Well, mom still hates it soooo….”

“It’s a disgusting habit.”

“And you’re a disgusting fatty.”

Liz stood there stone cold and stunned. Her hands couldn’t help but fly to her belly which was slightly smaller than it had been but still rather blubbery. The words had come so fast, and were so brutally cutting that even though Liz was used to these kinds of comments from her family, she was still caught off guard and thoroughly wounded.

But then…

Liz looked at the way Ariel’s own belly stood out and pushed against the blouse that was designed to be flattering. It was bloated from all the potato chips, and cheese, and crackers, and especially the cookies among other things. She couldn’t help but smile as she reflected on all that Ariel had eaten while she was the sister who showed restraint, control. It was nice to have the shoe be on the other foot for once, and Liz couldn’t help but get a little of her own back.

“You did really did eat like a little piggy back there.”

Ariel just scoffed.

“You’d know something about being a piggy, right Lardo?”

“I guess I would. I suppose I do know how to spot a piggy when I see one. Takes one to know one, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, sis. You might want to be careful,” teased Liz as she tauntingly tapped Ariel’s bloated tummy.

Ariel smacked her chubby hand away.

“Come off it, Liz. It’s just bloating. Everybody gets bloated. It’s normal.”

“Sure. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Liz turned to waddle away, but she couldn’t resist one last parting jab.

“I’m just saying. Be careful. I know how easy it is to slip and become a real piggy. And you wouldn’t want to be a big fat fatty like me, right?”

Ariel didn’t even watch Liz waddle away. She just stared off into the distance and bitterly smoked her cigarette, then a second before she decided it was finally time to come back inside.

Be careful? Be careful?!?! What a ludicrous idea coming from Liz, that fatty- that pig. Ariel didn’t need to be careful. She was perfect, flawless. She wasn’t going to stand for any critique about her figure, especially from someone as large as Lardo. No fat ass loser was going to tell her what to do. And if Liz was going to lecture her about needing to be careful, she was going to show her how little care she had for Lardo and her lectures. She was going to make a point of stuffing herself in front of Liz just to show her that she could.

Ariel suddenly couldn’t wait for dinner.

Dinner was a rather casual affair, Sophie was having a full birthday party with friends the next day, and this was just meant to be family only. As such the only people actually there were her mother and sisters and then her aunt and uncle Regina and Dave and their daughter, her cousin Maddy. Maddy was Liz’s age, and just as heavy. Just like Liz, Maddy was frequently made fun of by Sophie, Dana, and Ariel whenever she came over because of her weight, and also like Liz she had recently lost a bit of weight. In fact, Liz and Maddie were both a part of the same weight loss group and spent much of the evening talking about their progress and goals- while also gossiping about what Liz had witnessed earlier in the day.

The food was the far more important part of the evening. It was a large pot roast, probably something a bit out of season for a warm summer evening, but it was Sophie’s favorite and it came served with mashed potatoes and garlic roasted green beans. 

Ariel, Sophie and Dana all had not just unusually large servings of their dinner, but they all had seconds much to Wendy’s silent chagrin. Ariel, though, made a real show of herself. She went back for thirds then fourths. Not only did she eat a lot, she ate loudly to make sure that Liz’s eyes were on her. She chewed with her mouth open slightly and almost overfull with food. Gravy dripped down her chin as she stuffed her face, and she kept her mouth so full that her cheeks looked like a chipmunk’s.

In short, Ariel, the slim and sexy model, ate like a pig. And by the end of the dinner, it showed. Not only was her face a mess, and her blouse spackled with bits of gravy, but her belly was now so bloated that the blouse could no longer be called flattering. It clung to her overstuffed belly and outlined its rounded shape. Everyone, outside of the disgusted Wendy, giggled amongst themselves about it, but Ariel didn’t care.

All she cared about was that cake was coming.

That cake was a cannoli cake as per Sophie the birthday girl’s request, and Ariel helped herself to two slices. While Sophie and Dana also had two slices, as opposed to Liz and Maddie who each had one, Ariel’s two slices were both significantly larger, and Ariel would have eaten a third large slice of cake if Wendy’s judgmental gaze hadn’t frozen her solid as she reached for the cake. She saw the look her red-faced mother was giving her and finally put her fork down. Showing off in front of Liz was one thing, but she was not willing to pay the price of an evening of angry lectures from her catty mother. The glare was cutting enough to do its job.

She picked up her napkin and wiped the buttercream frosting clean from her cheeks. She brushed off some crumbs from her lap and stifled up burp in her hand while pretending to yawn.

“Uh, do we have any coffee to go with this cake?”

Ariel got her coffee and drank two cups with a generous pouring of heavy cream in each.

After that, presents were exchanged. Ariel had gotten Sophie a cute new top, designer and something that Ariel thought might end up being a short used purchase based on the way she had seen Sophie snacking all day.

When Ariel left shortly after that, and Sophie and Dana both retired to bed, their aunt Regina shared her private thoughts with her sister in-law.

“I have to say, your daughters certainly looked like they were having a very fun time tonight.”

“It’s been a nightmare all day. I’m so embarrassed.”

Regina gave her a condescending pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re used to having a fat daughter after all.”

“One fat daughter.”

“Not for long if they keep going like this, Dana’s body is clearly going to pot. Sophie is already looking like she’s ready to pile on far more than just the freshman fifteen, and even Ariel- the vainest of them all- looked so… comfortable. And she was so greedy. Really, that was a show. She ate like an absolute pig, and if she’s not careful, she’s going to end up looking like one.”

Wendy gripped her tea cup so tight that it threatened to break.

“Thank you for your concern, Regina. I think it’s late and I wish to go to bed, so it’s time for you and yours to go home.”

Regina chuckled and nodded as she signaled for the rest of her family to get ready to go.

“Of course. Of course. You have a good night. But just a word of warning, Wendy. With your daughters slipping like they are, you might want to be careful and make sure you don’t eventually join them.”

Ariel heard none of this of course. She was already in her car driving home while also dealing with her very full belly. Strangely enough though, on the long ride home, she started to digest the food she had eaten, and as she did she thought back to that third slice of cake that she never got. By the time Ariel was pulling up to her house, she was hungry again, and her thoughts turned to something wicked, something naughty.

She was in the mood for pizza.

Dennis the pizza delivery guy was thrilled by what he got to see. It was one of those nights where he was extremely grateful for his usually shitty job. The sight of Ariel was worth more than any tip.

By the time the pizza had arrived, Ariel answered the door in just her robe, and that robe was stretched across her bloated belly in such a way that Dennis could clearly see some stretched out skin peeking from the gaps in the robe. It wasn’t just that though. Sure, Dennis could see that she was clearly full and bloated, but his thoughtful eye could also cast the subtle differences across her body. She had definitely grown since the last time he saw her. Now he dared to dream that she truly was getting fat.

His mind flashed for a moment to the image of Ariel on all fours, a bloated sow of a woman, hundreds of pounds heavier and jiggling all over with her gut dragging across the floor as she crawled toward him oinking and begging for pizza.

Dennis imagined the hungry look in her eyes as she took the pizza into her mouth, and he felt her flabby flesh oozing between his fingers as he squeezed her wide, hefty flanks. Her belly bounced as he continued to explore her with his hands. She asked for more, and he fed her as she moaned. Dennis was in heaven, absolute heaven.

He didn’t even realize that the box of pizza (and order of garlic bread) had been pulled from his hands and only came out of his daydream at the sound of the door closing in his face. 

Back inside, Ariel sat down with a heavy sigh into a couch that creaked under her sudden weight  combined with her heavy meal. She threw the pizza on the coffee table and tore into the garlic bread. Crumbs flew as she ate with ferocity. As usual, she didn’t care. She just ate and decided she would worry about the mess later or not at all. Ariel knew that Kelly would be coming again tomorrow, and she could worry about the mess. She just worried about eating the entirety of the garlic bread that she had ordered, something that she consumed quite easily.

Then came the pizza, Ariel didn’t even bother with the plate. She threw open the box and peeled a slice out. A stingy bit of hot cheese and sauce fell off of the pizza slice and onto her thigh which was peeking out from the robe. Ariel winced slightly and then just casually picked up the cheese and plopped it into her mouth. For a moment she held it there with her mouth open as she desperately blew air through her mouth to cool it off until she was actually able to chew and then swallow it. 

Shortly after that, Ariel pushed the pizza slice itself into her mouth. It was every bit as delicious as she hoped it would. She moaned as she bit into it. It felt so good to give in to her urges, to indulge, to satisfy herself. She was a queen and deserved to feel like one. This was a moment that she savored.

And that moment lasted all the way through that first slice and then a second. After that she was finally full, and she closed up the box and placed it in the fridge so she could feast on the rest of the pizza on a later date. Then she headed off to bed. Her belly was so bloated by that point that it had pushed the robe completely open and exposed itself to the cold night air. As she went up the stairs, she was blissfully unaware of the extra bit of jiggle to her butt and thighs. She was already half asleep and too full to think of anything but getting to bed.

Had she overdone it? Probably. Was she getting fat? No. Despite her family’s warnings, despite the tightness of her clothes, Ariel couldn’t let herself believe that. Should it be a thing that worried her even if it was only a distant possibility? Maybe, but she certainly wasn’t going to worry about it right then and there.

Instead, as Ariel placed her head on her soft pillow she just thought about what a good day she had had.

She had no idea how many bad days were soon to follow.

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If you enjoyed this story, you could have enjoyed it two days earlier on Discord if you're an Even More BS tier patron. Right now, the first 2,200 words of Chapter 10 are available on Discord for Even More BS tier patrons, and you can upgrade your Patreon tier level right HERE.

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"All of My Hot Neighbors Are Getting Fat"

That feels like an anime title....

Anyway, here is a collection of all of the "Hot Neighbor" stories in one convenient place, including in Downloadable PDFs. This includes to previously unreleased story, "All My Neighbors Are Fat Now".

Enjoy!

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"My Neighbor is So Hot"

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My new neighbor is so hot.

I mean- like- total smokeshow, walks around in athleisure all the damn time kind of hot. She’s the kind of hot person that knows that she’s a hot person and carries herself accordingly, tons of confidence just the right amount of aloof. And again, she clearly works out or just wears sports bras and gym leggings for style.

You’ve seen those legs right? They’re the kind with the thick waistband that covers the lower part of her abdomen, that chunky waistband would be the perfect place to tuck the lower roll of a chunky belly. I want to see her soft gut push the front of her workout pants outward as the upper roll spills over that waistband, a dominating dome of fat. She would look amazing with a muffin top that makes her blush. I want to see the look of embarrassment on her chubby cheeks.

Right now she has an extremely pleasant face, her features are perfect and yet not too perfect. They’re natural. A lot of hot people have hard faces, sharp angles, gorgeous but intimidating. Not her though. There’s just enough softness to them to make her face effortlessly welcoming- inviting, even. Of course, I’d like there to be a bit more softness to those cheeks, and I’d like to invite a doughy double chin to the party. It would be so hot to see her plump apple cheeks blush with self-consciousness. 

Just imagine those first few pounds piling onto her after years of being absolutely perfect- tons of dedication to controlling her appearance and social status through diet and exercise. Thinking about the  hours at the gym that she must have put in to have the body that she has. It makes me wince.

She deserves a bit of a break don’t you think?

It would be irresponsible of me- as a good neighbor- to not encourage a bit of relaxation. Don’t you think?

Self care is just so important nowadays. 

And we’ve all gotta do what we can to help take care of each other. 

And if lifting her up means she’s soon lifting up a big blubbery belly to clean under her spongy fat folds? So be it. If helping her take care of herself means helping her into a larger pants size and turning her toned thighs into thunder thighs big enough to force her to waddle? This is the price of living. 

God, her thighs. You really have to see them. She could probably crack a walnut between her thighs, but I’d settle for it being my head. They are so toned. It’s painfully obvious that she squats, probably more than I do- definitely more than you. She’s got these thighs that somehow say that she’s strong and that she can run fast- powerful thighs ready for explosive speed. I’m sure she could maul me like a tiger, and I wouldn’t do a thing to stop her. 

I’m not sure that I could. 

Her arms look pretty strong too, and I’m not weak. But she- It’s amazing to look at arms that are so strong and yet effortlessly sexy. She’s wiry, not bulky. But when she moves just the right way? I- just- you have to see her get her mail- the way she handles a package. Yeah, those arms look real great holding a package. And now- now I can’t stop thinking about her hands, her beautiful hands, and what they must feel like. 

She probably gives some amazing massages with those strong hands and powerful arms. It would be so hot to get a massage from her, to feel her pining me down and kneading my shoulder muscles. 

But you know what would be even hotter?

If all that muscle went away. If her muscular arms just became soft, weak, pathetic. I’d love to see those sculpted limbs of her turn into a nice plump set of flabby bingo wings. From muscle to mush. I even want to see those strong, confident hands of hers turn into chubby clumsy ones. Wouldn’t that be something?

It would be so hot to turn someone from their peak of physical perfection into a plump powder puff, a helplessly pathetic piggy. I want to reduce a woman so clearly active into a fatty just sitting on her ass. 

Oh! Her ass! How the hell could I have gone this long without mentioning her ass? Her ass is- you may have guessed by now- perfection. It is bounce a quarter off it tight and toned, but it is so pleasantly large. It’s the truth. Squats were God’s gift to us all. She’s got such a big, luscious, powerful looking ass that thing does work. Try not to stare at it when she struts by. I dare you. It’s impossible. That thing is a head turner for sure. 

It’s her best feature- and she has many- many- amazing features- Including her breasts. Did I talk about her breasts yet? Her breasts are the perfect size, perky but plump, and, honestly I try not to look too much lest she catch me staring. 

But she’s always turned around when I get to admire her ass. 

That’s why I know it so well. Those curves are so perfect. They are a marvel, the way they move just enough when she moves to have their own hypnotic rhythm. They are so damn squeezable. I’m sure they’d be rather firm to the touch, but they’re large enough to each be held in one hand with flesh to spare. She could have a picture of her ass hung up in a museum, and I wouldn’t even notice any of the other art. That’s how perfect it is- how hot it is. I just cannot stop thinking about it. It drives me wild with its size, its shape, its- its everything. My hot neighbor’s ass is just the perfectly plump peach. 

And yet. 

I want to watch that peach grow overripe and rotten. 

I want to watch her ass cheeks balloon and sag in defeat. I want to watch that plump but get plumper until those buns of steel at buns of blubber. I want her butt to explode with fat, to become two chunky cheeks that make perfectly plush pillows for me to rest my head on. 

I want to lay down on that bed of flesh and cellulite. 

Just- I just need to see her turned into a weak fat ass with a big fat dumper, I’m talking an ass so large it anchors her to the couch. She needs to be the kind of wide load lard ass that leaves a permanent indentation for her ass to sink in. I want to see a chair- hell a couch- break under her immense weight. 

And then I just want to stuff her full of food until she’s not getting up after she’s spiraled from a fit young hottie into morbid obesity. 

I want to turn her into a big fat pig, a total fatty, my total fatty. 

So that’s exactly what I’m doing. 

It’s started with little things. I left some treats, a housewarming gift. Then, when I decided that was too small I gave her a full basket of goodies which I pretended was from multiple people. And when that was figured out, and I realized she talked to our other neighbors, I apologized and covered my ass by saying I didn’t want to impose on them and figured I’d make them look good. 

Then I smoothed things over with a tray of brownies. 

See, people don’t actually think you’re trying to fatten them up. They might say that. 

“Are you trying to fatten me up?” She asked. 

They never really think that, though, and neither did she. At worst she thought I was being a bit forward and wanted to ask her out on a date. 

But I don’t need a date. 

I just need her to eat. 

And that means I’m perfectly happy to give her food, let her eat it behind closed doors, and then just admire the results when she comes out. 

So I organized a building potluck, something to hold with everybody there as a cover for me, and to ensure that she went home with plenty of leftovers. 

Then I made things for other people on other occasions and made sure it was known to her. From that moment on, I wasn’t just a creep trying to score a date. I was the magnanimous neighbor who loved to make food for people. And if my other neighbor’s wife happened to get a little fatter because of that, bonus for me. 

There was truth to that statement of course, me being the neighbor who loves to give food. If I must say so myself, I’ve gotten to be a pretty good cook. For someone with my proclivities, it comes with the territory. With talents like mine, it would be wrong not to share. 

And, for my purposes, being a home chef is a much more effective way of fattening people. Most neighbors won’t go in for leftover pizza. But people will take it when I’ve made too much chicken Alfredo or spaghetti and meatballs. It’s easy to get people to taste test “new recipes”. And nobody says no to a plate of cookies. 

Or brownies. 

Or a whole chocolate cake. 

Maybe I’ve been pushing things just a little bit, getting a little cavalier. 

But I can’t argue with the results. 

She’s getting softer. Bit by bit. I’ve seen it. Her abs are disappearing. Her thighs have a bit of jiggle when she walks, and that ass- that perfect ass- it’s starting to wobble just a bit more than she would want it to. 

So I’m going to keep going with my little treats, my little tricks to fatten her up. Because it’s very clear to me…

My hot neighbor is going to get so fat. 

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"My New Neighbor is So Fat"

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My new neighbor is so fat.

You’ve been wanting for me to say those words so here they are once again.

“My new neighbor is so fat.”

It’s wonderful isn’t it? You just love getting the news that a hottie with a body like hers has gone full fridge city and fattened up into a total cow, a piggy, a whale of a woman. Let me say it for you one more time.

My hot new neighbor is so fucking fat.

I don’t know if you can technically consider her new anymore. She’s been here quite a while now, long enough to get very, very fat. But she’s still technically my newest neighbor… for now. But that’s getting away from the point which is that my new neighbor, who was so outrageously hot, is now incredibly, undeniably, fat.

And when I say fat, I don’t mean chubby. I don’t mean pudgy, tubby, soft, or any of those other euphemisms. I choose my words very carefully. And fat means FAT. We’re talking seriously chonky, morbidly obese.

Let’s be real, sometimes dreams do come true, and mine did. But hey, you want to make dreams come true, than you have to put in the work. And that’s exactly what I did. Kind words, patience, and lots and lots of food. That’s the key. I’m talking desserts, dinners, “leftovers”, you just got to keep coming up with ways to ply her with food. Then the habit is built and the piggy comes to you.

I knew she was done for the first time she made a request.

Brownies. She loved my brownies. She was dying for my brownies. So I was happy to make her a tray when she asked. When she asked again, that meant it became a weekly thing. Then, it became a twice weekly thing. I always made sure that the second tray was a “new recipe” , something I was trying out. Sometimes it was, but most of the time it was something I pulled out of my deep rolodex of dessert recipes. (You didn’t think this was my only time doing this. Did you?) I’d make blondies. I’d make brookies. One of the batches that went over the best with her was my smores brownies, so that became a regular part of the rotation when she kept asking. That got us to brownies three times a week.

And I just started taking care of Sunday dinners for her too. Chicken parm, lasagna, chicken alfredo, beef stroganoff. Every week, I made more and more fattening things just for her. I would eat a little bit myself and then give her my “leftovers”. She would eat everything and then give me back my tupperware which was the perfect time to give her something new. I started using this as a little trick. When she finished the food and gave me the container back, she got a new little treat. Soon, she was a well conditioned little piggy, eagerly finishing all her food faster and faster and getting the nice clean dishes back to me so she could get more food and the sinfully delicious treat that went with it, cookies, cake, anything I could think of.

I got her eating all the time, and once that happened it left no room for the gym. She was quickly cutting back on her sessions, skipping workouts because she was too tired or bloated to work out, or too busy actively eating- stuffing her face- to go to her personal training sessions. It became easy enough to get her to cancel those and save money, and she was rewarded with a double batch of brownies for that. My good little fatty deserved it.

And she is such a good little fatty. Would you like to know what she looks like now?

Like a pig, a big fat beautiful pig.

Those abs of hers? Gone. She’s got a huge flabby gut now. Remember when I said I wanted to see it pushing against her leggings and rolling over the waistband? It’s so much more than that. It’s really funny to see her with her big blubbery double belly now. She’s got that big thick lower roll tucked into her pants like that’s doing something to hide it. So now she’s got stretchy pants that cling to that gut like saran wrap and if anything draw even more attention to it. And she’s still got that upper roll that rolls over the waistband. So what is she even trying to hide? I suppose, if she took the time to pull down that waistband that’s strained for dear life, and let her gut hang freely, we’d all be witness to a great big apron of belly fat that sags uselessly onto her thighs.

And those thighs. Oh, those are some meaty, meaty thighs. They are thunder thighs alright and everything I wanted them to be. They’re big tubes of quivering fat. When she walks I can hear them slap and rub together. You have to really work to hear that, but it’s there. I promise. Her thighs are tremendously thick and possess none of the tone that had made them so powerful. They’re just thick with soft, spongy, useless fat and covered in cellulite. She’s still cramming them into legs and her saddle bags are so thick that they stretch the legging to the point of near transparency, and you can see the pattern of the cellulite through the fabric. That fabric is stretched so much, her tree trunk-like legs look like sausages ready to split their casings. And it’s not just the thighs either, which are so thick that she has to waddle about when she tries to move at all. She’s got ankles and calves that are swollen with fat and get more swollen when she waddles about, which is not something she does nearly as often as she used to.

It’s hard to believe now that she was ever an athlete.

Her arms. Remember how powerful her arms are now? They’re so fat and pathetic. She’s got great big flabby bing wings that wobble at the slightest movement, and she’s got these wonderfully chubby hands at the end of thick wrists. Her thick sausage fingers make her so clumsy now. She isn’t delicate in the slightest. She is weak though. Any power she once had is gone, replaced by fat. Her flabby arms struggle to lift things now. Sometimes, when I make her so kind of extra dense and heavy dish, like a full casserole, she asks me if I wouldn’t mind bringing inside and putting it on her counter. She’s not trying to seduce me. She just wants less work for her fat self to do. 

It lets me see the inside of her apartment which is a mess nowadays. She’s not just fat. She’s fat and lazy, and too fat and lazy to care about what I might think walking into her apartment and seeing all the dirty dishes and fast food containers and wrappers just laying about. Personally, I think it’s hot. Okay, sometimes I’ll admit that when I see a Thick Burger wrapper on the floor, I feel like she’s cheating on me a bit, but I can’t argue with the results, so I suppose I’m going to have to be willing to share my little piggy a bit. It’s just helping her get even fatter even faster.

And of course she keeps crawling back to me.

Thick Burger is great, but they haven’t mastered dessert like I have.

The way she practically begs me for food nowadays is so pathetically adorable. She has these big sad puppy dog eyes to go with her piggish body. I can see the need in them. Luckily for her, I’ve always got something planned, something ready to hand over so I can keep my piggy stuffed. And I love the way her smile lights up when I hand over another tray of food. She has such cute deep dimples now on her fat face thanks to the jowls that she’s also developed. And her doughy double chin jiggles with delight every time she knows she’s about to have another free and delicious meal. 

She must know on some level how fattening they are. She has to see and feel what they’re doing to her once firm and fit body. She’s definitely bought new clothes (though I’ve noticed she keeps stubbornly buying the same kinds of clothes and never in sizes that are truly big enough for her fattening figure because she’s clinging on to some shred of vanity and denial), so she must be aware of how much she’s growing, how much fatter she is. But if she knows how much damage my dishes are doing to her waistline, how fattening they are, she just doesn’t care anymore. She wants them too bad. She needs them. She can’t get enough of my fattening food. And I’m happy to give it to her and watch her walk- well, waddle- away. When she does…

That ass! Lord, that ass! It’s something to see. Her firm ass has ballooned, bigger than I could have hoped. She’s got hippo hips and a huge ass to go with it. My cake has caked her out. My cooking has turned her into a real fat ass. She’s got two bulbous blubbery butt cheeks that now move to their own rhythm. Those buns of steel are now incredibly soft and sag onto the back of her big fat thunder thighs. Her saggy ass cheeks are covered in cellulite, and they sway with the slightest movements. I can’t get enough of it. It makes me want to cook more and more.

And sure, her breasts have definitely gotten bigger. They’re heavy and saggy, and I love to watch her reach for her fat back rolls when she’s feeling their strain. But that ass of hers is the real trophy, the real prize for me to keep my eyes on. She’s got two saggy pillows, overstuffed, blown out, blubbery. She’s a fat ass. She’s a pig.

Still though, it’s not just her size, her incredibly fat size, it’s about the things that come with it. It’s about listening for the way she wheezes and has to stop and pause multiple times on her way up the stairs to her apartment. She used to be so fit. Now she’s fat and weak and pathetic. She used to be so in control of her life, but now so much of that control belongs to me and what I feed her, what I help her with around her apartment now that she’s too fat and weak to do so many things herself. She’s my pig, and deep down she knows it even if we never say it out loud. 

I don’t need to touch her to know how soft she’s gotten, how far she’s fallen, and how hot she is now as a big fat pig. She’s hotter than ever in my eyes, and I’m going to keep making her fatter, muh fatter.

Anyway, I’ve got other news to share too. My other neighbors, the one whose wife I may have accidentally started to fatten up? Well, she’s gotten even fatter. And then she got tired of her husband telling her how fat she was getting, so she kicked him out- which, honestly, good for her. But she’s not going to be able to afford the rent alone, so she’s also moving out.

And my landlord acts real quick, I saw a couple of ladies checking the apartment out just the other day. They are a pair of real hotties let me tell you.

I think they’re bikini models or something. They certainly have the bodies for it, generous but toned hips that support perfectly lush but tight ass cheeks. They’re got trip waists that then taper up into big, plush breasts. They both could have easily stepped out of the pages of a glamor magazine with their perfect hourglass figures. They came in wearing practically nothing, just really cropped crop tops and booty shorts, and my mind already started spinning.

I’m just thinking I’m going to need more tupperware, my shopping lists are going to get longer. Food budget might be making some other things a little tight, but I think I can manage another major project. I’ll tighten my budget to tighten their pants. Maybe they’re friends and just roommates. Maybe they’re lesbians. I don’t know. I don’t care. They’re both super hot.

Plus, when my piggy came waddling past them, I heard them snort at her. They actually made little pig sounds and then laughed about it. I saw my piggy’s face flush with embarrassment, and it was so hot. I’m sure my piggy used to be just like them, the hottie that made fun of fatties. Now she’s the fatty hotties like to make fun of.

Those two hotties, I watched them whisper some more catty jokes to each other and then laugh again. I eyed their exposed abs as they did so. They were too busy laughing at my piggy to notice my eyes lingering on their tight curves as I thought about how badly I wanted them to get the apartment. And I still hope they do. I’m eager for them to sign a new lease because I know just what I’ll do when those sexy bitches officially move in.

I’ll be sure to keep my oven going and bring them my usual housewarming gifts.

After all, we all have to be good neighbors. Don’t we?

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"My New Neighbors Are Getting Fat"

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It’s happening. It’s really happening. I mean, I knew it would happen like it’s happened so many times before, but every time still thrills me like the first.

You remember those hot bitches who were moving in, the ones who were making fun of my poor piggy as she was waddling about the building? Well, my piggy is getting her justice now because those two slim and sexy bitches are getting fat.

You’re welcome, Piggy.

That’s right, those slender vixens, classic mean girl stereotypes with their hard bodies now have bodies that are getting softer, squisher, fatter. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’ve gotten them past the soft stage. They’re at least chubby, and even that is borderline- borderline fat.

Their names are Tracey and Lacy by the way, and they are a lesbian couple, one of those cute couples whose names rhyme. Cliche? Sure. But love is love right? And I don’t care who they love as long as that love chub settles on their bellies, and around their hips, thighs and-

Woo. It is settling. I can tell you that much. The chub is settling. The pounds have been packing on. And the most beautiful thing about fattening two hotties like this at the same time is that, even though their names are so similar, they gain weight in different places. So, even though both of these lovely ladies are getting larger, they’re getting larger in different ways. 

Tracey is a pear shaped woman. She has gotten really bottom heavy. She used to have a tight little butt, not as naturally voluptuous as my piggy’s was in her prime (pre-porking up) but a cute little butt. She clearly didn’t squat as much as my piggy used to do. But her butt is making up for it now. It has ballooned in size and is threatening to become the biggest butt in the building. And because she didn’t work out as much, there wasn’t as much tone to start out with, not nearly the same amount of muscle structure to help it fight off gravity. So her cheeks are softer and saggier than my piggy’s are. Tracey’s ass cheeks tremble like crazy when she moves, and when she is in a rush to get somewhere- something she really struggles with nowadays- her butt cheeks bounce like mad.

They’re just so blubbery. And I’ve seen her reach down for her mail and seen the pants that she insists on cramming them into roll down just enough to get a nice half moon rising out of them. Her cheeks are so doughy and dimply with rich cellulite. I’m sure she’s ashamed of how much she has to struggle to squeeze into clothes that she’s too vain to get rid of. Tracey and Lacy live in the apartment directly above my own, so I hear a lot of jumping around when she’s trying to cram herself into those pants, and when she hurriedly- as hurriedly as she can be with her big fat butt- tries to run out of the apartment, sometimes I find that to be the perfect time to go check my mail and watch a glimpse of her wobbling by. And she wobbles quite a bit, especially her thighs.

Those thighs used to be tight, but not anymore. They’re sausages in too tight casings, thunder thighs that have earned their name with the way they smack and rub together. I see her sometimes at the end of a long day when she’s too tired to really work to maintain her posture and proud walk. She just gives in and waddles. It’s a slow defeated step as she struggles to lumber up the stairs. I’ve seen her as she stands there at the bottom of the steps looking up like she’s about to climb Everest instead of just up to the second floor. It would be sad if it wasn’t so hot to see. But as it is she’s such a lovely little piglet these days, and her newfound sense of self-consciousness and embarrassment just plays so nicely off of the arrogance and vanity she had until very recently.

And it’s not just her ass and thighs that have gotten fat. They’re just what have born the brunt of the weight. Tracey’s got a nice sized belly too, certainly something that she doesn’t want to show off in crop tops anymore, but she doesn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Her belly is so pudgy now that it likes to push all of her shirts up enough to at least show a sliver of flabby flesh, and that’s tantalizing enough for me… for now at least.

Her arms are softer, weak looking things now with a real squishy quality where her arms were once lithe and very toned, and her face has gotten noticeably rounder too. The weight has taken away her high cheekbones and replaced them with chubby ones. It’s rounded out her original chin and paired it with a second one. That double chin isn’t nearly as doughy as my piggy’s, but we’re still in relatively early days.

Tracey’s tits haven’t gotten that much bigger. I’m sure that’s probably a bit of a sore point for her. She’s got the fat girl curse where her breasts get a bit more blubbery, but they mostly just sag. Now they’re heavier but not as perky and attractive as they once were, and they don’t have enough extra size to compensate.

That’s not the case with Lacy.

Lacy has enormous boobs.

Everything about her is fat. She’s got a big cushiony ass too. She also has weak arms with flabby bingo wings and fat clumsy hands. Her face has fat rosy cheeks and a nice double chin. She’s got thunder thighs too, not nearly as thick as Tracey’s thunder thighs, but they still do plenty of fat slapping. There’s a lot of her to love. She may even technically be bigger than Tracey. It’s hard to tell since their dimensions are so different. But no matter how you cut the cake, there’s a whole lot of Lacy to love, and I love all of it. 

It’s just that, when it comes to Lacy, the real show is in her boobs and belly. 

She’s got what one would justifiably refer to as bazongas, titanic tits. They are big blubbery fun bags, packed with fat because, unlike the pear shaped Tracey, Lacy is a delicious apple. Her breasts are full up, stretched out (with the marks to prove it) and saggy as all hell because there’s no way for all that fat to keep itself up. She’s got big pendulous breasts that sag downward, and the only thing that stops them from really hanging flat is the shelf of a belly that she’s developed to give them some modicum of support. 

Her gut is huge. Lacy used to have some very sexy abs. Clearly her core was what she used to work on the most, but now that she’s too busy stuffing her face to go to the gym, that slim stomach has gone to pot- pot belly that is. She’s really grown quite the gut. Her trim waist has ballooned outward with that new spare tire of hers joined by some thick saggy love handles. They really are something to see. She used to be so toned and now she’s just got this tremendous muffin top. 

Tracey can at least pretend her shirts fit. That’s not the case for Lacy. Every shirt that Lacy wears is a belly shirt. Even the blouses she tries to wear tend to ride up. And when they don’t, there’s always the gaps that inevitably form between the buttons. Pushed apart by the girth of her gut, the fat oozes through the gaps when she sits down. I’ve seen her blush when that happens. 

I’ve even seen one of those buttons pop off. 

You see, Lacy and Tracey are very neighborly people. And, perhaps because they’re a couple and not just single people, they’re a bit more open to me coming over. So when I make them something, they’re inclined to invite me over. 

That’s when I get a front row seat to see them go whole hog. 

It’s something really special to see. Even my piggy doesn't invite me in. I think she’s too ashamed to have me watch her pig out in person. And that’s hot enough for me. But Tracey and Lacy have no such qualms. They stuff their fattening faces with my food and are absolutely unashamed of how messy they are. They practically snort as they inhale my food and I love to watch it happen. 

They get sauce on their cheeks, crumbs in their cleavage. They stain their shirts. And the best part is the button popping. I’ve seen them fly off of shirts and off of pants alike. It’s honestly surprising that they keep inviting me over so much. You’d honestly think they’d have some shame.

Maybe they’re into it. 

I don’t know. All I know is that they’re getting fatter, and I love it. So I’m going to keep feeding them and making them fatter. Because it’s fun. Because I enjoy it. And if they happen to enjoy it too, then that’s a bonus, but it’s not a priority. 

It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. They don’t have to eat my food. They want to eat my food. They could tell me no. Or they could take my food and throw it right in the trash without me even knowing about it. But they want this. They choose to eat. They choose to pig out, to stuff themselves and turn themselves from fit little brats to fat little piggies. I’d call them piglets. They’re not as big as my piggy yet, of course. 

But give them time. 

Time and calories. That’s all I need. Time and calories, and they’ll keep getting fatter for me. My piglets will get fatter and fatter, spiraling into obesity just like my piggy. They’ll never laugh at her or another fat person again. They’ll be too busy stuffing their fat faces with food and being the ones getting laughed at. 

You’re welcome, world. 

One vain slim and sexy bitch at a time (or two in this case) I’m making this world a better place, a fatter, happier place. 

Now my neighbors are just nicer to themselves and to each other. That’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it? In fact. Maybe I’ll make building potlucks a regular thing. It would be community building. And isn’t that what we need right now? A bigger, better community. That’s the truth of this world. And I won’t let people getting fat get in the way of that truth. If they happen to get fat- very fat, that’s all just a part of the very important lesson. 

We all just need to be kinder to each other. 

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"All of My Neighbors Are Fat Now"

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All my neighbors are getting fat now. They’re all fat or getting fatter. No more hotties left in the building and even the ones who weren’t necessarily stereotypically hot have caught the strays.

My building is full of fat people, and I love it. Another couple moved out. I wonder if I had scared them away perhaps with all the food. I saw his waistline getting wider. He used to be super fit, and the food from all the potlucks must have really got him going with the eating cause his abs turned the flab, and he gained a real dad bod. And his wife? (Or maybe just his girlfriend, I never really took the time to look for a ring.) Her breasts got huge. She got a big blubber belly and fat ass to match, but her breasts were the real things I couldn’t stop staring at. Those mammaries got massive. We’re talking titanic tits.

Actually, now that I think about it, maybe she just got pregnant and the moved out into a bigger space. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, but it’s way more fun to think that my food had a lot to do with it. And his weight gain definitely wasn’t just sympathy weight.

He was getting quite a hefty chest as well, proud pecs turning to mushy moobs. But still, she was the one I was more interested in. It was fun to watch her hips widen and her thighs thicken. She used to have a pretty high and firm butt, but by the time she was waddling out of her, that butt was a big fat flabby ass starting to sag and slap onto her thick thunder thighs. It was something of a sad day to see such promising piggies waddle away from my feeder influence, but it was fun to watch them go if you know what I mean. 

And the new neighbors that moved in? Even better. 

They were two young hotties, somewhat like Tracey and Lacy, but just roommates this time as I found out. They’re Mandy and Collette, and they’re a couple of college girls looking to live off campus during their senior year, and well we’ve been having a lot of fun. 

A lot of food based fun. 

Mandy and Collette had managed to easily avoid the freshman fifteen, but senior year so close to me has greatly expanded their waistlines. I’m proud to have helped put more pounds on them then a school dining hall, late night study sessions, and college parties had had up to this point. My brownies are just that good, just that addicting. 

I got them into bad habits with my food, and now they crave junk even when I’m not the one supplying it. They’ve gone from fit and active hotties to lazy fatties thanks in large part to me. But I haven’t played the only role in turning their abs to fat rolls. 

The people in this building are just so nice. So welcoming. So fattening. My little piggy does her part to keep Mandy and Colette tempted and well fed. And my piglets, Tracey and Lacy, are there  with kindness and cookies. In this building, our community watches out for each other and watches waistlines grow. We’re like one big fattening family.

And nothing’s forced. Everything comes from the heart, fills the tummy, warms the soul, and thickens the thighs. People want to eat. They want to share what they have. And if getting fat is the inevitable result of all this community building? Then that’s just how it is. The building potlucks are extremely popular. People love them, and they’re not changing any time soon. If anything, they just keep getting larger as the people who attend them grow larger, happier, fatter. 

Mandy and Colette are no different. Mandy has a great hourglass figure. Her hips have gotten wide with thighs that have gained some very saggy saddle bags. She has real thick thunder thighs that rub together and make her waddle. And they’re nicely paired with her thick, saggy ass. That butt is large and blubbery, and has this absolutely amazing amount of bounce to it.

Colette is an absolute cow. She’s got a whopper of a belly, a big gut that hangs down like a saggy apron of fat. It’s really fun to watch her wear dresses because of how her big blubbery belly hangs down and stretches the fabric making it look like she’s wrapped in saran wrap. She used to wear sexy bodicon dresses. Now she wears dresses that are designed to be looser, but nothing is loose on Colette. She’s far too fat for that.

What’s great is that even their friends are getting fat. They like to host a lot of people, and I’m a very accommodating neighbor who never complains. In fact, on more than one occasion I have very graciously catered their get togethers, and that means I’ve gotten to watch hot college co-eds come into my building and then waddle out of it as well thanks to all the partying they’ve done (and the treat bags I make sure they’re able to take home.) A lot of people who definitely looked like they were part of the mean popular crowd in high school now look much more like the kind of fatties they used to make fun of.

Sure, things are starting to get quite expensive, but I’m a lucky person. My apartment was  a steal when I got it, one of those rent controlled places people just die to get into. (In this case it was my aunt, but that’s besides the point.) And I have a pretty solid paying dayjob with some flexibility about working from home. Plus, it turns out my baking is legit, and the more I make the better I get. I’ve got a pretty solid side hustle going with that. I’ve branched out far beyond the building, and that means my fattening ways have too.

Who knows when it’s going to stop?

Me? I hope it never does. I’m very happy making the world a better, fatter place. I’d happily turn everyone into fat contented piggies.

And I think I will, one new hottie turned fatty at a time if I have to.

"Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 9 - TEASER

Here's a taste of the upcoming Chapter 9 of "Model Made to Waddle".

Enjoy!

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Ariel got a lot of who she was because of her beautiful family. That basically means she grew up in a house full of vain catty women and grew up to be the perfect example of one. Growing up, Ariel’s family was competitive and she prided herself on coming out on top.

But even so, that didn’t mean she liked going back, and she was especially not in the mood to do so now. It had been a long week already.

It had started after that ladies night. Ariel was pretty sure the night had been fun, even if her memory of the night was fuzzy. She remembered enjoying herself and eating a lot of food, that was not odd for her on nights like that, especially lately. And Ariel was starting to worry that that was becoming a problem.

Ariel had at least been attempting to diet, to be in control. But that ladies night- It was like something small had broken inside her. First, she woke up the morning after with an absolute monster of a hangover. Luckily for her, the other ladies had all stayed over, and, being in far better shape than she was, they made breakfast.

It was a big breakfast.

First they helpfully gave her a fresh Bloody Mary, a little hair of the dog to ease her hangover. And then came the bacon, greasy yet still somehow crispy and obviously delicious. They were served along with some hashbrowns, and after that came the main event, a stack of pancakes drowning in butter and syrup, and she managed to eat the whole thing with a side of cantaloupe as well. After that, she was given a banana and peanut butter smoothie and settled down for a nap before lunch.

It was a familiar story for Ariel. She remembered the last time she had really partied and fell into the same comforting but food heavy cycle. Lunch was mac and cheese. She didn’t know how much she ate, but she knew it was delicious and then came with a strawberry and banana smoothie and another nap. Then there was dinner. By then the ladies were also extremely tired, and nobody was up for making much. That meant that they just ordered some pizza. Ariel was pretty sure she ate two or three slices, but couldn’t put her finger on the exact amount. She also had some cheesy garlic bread, a last minute edition when Kelly remembered that she had wanted to make it the night before but had gotten distracted by the loaded nachos. Ariel didn’t mind at all. The garlic bread was delicious.

And for dessert that night, Ariel was left to her own devices. She was in the mood for cake, but after seeing that there was apparently none left, she settled for some vanilla ice cream (thankful that Kelly had thought to buy her more) and covered it in whipped cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles. It was a pleasant little dessert right before she slipped back off to bed.

The next day she woke up and felt fine. But that’s also when she realized just how much leftover food she was stuck with.

What would she do with it?

She would eat it of course.

Ariel had earned a week of lazing about and grazing. And all of the food that she had in her house made that incredibly easy. She sat around indulging in whatever it is that she wanted. The leftover creamy chicken alfredo lasagna was three more meals. She made a lunch of some leftover nachos. (Those were soggy and did not heat up well, but she ate it all regardless.) The ladies had apparently ordered way too much pizza so she still had six slices to work through over the next three days. And snacks, there was so much snacking to be had. There were still bags of candy, some cupcakes, the ice cream. 

She told herself she was probably indulging too much, but every time she felt concerned, another part of her called herself a coward. And now she was seeing the damage. After a week of working through leftovers and then indulging on whatever takeout food she wanted (Chinese one day, Indian another, more pizza after that) the evidence of her indulgence was clear for the first time.

Her pants didn’t fit.

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If you're a free member reading this teaser and want to read more, you're probably going to want to start with the uncut chapters 1-4 right HERE, or you can jump into the latest chapter, chapter 8 right HERE.

For all my members who are not Even More BS tier patrons, you might want to upgrade and read the first 5,300 words of "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 9 right HERE.

For anyone reading this and considering an upgrade to the Even More BS tier, all of Chapter 9 is on Discord now and will be debuting here for paid members tomorrow. Also on Discord right now is a teaser for Chapter 10 with more to come likely throughout the day. You can upgrade HERE or by going to the extended teaser through the link above.

EXTENDED TEASER - "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 9

If you're seeing this, there's a good chance you've already seen this teaser on Discord, but I wanted to post it here so that people who might be on the fence on becoming an Even More BS patron might join at this tier.

And if you are an Even More BS tier patron who has trouble accessing the Discord, thank you for your patronage and I hope you really enjoy this teaser here.

Seriously, thank you all for your loyalty and patronage. You are the people who make this story possible. There's lots more to come, but for now...

Enjoy!

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Ariel got a lot of who she was because of her beautiful family. That basically means she grew up in a house full of vain catty women and grew up to be the perfect example of one. Growing up, Ariel’s family was competitive and she prided herself on coming out on top.

But even so, that didn’t mean she liked going back, and she was especially not in the mood to do so now. It had been a long week already.

It had started after that ladies night. Ariel was pretty sure the night had been fun, even if her memory of the night was fuzzy. She remembered enjoying herself and eating a lot of food, that was not odd for her on nights like that, especially lately. And Ariel was starting to worry that that was becoming a problem.

Ariel had at least been attempting to diet, to be in control. But that ladies night- It was like something small had broken inside her. First, she woke up the morning after with an absolute monster of a hangover. Luckily for her, the other ladies had all stayed over, and, being in far better shape than she was, they made breakfast.

It was a big breakfast.

First they helpfully gave her a fresh Bloody Mary, a little hair of the dog to ease her hangover. And then came the bacon, greasy yet still somehow crispy and obviously delicious. They were served along with some hashbrowns, and after that came the main event, a stack of pancakes drowning in butter and syrup, and she managed to eat the whole thing with a side of cantaloupe as well. After that, she was given a banana and peanut butter smoothie and settled down for a nap before lunch.

It was a familiar story for Ariel. She remembered the last time she had really partied and fell into the same comforting but food heavy cycle. Lunch was mac and cheese. She didn’t know how much she ate, but she knew it was delicious and then came with a strawberry and banana smoothie and another nap. Then there was dinner. By then the ladies were also extremely tired, and nobody was up for making much. That meant that they just ordered some pizza. Ariel was pretty sure she ate two or three slices, but couldn’t put her finger on the exact amount. She also had some cheesy garlic bread, a last minute edition when Kelly remembered that she had wanted to make it the night before but had gotten distracted by the loaded nachos. Ariel didn’t mind at all. The garlic bread was delicious.

And for dessert that night, Ariel was left to her own devices. She was in the mood for cake, but after seeing that there was apparently none left, she settled for some vanilla ice cream (thankful that Kelly had thought to buy her more) and covered it in whipped cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles. It was a pleasant little dessert right before she slipped back off to bed.

The next day she woke up and felt fine. But that’s also when she realized just how much leftover food she was stuck with.

What would she do with it?

She would eat it of course.

Ariel had earned a week of lazing about and grazing. And all of the food that she had in her house made that incredibly easy. She sat around indulging in whatever it is that she wanted. The leftover creamy chicken alfredo lasagna was three more meals. She made a lunch of some leftover nachos. (Those were soggy and did not heat up well, but she ate it all regardless.) The ladies had apparently ordered way too much pizza so she still had six slices to work through over the next three days. And snacks, there was so much snacking to be had. There were still bags of candy, some cupcakes, the ice cream. 

She told herself she was probably indulging too much, but every time she felt concerned, another part of her called herself a coward. And now she was seeing the damage. After a week of working through leftovers and then indulging on whatever takeout food she wanted (Chinese one day, Indian another, more pizza after that) the evidence of her indulgence was clear for the first time.

Her pants didn’t fit.

Try as she might, the button of her designer jeans did not want to button. She grunted. She growled. She hopped up and down and rolled on her bed. Ariel was thankful that nobody was there to witness this small humiliation as she did what so many other women have been through but which until now Ariel had never even dreamed she would worry about, a fight to fit into her pants. 

It took what felt like forever, but eventually she was able to get the pants buttoned, and when she let her stomach go, it didn’t pop the button loose, but she could feel how tight it was. To say it was uncomfortable was an understatement, and what that tightness did was send her mind into a spiral of excuses. It couldn’t have been the sheer amount of food that she had eaten that week. It must have been water retention, her time of month coming up, a poor washing job that had shrunk her pants.

Slowly, and with far more effort than she wanted to admit, Ariel peeled the pants off and tossed them aside. She quickly picked out another pair. Ariel hadn’t given this selection a lot of thought. It was just the pair of pants that happened to be at the top of the draw. But those pants also happened to be a slightly older pair, more well worn and with a slightly stretched out and more forgiving waistband. It closed just fine, and Ariel breathed a sigh of relief. 

This might have been one of the worst things that could have happened to Ariel. If she had picked up another tight pair of pants or two, she might have panicked and really locked in on a diet, but the fact that she immediately slipped into a fitting pair of pants just served to confirm Ariel’s suspicions. There wasn’t something wrong with her. There was just something wrong with that pair of pants.

She paired the pants with a blouse that she had chosen because subconsciously she knew it was flattering. (If Ariel had thought that she needed to wear something flatter she would have screamed.) Then she went downstairs and ordered herself some avocado toast (complete with a poached egg on top) for breakfast and helped herself to some oatmeal raisin cookies that Kelly had dropped off the day before while she waited.

When the avocado toast, which she ordered with a shot of espresso and a strawberry and banana smoothie to go with it arrived, Ariel ate it quickly while thinking about how she was supposed to visit her family. On another occasion it might have been a moment of triumph, an opportunity to flaunt her success. At worst it normally would have been a chore, but heading into her family’s house while being anything less than one hundred percent felt like she was about to walk into the lion’s den.

She was going to need another cookie or two to steel her nerves and get her through it.

Ariel’s immediate family consisted of her vain mother Wendy, the primary cause of her own cruel and catty demeanor and the driving force for why she was so in love with and concerned about her appearance, and her sisters. Ariel had three sisters, Sophie, Liz, and Dana. Dana was Ariel’s successful older sister, the oldest in the family. Sophie was the youngest, about to be a freshman in college. And Liz?

Liz was the fat one.

It was always a point of contention with the family. Liz, often simply referred to as Lardo by her sisters, was consistently bullied by her siblings. She was the fat, dumpy practice dummy her family members used to sharpen their claws on and brush up on their pettiness. Liz seldom received a kind word, even from her mother who frequently viewed Liz as nothing more than a sullen disappointment, especially when she was weighed (metaphorically and literally) against her sisters. 

This was especially the case now that twenty-three year old Liz was still living at home, something neither of her older sisters had done. Sophie had gone away to college and pretty much never returned. Ariel had stayed home for the beginning of her college career, but that was so her mother could help keep a better eye on her burgeoning modeling career, and once that took off than Ariel was out of the house too and exploring the fierce spirit independence that seemed to fill all of the women in the family, all except Liz that is. 

Liz never had a desire to go anywhere. She never had a desire to do anything. (At least that’s what it seemed to everyone else.) She had a simple vet tech job, which meant she got to be around animals all day. She occasionally went on dates, but nobody particularly thrilled her. She liked living at home because it saved her a lot of money on rent. Really, the only thing Liz was ever truly upset about was her weight, and even that was because of the pervasive prodding of her family. If they would get off her fat back about it, she would probably be fine about her weight as it was. But they showed absolutely no sign of cutting her fat ass some slack. Case in point-

“Hey there, Lardo.”

Immediately, Liz regretted opening the door for Ariel and felt her heart sink into her plush stomach. 

“Hey, sis,” she muttered. 

Ariel just lowered her sunglasses in the cliche dramatic fashion that she was so very fond of and proceeded to look Liz up and down and delivered the same sentiment that she would have given if she had been stricken with blindness. 

“Still fat, I see.”

Expecting to see Liz’s usual dopey frown on her doughy face, Ariel practically fumbled her sunglasses when she was instead greeted by a smile. 

“Actually, I’ve lost a little weight!”

For a moment, Ariel just sorta there trying to perceive any small change to Liz’s large figure. 

“Oh. Have you? I don’t see it.”

Her attempt at being cutting was cut off by a gleeful Liz with evidence in hand. 

“Yup! I’m down like six or seven pounds. Not a whole lot, but look!”

She ran her hand along the inside of her pants and gently pulled at the waistband of her jeans to fully demonstrate how much room she had. 

“These are so much looser! See?”

While her eyes traveled down and watched Liz finger the waistband of her pants some more, her mind wandered back to earlier that morning and the tightness she had experienced trying to squeeze into her own designer jeans. They had been too tight, almost as if Ariel had grown out of them- which Ariel knew she hadn’t but the fear… it lingered… and the pants she was wearing now weren’t exactly loose….

No!

Ariel shook the negative thoughts loose from her pretty head. Those pants weren’t tight because of her. They had shrunk. And these pants weren’t tight. They fit perfectly. Pants weren’t supposed to be loose. Her pants were purposefully chosen to fit her like a glove, to hug and perfectly showcase her perky perfect ass. She wasn’t getting fat. Her sister was just a fat idiot.

“Well then, get some new pants that actually fit, you fat fashion disaster.”

After seeing that her last remark left her peppy sister satisfyingly crestfallen, Ariel strutted past Liz and into the house proper. Once she walked into the living room, she was greeted by her youngest sister, Sophie who was lounging on the couch stretched out and working her way through a bag of potato chips.

“Hey!” called out Sophie right before stuffing another handful of chips into her mouth.

“Hey.”

“Liz still showing off her pants?” asked Sophie with her mouth full of chips.

“Yeah. Lardo thinks just cause her pants are a little loose it’s suddenly a big deal.”

Ariel’s eyes went to that bag of chips, and her mouth practically started to water.

Sophie, oblivious to Ariel’s hungry stare, kept eating chips while talking trash about Liz who had just walked back into the room but was remaining completely silent.

“I know, right? It’s pathetic, like she thinks she’s suddenly not fat.”

“I know. And she’s still such a fat ass,” agreed Ariel with a vigorous nod that did not break her concentration on the chip bag. It was like she was a predator sizing up her prey.

And like a slow-witted calf at the watering whole, Sophie didn’t notice.

“SUCH a fat ass! What a piggy. Oink! Oink!”

Suddenly, Ariel reached down and snatched the bag of potato chips right out of Sophie’s hands.

“Speaking of oinkers, you better be careful with all these chips, sis.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday weekend.”

Sophie lunged for the chips, and as Ariel looked down at her whiny brat of a college aged sister, she couldn’t help but notice the way her normally flat stomach bunched up into a bunch of tiny rolls, the lower most of which was threatening to roll over the waistband of her jean shorts and into her lap. Sophie was normally a perfectly put together goddess, just like Ariel. In fact, Ariel had considered Sophie to be the perfect protege, she had just graduated high school as prom queen and head cheerleader and now celebrating her nineteenth birthday was poised to take over college and the world.

But those rolls? They were tiny but they were new, and Ariel was ready to have a little bit of fun at her younger sister’s expense, especially since doing so would take her mind off her own slight weight gain- no - not weight gain- off the unfortunate drama of shrinking on of her favorite pairs of designer jeans.

Ariel let her sister reach for the chips again before pulling them away once more.

“So you’re going to have chips, and cake, and what else, piglet?”

She danced away has she shoved a handful of greasy potato chips into her mouth.

Sophie threw a pillow at her and jumped up from the couch, practically lunging right over the back.

“Shut up. And give me back my chips.”

But Ariel was too quick and began to run around the couch, keeping it between her and her sister while eating more of the chips.

“Make me, loser!”

She took the time to stick her tongue out and then ate more chips without caring for the crumbs she was leaving on the floor.

This caused Sophie to move to plan b.

“MOM!” Her screamed bellowed through the house, a well practiced high pitched whine that could only be produced by the baby of the family.

And as if she had been waiting for her cue, Ariel and Sophie’s mom, Wendy entered from the kitchen and soon stood between the two tapping a foot that came loaded with disappointment.

“Are you two seriously fighting over food like some naughty, greedy little piglets? Shame on you two, acting like a couple of oinkers. I’d expect this from Liz, but not you two.”

“Sorry, mom,” They said in unison.

Liz, who had been standing there unnoticed for most of the previous conversation, just rolled her eyes at the casually snide remark from her mother and hit Sophie on the arm.

“Hey, birthday girl. I just bought some more chips if you just want a whole new bag.”

“Oh! Perfect!” squealed Sophie.

With that, Sophie followed her fat sister into the kitchen for chips, and whatever other snacks she decided she wanted along the way.

“Sophie better be careful, mom. Or she’s gonna turn into a real sow,” Ariel said without a hint of irony.

She was incapable of noticing that her own slim figure was being threatened by the first few stubborn pounds that would turn her slender stomach into a plump pot belly and her toned model’s thighs into thunder thighs perfect for waddling. Ariel had a new target to cast her judgmental eyes on, her sister Sophie, and that was more than enough to distract her from her own shortcomings, her own bad habits- her own FATTENING habits.

Ariel didn’t even realize she was eating more potato chips until her mother snatched the near empty bag out of her hands.

“I don’t want to talk about Sophie right now.”

“What? You’re not expecting me to be all excited for Liz or something now, do you? So she lost a couple pounds, so what? She’ll gain it all back and more in a month. She’s still a cow.”

“This is about Dana.”

“Dana?”

“Dana’s getting a divorce.”

“Again?”

“Yes. But this one’s not going well. She’s moving back in and well… be nice.”

“Nice, why?

“Because your sister is going through a tough time, and-”

“Did she get fat? Oh my god, did she get fat and that’s why she’s getting a divorce? Did her wife dump her fat ass?”

Ariel’s eyes went wide as she imagined the possibilities. She loved her sister, but seeing Dana go from slim and successful, the sexy older sister, to being a fat loser living back at home, that was just too juicy, too funny. For years, Ariel had grown up in her sister’s shadow. Dan was also prom queen. Dana was also head cheerleader. But Dana was also valedictorian. She was class president. Sorority president. She was some big shot in… Well, to be honest Ariel never really paid attention to what Dana did exactly for work. She did… business. And throughout it all, including now three marriages, she had remained successful and slim and sexy, never getting that classic office chair butt. But perhaps the stress had finally made her crack? Perhaps late nights at the office stuffing her face with takeout had left her overstuffed into some pants that didn’t want.

Once again, Ariel’s hands ran along the sides of her own legs, feeling the fabric of the tight jeans without her even realizing it.

Was it cruel to be thinking like this about her own sister in Dana’s hour of need? Definitely, but Ariel couldn’t help that. Her and Dana had spent so many years making fun of other people together, and if Dana had taught her anything it was that the best time to show strength was when the other person was at their weakness. Hit them while they’re down and never let them back up. That was the key to power, to dominance.

In a weird way, Ariel thought that this was exactly what Dana would have wanted. They had grown up in a catty sibling rivalry, alternating between fighting side by side and fighting each other. They had sharpened their swords steel to steel, and now it was Ariel’s turn to claim a final victory.

It was thrilling.

“She’s not fat.”

Her mother’s words hit Ariel like a brick of disappointment.

“But things aren’t easy right now, and she’s going to be in quite the mood already and I don’t want to spoil Sophie’s birthday dinner. So. Be. Nice.”

“Whatever. I get it, mom. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Better.”

“Better.”

“Good.”

“You’re welcome.”

And then, instead of just continuing this game, Wendy turned to walk back into the kitchen and left the bag of chips on the living room coffee table.

Ariel immediately pounced on them.

She couldn’t stop herself. There wasn’t anyone in the room to show off to. She wasn’t even hungry. But there were chips, and she had a sudden compulsion. Her hands grew greasy as she dug around the bottom of the bag, and then she tilted the bag upward to let whatever crumbs were left fall into her mouth, something that left her cheeks and chin rather greasy too.

This was of course the exact moment that Dana walked in. Ariel heard her before she saw her.

“Wow. You’re really making a mess with those chips.”

“Like you made a mess with your life?”

“Oof. I guess mom told you, huh?”

“Yeah. She also said to be nice.”

“And?”

“When have I ever listened to mom?”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Love you too, sis.”

Ariel walked over and gave her big sister a hug.

She wasn’t nearly as big as Ariel would have liked.

Ariel had been hoping that her sister had turned into a full on fat ass, a real cow with a big fat behind that was the kind of blubber butt that spilled over the sides of chairs that it managed to not break. She had hoped that Dan would come waddling in with her slim stomach replaced by a loaded up gut sagging over the waistband of her pencil skirt, and apron of saggy, useless, flabby fat. She wanted to see a Dana with thick thunder thighs completely with saddle bags that stretched out the sides of her skirt and threatened to burst it at the seams. She had been hoping that her older sister’s face would now be piggish with jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin that hung down in front of her thicker neck. Ariel wanted to savor the sight of of sister that had turned into a total sow, an absolute oinker.

Dana was not that fat.

But she wasn’t that thin anymore either.

Ariel could feel the subtle squishness of Dana’s softer body, and she made sure to squeeze her hard enough to feel Dana’s new pot belly, which was still small but noticeable, as it pressed against her own stomach.

And at the same time, Dana felt that Ariel’s stomach was softer than usual as well.

In that hug, there was a softness to Dana’s arms and she knew it as well as Ariel. So in response, Dana made a show of hugging Ariel even tighter, as tight as she could. The hug had become some kind of competition with no real winner to be declared, but it did give Dana time to contemplate the small changes to her younger sister. There was the new weight to her belly. There had been the slightest bit of jiggle when she raised her arms for the hug, and Dana took the time to look down past Ariel’s shoulder to confirm that Ariel’s perky butt was indeed a bit bigger. When she finally let go of the hug and stepped back to examine Ariel fully, she could see that the gap between her thighs was the only thing about her that was smaller. Was even her face a little softer, or was that just wishful thinking?

Ariel wasn’t fat. She wasn’t chubby. She hadn’t even gained as much weight as Dana had, but to the well trained and catty eye, the signs of future fatness were definitely there.

Dana had been going through a lot of hard shit lately, and the fact that her slim sister was getting softer was a small win that she wanted to keep riding for a while.

“You must still be hungry.”

“Well, I just had those chips and-”

“Come on. That wasn’t even a real snack. You deserve better. Let’s go into the kitchen and find something good to snack on.”

“I guess….”

“I’m hungry too.”

Ariel smiled at those words form Dan, and her eyes traveled down Dana’s torso, past the breasts that had grown slightly bigger but definitely saggier down to the tubby tummy that had replaced her sister’s abs and was now pooched out, a jiggly little pot belly that extended beyond the waistband of her pencil skirt. She really wanted to see that pudgy belly fat roll onto Dana’s lap when she sat down. Plus, another snack would be nice.

“Sure. Let’s eat.”

In the kitchen, Wendy had made a cheese plate, a classic tray of various cheeses and cracks with some veggies as well. It was the kind of standard thing one just puts out for people visiting, a little bit of something fancy.

Sophie was tearing into it like an animal, putting various bits of cheeses onto crackers like they were simple Lunchables. She’d devour one mini-sandwich and move right on to the next. Crumbs scattered on the tray, but she didn’t care. She only stopped to pick up stray pieces of cheese or to make herself another sandwich.

Meanwhile, Liz was nibbling on a pair of baby carrots.

Ariel didn’t hesitate to join her young sister at the cheese plate and quickly put a piece of sharp cheddar between two garlic salted crackers and bit into it. This was followed by some amour cream and onion crackers smeared with a healthy bit of brie.

Meanwhile, Dana went inot the fridge and pulled out a half empty tub of hummus and plopped it on the table. She picked up a carrot and dipped it in the hummus. Ariel thought about joining her but chose a pita chip instead of the carrots as her hummus vessel. 

As Liz watched this happen, she reached over and plucked up a piece of broccoli to chase her carrots with while her mother helped her self to an apple slice. Wendy nibbled on that smal piece of apple as she shook her head at her daughters.

“What’s gotten into you all? You should slow down.”

“And you should have served this with some salami or something,” snorted Ariel snidely in response.

“Oh! I think we have some in the fridge!” shouted Sophie.

A few moments later, and a package of salami was being torn into and added to the now not very delicate cracker sandwiches. Eventually, even Liza gave in and had herself a few, but not nearly as many as her sisters. The sisters ate quickly and ate everything. Their mother stuck to apple slices and occasionally a bit of brie. All the while, her slender hard edged face remained frozen in constant consternation.

The look of judgement went unnoticed by Ariel and her sisters, especially Dana who didn’t even wait for the platter to be completely finished before she was already off to the pantry to look for the next thing.

“Are you kidding?” scoffed Wendy.

“You’re looking for more food? You’re all going to ruin your appetites for dinner.”

Ariel just wagged a pita chip loaded with hummus at her mother.

“Mom, if you didn’t want us to eat, why did you make this whole platter?”

“Yeah, with the like four kinds of crackers and chips,” chimed in Sophie.

“I was being nice, and welcoming.”

“And you didn’t expect us to eat it all?” asked Ariel.

“I expected my daughters to show a little restraint.”

Liz just kept her mouth shut, metaphorically, as she nibbled on another another carrot.

Ariel just rolled her eyes.

“And then what? We’d just throw away the rest.”

“Yes. We’d do the tasteful and sensible thing.”

“Realy, mom? So wasteful. What about all the starving kids in Africa?” asked Ariel with her tone laced with heavy sarcasm.

“I don’t care. I care about my daughters acting like a bunch of piggies.”

“Not all of us are acting like piggies,” muttered Liz under her breath, a comment that went unheard by the others as Ariel slammed her hands on the kitchen island and began to shout.

“Get off our backs, mom. Face it, you’ve raised a bunch of stone cold hotties- mostly, and we can afford to eat a little bit of cheese and crackers.

That’s when Dana came waltzing back in with a brand new package of double stuffed Oreos.

“I’ve got the good snacks!” she cheered, and her sisters responded with excited squeals of their own.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Cookies?”

“Double stuffed Oreos!” shouted Sophie as she clapped and bounced on her seat.

“Calories, tons of wasted wasted calories. I don’t know why I even bought those.”

“Because Sophie was whining about wanting them,” chuckled Liz, another comment that didn’t get a reaction because everyone was too busy focusing on the cookies.

“Get off my case, mom. I’ve been going through a tough time lately. I need this.”

“Tough times lead to tubby tummies if you’re not careful,” chided Wendy as she poked her finger into Dana’s pudgy belly.

The room went silent and the air was thick with awkwardness until Dana plucked and Oreo out of the package and defiantly bit into it.

“Well, you know what? I’m going to eat some damn cookies and enjoy myself,” she said before finishing off the cookie with her second bite.

“Fine, but I don’t have to watch this. Try not to spoil your appetites for dinner, though the way you’re eating today, I doubt that’s possible.”

And then Wendy stormed out of the room and left her daughters to devour the cookies.

Three of them did while Liz just helped herself to a pair of them and then leaned back and watched her sisters pigging out.

Later, after eating plenty of cookies and chasing them with a very full glass of milk (an satisfying 2%), Ariel slipped outside to sneak a cigarette.

That’s where Liz found her.

“Still sneaking out of the house to sneak cigarettes like you’re back in high school?”

“Well, mom still hates it soooo….”

“It’s a disgusting habit.”

“And you’re a disgusting fatty.”

Liz stood there stone cold and stunned. Her hands couldn’t help but fly to her belly which was slightly smaller than it had been but still rather blubbery. The words had come so fast, and were so brutally cutting that even though Liz was used to these kinds of comments from her family, she was still caught off guard and thoroughly wounded.

But then…

Liz looked at the way Ariel’s own belly stood out and pushed against the blouse that was designed to be flattering. It was bloated from all the potato chips, and cheese, and crackers, and especially the cookies among other things. She couldn’t help but smile as she reflected on all that Ariel had eaten while she was the sister who showed restraint, control. It was nice to have the shoe be on the other foot for once, and Liz couldn’t help but get a little of her own back.

“You did really did eat like a little piggy back there.”

Ariel just scoffed.

“You’d know something about being a piggy, right Lardo?”

“I guess I would. I suppose I do know how to spot a piggy when I see one. Takes one to know one, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, sis. You might want to be careful,” teased Liz as she tauntingly tapped Ariel’s bloated tummy.

Ariel smacked her chubby hand away.

“Come off it, Liz. It’s just bloating. Everybody gets bloated. It’s normal.”

“Sure. Of course. I’m sorry.”

Liz turned to waddle away, but she couldn’t resist one last parting jab.

“I’m just saying. Be careful. I know how easy it is to slip and become a real piggy. And you wouldn’t want to be a big fat fatty like me, right?”

Ariel didn’t even watch Liz waddle away. She just stared off into the distance and bitterly smoked her cigarette, then a second before she decided it was finally time to come back inside.

Be careful? Be careful?!?! What a ludicrous idea coming from Liz, that fatty- that pig. Ariel didn’t need to be careful. She was perfect, flawless. She wasn’t going to stand for any critique about her figure, especially from someone as large as Lardo. No fat ass loser was going to tell her what to do. And if Liz was going to lecture her about needing to be careful, she was going to show her how little care she had for Lardo and her lectures. She was going to make a point of stuffing herself in front of Liz just to show her that she could.

Ariel suddenly couldn’t wait for dinner.

Extra Slice #15 - "More Model Made to Waddle Musings"

Here's just a little stream of consciousness activity I wanted to do after finishing chapter 8 and while working on chapter 9 to get/keep my creative juices flowing. I like to do things like this sometimes and then share it with you, my loyal Even More BS tier patrons, to give you a little something extra to enjoy, something more exclusive then just the extra early updates and teasers and what not, something to hopefully make those extra two dollars a month worth it.

It's not long, but I hope you enjoy it and stick around for more.

And thank you once again for your continued patronage. It really means a lot.

Enjoy!

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My, we’ve finally taken a turn now, haven’t we?

Ariel is starting to show signs of her gluttony. Her body is paying for its sins. They’re faint to be sure, but they’re there. The small extra creases where things used to be flat, the slight amount of jiggle where there was none before. Do you think Ariel ever imagined herself as the kind of woman who jiggles? I certainly don’t think so. It would be impossible for a woman of her vanity, her insane confidence to ever even think- in her worst nightmares- that she could start to get fat.

But we’re taking her beyond her worst nightmares, aren’t we?

Things are shaping up and that shape is going to be large and fat. Think about all the blubber that you’ll soon be witnessing, think about the soft squishy plushness of all the flesh that will suddenly pour in deep fatty folds from Ariel’s formerly slender figure. She’s destined to be a winded hog waddling about in a pathetic excuse to prove that she can even still move at all.

That bitchy model is going to have big birthing hips, a wide rump and titanic thunder thighs that shake and clash and rub together. Just picture her fat figure, taken from her place of high confidence and reduced to the lowest rung of the social ladder as she’s turned from a slim and sexy hottie into a total fatty.

It’s inevitable now. Everyone can feel it- or at least everyone but her. Eleanor, Penelope, Kelly, they’re all met now; and they’re all on the same page, and that page reads like a menu of just how to go about making Ariel into a big fat blubbery pig so that big fat pathetic oinker can have her humiliation served up on a silver platter with everyone she’s ever held in esteem now looking down at her and laughing at how far she’s fallen and how fat she’s gotten. Her friends, her enemies, even the poor people she used to make fun of will now all think themselves better than miss piggy. They’ll all turn up to laugh at the pig that Ariel has become, to punish her for her vanity and the way she’s treated others.

The ones that she used to make fun of most will be the ones who laugh the hardest. It’s their turn to be on top now. It’s her turn to suffer, to be called piggy, whale, lard ass, fatso. Ariel the Fatso has something of a ring to it. Perhaps you prefer Fat Ass Ariel or maybe just Piggy is your liking. I can get behind Piggy. I can get behind Piggy while thinking about how big Ariel’s behind is becoming.

That ass of hers is going to end up huge, bloated, flabby, soft, saggy, covered in cellulite as it slaps down onto the backs of her equally flabby (and equally covered in cellulite) thunder thighs, tubes of jiggly flesh replacing the trim limbs that she was once so proud of. Her butt used to be so perfect and perky, and now it’s already starting to go down hill, one pound at a time. Soon, her posterior will be extra plump, and then, once gravity takes over and her ass cheeks plop downward like sad and saggy balloons freshly busted and filled with fat, it’ll never recover. Once she gets fat, there will be no coming back, no being thin, slim and sexy for Ariel. She’ll be a sad lard ass forever, a model turned fatty, a complete fatso.

Do you think part of her wants it?

Wouldn’t that be something, if there was just a hopeless fatty inside her secretly waiting to come out this entire time?

But I don’t think that’s it.

What she wants it to eat. That’s clear. Ariel was born to put food away, and before now anytime she did so it never seemed to stick to her. But her greed and arrogance have helped her fall into a trap of her own making. Sure, Eleanor, Penelope, and Kelly have all played their parts, but they haven’t done anything that Ariel didn’t want. She wanted to party. She wanted to eat. They just put the food in front of her and she did the rest because that’s what she wanted to do. Her arrogance has been a powerful tool, so has her competitive nature. But the big fat flaw that will lead her down the road to obesity is her natural gluttony. It’s like a sleeping pig has been woken up, and all it wants to do now is eat.

Ariel doesn’t work out either. Can you imagine what that’s going to be like? Imagine her finally waddling into a gym desperate to get her figure out because she’s grown so fat. She’ll probably be thinking that she can just whip herself right back into shape. Ariel will imagine that she’s still perfect enough that a few workouts will offset her gluttony, that she just needs to do some squats, some situps, and some time on the treadmill to restart her classic metabolism.

But that metabolism will be gone, buried by all the food and fat. Squats? She’s going to burst out of her legging, splitting the seam right down the crack of her big fat ass. Sit ups? That big blubbery belly is going to get in the way. Imagine her abs lost to flab, fat the now forms itself into thick bloated rolls of greasy blubber, a spare tire that jiggles and sways at will. Sit ups won’t be something she’s going to be able to do. And she won’t be able to do pushups with a big fat gut that hits the floor so quickly. And that treadmill? Forget running, even walking for more than a few minutes will be too tiring because of those thick thunder thighs and her big fat anchor of an ass.

Ariel, slim and sexy model, is just going to be one of those vain women who let herself go, who went from mocking others to being the humiliated fatty getting mocked at the gym when she fails at the simplest of exercises. It will be completely pathetic. She will be weak, fat, and pathetic.

And what will her family think, the vain family that she grew up with, the catty crucible that made her into what she is today?

Well, for that you’ll just have to wait and see.

"Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 8

Here is this chapter where we get a look at several characters and their thoughts and of course lots of eating. Plans are coming together and a big step is taken toward Ariel's downfall.

This chapter came out to over 9,200 words. And the beginning of Chapter 9 is available right now on Discord for Even More BS members.

But first, there's this chapter, chapter 8, right here.

Enjoy!

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What was it that made Ariel able to eat so much even though she was so thin? Was it a gift? A curse? An unexplained scientific phenomenon? 

Ariel didn’t question her ability to eat. She just knew she was good at it, and up until now her ability to eat an almost inexplicable amount of food at any given time had not interfered with the right curves of her slim and sexy body in any way. 

Science would probably say that she had something in her genetics that gave her the ability to eat on a whim like a professional athlete post competition and burn it off as if she was in the gym for hours afterward. Faith would call that a miracle. 

Most would just call Ariel a lucky bitch. 

But even her vaunted metabolism would eventually have to crack under the constant assault of food and lack of exercise to offset the calories she was cramming herself with. Eventually her genes would have no choice but to give up the ghost and let her turn herself into a big fat pig. 

And Eleanor was counting on that.

That’s why she needed this ladies' night. It had been a whole week of waiting, of worrying that Ariel was going to get ahold of herself and stop her skid into gluttony and obesity. Eleanor needed Ariel to get into a fattening food habit, not a diet. Her deal with Ava de la Winter had been the start of a major gambit, and now she needed to make sure it would pay off. So how would she do it?

With a trip to the grocery store of course.

It didn’t take much to convince Ariel to host ladies’ night at her place. She enjoyed showing off the place, and after a long day of shooting it would be a nice place to relax. Plus, Eleanor had just pulled off a big deal for her, so if a quieter night was the thing she wanted as a reward, it was easy for Ariel to throw her that bone.

So with that in mind, Eleanor and Penelope wandered the aisles of the grocery store trying to decide what kind of food they would get to stuff Ariel with. But it was during this trip down the aisles that Penelope finally had enough and shared something that had been eating at her. It was a thought that had been broiling inside through the mostly silent round of drinks they briefly shared after the photoshoot. 

“You embarrassed me.”

She had stopped so suddenly, that Eleanor almost sent the cart into a display when she turned to look back at Penelope.

“What?”

The photoshoot kept playing in Penelope’s head, Ariel dressed up as a sexy goddess of vanity with Penelope reduced to her pudgy servant as the camera kept clicking.

“You- like- you made me get up there and stand next to Ariel in tiny rags looking like this.”

Penelope grabbed her pudgy belly for emphasis and gave it a shake.

Eleanor almost chuckled, but she knew that would be rude and kept a straight face.

“Penelope, I know-”

“I know you know! That’s, like, the problem. You know how self-conscious I am about all the weight I’ve gained, that I’m not- like- as hot as I used to be, and you still made me go up there and pose for pictures. Pictures! There are now pictures of me with my fat gut hanging out, and my thunder thighs on display- and- and even worse there are some of me on all four serving Ariel with my belly hanging down toward the floor.”

Eleanor tried to put a comforting hand on Penelope’s shoulder.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Well, yeah. Like, I know I’m not as fat as you.”

And then Eleanor stopped being comforting. Her eyes grew cold, and her finger snaked down Penelope’s chubby side (almost tickling) until she gently tapped Penelope’s tubby tummy.

“You did sign up to be a model, sweetheart.”

Penelope’s hands gently touched her pudgy pot belly as if Eleanor’s touch had deeply wounded it and now it was sore. Her fingers traced the underside of the roll of fat that was currently spilling over the waistband of her pants and threatening to pop off the button. As she mulled over what Eleanor had just said, she couldn’t help but be reminded of how stubborn she was this morning to insist on squeezing herself into these pants as if they still fit. Her vanity was stopping her from getting the larger size she so desperately needed. As she fingered her fat and looked down and her spongy stomach, a double chin formed on her face, unbeknownst to Penelope but very visible to Eleanor. That went away when Penelope finally found what she was going to say and tiled her head back upward to look her friend and manager in the eyes.

“Yea-yeah. I like- I know, okay? I like totally get that. But, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be able to get me some work modeling some cute tops, something flatter. Or even some shapewear. I could- like- bite the bullet and model some tummy tucking stuff, like a girdle or something- Sure. Maybe I’d even be good for like a one piece bathing suit with a tummy control panel. Or, hell, I’d do hand modeling if need be. I think my hands are still pretty cute. Or feet stuff. Damnit- like… I’d even do feet stuff if I had to. Who cares? It’s not like anyone would see my face. Let a bunch of weirdos jerk it to my feet if they want. My feet are still plenty hot. We can get someone to take picture of my feet and then…”

Eleanor wasn’t listening. That was partially because sometimes when Penelope got like this Eleanor found that the best course of action was to ride things out and just tune Penelope out until she finished. But the other part of Eleanor, a much larger part, was focusing in on what Penny said about feet pics, not because she had any plans to get Penelope that kind of work but because the idea of lining up some fetish work- Not for pudgy Penny but for the eventually enormous Ariel was an incredibly enticing idea.

It was easy to imagine while standing in the grocery store, a fetish shoot with Ariel dressed only in her underwear and shoving a cart full of junk food while wheezing down the aisles. She could picture Ariel leaning against a snack display, eating cereal directly out of the box and then chugging milk straight from a carton, letting the white creamy milk flow down her chins, splash all over her heaving chest and pour down the canyon of her cleavage until it ran across the great blubbery expanse of her big fat belly. Eleanor saw her munching away like a mindless piggy just stopping every once in a while to scratch the sweaty underside of her blubbery belly or to let out a tremendously unladylike burp before going right back to stuffing her fat face.

She could see Ariel, desperate for money, too fat for regular modeling, with too little skills to get a job she would like and too much vanity to end up working in fast food, giving in and being a fetish model, eating cake off the grocery store floor for money and views. She imagined Ariel, slim and sexy Ariel now bloated beyond measure, hundreds of pounds heavier, snorting- no- oinking like a pig while rooting around in the cake, her body covered in chocolate and milk and making her long like a tremendous hog. In Eleanor’s mind, Ariel was wearing a tiny ill-fitting pink bra and panties set, the perfect underwear for a pig like this future version of Ariel.

Ariel looked up at the camera, hunger, humiliation, and desperation all swirling around in her eyes as she crawled toward the camera, with her big blubbery belly bouncing, slapping against the wet grocery store floor, smearing the remains of the chocolate cake. Behind her, her titanic, cellulite covered ass cheeks were eating her underwear and clapping together along with her tremendous tree trunk-like thunder thighs. She looked at the camera, too weak to walk away from this life like she could have, too greedy for the money that came with pigging out for the camera.

And then she oinked. And oink. And oinked.

More than even the incredible weight gain, the obesity, was the idea that Ariel would choose this, would willingly submit herself to submission and humiliation just to try to keep some kind of attention on her, and Eleanor realized that, as far-fetched as it sounded, it wasn’t entirely unrealistic. Ariel was exactly the kind of attention craving person who’d be likely to choose humiliating fetish work that kept her in the spotlight rather than a life of poor obese obscurity. And it was that moment that Eleanor realized how she could keep her own career going while ruining Ariel’s. It wasn’t about pushing Ariel from a fit and sexy model straight into unemployment. It was about getting her to take a career pivot, from fit model in a bikini, to a fat fetish model in that same damn beginning just looking like a beached whale with her blubber hanging out and a crew of people laughing at her for profit.

She was going to turn Ariel from a slim and sexy model into a cash cow.

Right when she had that thought was also right when Penelope finished talking. Or, it would probably be better said that Penelope had stopped talking several moments earlier, and this was the moment that Penelope had finally grown frustrated with Eleanor- or even more frustrated than she already was.

“Are you, like, even listening to me?”

Eleanor shook the dreams out of her head, and her multitude of chins wobbled. Then she took her chubby hand and pat it on Penelope’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’m listening. I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you in that position. I know you’re self-conscious about the weight you’ve gained, and I made you put that on display and that was wrong of me. And I’ll make sure I’ll look for ways to get you more work that you like. We’ll get creative if we have to.”

Then, Eleanor dug her chubby fingers into Penelope’s shoulder.

“But think about the future. Maybe you lose some weight, maybe you don’t- even if you don’t we can always position you toward plus-sized modeling.”

“Plus-sized?” Penelope gulped as her softer face went flush.

“Yeah. You’re so cute and-”

“I- I don’t want to be plus-sized,” Penelope demurred as she nervously rolled her tummy’s fat roll between her fingers without even realizing what she was doing.

“Right. Right. I get that. Whatever. Forget I said anything. The point is, just imagine the future when Ariel is standing there and she’s bigger than you; she’s fat; she’s huge. Picture her big fat ass squeezed into that bikini with her big blubbery belly hanging out and sagging over the waistband, and then imagine how good you will look next to her in those photos and how humiliated she’ll feel. You’ll be the star, and she’ll be the big fat loser.”

Penelope began to nod, slowly at first and then much mor eexcitedly.

“Yes. Yessss. That, oh like that sound soooo nice.”

“Exactly. Now picture Ariel's fat ass, and let’s get some more stuff for our girls’ night. We have work to do, right?”

The two locked eyes, back on the same team.

“Right.”

And then they turned around and went down the aisles picking out the food they were going to use to make Ariel fat. They were thinking longterm, not just things for tonight but things they could leave as leftovers for Ariel to keep munching on for at least the next week (or maybe ideally just the week because that would mean Ariel was eating all the junk food even faster.) They got a box of cupcakes, a full sized cake, bags of chips in a variety of flavors, big bags of candy as if this was going to be a Halloween party in the middle of summer. They specifically got all of the things they needed to make some fully loaded nachos, including bacon. And booze, they brought plenty of booze. Specifically, they got tequila and the sweetest, most calorie heavy margarita mix that they could find.

They left with a cart loaded with fattening foods and beverages ready to spend the night pushing Ariel further into piggishness. 

Once they were back in the car and Eleanor was driving with her big blubbery belly threatening to push against the steering wheel, Penelope took out her phone and did what she so often did these days. 

She took a stroll down memory lane and looked at photos of herself from has late as just a few months ago when she was, according to her, slimmer, sexier, and definitely far more confident.

It was like a ritual of shame, looking at how fit she was and comparing herself to how fat she was getting. It was something that always brought butterflies to her tubby tummy. But she couldn’t stop herself. It was like a compulsion.

So she opened up her pictures.

And she scrolled with one hand on her phone and one on her belly.

And her mouth hung open at what she saw. 

Penelope couldn’t help but admire how hot she used to be. 

She admired every curve of her body, especially the way the faint outline of her abs was visible. She missed being able to run her slender fingers across her flat stomach and feel the ridges made by her muscles. Now all she felt was the bulges of her blubber. Squeezing her belly was a nervous habit, and the more her belly grew the more nervous she got about her weight gain.

Penelope played with the roll of stomach fat that was threatening to roll onto her lap as she looked at another round of pictures. This time she took special note of her thighs. Her thighs were always so long and slender. They probably made her look more like a stereotypical model than anything else. They were made for strutting on the runway.

Now, Penelope was too embarrassed to even think about walking on a runway. Unless she was wearing something like jeans to keep her thighs in place, they now had so much jiggle that she could feel them slapping together when she walked. And getting into designer jeans these days made her feel like she was squeezing her legs into sausage casings. It was not easy, so more often than not she went with something loose and just put up with her chubby thighs slapping about. Every slap of fat with each step felt like a clock was ticking down to the days when they would just rub together and force her to waddle. 

Every day, it seemed, the gap between who she was in the past and present grew as she gained in girth, and the gap between her thighs grew smaller and smaller as the width of her waistline grew wider, and the circumference of her chunky cellulite covered thighs followed suit.

Of course, looking at her thighs also meant that Penelope couldn’t help but think about and then look at her butt. She used to have a great ass, perfect even. And while most of her pictures were front facing, she still had a few that she took just to show it off. There were some with her tight butt in designer pants that hugged it so perfectly. They lifted her butt up even though her toned ass needed no assistance. She was so perky back then.

Penelope winced at the thought. It hurt to realize that she was thinking about back then as if it was years instead of just a matter of months.

Still, she made herself look at her ass. She needed to be reminded of how perfect it was. And it was glorious in its heyday. Even in dresses her full peach was perky and stood out as the fabric draped across it perfectly.

Now, even while sitting in Eleanor’s car, Penelope could feel how much softer her once perfect bubble butt had gotten, how much it spread out across the street. Her butt had developed a sad sag to it, something that had seemingly gotten worse even in just the last few days. Her butt was fuller but looser, and, just like her thighs, it had cellulite on it now, something that hadn’t plagued her until recently. She had been so proud of how smooth her skin was, but that was no longer the case. And she missed it. The cellulite was just another thing that added to her self-consciousness these days, another thing she wasn’t used to dealing with.

To get her mind off her butt, Penelope looked at her breasts. But that just made her sad because her breasts were one of the few parts of her that didn’t really feel any bigger. Any time she really tried to focus on her breasts, she couldn’t help but think about her belly instead. Then there were the other parts of her body, her arms which were now just slightly softer, and her face which still, at least to her eye, seemed to be basically untouched.

Penelope was thankful for that.

She ended her ritual with her usual viewing of a very familiar picture. This one was from a few short years ago, her and Ariel together with Eleanor.

“Damn,” thought Penelope. She looked particularly good in this picture, super hot, almost as hot as Ariel.

And then she looked at Eleanor.

This wasn’t the obese Eleanor of today, the fat blob of a woman whose blubbery belly was threatening to get in the way of properly driving her car. This was an Eleanor that was far from thin, but exactly fat. If anything, Eleanor was just a bit heavier than Penelope was now.

Penelope looked over at Eleanor and felt a lump in her throat which she fought to swallow.

Could that really end up being her future?

Penelope shook her head and turned back to the picture. She focused on Ariel, focused on the idea of fattening her up, and making Ariel even fatter than Eleanor and used that to distract her from her own fears of becoming the largest of the three.

Was Penelope vain in her heyday? Maybe. There was definitely a bit of vanity that Penelope was clinging onto even now, but thinking about that wouldn’t do. As she thought about all of the food that she’d just gotten to stuff Ariel with, as she thought about all their plans to fatten Ariel up, Penelope needed to keep telling herself that she was a better person than Ariel, that she was always the better person. 

She ignored her history of rude comments, of judgmental stares, of soft snickering. She certainly ignored her memories of all the jokes about Eleanor that she shared with Ariel as Eleanor let herself go and grew bigger and bigger. 

Penelope’s grip on her belly tightened as it got tied up in knots thinking about her past.

She put her phone away and did her best to just look forward and focus on the road. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about herself or even about Eleanor. She just wanted to think about ladies night and about fattening Ariel.

That thought always made her feel better.

Meanwhile, Kelly couldn’t help but notice the car still heading in the same direction as she was.

Kelly had seen them first in the store, but she hadn’t said anything. Sure, she knew Eleanor somewhat since she was Ariel’s manager. But she barely had any real contact with Penelope, other than the unfortunate photoshoot moment that they had just shared together. She was still feeling crazy self-conscious about that incident and wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk to anyone.

More so than that though, Kelly was curious. She knew that Eleanor and Penelope would both be at ladies night later. And she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of their cart.

What were they up to?

And as she snuck up a little closer, something that normally wouldn’t have been easy given her size but was easy because of how distracted Eleanor and Penelope were, she got quite a bit of their conversation, and what she heard made her smile even broader.

They were of the exact same mindset as her, determined to fatten Ariel up. It made her own stomach flip with joy. She had to fight the urge to moan right there in the middle of the bakery aisle. Her mind was starting to race. Should she tell them her truth? Would they be able to conspire together?

But Kelly decided to be patient, to just watch and let them go about their plan while she focused on hers.

Creamy chicken alfredo lasagna, that’s what she was going to make for tonight, with an aim to have plenty made to ensure leftovers to keep Ariel eating the fattening dish for a couple of days. More than just that, she also planned on making some deliciously fattening cheesy garlic bread and some sauteed asparagus that she planned to play off as being the healthy element while really drowning it in oil and butter.

That would get her through the night, maybe the next two or three. But long term? She would have to come up with some way to broach the subject to Eleanor and Penelope. If she was really going to fatten Ariel to a series size, she would need their help, and they would need hers. 

As Kelly checked out with the cashier, her mind, no longer able to distract itself with building on her fattening plan, thought back to earlier that day, the photoshoot and the humiliating rags she had agreed to wear so she could serve the goddess Ariel while her own fat was on full display. 

Back before Kelly had gotten fat, on the few occasions she had gotten to model, Kelly had always loved it. It was a thrill to show off her body, to feel admired, appreciated, even listed after. It fuels her sense of superiority. But this shoot, even though she had agreed to it, was so humiliating. 

She could feel the stares as her fat body jiggled. She could hear the snickers, especially the ones from Ariel. Kelly hated the way her big fat belly wobbled as she was made to crawl at Ariel’s feet. And she was afraid of just how much her gut sagged toward the floor. It was far too close for her liking. 

Far too close. 

The cashier’s annoyed voice woke Kelly from her daydream, and she quickly paid for her food and waddled off toward her car. With her fattening tools now in her chubby hands, Kelly’s heart picked up, and not just from the exertion it took her big fat body to carry all the heavy ingredients across the hot parking lot to her car. She was fluttering with the possibilities of the evening and with the knowledge that she might have just found herself two allies in her fight to fatten Ariel.

At her house, Ariel eagerly awaited her guests. Today was yet another day of triumph for her, another feather in a cap already full of them. She giggled to herself as she mixed herself a celebratory martini. Was the getting started a bit early? Perhaps. But she had earned it after all. And as she smoked her cigarette and took an enjoyable sip of her drink she thought once again about how blessed she was, and after making a rather artsy smoke ring, she looked herself in the mirror, gave herself a wink, and blew her beautiful reflection a kiss.

She didn’t notice the miniscule fold of flesh that briefly appeared under her chin as she pulled back her head in a churlish smile. She just kicked up her feet in victory and was completely oblivious to the small amount of movement in her thighs that was never there before. When she leaned forward to freshen up her drink, Ariel didn’t notice the way her stomach started to fold ever so slightly.

These were the beginning signs of trouble, but she was too wrapped up in herself to notice them.

Sure, part of her had the briefest bit of concern about whether or not she should be careful with what she ate. Part of her warned her to be good. But as she eased into her second drink and her third cigarette, that part of her grew quieter and quieter.

The cigarettes should have suppressed her appetite, but the alcohol had wet her whistle, and her excitement at the day had made her peckish. She started picking at a handful of grapes, something that reminded her of her goddess photoshoot, and that made her purr with delight. After that she helped herself to some nibbles of cheese, first cheddar then a bit of good cheese which she spread across a couple of toast points. It was a delightful reward.

Yes, Ariel knew she had already eaten a huge amount of food today. But, even though a fair bit of bloating was still clinging to her stomach even after her two hours nap, in her mind, that nap made it like she was experiencing a whole new day. And on this day she was exceptionally ready to party.

And partying meant eating.

Lots of eating.

When Eleanor and Penelope finally arrived, Ariel, already a fair bit in her cups, threw her arms open wide and around Eleanor- or at least as far around Eleanor’s obese body as she could. Ariel had basically jumped at Ariel and landed, almost dancer-like, in such a way that she was on the tops of her feet and stretched out, draped down toward the floor and hanging from Eleanor where her arms had anchored themselves, in some fat folds just below Eleanor’s armpits. Her face was briefly buried between Eleanor’s pillowy breasts. 

“So soft,” she murmured. 

“So big and soft.”

Eleanor staggered back, and Ariel herself to gracefully fall toward the floor as if she was an article of clothing that Eleanor was attempting to step out of and away from. As they continued their unintentional dance, Ariel’s face slid cheek first across Eleanor’s big blubbery stomach. 

Once she reached the floor, Ariel propped herself back up onto her knees and gave Eleanor another hug, this time with most of her upper body pressed into the fat of Eleanor’s apron of a belly. She practically kissed it. 

Then she did. 

“You are my favorite great big melting marshmallow of a manager!”

Eleanor had to admit that the sight of Ariel down on her knees like this felt very good. 

Another kiss and then Ariel sprung to her feet. Still in a rather affectionate mood, Ariel kissed Eleanor European style on both cheeks before turning her attention to Penelope. 

“And you.”

Ariel ran over and gave Penelope a big hug of her own. 

Penelope could feel Ariel really purposefully pressing into her fat. 

A kiss kiss later, and Ariel was possessively holding Penelope by the back of her head. Her fingers tangled in Penelope’s hair, and Ariel’s eyes pierced Penelope’s own, and for a moment Penelope worried that Ariel was onto her, that all of their plans were known or were about to be pulled right from her head. Then she saw the comforting glaze of alcohol in Ariel’s eyes and watched Ariel smile once again. 

“And you- you, you you,” Ariel muttered. 

“You’re such a good friend. Such a good sport. God, I loooooove you.”

And for a moment, Penelope felt bad about what she had done and was about to do. There was just that charm of drunken sincerity in Ariel’s voice, her way of saying something that had Penelope stringing along for years. 

Then-

“Come here, squishy!”

Another hug, tighter, longer, more probing. 

“You were such a good little fatty for me today,” laughed Ariel before finally letting go and giving Penelope a condescending pat on the belly. 

“Now let’s get you fed. I’m sure you’re hungry, and I’m hungry tooooo.”

As Ariel drunkenly danced off toward the kitchen, Penelope watched her go with gritted teeth. She pat her own belly once again just to remind herself of how much bigger Ariel’s was going to be at the end of the night from all the food she was going to be sure to fill it with. 

Being good friends, and wanting to fatten Ariel responsibly. Eleanor and Penelope insisted that Ariel have a big glass of water and then get some more food in her right away. They settled on some more bread which the buttered and broiled some cheese on top of to give her some carbs to absorb the alcohol and some calories to get their night properly started. 

It was a fine line that they were trying to walk, to keep Ariel just inebriated enough to not realize how much she was eating, while making sure they didn’t get her bombed to the point of illness which would ruin the whole thing. The decision they had come to was to simply let Ariel make all her own choices regarding alcohol, and make sure she had more food or water as needed to keep things balanced. They realized they didn’t need to force anything on Ariel. It was easiest to let her be irresponsible completely by choice, and more habit forming too.

The cheap cheesy bread was an excellent choice. And after that they all partook a bit in a bag of candy, enjoying the guilty pleasure of some snack sized candy bars. Ariel, of course, made a show of eating two or three more than either Eleanor or Penelope did which was a good sign for things to come. 

Penelope made a point of mentioning how jealous she was of Ariel’s figure and how much candy she could eat and still be thin, and then she had to hide a smile when that made Ariel pop two more pieces into her mouth.  

After that, it was time to “take the edge of” with a little something extra. Eleanor had gotten some edible gummies, and the trio each took one. They might all end up having a bit of the munchies that evening, but Eleanor and Penelope were willing to risk that for themselves to keep Ariel on the right track. 

And that right track went right into a bag of chips that Ariel tore into without prompting. She didn’t care about the crumbs that she was leaving behind either or whether or not those crumbs landed on the table, in her cleavage or elsewhere. While Ariel was snacking on potato chips, Eleanor announced the next phase of the plan. 

“Ladies, get ready because we’ve got everything we need for some margaritas and nachos!”

Penelope and Ariel cheersed and did a tequila shot at Ariel’s suggestion. 

“Wooo!” They both shouted at the same time. 

That was the moment the doorbell rang. 

“Are we expecting someone else?” asked Eleanor as she quickly did some math in terms of the food situation and more importantly if her plans to feed and fatten Ariel could withstand contact with an unknown element tonight.

“Oh, that’s Kelly.”

“Your assistant?” asked Penelope as looked for the blender, eager to get her margarita station started.

“Yeah. Yeah. I figured I’d be nice and throw her a bone.”

“You? Nice?” asked Eleanor with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Go figure. Besides, she’s making us dinner first so we can just relaaaaxxxx.”

Ariel opened the door to Kelly standing there with her arms full of groceries. 

“Thanks. My key is in my purse and…” Kelly gestured to the bags as her way of finishing that sentence. 

“Whatever. Get inside and get cooking. Remember. No partying with us till you feed us. Get that dinner going. Chop chop.”

Kelly sighed and waddled into the house and over to the kitchen.

That’s when she ran into Eleanor. Fortunately for them, this wasn’t literal as the two fat women colliding could have potentially ended in disaster with their big bellies bouncing off of each other and then sending their blubbery bodies crashing to the floor where they would flail around like fat turtles struggling to get up as Ariel laughed at them. Instead, the two just met eyes to eyes.

“You’re making dinner?” asked Eleanor as an awkward way of opening conversation mostly because she was unsure of what this would mean for her own plans.

“Y-yeah,” responded Kelly tentatively realizing that she was now stuck between her own plan and whatever Eleanor was up to.

Knowing a bit more about Eleanor’s plan than Eleanor knew about hers, Kelly at least felt good about putting her meal idea forward.

“I was going to make creamy chicken alfredo lasagna.”

At just the name of the proposed meal, Eleanor’s internal calorie counter went spinning so hard it almost made her dizzy.

“Oh. We were thinking of some loaded nachos.”

Kelly felt her stomach flutter again.

Then Ariel came sauntering over and threw her arms around the two fat girls.

“Por que no los dos; am I right?”

And both Eleanor and Kelly suddenly felt like they needed to sit down as their fat knees wobbled.

“Sure, if that’s okay with Kelly,” said Eleanor as she tried to catch her breath.

“Of course. I can put the nachos in the broiler and get them out first,” added Kelly as she fought through a moan.

Ariel clapped her hands like a princess calling on her servants. 

“Great. Now let’s get those margaritas happening!”

“I thought you’d never ask!” shouted Penelope as she hit the blender. 

From that moment on, Eleanor became less interested in watching Ariel and much more interested in watching Kelly. She watched as Kelly lovingly loaded up a bed of tortilla chips with toppings. Plenty of people would have left it as a couple spoonful of beans some tomatoes and cheese, etc. but there was something about the way Kelly made the dish, the way she seemed to contemplate the exact placement of chips to ensure the best bed for ingredients possible to the way she put things on top the create maximum coverage- and include maximum calories. 

That’s when Eleanor knew. 

She was working with an artist. 

And with a potential co-conspirator. 

While Kelly was putting together the Alfredo sauce for dinner, Eleanor decided to test the waters with some conversation. 

“Interesting choice for lasagna.”

Kelly just smiled from the corner of her mouth as she labeled her sauce over a layer of lasagna. 

“Personal taste. I like it more than marinara. It’s pretty flavorful.”

“Pretty fattening too,” said Eleanor with a heavy wink in her tone. 

“Yeah. I guess it is a bit of a calorie bomb. Probably something like fifteen hundred calories a slice.”

“That’s a calorie nuke.”

Kelly paused for just a moment before shrugging her chubby shoulders and laying out another layer of lasagna noodles. 

“I guess I better be careful then if I want to keep this girlish figure,” she said with a laugh as she slapped her belly. 

Eleanor grabbed her own much bigger belly by both hands and gave it a shake in solidarity. 

“Sake. I think it’s probably time I went on a diet.”

Kelly picked up her ladle full of Alfredo sauce and raised it toward Eleanor like a champagne flute. 

“I might just have to limit myself to one small slice.”

Eleanor grabbed the bag of full fat shredded mozzarella cheese and held it open toward Kelly. 

 “That might leave us with a lot of leftovers, wouldn’t it?”

Kelly took a hefty handful of cheese from the bag and, while looking at Eleanor, sprinkled it atop the lasagna. 

“I’m sure Ariel would take care of it.”

Eleanor’s hand gripped the kitchen counter tightly as she smiled. 

“I’m sure she would.”

Eleanor pushed her heavy body away from the counter and waddled closer to Kelly, she got close enough to whisper to her, as close as their two big blubbery bellies would allow.

“I think we’re on the same page.”

“I think we are.”

“And perhaps we should find the time to talk more about this thing of ours.”

“Perhaps we should…” responded Kelly as she waited for that inevitable sound of her timing signaling the nachos being done. 

Ding. 

“Now we better get these nachos to Ariel. I’m sure she’s hungry,” she said with a wink and a wry smile. 

“I’m sure she is,” Eleanor replied as she received the nachos with a pair of oven mitts and a smile in return. 

They let the nachos cool for a bit, just long enough to make sure Ariel wouldn’t burn the roof of her mouth and swear off eating for the rest of the night. But not long after that point, Ariel and Penelope were called from the living room where they were drinking and laughing to the kitchen for some eating. 

Ariel convinced Penelope to have another edible with her, and then the two dug into the nachos. 

While Ariel certainly attacked the platter with more ferocity than Penelope, Penelope, now also under the appetite enhancing effects of the alcohol and THC also tucked in a bit harder than what was planned. The two soon had chili and cheese dripping down their chins and salsa staining their cheeks. But that didn’t stop them. This was a party after all, and ladies’ night, a night for not giving a shit about how you looked while you ate. 

So they ate. 

And ate. 

And ate. 

While all four of them indulged in food and drink galore, Ariel made sure to keep herself in the lead. She would side eye the other ladies, and whenever they started to slow down at all, she made a show of picking up speed and eating even more, proud of her ability to outdo them and fueled by ego, and alcohol as well as the deliciousness of the food.

It was a trap that the other ladies were more than happy to help Ariel keep falling into.

Eleanor saw the way that Penelope was tearing into the nachos and, rather than hold her friend back a bit, she decided to lean into this moment and whisper in Ariel’s ear. 

“Wow. Looks like Penelope might actually out eat you tonight, not that she can afford to.”

Ariel’s eyes lit up at the challenge, and her rate of stuffing her face with fully loaded nachos doubled, as did the amount of sour cream she was splattering on her chest. Occasionally, Ariel would stop to clean herself up, but the more she ate the less she cared about the mess. 

The only real sustained pause in her eating came when Ariel realized her drink was empty and she insisted on another margarita. 

Penelope was happy to oblige her, and Ariel was happy to eat more while she waited for her drink. She practically played with a particular large scoop of the nachos, two chips loaded with toppings and cheese that was dripping from the edges. Her teeth crunch into the chips and sucked the sour cream and cheese toward the back of her mouth. 

With her mouth threatening to be over full, Ariel chewed slowly, methodically, savoring every bit of the nachos that she had crammed into her mouth, the salty chips, the sour cream, the sweet avocado and the tang of the tomatoes. She felt the meaty cheese dance on her tongue and all of it eventually made its way down her throat and into her stomach, a stomach that had been stretched by her earlier feasting, and one that was far from satisfied. 

Another drink came, and eventually so did dinner. 

The creamy chicken Alfredo lasagna smelt heavenly. And all four ladies, each at varying points of inebriation, couldn’t help but stand back and admire just how beautiful it looked coming out of the oven with its top beautiful golden and crisp. 

“I think it’s only fair that our wonderfully generous host get the first slice!” shouted Kelly as she cut out a massive, double sized slice for Ariel who took a little bow as she graciously accepted her meal. 

Everyone could see the hunger in Ariel’s eyes. 

“But wait! There’s more!”

Ariel wanted to dig in right away, the siren call of the lasagna had sparked a new craving in her, but as she watched Kelly reach for a pot, she knew that a little bit of delayed gratification would be worth it. 

That moment, right when Ariel almost gave in, that’s when Kelly spooned on a little of the extra sauce she had made and then sprinkled on parmesan cheese, some freshly cracked black pepper and a bit of chopped basil for color and extra flavor. 

“Now it’s ready.”

Those were all the words that Ariel needed to dig in. Her fork tore the lasagna apart, and she devoured it quickly. It was like somewhere in the back of her mind she knew how heavy the dish was and therefore the only way to overcome that and eat as much as possible was to eat it as quickly as possible. The burn going down felt so good. Everything about the lasagna was delicious, the incredible sauce with all the cheese and even the chicken. The chicken was moist, juicy, and easy to eat. 

So Ariel ate a lot of it.

Before the other ladies had finished their own much smaller first slices, Ariel was on to her second. She wanted it so bad. She needed it. It was a craving that she was more than willing to give into. This is who she was now, the kind of woman who just enjoyed eating voraciously. Sure, there was a part of her that was fueled by the competition aspect, by the thrill of showing off and eating more than anyone else. And yes, some of her hunger was aided by the intoxicants she had sort out and willingly imbibed in as was her desire. But all these things just added to her truth, that she loved to eat, and she was going to keep eating just because the act of eating was something she enjoyed doing. The fact that the food was so delicious and readily available thanks to her assistant was just a plus.

Eleanor watched Ariel grab her second slice and smirked. She knew that Ariel was destined to get fatter, even if they stopped doing what they were doing to aid things along, Ariel wanted food and she was going to develop her own bad habits. Left completely to her own devices, Ariel would undoubtedly end up a fatty. It just might take five to ten years. So… Eleanor was more than willing to give things the push they needed to speed the inevitable process up and enjoy the results that much quicker.

“Try some red pepper, Ariel. It goes great with the lasagna.”

She was correct about that. It did add an additional pop of flavor, but, more than just that, the intensity of the red pepper flakes also cut through the creaminess of the alfredo sauce and helped defeat the sense of saminess which allowed Ariel to eat even more.

And eat is what she did, another plate, another drink, another edible. Ariel was a perfect specimen of hedonism all by her own hand. She chose to keep going, and everyone else just sat back and enjoyed the ride. While Ariel stuffed herself in  the dining room, it gave the other three ladies the chance to convene in the kitchen within line of sight but out of earshot of Ariel.

It was there and then that Eleanor decided to do away with any kind of discretion with Kelly.

“Tell me what you want.”

“What you really really want,” Penelope giggled as she swirled her solo cup and splashed a bit of margarita onto the floor.

She stumbled backward and slammed one of her love handles against the counter which caused her blubbery belly to jiggle. Pudgy Penelope should have felt some pain, but she was too busy laughing at her own reference, practically snorting like a pig as she took another sip of her margarita.

Kelly noticed none of this. The moment Eleanor had asked her what she wanted, her eyes had become laser focused and she was gazing at the crossfaded Ariel who had made herself a plate of nachos and lasagna and was shoving alternating handfuls of it into her mouth past her sauce stained lips. She looked every bit like a pig eating slop.

“What do I want? I want to fatten that bitch up. I want to feed her until she’s so stuffed she can’t move, and I want to do that over and over and over again until she’s a helpless blob of fat. I want to ruin her career and turn her into a fat greedy little pig who can’t stop eating. I want to break her in such a way that food is something she craves constantly. I want to see her become an emotional overeater, a junk food junkie, an absolute addict who can’t help herself. I want her so fat and hungry that she knows how badly she shouldn’t eat food but she can’t possibly help it. I want slim and sexy Ariel to turn into the kind of big fat greedy glutton who is always begging for more.”

Kelly’s hands dug into the fat of her stomach. She gave it a hard squeeze as she kept looking over at Ariel.

“I want her to know what it’s like to have one of these, but bigger. I want her carrying around a big blubbery sack of fat that slaps onto her tree trunk thunder thighs when she walks- no- waddles about. And those thighs, those thick cellulite covered thighs, I want to hear them rubbing together when she waddles. I want them to be so fucking fat that they threaten to start fires. And I want her to have a big bloated dump truck ass too. I want all that perkiness to disappear- buried under blubber. I want it to slump and slosh around as loose slabs of sloppy squishy fat.”

Suddenly it was like the steam ran out of Kelly and she began to sag, leaning heavily onto the table which caused her plush belly to push against the edge. Her voice grew low and solemn.

“Really, I just need her to know what it’s like to be fat AND humiliated. I want to see her made fun of, hear her gossiped about. I want her to know what it’s like to be treated like she’s treated me and worse. She deserves it so much, to be miserable, to be fat and miserable.”

Kelly was practically hyperventilating, but she managed to calm herself thanks to Eleanor putting a fat comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Alright then. I’m glad we’re all on the same page.”

Kelly nodded as she caught her breath.

“I… I’ve never said any of that out loud to anyone else before.”

“We’re happy to be your therapists,” chuckled Penelope.

Eleanor just smiled.

“It feels good. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

Penelope stumbled forward and gave Kelly a great big drunken hug.

“And it’s gonna feel so much better when like really fatten that bitch up.”

“We’re going to make her so fat,” giggled Kelly gleefully, and then she went and poured herself a well earned margarita.

But Eleanor, not one to rest on her laurels, went for the chocolate cake.

“Yes we are. Welcome to the team, Kelly.”

Then she picked up the cake and headed toward the dining room.

“Oh, Ariel. I hope you’ve still got some room. It’s time for dessert!”

Dessert came with a White Russian first. Was it the best idea to mix vodka and tequila in the same night? Probably not? But it was decided that a White Russian would be a good dessert drink and push Ariel to the point where she might be a little fuzzy on memories of some good natured teasing. 

“You’ve really eaten a lot,” said Eleanor as she hand fed Ariel another forkful. 

“Mmmmhmmm,” moaned Ariel, eager for more. 

“Wow. I sure wish I could eat like you.”

Ariel giggled to herself as she happily accepted another forkful of deliciously moist chocolate cake.

“Bufmph you camf…. Cause you’re already so big and fat…. And you’d just get fatter.”

“But you?” teased Eleanor as she gently danced her fingers across Ariel’s bloated belly. 

“I can eat whatever I want and stay slim and sexy,” squealed Ariel in a sing-songy voice. 

“That’s right,” Eleanor mused as she continued to tease Ariel’s belly.

“You get to eat whatever you want, you greedy thing, and stay slim and sexy.”

“Never fat.”

“Never fat,” replied Eleanor as she ran her finger under the swollen curve of Ariel’s bloated belly. 

“Would you like some more, my little piglet?”

Ariel didn’t even register the nickname. At the sound of the word more, she just opened her mouth and started excitedly bobbing her head. 

Eleanor was all too happy to oblige. Another big forkful of cake found its way into Ariel’s eage and greedy mouth. 

“Hey! I want my turn. Stop having all the fun,” demanded Kelly though her tone conveyed a shared joviality with Eleanor. 

“Of course. Be my guest,” demurred Eleanor. 

Kelly took up another forkful of cake and flew it around like it was an airplane. 

“Would piggy like more cake?”

“More cake! More cake!” 

Ariel bounced up and down as she called out her continuing demand.

And so the envelope kept getting pushed once it was clear that Ariel’s mind was too focused on the cake itself to comprehend that she was openly being called a piggy. 

“That’s right. More cake, Miss Invincible Piggy. More cake to stuff your greedy face with. You get to do whatever you want. You get to eat whatever you want. You’ll never get fat. Nothing bad could ever happen to you.”

The sarcasm from Kelly’s words dripped almost as much as the chocolate sauce that stained Ariel’s shirt. And none of it went noticed by the bloated model. 

“Never fat. I’m invincible. More cake!”

“That’s what you want?”

“I want more cake! Feed me more cake!”

“Alright, piglet. If you want more cake, I’ll feed you more cake.”

“More cake! More cake!” whined Ariel until Kelly shut her up by giving in to her demands (an easy task) and stuffing another piece of cake into her mouth. 

This time Kelly had dispensed with the fork completely, just took a big handful of cake and shoved the whole thing into Ariel’s wide open mouth. 

Like a greedy pig, Ariel ate it all and immediately opened her mouth for more. 

And more was what she got. 

More cake and even a glass of whole milk to wash it down with. Ariel just took it all, always eager for more. She was beyond willing. She ate like it was her greatest desire. 

Everyone was sure she wouldn’t like the results though. 

Ariel ate like a pig, like a woman who was already obese, and as Eleanor and Kelly took turns feeding her, cooing at her, calling her names and rubbing her belly, they knew that Ariel was well on her way to fatness. They could sense that they were getting close to pushing her over the edge into bad habits that she would never turn away from. Bite after bite got her closer and closer to pound after pound and the point where there would be no turning back, just back fat. 

Penelope watched all of this and knew this as well, but she was too busy eating her own cake, which she served herself with a side of vanilla ice cream and a very large mudslide, to take a turn hand feeding Ariel. She didn’t worry too much about that though. 

She knew she would have plenty of chances to feed the future fatty. 

“Do you still want cake, piggy?” asked Eleanor. 

“Always,” whispered Ariel. 

Then she groaned and Eleanor took sight of her immensely round, bloated belly. Her stomach was stretched taut with all the food she had consumed. 

“You sure? You look pretty full.”

“I’m… fine,” groaned Ariel. 

“You don’t look fine,” said Kelly. 

“You look fat,” chuckled Penelope to herself. 

Eleanor leaned down close. 

“Would you like a belly rub?”

Ariel sighed. She was really enjoying being served like the queen she was. 

“Yeah. Belly rub. Belly rub and more cake.”

Eleanor and Kelly teamed up to give Ariel exactly what she wanted. Their hands shared the bloated expanse of Ariel’s stomach. Their fingers stretched her skin and kneaded her muscles. 

Eventually, Ariel let out a very loud and unladylike burp followed by a series of smaller ones, and when she was done her mouthing open like a panting dog as she eagerly awaited more cake. 

“More cake now. Feed me more cake,” she said and clapped her hands in a display of mocking dominance. 

She had no idea how much of the joke was on her. 

“This cake is so good,” moaned Ariel as Eleanor hand fed her another moist chocolatey piece. Her cheeks were puffed up and absolutely covered in chocolate.

Sometimes, Eleanor would daintily wipe Ariel’s chin just because she found it funny, but lately she had stopped so she didn’t waste any time and just focused on feeding her more cake.

“I’m sure it is. This is good cake, and you’ve been such a good piggy.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sooooo good.”

Eleanor held up another piece of cake and held it close to Ariel’s lips only to pull it away as soon as Ariel went to bite into it.

“Such a good piggy, and if you want to keep eating this yummy cake, how bout to keep being a good piggy and oink for us.”

Ariel wanted the cake so badly that she didn’t even realize what she was doing. She just opened her mouth and let a low, guttural

“oink.”

It was basically a whisper.

“Is that the best you’ve got? I thought you were better than that. Come on,” teased Eleanor with one chocolate covered hand pressed on Ariel’s bloated belly and the other holding the cake near Ariel’s chocolate covered face.

Ariel just looked at her, looked at the cake, then back to Eleanor and-

“Oink. Oink.”

She oinked like a good piggy and was rewarded with another piece of cake.

As she chewed on it, the realization of what she had done to earn that cake was already slipping out of Ariel’s mind. It was just the sweetness that she was worried about, the sweetness and the contentment that she felt from eating so much delicious food. This was the life, luxury and indulgence, exactly what she deserved.

The oinking made the other ladies positively giddy, but they did everything they could to suppress that glee and not risk giving away their game completely. After all, this was just the start of things. It was their biggest step yet toward an inevitable slide into obesity for Ariel, and they knew-

There would be a lot more oinking to come.

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Enjoyed this story and want to keep going? You can read Chapter 9 right HERE. And I'm already publishing parts of Chapter 10 on Discord with new updates coming as I write. So to stay the most up to date, you'll want to be an Even More BS patron on the Discord server. You can upgrade your membership HERE.

And if you're an Even More BS tier patron (or want to become one) and want to see even more content about "Model Made to Waddle" without having to go to Discord, you can see more of my musing about Ariel and her future right HERE.

Or, if you want to see something different but still extra exclusive to Even More BS tier patrons, you might enjoy "All of My Hot Neighbors Are Getting Fat" right HERE.

TEASER: "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 8

Here are the first 2,200 or so words of "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 8. I've gotten almost 5,000 words written, and first 4,200 and change words are available for Even More BS tier patrons on Discord.

For now, enjoy this teaser!

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What was it that made Ariel able to eat so much even though she was so thin? Was it a gift? A curse? An unexplained scientific phenomenon? 

Ariel didn’t question her ability to eat. She just knew she was good at it, and up until now her ability to eat an almost inexplicable amount of food at any given time had not interfered with the right curves of her slim and sexy body in any way. 

Science would probably say that she had something in her genetics that gave her the ability to eat on a whim like a professional athlete post competition and burn it off as if she was in the gym for hours afterward. Faith would call that a miracle. 

Most would just call Ariel a lucky bitch. 

But even her vaunted metabolism would eventually have to crack under the constant assault of food and lack of exercise to offset the calories she was cramming herself with. Eventually her genes would have no choice but to give up the ghost and let her turn herself into a big fat pig. 

And Eleanor was counting on that.

That’s why she needed this ladies' night. It had been a whole week of waiting, of worrying that Ariel was going to get ahold of herself and stop her skid into gluttony and obesity. Eleanor needed Ariel to get into a fattening food habit, not a diet. Her deal with Ava de la Winter had been the start of a major gambit, and now she needed to make sure it would pay off. So how would she do it?

With a trip to the grocery store of course.

It didn’t take much to convince Ariel to host ladies’ night at her place. She enjoyed showing off the place, and after a long day of shooting it would be a nice place to relax. Plus, Eleanor had just pulled off a big deal for her, so if a quieter night was the thing she wanted as a reward, it was easy for Ariel to throw her that bone.

So with that in mind, Eleanor and Penelope wandered the aisles of the grocery store trying to decide what kind of food they would get to stuff Ariel with. But it was during this trip down the aisles that Penelope finally had enough and shared something that had been eating at her.

“You embarrassed me.”

She had stopped so suddenly, that Eleanor almost sent the cart into a display when she turned to look back at Penelope.

“What?”

The photoshoot kept playing in Penelope’s head, Ariel dressed up as a sexy goddess of vanity with Penelope reduced to her pudgy servant as the camera kept clicking.

“You- like- you made me get up there and stand next to Ariel in tiny rags looking like this.”

Penelope grabbed her pudgy belly for emphasis and gave it a shake.

Eleanor almost chuckled, but she knew that would be rude and kept a straight face.

“Penelope, I know-”

“I know you know! That’s, like, the problem. You know how self-conscious I am about all the weight I’ve gained, that I’m not- like- as hot as I used to be, and you still made me go up there and pose for pictures. Pictures! There are now pictures of me with my fat gut hanging out, and my thunder thighs on display- and- and even worse there are some of me on all four serving Ariel with my belly hanging down toward the floor.”

Eleanor tried to put a comforting hand on Penelope’s shoulder.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Well, yeah. Like, I know I’m not as fat as you.”

And then Eleanor stopped being comforting. Her eyes grew cold, and her finger snaked down Penelope’s chubby side (almost tickling) until she gently tapped Penelope’s tubby tummy.

“You did sign up to be a model, sweetheart.”

Penelope’s hands gently touched her pudgy pot belly as if Eleanor’s touch had deeply wounded it and now it was sore. Her fingers traced the underside of the roll of fat that was currently spilling over the waistband of her pants and threatening to pop off the button. As she mulled over what Eleanor had just said, she couldn’t help but be reminded of how stubborn she was this morning to insist on squeezing herself into these pants as if they still fit. Her vanity was stopping her from getting the larger size she so desperately needed. As she fingered her fat and looked down and her spongy stomach, a double chin formed on her face, unbeknownst to Penelope but very visible to Eleanor. That went away when Penelope finally found what she was going to say and tiled her head back upward to look her friend and manager in the eyes.

“Yea-yeah. I like- I know, okay? I like totally get that. But, I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be able to get me some work modeling some cute tops, something flatter. Or even some shapewear. I could- like- bite the bullet and model some tummy tucking stuff, like a girdle or something- Sure. Maybe I’d even be good for like a one piece bathing suit with a tummy control panel. Or, hell, I’d do hand modeling if need be. I think my hands are still pretty cute. Or feet stuff. Damnit- like… I’d even do feet stuff if I had to. Who cares? It’s not like anyone would see my face. Let a bunch of weirdos jerk it to my feet if they want. My feet are still plenty hot. We can get someone to take picture of my feet and then…”

Eleanor wasn’t listening. That was partially because sometimes when Penelope got like this Eleanor found that the best course of action was to ride things out and just tune Penelope out until she finished. But the other part of Eleanor, a much larger part, was focusing in on what Penny said about feet pics, not because she had any plans to get Penelope that kind of work but because the idea of lining up some fetish work- Not for pudgy Penny but for the eventually enormous Ariel was an incredibly enticing idea.

It was easy to imagine while standing in the grocery store, a fetish shoot with Ariel dressed only in her underwear and shoving a cart full of junk food while wheezing down the aisles. She could picture Ariel leaning against a snack display, eating cereal directly out of the box and then chugging milk straight from a carton, letting the white creamy milk flow down her chins, splash all over her heaving chest and pour down the canyon of her cleavage until it ran across the great blubbery expanse of her big fat belly. Eleanor saw her munching away like a mindless piggy just stopping every once in a while to scratch the sweaty underside of her blubbery belly or to let out a tremendously unladylike burp before going right back to stuffing her fat face.

She could see Ariel, desperate for money, too fat for regular modeling, with too little skills to get a job she would like and too much vanity to end up working in fast food, giving in and being a fetish model, eating cake off the grocery store floor for money and views. She imagined Ariel, slim and sexy Ariel now bloated beyond measure, hundreds of pounds heavier, snorting- no- oinking like a pig while rooting around in the cake, her body covered in chocolate and milk and making her long like a tremendous hog. In Eleanor’s mind, Ariel was wearing a tiny ill-fitting pink bra and panties set, the perfect underwear for a pig like this future version of Ariel.

Ariel looked up at the camera, hunger, humiliation, and desperation all swirling around in her eyes as she crawled toward the camera, with her big blubbery belly bouncing, slapping against the wet grocery store floor, smearing the remains of the chocolate cake. Behind her, her titanic, cellulite covered ass cheeks were eating her underwear and clapping together along with her tremendous tree trunk-like thunder thighs. She looked at the camera, too weak to walk away from this life like she could have, too greedy for the money that came with pigging out for the camera.

And then she oinked. And oink. And oinked.

More than even the incredible weight gain, the obesity, was the idea that Ariel would choose this, would willingly submit herself to submission and humiliation just to try to keep some kind of attention on her, and Eleanor realized that, as far-fetched as it sounded, it wasn’t entirely unrealistic. Ariel was exactly the kind of attention craving person who’d be likely to choose humiliating fetish work that kept her in the spotlight rather than a life of poor obese obscurity. And it was that moment that Eleanor realized how she could keep her own career going while ruining Ariel’s. It wasn’t about pushing Ariel from a fit and sexy model straight into unemployment. It was about getting her to take a career pivot, from fit model in a bikini, to a fat fetish model in that same damn beginning just looking like a beached whale with her blubber hanging out and a crew of people laughing at her for profit.

She was going to turn Ariel from a slim and sexy model into a cash cow.

Right when she had that thought was also right when Penelope finished talking. Or, it would probably be better said that Penelope had stopped talking several moments earlier, and this was the moment that Penelope had finally grown frustrated with Eleanor- or even more frustrated than she already was.

“Are you, like, even listening to me?”

Eleanor shook the dreams out of her head, and her multitude of chins wobbled. Then she took her chubby hand and pat it on Penelope’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I’m listening. I get it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you in that position. I know you’re self-conscious about the weight you’ve gained, and I made you put that on display and that was wrong of me. And I’ll make sure I’ll look for ways to get you more work that you like. We’ll get creative if we have to.”

Then, Eleanor dug her chubby fingers into Penelope’s shoulder.

“But think about the future. Maybe you lose some weight, maybe you don’t- even if you don’t we can always position you toward plus-sized modeling.”

“Plus-sized?” Penelope gulped as her softer face went flush.

“Yeah. You’re so cute and-”

“I- I don’t want to be plus-sized,” Penelope demurred as she nervously rolled her tummy’s fat roll between her fingers without even realizing what she was doing.

“Right. Right. I get that. Whatever. Forget I said anything. The point is, just imagine the future when Ariel is standing there and she’s bigger than you; she’s fat; she’s huge. Picture her big fat ass squeezed into that bikini with her big blubbery belly hanging out and sagging over the waistband, and then imagine how good you will look next to her in those photos and how humiliated she’ll feel. You’ll be the star, and she’ll be the big fat loser.”

Penelope began to nod, slowly at first and then much mor eexcitedly.

“Yes. Yessss. That, oh like that sound soooo nice.”

“Exactly. Now picture her Ariel’s fat ass, and let’s get some more stuff for our girls’ night. We have work to do, right?”

The two locked eyes, back on the same team.

“Right.”

And then they turned around and went down the aisles picking out the food they were going to use to make Ariel fat. They were thinking longterm, not just things for tonight but things they could leave as leftovers for Ariel to keep munching on for at least the next week (or maybe ideally just the week because that would mean Ariel was eating all the junk food even faster.) They got a box of cupcakes, a full sized cake, bags of chips in a variety of flavors, big bags of candy as if this was going to be a Halloween party in the middle of summer. They specifically got all of the things they needed to make some fully loaded nachos, including bacon. And booze, they brought plenty of booze. Specifically, they got tequila and the sweetest, most calorie heavy margarita mix that they could find.

They left with a cart loaded with fattening foods and beverages ready to spend the night pushing Ariel further into piggishness. 

Once they were back in the car and Eleanor was driving with her big blubbery belly threatening to push against the steering wheel, Penelope took out her phone and did what she so often did these days. 

She took a stroll down memory lane and looked at photos of herself from has late as just a few months ago when she was, according to her, slimmer, sexier, and definitely far more confident.

It was like a ritual of shame, looking at how fit she was and comparing herself to how fat she was getting. It was something that always brought butterflies to her tubby tummy. But she couldn’t stop herself. It was like a compulsion.

So she opened up her pictures.

And she scrolled with one hand on her phone and one on her belly.

And her mouth hung open at what she saw.

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If you'd like to see what Penelope saw, and a whole lot more, there is over 2,000 more words to the story available now on Discord for Even More BS tier patrons. You can upgrade your membership HERE.

"Model Made to Waddle" UPDATE

I have been working on Chapter 8 of "Model Made to Waddle". So far I have a little over 2,500 words written, and the first 2,000 words are available on Discord to Even More BS patrons. If you'd like to upgrade your membership and see those first 2,000 words (and way more updates and teasers as I continue to write this and other chapters), you can upgrade to the 7 dollar a month Even More BS tier level HERE.

You may have noticed that I wrote a bunch of smaller stories recently. This was so I could focus on working on chapter 8 to 10 of "Model Made to Waddle" while ensuring that I have work that I can keep pushing out on Deviant Art to encourage people to join here. The more people who join this patreon means I can afford to spend more time writing. More details about all of this will come out on Discord for those interested.

Once again, if you'd like all of this right now, you can upgrade your membership HERE.

Extra Slice #14: "My New Neighbors are Getting Fat"

Here is an extra exclusive, for Even More BS tier patrons, featuring two more vain neighbors getting fat.

Enjoy!

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It’s happening. It’s really happening. I mean, I knew it would happen like it’s happened so many times before, but every time still thrills me like the first.

You remember those hot bitches who were moving in, the ones who were making fun of my poor piggy as she was waddling about the building? Well, my piggy is getting her justice now because those two slim and sexy bitches are getting fat.

You’re welcome, Piggy.

That’s right, those slender vixens, classic mean girl stereotypes with their hard bodies now have bodies that are getting softer, squisher, fatter. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’ve gotten them past the soft stage. They’re at least chubby, and even that is borderline- borderline fat.

Their names are Tracey and Lacy by the way, and they are a lesbian couple, one of those cute couples whose names rhyme. Cliche? Sure. But love is love right? And I don’t care who they love as long as that love chub settles on their bellies, and around their hips, thighs and-

Woo. It is settling. I can tell you that much. The chub is settling. The pounds have been packing on. And the most beautiful thing about fattening two hotties like this at the same time is that, even though their names are so similar, they gain weight in different places. So, even though both of these lovely ladies are getting larger, they’re getting larger in different ways. 

Tracey is a pear shaped woman. She has gotten really bottom heavy. She used to have a tight little butt, not as naturally voluptuous as my piggy’s was in her prime (pre-porking up) but a cute little butt. She clearly didn’t squat as much as my piggy used to do. But her butt is making up for it now. It has ballooned in size and is threatening to become the biggest butt in the building. And because she didn’t work out as much, there wasn’t as much tone to start out with, not nearly the same amount of muscle structure to help it fight off gravity. So her cheeks are softer and saggier than my piggy’s are. Tracey’s ass cheeks tremble like crazy when she moves, and when she is in a rush to get somewhere- something she really struggles with nowadays- her butt cheeks bounce like mad.

They’re just so blubbery. And I’ve seen her reach down for her mail and seen the pants that she insists on cramming them into roll down just enough to get a nice half moon rising out of them. Her cheeks are so doughy and dimply with rich cellulite. I’m sure she’s ashamed of how much she has to struggle to squeeze into clothes that she’s too vain to get rid of. Tracey and Lacy live in the apartment directly above my own, so I hear a lot of jumping around when she’s trying to cram herself into those pants, and when she hurriedly- as hurriedly as she can be with her big fat butt- tries to run out of the apartment, sometimes I find that to be the perfect time to go check my mail and watch a glimpse of her wobbling by. And she wobbles quite a bit, especially her thighs.

Those thighs used to be tight, but not anymore. They’re sausages in too tight casings, thunder thighs that have earned their name with the way they smack and rub together. I see her sometimes at the end of a long day when she’s too tired to really work to maintain her posture and proud walk. She just gives in and waddles. It’s a slow defeated step as she struggles to lumber up the stairs. I’ve seen her as she stands there at the bottom of the steps looking up like she’s about to climb Everest instead of just up to the second floor. It would be sad if it wasn’t so hot to see. But as it is she’s such a lovely little piglet these days, and her newfound sense of self-consciousness and embarrassment just plays so nicely off of the arrogance and vanity she had until very recently.

And it’s not just her ass and thighs that have gotten fat. They’re just what have born the brunt of the weight. Tracey’s got a nice sized belly too, certainly something that she doesn’t want to show off in crop tops anymore, but she doesn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Her belly is so pudgy now that it likes to push all of her shirts up enough to at least show a sliver of flabby flesh, and that’s tantalizing enough for me… for now at least.

Her arms are softer, weak looking things now with a real squishy quality where her arms were once lithe and very toned, and her face has gotten noticeably rounder too. The weight has taken away her high cheekbones and replaced them with chubby ones. It’s rounded out her original chin and paired it with a second one. That double chin isn’t nearly as doughy as my piggy’s, but we’re still in relatively early days.

Tracey’s tits haven’t gotten that much bigger. I’m sure that’s probably a bit of a sore point for her. She’s got the fat girl curse where her breasts get a bit more blubbery, but they mostly just sag. Now they’re heavier but not as perky and attractive as they once were, and they don’t have enough extra size to compensate.

That’s not the case with Lacy.

Lacy has enormous boobs.

Everything about her is fat. She’s got a big cushiony ass too. She also has weak arms with flabby bingo wings and fat clumsy hands. Her face has fat rosy cheeks and a nice double chin. She’s got thunder thighs too, not nearly as thick as Tracey’s thunder thighs, but they still do plenty of fat slapping. There’s a lot of her to love. She may even technically be bigger than Tracey. It’s hard to tell since their dimensions are so different. But no matter how you cut the cake, there’s a whole lot of Lacy to love, and I love all of it. 

It’s just that, when it comes to Lacy, the real show is in her boobs and belly. 

She’s got what one would justifiably refer to as bazongas, titanic tits. They are big blubbery fun bags, packed with fat because, unlike the pear shaped Tracey, Lacy is a delicious apple. Her breasts are full up, stretched out (with the marks to prove it) and saggy as all hell because there’s no way for all that fat to keep itself up. She’s got big pendulous breasts that sag downward, and the only thing that stops them from really hanging flat is the shelf of a belly that she’s developed to give them some modicum of support. 

Her gut is huge. Lacy used to have some very sexy abs. Clearly her core was what she used to work on the most, but now that she’s too busy stuffing her face to go to the gym, that slim stomach has gone to pot- pot belly that is. She’s really grown quite the gut. Her trim waist has ballooned outward with that new spare tire of hers joined by some thick saggy love handles. They really are something to see. She used to be so toned and now she’s just got this tremendous muffin top. 

Tracey can at least pretend her shirts fit. That’s not the case for Lacy. Every shirt that Lacy wears is a belly shirt. Even the blouses she tries to wear tend to ride up. And when they don’t, there’s always the gaps that inevitably form between the buttons. Pushed apart by the girth of her gut, the fat oozes through the gaps when she sits down. I’ve seen her blush when that happens. 

I’ve even seen one of those buttons pop off. 

You see, Lacy and Tracey are very neighborly people. And, perhaps because they’re a couple and not just single people, they’re a bit more open to me coming over. So when I make them something, they’re inclined to invite me over. 

That’s when I get a front row seat to see them go whole hog. 

It’s something really special to see. Even my piggy doesn't invite me in. I think she’s too ashamed to have me watch her pig out in person. And that’s hot enough for me. But Tracey and Lacy have no such qualms. They stuff their fattening faces with my food and are absolutely unashamed of how messy they are. They practically snort as they inhale my food and I love to watch it happen. 

They get sauce on their cheeks, crumbs in their cleavage. They stain their shirts. And the best part is the button popping. I’ve seen them fly off of shirts and off of pants alike. It’s honestly surprising that they keep inviting me over so much. You’d honestly think they’d have some shame.

Maybe they’re into it. 

I don’t know. All I know is that they’re getting fatter, and I love it. So I’m going to keep feeding them and making them fatter. Because it’s fun. Because I enjoy it. And if they happen to enjoy it too, then that’s a bonus, but it’s not a priority. 

It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. They don’t have to eat my food. They want to eat my food. They could tell me no. Or they could take my food and throw it right in the trash without me even knowing about it. But they want this. They choose to eat. They choose to pig out, to stuff themselves and turn themselves from fit little brats to fat little piggies. I’d call them piglets. They’re not as big as my piggy yet, of course. 

But give them time. 

Time and calories. That’s all I need. Time and calories, and they’ll keep getting fatter for me. My piglets will get fatter and fatter, spiraling into obesity just like my piggy. They’ll never laugh at her or another fat person again. They’ll be too busy stuffing their fat faces with food and being the ones getting laughed at. 

You’re welcome, world. 

One vain slim and sexy bitch at a time (or two in this case) I’m making this world a better place, a fatter, happier place. 

Now my neighbors are just nicer to themselves and to each other. That’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it? In fact. Maybe I’ll make building potlucks a regular thing. It would be community building. And isn’t that what we need right now? A bigger, better community. That’s the truth of this world. And I won’t let people getting fat get in the way of that truth. If they happen to get fat- very fat, that’s all just a part of the very important lesson. 

We all just need to be kinder to each other. 

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "My New Neighbor is So Fat"

This is the sequel to "My New Neighbor is So Hot" which you should read first HERE if you haven't already.

Enjoy!

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My new neighbor is so fat.

You’ve been wanting for me to say those words so here they are once again.

“My new neighbor is so fat.”

It’s wonderful isn’t it? You just love getting the news that a hottie with a body like hers has gone full fridge city and fattened up into a total cow, a piggy, a whale of a woman. Let me say it for you one more time.

My hot new neighbor is so fucking fat.

I don’t know if you can technically consider her new anymore. She’s been here quite a while now, long enough to get very, very fat. But she’s still technically my newest neighbor… for now. But that’s getting away from the point which is that my new neighbor, who was so outrageously hot, is now incredibly, undeniably, fat.

And when I say fat, I don’t mean chubby. I don’t mean pudgy, tubby, soft, or any of those other euphemisms. I choose my words very carefully. And fat means FAT. We’re talking seriously chonky, morbidly obese.

Let’s be real, sometimes dreams do come true, and mine did. But hey, you want to make dreams come true, than you have to put in the work. And that’s exactly what I did. Kind words, patience, and lots and lots of food. That’s the key. I’m talking desserts, dinners, “leftovers”, you just got to keep coming up with ways to ply her with food. Then the habit is built and the piggy comes to you.

I knew she was done for the first time she made a request.

Brownies. She loved my brownies. She was dying for my brownies. So I was happy to make her a tray when she asked. When she asked again, that meant it became a weekly thing. Then, it became a twice weekly thing. I always made sure that the second tray was a “new recipe” , something I was trying out. Sometimes it was, but most of the time it was something I pulled out of my deep rolodex of dessert recipes. (You didn’t think this was my only time doing this. Did you?) I’d make blondies. I’d make brookies. One of the batches that went over the best with her was my smores brownies, so that became a regular part of the rotation when she kept asking. That got us to brownies three times a week.

And I just started taking care of Sunday dinners for her too. Chicken parm, lasagna, chicken alfredo, beef stroganoff. Every week, I made more and more fattening things just for her. I would eat a little bit myself and then give her my “leftovers”. She would eat everything and then give me back my tupperware which was the perfect time to give her something new. I started using this as a little trick. When she finished the food and gave me the container back, she got a new little treat. Soon, she was a well conditioned little piggy, eagerly finishing all her food faster and faster and getting the nice clean dishes back to me so she could get more food and the sinfully delicious treat that went with it, cookies, cake, anything I could think of.

I got her eating all the time, and once that happened it left no room for the gym. She was quickly cutting back on her sessions, skipping workouts because she was too tired or bloated to work out, or too busy actively eating- stuffing her face- to go to her personal training sessions. It became easy enough to get her to cancel those and save money, and she was rewarded with a double batch of brownies for that. My good little fatty deserved it.

And she is such a good little fatty. Would you like to know what she looks like now?

Like a pig, a big fat beautiful pig.

Those abs of hers? Gone. She’s got a huge flabby gut now. Remember when I said I wanted to see it pushing against her leggings and rolling over the waistband? It’s so much more than that. It’s really funny to see her with her big blubbery double belly now. She’s got that big thick lower roll tucked into her pants like that’s doing something to hide it. So now she’s got stretchy pants that cling to that gut like saran wrap and if anything draw even more attention to it. And she’s still got that upper roll that rolls over the waistband. So what is she even trying to hide? I suppose, if she took the time to pull down that waistband that’s strained for dear life, and let her gut hang freely, we’d all be witness to a great big apron of belly fat that sags uselessly onto her thighs.

And those thighs. Oh, those are some meaty, meaty thighs. They are thunder thighs alright and everything I wanted them to be. They’re big tubes of quivering fat. When she walks I can hear them slap and rub together. You have to really work to hear that, but it’s there. I promise. Her thighs are tremendously thick and possess none of the tone that had made them so powerful. They’re just thick with soft, spongy, useless fat and covered in cellulite. She’s still cramming them into legs and her saddle bags are so thick that they stretch the legging to the point of near transparency, and you can see the pattern of the cellulite through the fabric. That fabric is stretched so much, her tree trunk-like legs look like sausages ready to split their casings. And it’s not just the thighs either, which are so thick that she has to waddle about when she tries to move at all. She’s got ankles and calves that are swollen with fat and get more swollen when she waddles about, which is not something she does nearly as often as she used to.

It’s hard to believe now that she was ever an athlete.

Her arms. Remember how powerful her arms are now? They’re so fat and pathetic. She’s got great big flabby bing wings that wobble at the slightest movement, and she’s got these wonderfully chubby hands at the end of thick wrists. Her thick sausage fingers make her so clumsy now. She isn’t delicate in the slightest. She is weak though. Any power she once had is gone, replaced by fat. Her flabby arms struggle to lift things now. Sometimes, when I make her so kind of extra dense and heavy dish, like a full casserole, she asks me if I wouldn’t mind bringing inside and putting it on her counter. She’s not trying to seduce me. She just wants less work for her fat self to do. 

It lets me see the inside of her apartment which is a mess nowadays. She’s not just fat. She’s fat and lazy, and too fat and lazy to care about what I might think walking into her apartment and seeing all the dirty dishes and fast food containers and wrappers just laying about. Personally, I think it’s hot. Okay, sometimes I’ll admit that when I see a Thick Burger wrapper on the floor, I feel like she’s cheating on me a bit, but I can’t argue with the results, so I suppose I’m going to have to be willing to share my little piggy a bit. It’s just helping her get even fatter even faster.

And of course she keeps crawling back to me.

Thick Burger is great, but they haven’t mastered dessert like I have.

The way she practically begs me for food nowadays is so pathetically adorable. She has these big sad puppy dog eyes to go with her piggish body. I can see the need in them. Luckily for her, I’ve always got something planned, something ready to hand over so I can keep my piggy stuffed. And I love the way her smile lights up when I hand over another tray of food. She has such cute deep dimples now on her fat face thanks to the jowls that she’s also developed. And her doughy double chin jiggles with delight every time she knows she’s about to have another free and delicious meal. 

She must know on some level how fattening they are. She has to see and feel what they’re doing to her once firm and fit body. She’s definitely bought new clothes (though I’ve noticed she keeps stubbornly buying the same kinds of clothes and never in sizes that are truly big enough for her fattening figure because she’s clinging on to some shred of vanity and denial), so she must be aware of how much she’s growing, how much fatter she is. But if she knows how much damage my dishes are doing to her waistline, how fattening they are, she just doesn’t care anymore. She wants them too bad. She needs them. She can’t get enough of my fattening food. And I’m happy to give it to her and watch her walk- well, waddle- away. When she does…

That ass! Lord, that ass! It’s something to see. Her firm ass has ballooned, bigger than I could have hoped. She’s got hippo hips and a huge ass to go with it. My cake has caked her out. My cooking has turned her into a real fat ass. She’s got two bulbous blubbery butt cheeks that now move to their own rhythm. Those buns of steel are now incredibly soft and sag onto the back of her big fat thunder thighs. Her saggy ass cheeks are covered in cellulite, and they sway with the slightest movements. I can’t get enough of it. It makes me want to cook more and more.

And sure, her breasts have definitely gotten bigger. They’re heavy and saggy, and I love to watch her reach for her fat back rolls when she’s feeling their strain. But that ass of hers is the real trophy, the real prize for me to keep my eyes on. She’s got two saggy pillows, overstuffed, blown out, blubbery. She’s a fat ass. She’s a pig.

Still though, it’s not just her size, her incredibly fat size, it’s about the things that come with it. It’s about listening for the way she wheezes and has to stop and pause multiple times on her way up the stairs to her apartment. She used to be so fit. Now she’s fat and weak and pathetic. She used to be so in control of her life, but now so much of that control belongs to me and what I feed her, what I help her with around her apartment now that she’s too fat and weak to do so many things herself. She’s my pig, and deep down she knows it even if we never say it out loud. 

I don’t need to touch her to know how soft she’s gotten, how far she’s fallen, and how hot she is now as a big fat pig. She’s hotter than ever in my eyes, and I’m going to keep making her fatter, muh fatter.

Anyway, I’ve got other news to share too. My other neighbors, the one whose wife I may have accidentally started to fatten up? Well, she’s gotten even fatter. And then she got tired of her husband telling her how fat she was getting, so she kicked him out- which, honestly, good for her. But she’s not going to be able to afford the rent alone, so she’s also moving out.

And my landlord acts real quick, I saw a couple of ladies checking the apartment out just the other day. They are a pair of real hotties let me tell you.

I think they’re bikini models or something. They certainly have the bodies for it, generous but toned hips that support perfectly lush but tight ass cheeks. They’re got trip waists that then taper up into big, plush breasts. They both could have easily stepped out of the pages of a glamor magazine with their perfect hourglass figures. They came in wearing practically nothing, just really cropped crop tops and booty shorts, and my mind already started spinning.

I’m just thinking I’m going to need more tupperware, my shopping lists are going to get longer. Food budget might be making some other things a little tight, but I think I can manage another major project. I’ll tighten my budget to tighten their pants. Maybe they’re friends and just roommates. Maybe they’re lesbians. I don’t know. I don’t care. They’re both super hot.

Plus, when my piggy came waddling past them, I heard them snort at her. They actually made little pig sounds and then laughed about it. I saw my piggy’s face flush with embarrassment, and it was so hot. I’m sure my piggy used to be just like them, the hottie that made fun of fatties. Now she’s the fatty hotties like to make fun of.

Those two hotties, I watched them whisper some more catty jokes to each other and then laugh again. I eyed their exposed abs as they did so. They were too busy laughing at my piggy to notice my eyes lingering on their tight curves as I thought about how badly I wanted them to get the apartment. And I still hope they do. I’m eager for them to sign a new lease because I know just what I’ll do when those sexy bitches officially move in.

I’ll be sure to keep my oven going and bring them my usual housewarming gifts.

After all, we all have to be good neighbors. Don’t we?

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Even More BS tier patrons can read the extra exclusive sequel to this story featuring the two new hot neighbors right HERE.

"My New Neighbor is So Hot"

Just a quick little piece I wrote inspired by a true story. There's going to be a patreon exclusive coming soon.

Enjoy!

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My new neighbor is so hot.

I mean- like- total smoke show, walks around in athleisure all the damn time kind of hot. She’s the kind of hot person that knows that she’s a hot person and carries herself accordingly, tons of confidence just the right amount of aloof. And again, she clearly works out or just wears sports bras and gym leggings for style.

You’ve seen those legs right? They’re the kind with the thick waistband that covers the lower part of her abdomen, that chunky waistband would be the perfect place to tuck the lower roll of a chunky belly. I want to see her soft gut push the front of her workout pants outward as the upper roll spills over that waistband, a dominating dome of fat. She would look amazing with a muffin top that makes her blush. I want to see the look of embarrassment on her chubby cheeks.

Right now she has an extremely pleasant face, her features are perfect and yet not too perfect. They’re natural. A lot of hot people have hard faces, sharp angles, gorgeous but intimidating. Not her though. There’s just enough softness to them to make her face effortlessly welcoming- inviting, even. Of course, I’d like there to be a bit more softness to those cheeks, and I’d like to invite a doughy double chin to the party. It would be so hot to see her plump apple cheeks blush with self-consciousness. 

Just imagine those first few pounds piling onto her after years of being absolutely perfect- tons of dedication to controlling her appearance and social status through diet and exercise. Thinking about the  hours at the gym that she must have put in to have the body that she has. It makes me wince.

She deserves a bit of a break don’t you think?

It would be irresponsible of me- as a good neighbor- to not encourage a bit of relaxation. Don’t you think?

Self care is just so important nowadays. 

And we’ve all gotta do what we can to help take care of each other. 

And if lifting her up means she’s soon lifting up a big blubbery belly to clean under her spongy fat folds? So be it. If helping her take care of herself means helping her into a larger pants size and turning her toned thighs into thunder thighs big enough to force her to waddle? This is the price of living. 

God, her thighs. You really have to see them. She could probably crack a walnut between her thighs, but I’d settle for it being my head. They are so toned. It’s painfully obvious that she squats, probably more than I do- definitely more than you. She’s got these thighs that somehow say that she’s strong and that she can run fast- powerful thighs ready for explosive speed. I’m sure she could maul me like a tiger, and I wouldn’t do a thing to stop her. 

I’m not sure that I could. 

Her arms look pretty strong too, and I’m not weak. But she- It’s amazing to look at arms that are so strong and yet effortlessly sexy. She’s wiry, not bulky. But when she moves just the right way? I- just- you have to see her get her mail- the way she handles a package. Yeah, those arms look real great holding a package. And now- now I can’t stop thinking about her hands, her beautiful hands, and what they must feel like. 

She probably gives some amazing massages with those strong hands and powerful arms. It would be so hot to get a massage from her, to feel her pining me down and kneading my shoulder muscles. 

But you know what would be even hotter?

If all that muscle went away. If her muscular arms just became soft, weak, pathetic. I’d love to see those sculpted limbs of her turn into a nice plump set of flabby bingo wings. From muscle to mush. I even want to see those strong, confident hands of hers turn into chubby clumsy ones. Wouldn’t that be something?

It would be so hot to turn someone from their peak of physical perfection into a plump powder puff, a helplessly pathetic piggy. I want to reduce a woman so clearly active into a fatty just sitting on her ass. 

Oh! Her ass! How the hell could I have gone this long without mentioning her ass? Her ass is- you may have guessed by now- perfection. It is bounce a quarter off it tight and toned, but it is so pleasantly large. It’s the truth. Squats were God’s gift to us all. She’s got such a big, luscious, powerful looking ass that thing does work. Try not to stare at it when she struts by. I dare you. It’s impossible. That thing is a head turner for sure. 

It’s her best feature- and she has many- many- amazing features- Including her breasts. Did I talk about her breasts yet? Her breasts are the perfect size, perky but plump, and, honestly I try not to look too much lest she catch me staring. 

But she’s always turned around when I get to admire her ass. 

That’s why I know it so well. Those curves are so perfect. They are a marvel, the way they move just enough when she moves to have their own hypnotic rhythm. They are so damn squeezable. I’m sure they’d be rather firm to the touch, but they’re large enough to each be held in one hand with flesh to spare. She could have a picture of her ass hung up in a museum, and I wouldn’t even notice any of the other art. That’s how perfect it is- how hot it is. I just cannot stop thinking about it. It drives me wild with its size, its shape, its- its everything. My hot neighbor’s ass is just the perfectly plump peach. 

And yet. 

I want to watch that peach grow overripe and rotten. 

I want to watch her ass cheeks balloon and sag in defeat. I want to watch that plump but get plumper until those buns of steel at buns of blubber. I want her butt to explode with fat, to become two chunky cheeks that make perfectly plush pillows for me to rest my head on. 

I want to lay down on that bed of flesh and cellulite. 

Just- I just need to see her turned into a weak fat ass with a big fat dumper, I’m talking an ass so large it anchors her to the couch. She needs to be the kind of wide load lard ass that leaves a permanent indentation for her ass to sink in. I want to see a chair- hell a couch- break under her immense weight. 

And then I just want to stuff her full of food until she’s not getting up after she’s spiraled from a fit young hottie into morbid obesity. 

I want to turn her into a big fat pig, a total fatty, my total fatty. 

So that’s exactly what I’m doing. 

It’s started with little things. I left some treats, a housewarming gift. Then, when I decided that was too small I gave her a full basket of goodies which I pretended was from multiple people. And when that was figured out, and I realized she talked to our other neighbors, I apologized and covered my ass by saying I didn’t want to impose on them and figured I’d make them look good. 

Then I smoothed things over with a tray of brownies. 

See, people don’t actually think you’re trying to fatten them up. They might say that. 

“Are you trying to fatten me up?” She asked. 

They never really think that, though, and neither did she. At worst she thought I was being a bit forward and wanted to ask her out on a date. 

But I don’t need a date. 

I just need her to eat. 

And that means I’m perfectly happy to give her food, let her eat it behind closed doors, and then just admire the results when she comes out. 

So I organized a building potluck, something to hold with everybody there as a cover for me, and to ensure that she went home with plenty of leftovers. 

Then I made things for other people on other occasions and made sure it was known to her. From that moment on, I wasn’t just a creep trying to score a date. I was the magnanimous neighbor who loved to make food for people. And if my other neighbor’s wife happened to get a little fatter because of that, bonus for me. 

There was truth to that statement of course, me being the neighbor who loves to give food. If I must say so myself, I’ve gotten to be a pretty good cook. For someone with my proclivities, it comes with the territory. With talents like mine, it would be wrong not to share. 

And, for my purposes, being a home chef is a much more effective way of fattening people. Most neighbors won’t go in for leftover pizza. But people will take it when I’ve made too much chicken Alfredo or spaghetti and meatballs. It’s easy to get people to taste test “new recipes”. And nobody says no to a plate of cookies. 

Or brownies. 

Or a whole chocolate cake. 

Maybe I’ve been pushing things just a little bit, getting a little cavalier. 

But I can’t argue with the results. 

She’s getting softer. Bit by bit. I’ve seen it. Her abs are disappearing. Her thighs have a bit of jiggle when she walks, and that ass- that perfect ass- it’s starting to wobble just a bit more than she would want it to. 

So I’m going to keep going with my little treats, my little tricks to fatten her up. Because it’s very clear to me…

My hot neighbor is going to get so fat. 

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You can read the sequel to this story, "My New Neighbor is So Fat" right HERE.

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "Face It. Fat Girl Time is Now."

This is the sequel to "Face It. Hot Girl Time is Over."

Enjoy!

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Fat girl time is here. I told you it would be. I knew it.

Look at her! Look at this hog! Can you believe she used to be hot? Seriously, can you believe that Danielle used to be a model? Now? Now she’s not even a plus sized model. She’s such a hog. It’s hilarious. She used to be so slim and sexy, such a vain vixen.

She used to be the one who made fun of fat girls, and now…..

Say hello to fatty!

Fuck!

Look how fat her arms are now. I mean- her arms! How often do you really pay attention to arms, you know? They’re not something someone usually thinks about when they think of when you’re thinking of someone being hot. Like nobody looks at a Victoria Secret model and goes, “Oh damn, her arms are so fucking hot.” They don’t! Sure, arms are important, but they’re background.

Not hers!

You can’t miss how fat Danielle’s arms are. They’re huge! She’s got two ham hocks where her biceps were. They were so toned, and now she’s got these hilariously flabby bingo wings. You can see that fat rolling over her elbows. And the fat doesn’t stop there. Her forearms are thicker. Her hands are chubby. Her fingers are sausages. They look so fat and clumsy. Did you know that Danielle used to hand model? I mean, she used to model a lot of things. Hands was one of them.

But not anymore!

No more modeling for vain and pretty Danielle.

Hottie got huge!

Her arms? That’s the drop in the big fat bucket. Let me show you the rest.

Her breasts are bigger. Yeah. I’ll give her that. She’s got some big honking glamour model tits. They are bulbous bazoongas, big fat titties. But they’re fat and heavy and messy. Look how much they sag! And she’s so young. It’s a shame to have tits that fat and saggy so young. She can’t support all that mass, certainly without a ton of uncomfortable underwire and considerable strain to her fat back. She’s got big fat boobs, but at what cost? They’re covered in stretch marks and quiver with every little movement. But, hey, I guess that distracts people from looking at other parts of her big fat flabby body.

But you can’t miss that gut!

Check it out. Remember last time when it was just a cute little pot belly? Remember even further back when Danielle had sexy six pack abs? Well those days are long gone! Hot abs time is over, it’s spare tire season. 

Hot girl’s got a gut! A big fat gut. It’s soft and spongy, and it sags. It’s this big useless apron of saggy, flabby fat. She used to have a waist. Not anymore! Now she’s got fat, waves and waves of soft undulating fat swaying as she moves. It’s a sack of fat, a sign of her gluttony. It’s a gluttonous gut, a greedy pig gut. Gut. Gut. Gut. God! I love saying that word.

And did you ever think we would get to say that about Danielle? Miss Hardbody Hottie? Miss Fat Shamer? Miss I’m Perfect and Always Will Be? Hottie is a hog! Hottie’s got a gut! A big fat gut, and I love to say it. To shout it!

She’s so freaking fat!

I mean- look. Just look- look at how fat her thighs are! They’re tremendous. They’re not just thunder thighs. They’re tree trunk sized tubes of fat. They are so soft and flabby and covered in cellulite and nothing like the slim, toned legs that she used to strut on when she was strutting about looking at other, making fun of others.

Now she has thighs worth making fun of! Danielle’s model legs are long lost. She’s got thunder thighs now. Hell, she’s got Mad Max Beyond Thunder Thighs now! They’re huge. They’re saggy. They’re covered in cellulite, and they rub together. The only thing that parts them at all these days is the weight of her blubber belly when she’s sitting down and it rolls over onto her fat lap.

Danielle waddles now. I told you she would waddle. And I told you once she started waddling it would all be over. Well, I hope Danielle’s taken singing lessons, cause it’s over.

It’s not even just the thighs. Sure they’re thick as hell- and not in the good way. But the rest of her legs are fat too. She has cankles! Can you believe it? Miss Skinny Bitch Head Cheerleader Sorority President doesn’t even have both calves and ankles. They’ve gotten so fat that they’ve swollen together into cankles. That’s so sad and disgusting. And even her feet are fat with toes that match her sausage fingers.

Look at her ass! Just look at her ass! It’s huge. It’s so unbelievably huge, like two big busted up pillows. It’s so soft and saggy, just like the rest of her. Danielle’s got a fat dumper, a big fat saggy dumper. It looks like a broken down shelf of fat. Hell, it looks like it reeks! It must get so sweaty, swamps, and I bet her digestion is great with all the junk food she eats- And you know she eats a ton of junk food.

I’m sure she’s an eating machine. You can see it in her face. She eats so much that he face is constantly bloated. It used to be so pretty, and now it’s piggish. She’s got this big jiggly jowls and that doughy double chin. Look at that thing. Oh. Oh! I think I might see a third coming in. Her face is so fucking fat. She’s so fucking fat. It’s beautiful how far she’s fallen, how huge she’s gotten I love it.

And I know you love it too.

Don’t you my, naughty little piggy? Is my favorite fatty feeling a sense of schadenfreude because Danielle the hottie who modeled bikinis got fat? Of course you do. You love seeing another fit person suffer because they’ve gone and gotten so fat. You love watching a vain and arrogant person like Danielle who used to make fun of fat people become the object of the same kind of humiliation that she used to dish out.

Danielle was just like you were, and she is just like you are now.

A fatty.

A pig.

A pathetic pig.

A fat loser.

And I love it too. 

I love how fat she is, and how fat you are. And now I’m going to feed you. I’m going to stuff you silly with mac and cheese and then cake because we both know that’s what you want. I can see you drooling just thinking about it even though I fed you all that chili for lunch with all that corn bread and mashed potatoes to go with it. You’re a greedy pig just like Danielle is.

She has to be a greedy pig. That’s how she got so fat so fast. And now she’s paying for all the years of being adored and wasting it by being vain and mean. Her hot girl time is over. It’s her time to be a fat girl now. It’s piggy time.

And it’s piggy time for you too. So you’ll eat. You feast. You’ll get stuffed. And as I feed you and play with your big blubbery belly and the rest of your big fat greedy body, we’ll both think of Danielle turning herself from a fit hottie to a fat slob.

And we’ll both enjoy it.

Won’t we, piggy?

"Face It. Hot Girl Time is Over."

In this latest installment of my "Face It" series, another vain hottie is talked about. She's gotten pretty pudgy.

Danielle was such a slim and sexy hottie, but hot girl time is over.

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"Face it. Hot girl time is over."

That’s what someone needs to tell Danielle. I mean, I get it. She was super hot. We’ve all seen the pictures, the carefully curated social media presence. We’ve seen her made up and filtered and shot at all the right angles. And, you know what? I’ll be honest. We’ve also all seen her in person, and- for a while there at least- she was just as hot in person as she was online. She was an absolute smokeshow.

You remember right?

You remember the abs, the string bikinis and the way they hugged her luscious but trim hips. It was unfair how sexy she looked. Her waist was so tight, sinfully snatched, delicious. Her abs, damn you could have grated cheese on them. I would have loved to watch ice cream let down her abs. Is that weird? Just picture that cream running down the line between her abs. Maybe that’s weird to think about, but I used to picture it.

It’s the reality now. I’ve definitely seen some embarrassing candids of Doughy Danielle now, and she’s got ice cream running down her tummy, but now that tummy isn’t so trim. It’s a pudgy little pot belly, a soft, squishy stomach. So soft, such a sight to see especially since her stomach used to be so slim and sexy. It’s fun to have witnessed it gone from fab to flab.

And like, girl needs to admit it. It’s like I said, “Hot girl time is over.” She needs to buy better shirts, bigger shirts. Sometimes she keeps acting like, and dressing like she’s still a tight bodied little hottie. And she’s not a hottie. She’s not even really little. Sure, she’s not HUGE, but there’s a difference. Ya know? She was so slim and hot and so now that she’s a pudgy mess, you notice how much of a difference that is. She seems fatter than she probably is. But her choice in clothes is not helping.

I want to shake her- and damn I’d bet she’d jiggle. But- seriously- I want to shake her and say, “Girl! Just get some proper fat pants.” She needs to just admit it and size up because, like I said, it’s not just the shirts which don’t cover her belly anymore (and isn’t it humiliating for her to have to be tugging them down over her gut again and again?) but it’s the pants too.

See, Danielle used to have this absolutely amazing ass. Firm, big butt firm, and tight. She used to have an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. It was immaculate, a real head turner. And she loved to show it off.

The problem is she still likes to show it off, and now there’s a lot more of it, and it’s not worth showing off. She’s got a big fat busted up dumper. And you can see how that tight butt of hers has ballooned, and if it was just bigger that would be one thing. Plenty of people like bigger things. But this butt of hers is sloppy. It’s full of fat, and that fat is loose and saggy. She’s got chunky cellulite covered cheeks, buns of blubber instead of buns of steel. And now she’s still insisting on squeezing that fat butt of hers in the same pants she used to wear when it was a fit one. I saw a picture of her with her ass crack hanging out, full moon rising, a real plumper’s crack. And it’s not cute. Like before, I could see it, people getting a little peek of crack when she was fit as being hot, like the right kind of naughty. But now? Now that butt is fat and nasty, and she needs to put it away!

People don’t want to see that saggy cellulite covered ass of hers. It’s embarrassing for her, and people still turn their heads, but now they turn them away. And if they are turning their heads toward her? It’s because they can’t imagine what they’re seeing is real, how such a hottie like Danielle used to be could let herself go like she has. They’re staring at all that pudge and and trying to be sure that all that junk in her trunk is real.

And it is. It’s painfully real, and I bet those pants and stuff that she keeps squeezing herself into are painful as well, so she needs to give them up- get some clothes that are bigger and stretchier, maybe with some room to grow.

That ass isn’t the only thing that’s making her pants a tighter fit. That blubbery pot belly of hers is making it hard to button her pants, but I can’t understate how much her thighs have changed. She used to have such toned limbs, toned just like the rest of her used to be. She used to look like she ran, like she was an athlete. I mean, it’s like I’ve been saying, she used to be hot. But those thighs, those thighs had just the right amount of muscle. They were cut. They were gorgeous, brilliantly tanned and tight, and now?

Now she’s got thunder thighs. That fat slaps. Her plush thighs slap together, and her plump butt cheeks sag and slap down onto the backs of her thigh fat. And soon? I’m telling you; soon she’s going to be waddling. Can you picture that? Danielle used to strut, and bless her she still tries, but she’s closer to waddling now, and once she’s waddling- Well, then it will be all over for her. Won’t it?

Once she’s waddling her legs will be so fat that she’ll have cankles and big fat feet too!

Her arms are getting soft too. She’s getting real fat girls arms. Do you know what I mean by that? She’s got softness that’s settled on them in a way that suggests that it was easy. Her arms look like they’re supposed to be fat. And you know what that means? It means Danielle is probably going to get fatter.

And I think she’s definitely going to get fatter.

She’s going to be just like you.

You used to be the hot one. Remember? You used ot be so fit, so sexy, so vain, arrogant, mean. You were just like Danielle, and then you went and turned yourself into a big fat pig. No abs for you. You’ve got a big blubbery belly, way bigger than Danielle’s is- at least right now. You used to be the athlete with the strong legs, and now you’ve got thunder thighs that make you waddle- That’s if you bother to get your fat ass up at all. 

That ass of yours is so fat. It used to be tight, and now it’s just a big fat squishy mess, just like the rest of you.

You’re the cautionary tale for Danielle, piggy. You’re what happens when vain hot people let themselves go. You’re a hog, and she’s on her way there.

Danielle. Better be careful. She’s running out of time to turn this all around. And I don’t mean she’s running out of time to get slim and sexy again. Oh no, that’s not what I’m saying. That ship has sailed. Danielle’s hot girl time is over.

But she’s running out of time to stop herself from completely falling off the cliff, spiraling into obesity and becoming a big fat pig.

Just like you.

And I have to tell you, I don’t think she’s going to do it. I think she’s too far gone. I’ve seen the way she eats, and it’s not pretty. So yeah, I think it’s pretty inevitable.

Fat girl time is coming.

THE COMPLETE COLLECTION - "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes"

This 30,000 word collection includes "A Carniva

Extra Slice #13: "A Fitness to Fatness Fortune"

As much as Madame Zara enjoys working the carnival, sometimes it's nice to get back to her normal ways.

Enjoy!

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Camila was a personal trainer. In fact she had gotten so good at being a personal trainer that she had earned enough to recently open and operate her own gym. She was a beautiful fitness influencer who was incredibly proud of her body. 

She was a strong woman with thick but muscular thighs and a bodacious booty that was big but firm. In juxtaposition to her thick thighs and big booty, she has a trim waist with a slim stomach marked by hard earned and well defined abdominal muscles. Her abs were arguably her favorite part of her body. She loved to show them off, flaunt them, bare them in crop tops and rub her slender hands up and down them. 

To go with all that, Camila also had perfectly perky breasts and lean, limber, and still muscular arms. And she had a very pretty face. Camila was very proud of her beautifully slender face with a chin that was pointed but not too pointed. It was perfect just like the rest of her. 

Yes. Camila knew that she was beautiful and she made sure everyone knew it too. That was the main marketing point of her gym, that everyone should strive to be as fit and sexy as her. She pushed her trainers like that, and she especially pushed her clients like that. She believed I. Using intense peer pressure and humiliation as motivation to achieve results. 

And when she didn’t get results? It didn’t matter. Camila kept a few fat clients that she more or less made fun of for fun and because she could humiliate them into a sense of dependency and keep their money coming. 

The problem that Camila was running into was that, believe it or not, humiliating your clients was not a great way to retain them, and it certainly didn’t lead to positive word of mouth, and that led to a dearth of new clients which meant less money coming in. And that made running the gym difficult. 

It especially made things difficult for Camila because she had what one could call champagne tastes. Camila viewed herself as slim and sexy and glamorous. When she wasn’t sweating in the gym she loved to attend exclusive events, go on exotic locations, and wear extremely fancy designer clothes and shiny jewelry. As a result, Camila was starting to run into massive debt issues, and she severely needed something to turn her fortune around. 

So of course she decided to get her fortune read. 

Camila didn’t know how she ended up finding Madame Zara but she felt some kind of pull in her direction and was hopeful that a good reading would be the thing she needed to change her life for the better. 

She didn’t know that her life was about to change for the fatter. 

Madame Zara sensed Camila’s arrogance and was eager to twist her fate and her figure and turn her into the kind of fatty that Camila so enjoyed making fun of.

“You’ll weigh the cost of every cruel word—on the scale.”

Camila wrote it off as nothing. It was certainly confusing, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. When she walked away from Madame Zara she decided that instead of letting that weird fortune trouble her, she would just go ahead and get herself a little snack to calm her nerves.

Eating had never been something Camila had done to smoothe herself before, but she suddenly felt a need for it. So she left Madame Zara’s little shop and headed to the mall food court where she bought herself a big meatball parm hero and a side of mozzarella sticks, a snack. And then she messily devoured it all right there.

She didn’t care that she looked like her hot girl who was hogging out. Camila didn’t care about the sounds she was making as she gorged herself on greasy meatballs, melted cheese and soggy bread. She just ate with reckless abandon and made an absolute mes sof her slender face as she stuffed it full of saucy sandwich. And the mozzarella sticks soon followed suit until there was nothing but crumbs on her face, shirt, and table and grease on her slender well manicured figures.

Camila had it in her head that she should hit the gym after that, but first she got her milkshake to enjoy on her way out of the mall, and by the time she had finished that, she was too tired to workout. So she just went home and took a nap until it was time to order herself a large sausage pizza and some garlic knots for dinner instead of cooking the boneless skinless chicken breasts she had planned on making. Camila had told herself she earned all of this. She was stressed, and she had been working hard. She deserved a cheat day.

It was the first of many.

Workouts became less of a priority. Eating became more of one. Camila had always eaten a fairly sizable amount of food due to her training regimen. She was a well muscled if slender athlete, and that was a result of careful food consumption, hitting her macros and tracking what she ate to make sure she was eating clean. But after getting her fattening fortune read by Madame Zara, Camila became a much more messy eater. She started stuffing her face with whatever she found herself craving.

And she found herself craving a lot.

Camila became obsessed with all things fried, mozzarella sticks, fried chicken, fried Oreos, fried dough of any kind. She also loved cheesy things like macaroni and cheese, cheddar baked biscuits, cheeseburgers with extra cheese, and extra cheesy lasagnas. Her pizzas always came with extra cheese along with a variety of greasy toppings, and she always got them with a side of fried mozzarella sticks, a side of garlic knots, and a side of fried ravioli with two large two liters of soda. It was a family style meal, and Camila justified it by figuring that it would be cheaper and it would feed her for several days.

The amount of time that those “family” meals would last her grew shorter as the days went by.

Food kept finding itself crammed into Camila’s face. And since eating so much food made her too tired, or took up too much time, she started working out less and less. She took on much more of a supervisory role at the gym, and as a result, her body gained some brand new fat rolls very quickly. 

Her abs were the first thing to melt away when the fat came. They had been hard earned, but the moment she started to get lazy and started stuffing her face more, her tight and trim tummy became a tubby one. She ate lots of bread, and so her belly started to rise like dough. It surged outward and over the waistband of her athleisure pants. She sprouted matching love handles to complete the muffin top. 

Camila’s butt got chunky as well. It grew spongy, and saggy. Her soft squishy cheeks hung low in her leggings which offered no real support. The fabric just stretched along with her fat flabby ass. When it couldn’t anymore, it just meant that the new cellulite that Camila was sporting was visible through the fabric. This cellulite was seen on her thighs as well which became chunkier as well. They became fat enough that on the rare occasions when she did get back on the treadmill her fat thighs slapped together while her blubbery butt and big belly bounced along. 

And people loved to laugh at her when they saw it.

At first it started behind her back. People would chuckle and exchange snide words. It was funny to watch the former fitness queen started to get chunky. People reveled in the irony of someone who used to make fun of fatties relentlessly becoming a chubster herself. But soon enough that wasn’t enough. People grew addicted to making fun of Camila like Camila grew addicted to food. It wasn’t enough to whisper. They had to laugh in Camila’s face. Clients and even the staff who worked for her now openly mocked her.

Humiliation used to be the main tool that Camila used to motivate people into getting fit, but all the humiliation did to her was motivate her to eat more. Camila became an emotional overeater, and once that occured any hopes of ever gaining her slim and sexy figure again were long gone. She ate herself into obesity.

That pot belly she had grown? It became a full blown spare tire. It was a greedy and gelatinous gut that could not be contained by shirts. It was a big fat blubbery mess paired with meaty love handles and thick back fat. Camila’s pressure abs were long gone, buried under chunk. Her breasts had grown bigger, but they were mostly just bloated and saggy and added to the back strain that made her less likely to workout. Her butt got bigger too and developed even more saggy as her big butt got mushier and mushier.

Chairs became an issue for Camila. They groaned underneath her heavier frame. Her bloated blubber butt liked to spill over the edges of seats that she sat in, and certain chairs were a struggle to get in and out of thanks to her increased girth. Camila grew wider by the day, heavier, fatter.

And there was nothing she could do.

Camila couldn’t stand dieting. She was a hungry piggy now, and she ate ike one. She could never stay away from temptation for long and ended up just stuffing her face all the time. She would even stuff her face with junk food at her gym which was not a good look. Eventually, Camila was desperate enough to get one of her trainers, who happened to have been a former client, to train her.

And that’s when Camila really felt her old humiliation strategy turned against her.

Camila’s fat was pinched, poked, jiggled in front of people. She was called a pig, a cow, worthless. She was laughed at and pushed too hard. And at the end of the day all that did was make her eat more and more which just sped up her weight gain. Camila was fatter than ever, and there was no sign of going back or even stopping. The fat was going to just keep piling on.

Eventually, Camila had to sell the gym. A massively obese owner was not the kind of image that sold gym memberships, and Camila was ashamed and humiliated whenever she walked- well waddled around in there anyway. So she sold the gym and when she found out that even the proceeds from the sale were not enough to cover all of her debts, let alone her continually increasing food budget. There was only one thing she could think of to do.

She still had a name and reputation that she could market herself with. Camila just needed to shift how she marketed herself.

People would pay a lot of money to make fun of a mean spirited slim and sexy bitch who go fat, really really fat. So she started a channel driven around her going from fit to fat to fatter, and started making all kinds of humiliating videos centered around her fatness, eating like a pig, oinking, making fun of herself or even having others come on and make fun of her.

But her best performing videos were by far her fitness fails. People loved watching the formerly fit gym owner fail at exercising only to give up and stuff her face like the pig she had become.They loved seeing her sweaty, winded, and then stuffed silly as she plated with her fat and complained about how far she had fallen. A few oinks at the end were icing on the big fat cake. She truly had gone from slim and sexy fit bitch to big fat pig just like she deserved.

And a big fat pig would be just what she would be forever.

"A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 3"

This collection includes all of the previously released stories plus "Big Fat Target". Tomorrow I will be posting "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes: The Complete Collection" which will include all of my "Carnival" stories put together as well as in PDF format. This will be in advance of "Roller Coaster of Fat" releasing on Deviant Art.

Enjoy!

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"Weighted With Water"

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Alyssa was a real queen bee type. Even though she had graduated college two years ago, she was still the kind of person who dominated her friend group like she was still the head cheerleader. It wasn’t surprising when people learned that Alyssa was prom queen her senior year of high school, something she still bragged about. She was a very classic beauty with a classic mean girl attitude.

That attitude was shared by her skinny bitch friends, Kimberly, Hazel, and Aria. They were also three beauties who were extremely full of themselves, though in the constant beauty contest that was their lives, Alyssa was quick to remind them that they were all playing for a distant second. But they still all ranked themselves far above others, especially fat people whom they loved to make fun of.

Alyssa strutted through the carnival with her loyal friends lagging jus behind her as she went into Madame Zara’s fortune telling tent. Alyssa was a sucker for all things astrology and astrology adjacent, and Madame Zara was quick to read her arrogance and then her fattening fortune.

“Your competitive nature will inflate more than just your ego.”

Alyssa was so taken aback by the strange fortune that she stormed right out of the tent and expected her friends to follow without even getting fortunes for themselves read.

Madame Zara just smiled though as they all disappeared back behind her tent curtain. She knew that Alyssa’s fate was tied to each of them in turn.

Once back outside of the tent, Alyssa wanted to find something that would take her mind off of the strange fortune. She quickly settled on one of those water gun racing games, the kind where you shoot water into a clown’s mouth and it blows up a balloon until it pops. She quickly convinced Kimberly, Aria, and Hazel to play it as well since the more competitors meant a bigger prize.

And in this case a bigger downfall.

When the bell rang to signal the start of the game, Alyssa’s fattening fate was sealed.

The water shot right into the clown’s mouth, straight and true, and Alyssa grit her teeth and furrowed her brow as she held her aim steady. She watched through steely eyes as that water balloon filled up.

And as it did so, she failed to realize that her feet were swelling too.

It was slow at first as the skin stretched and her toes plumped up. They each inflated like tiny little balloons into fat mini-sausage like toes. And her feet became longer, wider, rounder all because of the fat that filled them. They grew big and swollen, and then that fat kept working its way upward. Her ankles filled up with fat until they met her calves and then from that point on they grew together into thick swollen cankles. But the fat was far from stopping there.

As Alyssa kept her eyes on the clown, she failed to realize just how much her thighs had already grown. The fat got to them very quicky, and her lithe limbs filled up with fat and swelled outward. She quickly grew saggy saddlebags, and her thick thunder thighs soon slapped together with a noticeable squelching sound. They strained her shorts but miraculously had no cellulite. Pretty much anyone else with thighs as fat as Alyssa were at that point would have been covered in a blanket of cellulite, but Alyssa’s chunk thighs bear no such marks. Instead, her skin just looked very tight, stretched out yet sagging with fat down over her knees as if that fat was water sloshing inside of a water balloon. Her fat thighs continued to tremble as more fat filled them, and her stance started to widen as she kept filling her clown’s balloon with her water gun. 

Alyssa’s ass was the next thing to inflate. Her perky butt cheeks soon ballooned with blubber. They stretched out her shorts even further, practically blowing out the rear, and sagged like two heavy water balloons as they jiggled with fat. With each passing moment that the balloon filled, so did Alyssa’s ass. But while the balloon got bigger and lighter with air, Alyssa’s ballooning butt cheeks grew larger and heavier with lard. The loose fat that filled them made her enormous ass cheeks quick to quiver at the slightest movement. And just like her thighs, the skin simply remained stretched out (and stretch out quite a ways) without developing the cottage cheese texture of cellulite. That was almost as impressive of the sheer girth of her glutes. And speaking of girth, her gut soon grew new girth of its own.

Her belly went from fat to blubbery real soon. It swelled up with fat just like the rest of her and soon bounced over the waistband of her pants and started to press against the table as she continued to shoot her water gun at the clown head across from her. Her abs, faint to begin with, disappeared completely, swallowed up by the gut that grew in front of her. That gut came with a pair of thick love handles that spilled over the sides of her shorts and combined with a juicy roll of back fat to complete the meaty muffin top. It grew heavy and saggy just like the rest of us, and it hung down toward her thighs and sloshed about as it grew heavier, filling with more and more fat.

Above that, Alyssa’s breast began to swell. The once perky pair soon sagged like a set of water balloons as they grew somewhat bigger but a lot heavier thanks to the fat that filled them. They quivered as they grew and hung low, sagging onto the shelf of her blubber belly. Along with the fattening of her breasts came the fattening of her arms. Those thin limbs became thick with fat, and her biceps turning into flabby bingo wings. The jiggling of them though was surprisingly limited due to the focus she kept on maintaining her aim. It’s what made her balloon fill faster than the others around her, and it’s also what made her grow fatter faster.

The final thing to fatten was Alyssa’s face. It grew round with thick jiggly jowls where her high cheek bones once were. Her jowls drooped down and were joined by a distinctly doughy double chin that complimented her chubby cheeks perfectly. Ultimately her face looked swollen with fat just like the rest of her body. 

The clothes she was wearing looked extremely tight, almost painted on. Her shirt could not contain the girth of her gutt, and her blubber butt was threatening to burst out of her pants. The button on her shorts popped off at the exact same time as Melody’s balloon did. She shouted and raised her arms in victory. This time the bingo wings really jiggled freely.

As her fat arms wobbled, along with the rest of her, Alyssa looked around at her friends. They were all fatter too, but there faces remained for the most part completely untouched.

Kimberly, had a slightly chubby face. She had come within a moment or two of her balloon popping. Hazel and Aria’s faces were exactly the same. And Aria, who had finished last of the four friends now looked brother disproportionate with the way the fat filled her.

Aria’s arms and breasts had not grown any bigger, just a little softer, but her gut and everything below it had ballooned with fat. She had a very squishy stomach, a full on blubber belly just like the rest of her once skinny friends. And she was subject to the same incredibly fat and saggy ass and thick thunder thighs that caused her to waddle, but from the breasts up she looked like the same basic hot bitch that she had been. It would make working angles on social media and dating apps very easy and leave her future dates very surprised.

Hazel, meanwhile, looked a lot more like Kimberly. White her face was completely untouched, her arms had grown noticeably fatter with the requisite bingo wings where her proud biceps once were. And her breasts had also developed quite a bit of sag though they were not as large and lard filled as Kimberly and Alyssa’s. 

By far though, Alyssa was the fattest of the lot. Her lard filled body was incredibly large. She was a big blob of a woman whose flabby form quivered with the slightest movement. She attempted to jump in victory, but barely got her fat feet off the ground, and when she landed again her fat body shook for a very long time. She was very happy to receive her prize, a stuffed pig made up like a clown.

It was very fitting.

And after that, Alyssa and her friends, who were none the wiser to what had happened to them, waddled off to stuff themselves with funnel cake and lots of other fair foods. Occasionally, when they slept at night, they would all remember what their lives had once been, how they had once been the slim and sexy bitches who made fun of others and were now total lard asses. But for the most part, they were very happy and hungry piggies.

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"Taking Fatness for a Spin"

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Maryse was a tall, slim and sexy model with beautiful natural platinum blonde hair. She was an up and comer destined to hit it big. She knew that. But she was also angry that in the meantime she was slumming it in a place like this carnival.

The carnival was beneath her. It was filled with low class working people and- worse- with fat people. Maryse detested fat people. They were greedy and lazy, and smelly and worse. Maryse looked down upon fat people, something that was easy for her to do given her statuesque height. She didn’t just think she was better than fat people.

She knew it.

Maryse was a truly stereotypical beauty standing tall at five feet nine inches and with lean curves. Her body had solid muscle to it, and she was also long and limber. She was curvy and toned but slim. She had great breasts, perfect in size and perkiness as well as a perfect, toned heart shaped ass and a set of six pack abs. It was no wonder that Maryse had been an incredibly popular (and often feared) individual her entire life whose career was about to really pop off.

She just had to get past this stupid carnival, one last necessity gig where she was tasked with looking pretty in a crop top and daisy duke shorts while standing next to tractors and produce and just stupid shit, and then the world would be her oyster. No more carnivals or car shows, just cat walks and major magazines.

And once she was on her last break of the day, Maryse knew that she needed to do something to relieve her boredom.

So she strutted across the grounds and into Madame Zara’s tent hoping that a quick fortune might be good for a lark. Little did she know how life changing her little diversion would be.

Madame Zara watched as Maryse carried herself into the tent like she was a queen and gently took her seat across from Madame Zara as if the chair was her own personal throne.

“Let’s do this.”

“So quick to see your fate?”

“I’m ready for some good news and a bit of fun.”

“Be weary. Fate can be very surprising. Are you sure you wish to see what the cards have in store for you?”

“You don’t scare me, old lady. I said let’s do this.”

Madame Zara ruefully shook her head at Maryse’s arrogance and began to deal and read the cards.

“Your perfect life is in for quite the spin, and your vanity will weigh you down and bring you low.”

Maryse blinked twice.

“Well, okay then. That was something….”

If Maryse was less arrogant she would admit to herself that there was a small knot in her stomach and a tingling of the hair on the back of her neck, but she ignored any signs of trouble and just walked straight out.

Looking to clear her head and with a bit of time left on her break, Maryse saw one of those spinning rides that pin you to a wall with centrifugal force alone, and she figured she would- no pun intended- give it a spin.

As the ride began to spin up, Maryse’s body began to change.

The first thing that started to change was Maryse’ slender stomach. As the ride spun her around, she was still pinned to the side but despite the force, her belly began to surge forward. Her abs disappeared quickly and completed as the fat expanded trim waist and turned her flat stomach into a fat gut. It was getting so big that her spare tire was actually starting to segment into distinct rolls of doughy fat that grew along with a full set of meaty love handles and thick back fat that pressed against the wall of the ride and started to squeeze to the sides. Her gut quivered as it grew, and it would have sagged downward if the force of the ride didn’t keep it up. When the ride finished spinning, Maryse would be doomed to have her big flabby dome of a gut slap down onto her thighs.

Those thighs were starting to thicken as well. Just like her stomach spun outward, the fat that started to cling to Maryse’s once toned thighs began to quiver and radiate outward as well. Her thighs expanded in all directions, becoming great jiggling tubes of fat. All of the lean muscle that she was proud of was replaced by bulbous flab that shook as the ride continued to spin and she continued to grow. Soon there was no sign of any athleticism in her legs, just softness, just fat. Maryse’s thunder thighs pressed against the ride and against each other. Her thigh fat squished against itself and pushed so hard that it forced her to widen her stance even with the forces of the ride working against her. Her legs slid further apart, but her thighs kept touching. She used to have thighs that allowed her to be strong and springy. Now they were just springy with fat and blanketed by cellulite.

Maryse’s ass grew as well. Her toned, perky, perfect posterior was lost forever as the fat swallowed it up. It spread out behind her as it pressed against the wall of the ride and was forced to ooze through to the sides. Her ass cheeks were like two overused stress balls being squeezed. If she could stand freely, her bulbous butt cheeks would be bouncing on top of the backs of her thick flabby thunder thighs. Her butt kept growing, and eventually that fat started to push Maryse further away from the wall like two ballooning cushions. The gap that that made though was soon filled by the fat that was gathering on Maryse’s back which then squished against the wall with a squelching sound. Her buns of steel were now soft blubber buns, caked in cellulite and doomed to be the kind of loose sagging butt cheeks who bounced and quivered at the slightest movement. Pants would be a great difficulty from now on thanks to the girth of her glutes.

The next things to get bigger were Maryse’s breasts which inflated with fat. Her breasts had always been rather large, but Maryse always considered them to be the perfect size. They were large enough to be eye-catching, but they were still a manageable weight with a surprising amount of firmness. But as the ride spun around, Maryse’s breasts exploded with fat and became massive mammaries. They practically threw outward and threatened to not only pop out of her bra but burst through her shirt completely. They filled with quivering fat and were quickly covered in angry stretch marks. Her once perky breasts were now two big fat fat blubbery bowling balls. Just like her belly, they would have sagged heavily and, coincidentally enough, right onto that shelf of a belly, but, thanks to the forces of the ride, if anything they were threatening to fly upward and slap Maryse in the face.

Her face did not escape the fattening. Instead, her model face grew round with fat. Her cheeks got chubby and then developed jiggly jowls that flapped as the ride spun and spun. Maryse’s narrow, well defined chin lost that definition and instead developed a plump and doughy double chin that joined the rest of her face in wobbling. As her high cheekbones disappeared and her slim face grew fatter it also became far more dull and piggish looking, far from the vain model that she had been. Maryse’s face was now redundantly doughy with even her nose getting wider, plumping up with fat.

Finally, Maryse’s arms grew fatter. Soon, her biceps were gone, and her muscles were replaced by fat. She had great jiggly bingo wings that drooped over her chubby elbows. Her wrists grew thick with fat and even her hands grew chubby. Her fingers grew into plump sausages which made her hands just look incredibly clumsy. She was clearly just an awkward fatty.

And yet her transformation went beyond just weight gain.

As Maryse was spun by the ride, her own center of gravity changed. Her body grew wider, and as it grew wider, it also got shorter. She shrank from a statuesque 5’9 down to 4’11. What this meant was that, by the time the ride was done spinning around, Maryse was now a short round ball of fat. She was a big ball of bouncing blubber who practically fell over and would have had to roll off the ride. 

She managed to stay on her two jiggly pudding legs, and as she fought the keep her balance, her big blubber belly sloshed about out in front of her, most of it was completely exposed thanks to the crop top that she was still wearing, a crop top that barely contained her massive breasts. The front of her shorts was mostly obscured by the overhang of her apron of a belly, and her big blubbery booty spilled out the back. The chunky cheeks oozed under the leg openings and onto her tree trunk like thunder thighs, and the tops of her bloated butt cheeks crested over the waistband of her shorts to give her a permanent plumber's crack.

Maryse was none the wiser to this as she waddled off to find some food before her break ended and she would have to be back to modeling at the petting zoo.

People loved getting pictures of her next to the pigs.

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"Caramel Apple Shaped Body"

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Jordyn’s sense of superiority may have started right from the moment she was born and her parents decided to give her name a “unique” spelling. 

But her arrogance definitely hit a peak in high school and then college. 

Jordyn was an athlete, not a super competitive one. In fact, jokes inevitably comparing her to Michael Jordan had annoyed so much that she dropped out of most competitive sports at an early age. But Jordyn loved being athletic and active. She was a runner, a climber, and an avid kayaker. She loved sailing as well and had the kind of well off family that allowed her to indulge in all of these activities. And she excelled at them. 

She also excelled at making fun of others. 

Making fun of others was another thing that Jordyn loved to do as a way of making herself feel even more superior. Maybe it was those early childish jokes that turned her so sour, but Jordyn now had the beauty and confidence to look down on others, and she made the most of it. This was especially true of fat people. Jordyn loved to make fun of fat people the most because she thought of them as the total opposite of herself. To Jordyn, fat people were lazy, ugly losers. And making fun of them was both easy and enjoyable.

Why was she at the carnival?

She didn’t really know. She just felt some kind of pull. And it was that same pull that made her walk into Madame Zara’s tent leading to the fattening fortune that changed her fate forever.

Madame Zara was already dealing the cards before Jordyn sat down.

“Beauty can be gone in a bite as your vanity eats you up.”

Jordyn just blinked.

“What is that fortune cookie bullshit?”

Madame Zara just looked at Jordyn with a disconcerting smile, and that was enough to drive her out of the tent and back into the carnival proper.

Once there, Jordyn felt another pull. This time it was caused by a rumbling in her stomach that pulled her toward one of the many food stalls.

Food like this normally wasn’t for Jordyn. She knew how fattening fair food could be, and if anything she’d normally be in a place like this showing off her hard earned abominable muscles and flaunting her fit figures as pathetic fatties stuffed their fat faces, but today Jordyn had a craving.

That craving was for caramel apples. 

There were so many to choose from and Jordyn decided to get a caramel apple that was also coated in Oreo cookie crumbs and came with a short of whipped cream as a gimmick. Jordyn did the shot of whipped cream quickly and then rubbed her tight abs as she held the caramel apple up to her face.

She thought about tossing it, of not committing to so many calories and so much sugar, but she wanted it so bad, so she took a great big bite.

The caramel apple started to turn Jordyn into an apple shaped fatty.

This meant that the first thing about her to change as she bit into the sweet, delicious apple was her stomach. Her slim stomach with its washboard abs and its trim concave waist began to quiver and shake and then explode outward in all directions. She was a tight waisted hottie no more as her stomach sailed rapidly past the tubby phase and into full blown fatness. Suddenly she was sporting a great big sagging gut, a blubbery mess that grew so fat and sagged so much that it started to segment itself into tiers. She developed one huge lower roll that sagged low and was humorously tucked into her joggers. Above that she had two other thick rolls that each jiggled to its own rhythm.

Her sides sprung out with love handles, thick slabs of fat that grew beyond the point of being called meaty. They were heavy melting blobs of buttery blubber that stuck out and then hung uselessly over the waistband of her pants. Her blubbery love handles and matching blubber belly were further matched by the squishy back fat that sprung up Jordyn’s back. One particularly thick roll, the lowest one, merged with her love handles and blubber belly to complete the mighty muffin top that the woman who once sported abs now had. She used to be so rock hard, and now her stomach was buried under nothing but softness.

In that moment she looked ridiculous with the rest of her body still slim and sexy and a gut that would have made her look eleven months pregnant if it wasn’t so soft. Of course, the other thing that soon made her look rather pregnant was the expansion of her breasts. They were about to be truly massive melons.

Jordyn’s breasts quickly grew to jumbo size. She had always had large breasts but now they surged outward until she had tits of titanic proportions. Her bosom swelled and spilled over the cups of her bra. Her boobs stretched the t-shirt she was wearing to its absolute limit and left her with a canyon of cleavage. Her blubbery breasts quiver as they grew, and as her boobs got bigger they also got covered in stretch marks. It was inevitable given their size and incredible rate or growth. Her massive mammaries quivered as they continued to fill with fat like big blubber bowling balls that finally gave into the undefeated force of gravity and start to sag like flappy pendulums of flab. They hung downward until they were met by the shelf that was the upper most fat roll of Jordyn’s once slim and toned stomach. And still her boobs continued to balloon. They grew bigger and bigger into proportions that would make porn stars blush.

She had always been proud of her breasts, and she loved to show them off. But now Jordyn would find herself struggling to carry them around with their enormous weight and the strain that they put on her fat back. There would also be no possible way for people to not notice them unless they were distracted by her even bigger belly.

As the formerly slim and sexy Jordyn continued to eat her caramel apple. The rest of her formerly fit figure began to fatten as well.

While her breasts and her belly remained her biggest, fattest features by far, her beautiful butt became big and bulbous as well. Its tone was lost forever, taken away by the sea of fat that surged forward filling her cheeks with chunk. Those chunky cheeks strained the seat of her pants and stretched the fabric tight enough to make the pattern of her cottage cheese cellulite painfully clear. Her once perky ass cheeks became bloated and yet thoroughly defeated cushions. They were saggy pillows of fat that filled her pants and slumped downward onto the backs of her thighs. Her ass was once so firm that you could bounce a quarter off of it, and now it was truly enormous. The fact that her belly was still big enough to call her decidedly apple shape was a real sign of just how big of a gluttonous, gelatinous gut that she had. Still, her butt was no slouch (other than the way the fat that turned her toned butt to mush now sagged.)

The thighs that those titanic butt cheeks were now sagging onto exploded with fat as well. They grew from proud, toned, muscular limbs, to large, lard filled thunder thighs. Her thighs looked like stuffed sausages in her pants. Those pants could now only ironically be called joggers. Just like her ass, her thick thunder thighs stretched the fabric of her pants so much that her cellulite was visible. Her stance as she continued to gorge on her caramel apple was far wider because her thigh fat slapped and then pressed together so much that it forced her feet to move further apart.

Those feet grew fatter too with plump toes. Her feet grew fat and wide enough that her days of wearing strappy heels were long over. And, of course, her feet weren’t the only thing that got fatter. Her calves and ankles both swelled up as well until Jordyn was sporting a pair of swollen cankles. Jordyn’s days of strutting around as a slim and sexy vixen were done for. She was doomed for nothing but waddling around now. And she still kept getting fatter.

Back up top, Jordyn’s arms grew fat and flabby. She developed prominent bingo wings that jiggled as she held up her caramel apple and continued to bite into it. The fat extended throughout her arms, thickening her slender wrists and making its way into her hands. Jordyn’s hands grew chubby as she held up and bit into the apple, and her fingers grew thick to match her sausage toes. Once her arms were done growing fatter, her bingo wings kept jiggling as Jordyn held the caramel apple to her face and took bite after bite after bite.

Jordyn’s face grew fatter as well, and with each bite, her double chin became more and more obvious and till it was thick and doughy and wobbling dramatically. Her cheeks disappeared, hidden by jiggly jowls. She looked rather piggish as she chomped down on the rest of the apple. 

Still, as fat as Jordyn was- and she was quite big and blubbery, it was clear that the fattest parts of her were her big blubber belly and her equally bulbous breasts. They stood out the most, quite literally with how far they stuck out. And they ensured that Jordyn would always be called an apple shape. 

That is if anyone called her anything other than just fat. 

Not satisfied with just one apple, Jordyn got two more, both loaded with a variety of toppings.

Her big fat body and unchecked gluttony was starting to draw some stares- and more than a few unkind words, so Jordyn took her caramel apples and waddle off to find some shade to sit her fat butt down in and pig out in peace. 

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"Caked Up By Funnel Cake"

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Keisha had a big fat ass. 

And she loved it. In fact, Keisha made a point of constantly parading her ass around in the tightest jeans she could fit into. Keisha was proud of the heads that it turned, and it turned a lot of heads. Everyone else loved Keisha’s big fat ass, and if they didn’t love it, Keisha would say it was just because they were jealous of it.

One of the things that made Keisha’s big fat ass so popular was the way it seemed to defy gravity. There was very little sag to it. It just stuck out, big and beautiful. And whereas other women with much smaller asses might be cursed with cellulite, Keisha’s curves were cellulite free. It made her big fat ass perfect for flaunting in a bikini, something Keisha loved to do.

The other thing that made Keisha’s big fat ass stand out was that the rest of her was so slender by comparison. Other than her large butt, Keisha’s body was stereotypically slim and sexy. She had a snatched waist and perky boobs. Her arms were toned and slender, and so were her legs. They were thick, but strong and tight. 

Keisha’s big beautiful butt gave her the kind of confidence that inevitably pushed her up the social ladder wherever she found herself. And she strutted through the carnival like a queen examining peasants. And enjoying the smell of carnival food.

That was another thing that drove people crazy- in a somewhat different way- about Keisha. She loved food and could eat whatever she wanted and not really gain any weight. If anything it just made Keisha’s big butt bigger and more beautiful.

But first, Keisha decided that she was going to stop and get her fortune read in Madame Zara’s tent.

It was a decision she would regret.

Madame Zara dealt the cards quickly and delivered an even quicker fortune.

“Even you can have too much of a good thing.”

Keisha just rolled her eyes.

“Okay. Could have just gotten Chinese food and gotten the same fortune, but whatever.”

As Keisha left, and Madame Zara watched her ass bounce its way out of her tent, the seer of fate did have to question herself.

“Am I getting a bit lazy today? Perhaps I’m getting tired.”

It didn’t matter though. Lazy fortune or not, Keisha was going to get FAT.

Once Keisha was back outside, she knew that she was done putting off her desire for food. If anything, her cravings were even more intense now. She could feel a buzzing of hunger as she pressed a hand to her slender stomach.

The funnel cake was calling her name.

And once Keisha got to the funnel cake stand, she order the most decadent, the most indulgent, the most absolutely sinfully delicious calorie bomb combo that she could think of. She ordered a funnel cake with cannoli cream and cookie butter, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream with strawberries, chocolate syrup, crushed up Ferrero Rocher, and Lotus cookie bits on. 

She squealed with delight and then dug right in.

Each new forkful of the decadent dessert helped to pack on plenty of pounds.

Of course the first thing to expand further was Keisha’s big fat ass. Her already big butt cheeks grew more bloated with fat. The swelled up like two big balloons and stretched the denim she was wearing to its absolute limit. It creaked under the new weight of her blubbery butt cheeks. Her chunky cheeks grew even more cushiony, and for the first time started to develop cellulite as whatever tone they did have was lost. Her big fat ass finally lost the fight to gravity as well. Once her butt cheeks were now so large and full of lard, they finally started to sag. While her ass still surged further outward, it started to hang down like a broken shelf of fat. Her thick cheeks slapped down onto the backs of her thickening thighs.

And those thighs thickened quickly. With each new bite they expanded further with fat. Her thighs soon doubled in size into thick thunder thighs that slapped and then pushed together, widening Keisha’s stance as she ate. Her thighs also became covered in a blanket of cellulite and became so soft and squishy that they wiggled at the slightest movement. Her fat started to roll over her knees, and below her knees her calves swelled up along with her ankles until they became a pair of cankles, and her slender, dainty feet became fat clodhoppers with thick sausage toes.

Keisha was clearly destined to be a big fat pear shape, but while her lower half bore the brunt of her new weight, that didn’t mean that the rest of her wasn’t getting fat as well. She was becoming a chunkster all over as she continued to chow down on her funnel cake.

The snatched waist of hers started to swell. She soon grew a very generous pot belly with a pair of matching meaty love handles that all joined together to make for a mighty muffin top. At that point there was no way anybody could mistake Keish for being slender. Her stomach surged forward and jiggled with each new bite. It didn’t take much to get her tubby tummy fat quivering because it was so redundantly soft and squishy. It bounced around to its own rhythm, and while it couldn’t keep pace with her chunky ass, her big blubbery belly still did its best to act as some kind of counterweight, and it was aided in front by her growing breasts.

Those breasts had once been rather perky. But as she devoured the funnel cake, all of that perkiness was eaten up by fat. They grew bigger and heavier, and as they did they also began to sag more and more. They began large quiver mounds of lard that drooped downward onto the blubbery shelf of Keisha’s big fat belly. That shelf of a spare tire helped to support them as they grew fatter and took some of the strain off her fat back.

Keisha’s arms grew flabby and turned from biceps to bingo wings. They wobbled constantly as Keisha continued to stuff her face. And that face was growing fatter with each new bite. She developed jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin that was very appropriate given the amount of fried dough that she was consuming. Still, she kept cramming big bites of that loaded up funnel cake into her chubby cheeks, and those cheeks responded by getting even chubbier.

She looked like a real pig with ice cream, and various toppings smeared across her chubby cheeks and dripping down her multitude of chins into her canyon of cleavage. Behind her, Keisha was dragging a big fat ass that had given her a permanent plumper’s crack.

Keisha didn’t care about any of this though. Her life was now just one of endless indulgence. And all she thought about as she scooped up the remnants of her meal with her fat fingers and sucked them clean was what she was going to try next. She was content to keep messily eating and embracing the big fat pig that she had become.

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"Big Fat Target"

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Deena was a competitive country girl, a slim and sexy athletic vixen who prided herself on being a proud cowgirl. 

Her diva cowgirl aesthetic was on full display as she strutted around the carnival in her cowboy boots with Daisy Duke Jean shorts and just a cropped leather vest that showed off her abs and high lifted her perfect perky breasts. The shorts did a great job of showcasing her perfect else. 

The other thing that Deena had with her was her posse of friends, a collection of gorgeous continuity girls who also sidled up to the carnival in designer boots. The crew moved in step with Deena and always just slightly behind their leader. They were a gaggle of pretty blondes in boots and cowgirl hats who strutted about judging others as they went. 

They were a competitive bunch who loved trying to one up each other, although ninety percent of the time Deena ended up winning. They were even competitive in the way they made fun of others, trying to come up with the cattiness insults and make the most people cry. 

Fat people were their favorite targets. The ladies loved to flaunt their fit bodies and call fatties all sorts of names like piggy or cow. 

When Deena and her band of slim and sexy moons entered Madame Zara’s tent, Madame Zara was filled with an incredible sense of déjà vu.

And then she flipped the cards and…

“Your competitive nature will inflate more than just your ego.”

Madame Zara seldom gave the same fortune twice. Perhaps she was tired. It was so late in the day. Perhaps her powers were waning a bit, but nonetheless, Deena and her friends certainly fit the bill. 

And they had the same response as so many other which was confusion, followed by an eye roll, and then storming out of the tent. 

After that, Deena led her friends to the midway to play some games. She thought about playing one of those water gun racing games, but then she saw something a little more country. 

“Big Bertha’s Big Barnyard Shootout” read the sign.

It was a shooting gallery with a bunch of animals for targets. Deena thought the theming was a bit odd (who would shoot farm animals?), but she wasn’t going to pass off a chance to show off her cowgirl shooting skills. 

When the targets started coming by, Deena expertly went after them with dangerous precision. 

Dangerous to her waistline that is. 

Deena shot the first little piggy, and her belly suddenly got a little pudgier. She didn’t notice of course how her slender stomach had suddenly puffed out a little bit. She was too locked in on her next target, and as she shot at another piglet her new pot belly got even puffier. Each new target that she shot meant her tight and toned tummy got tubbier and tubbier. With each new pig that she shot down, she pack on more pounds of pudge right around her middle. 

Soon she was sporting a real juicy muffin top complete with thick love handles that spilled over the sides of her shorts just like her big blubbery gut, which was still growing in girth, did. Deena was holding the rifle with her elbows leaning on the counter, and so her gut spilled downward as it surged forward. Her blubbery belly was a saggy sack of soft stodgy fat that soon pressed against the counter and was forced to spill out in multiple directions and more fat squeezed against the wood and just kept coming. 

The fat filled her ass as well which was plain to see to anybody walking by. Her right butt cheeks ballooned with each new target that she shot. They grew softer as they swelled with fat and stretched out the fabric of her denim shorts.  Each one rose like bread dough and then crested over the waistband of her shorts like two doughy half moons rising up to complete the plump picture. 

Deena ignored the snickers from behind her as passersby got a good glimpse of her new plumber’s crack. She just kept shooting and her ass and stomach kept getting larger. Her gut grew heavier and hung lower, and her already wide rump grew rounder. Her blubber butt cheeks continued to billow outward becoming two big, soft, squishy pillows that sagged downward and oozed out the legs of her shorts revealing their cellulite to the world. 

As her ass cheeks slapped onto her thighs. Those thighs grew to meet them. Deena found knew animals to target, and as she blasted some chickens, her thighs filled further with rich, buttery fat. 

She grew lard filled legs like thick drumsticks. While her feet, ankles, and calves all grew plumper, the majority of her weight went to her thunder thighs which quivered and slapped together as new fat filled them. They kept jiggling as the fat pressed so hard against itself that Deena had to widen her shooting stance, not that that hindered her ability to aim and therefore fatten herself up further.

Her thighs just kept growing thicker. The cellulite coated flab started to droop down over her knees. They shook as they sagged and kept growing fatter and fatter. 

Then she started nailing the cow targets. 

And Deena’s breasts grew into big fat udders. 

They swelled up in her bra and sagged downward just like udders. They grew bigger and heavier as they filled with blubber. The cows went down one by one, and Deena’s breasts grew heavier pound by pound. 

Deena’s arms grew heavier too. As she spotted more pigs and chickens to quickly shoot down, her lithe limbs filled with fat, becoming the size of ham hocks with big wobbly bingo wings. The fat just hung there lazily as she maintained her steady aim and nailed target after target to add more pounds to her obese body. 

Finally, Deena fattened up her face as she hit the last few targets. Her cheeks grew plumper, her chin doubled. Her whole face swelled up with fat until she looked exceptionally piggish right as she nailed the very last target. 

Deena’s prize was, fitting enough, a big fat stuffed pig wearing a crown. She waved it around in triumph, and that really sent her bingo wings a wobbling. She then hugged it, pressing the plush pig into her soft squishy breasts and giving it a squeeze. After that she looked around her and her friends were changed as well. 

They were all chubby with noticeably pot bellies and big fat flabby butts. Each of the previously slim and sexy vixens now sported thick thunder thighs that ensured that they would be stuck waddling from now on, but while all of them were definitely chubby and some were exceptionally fat, they all paled to the fat pig that was Deena. 

Deena was a whole lotta woman. Her fat spilled out from under her leather vest which was now held on by only one strained button. Her breasts were practically out of her bra completely, and her gelatinous gut spilled over the waistband of her now unbuttoned shorts and threatened to obscure the whole thing with blubber as it hung like a useless apron of fat. And her thighs her like fat tree trunks that made her waddle through the carnival as she searched for foods to stuff her fat piggy face. 

Yup, she certainly was a big fat cowgirl now. 

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "Caked Up By Funnel Cake"

Here is another story for "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 3", you can read the last one from the collection before I release it here, "A Big Fat Target" on Discord right now if you're an Even More BS tier Patron.

Enjoy!

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Keisha had a big fat ass. 

And she loved it. In fact, Keisha made a point of constantly parading her ass around in the tightest jeans she could fit into. Keisha was proud of the heads that it turned, and it turned a lot of heads. Everyone else loved Keisha’s big fat ass, and if they didn’t love it, Keisha would say it was just because they were jealous of it.

One of the things that made Keisha’s big fat ass so popular was the way it seemed to defy gravity. There was very little sag to it. It just stuck out, big and beautiful. And whereas other women with much smaller asses might be cursed with cellulite, Keisha’s curves were cellulite free. It made her big fat ass perfect for flaunting in a bikini, something Keisha loved to do.

The other thing that made Keisha’s big fat ass stand out was that the rest of her was so slender by comparison. Other than her large butt, Keisha’s body was stereotypically slim and sexy. She had a snatched waist and perky boobs. Her arms were toned and slender, and so were her legs. They were thick, but strong and tight. 

Keisha’s big beautiful butt gave her the kind of confidence that inevitably pushed her up the social ladder wherever she found herself. And she strutted through the carnival like a queen examining peasants. And enjoying the smell of carnival food.

That was another thing that drove people crazy- in a somewhat different way- about Keisha. She loved food and could eat whatever she wanted and not really gain any weight. If anything it just made Keisha’s big butt bigger and more beautiful.

But first, Keisha decided that she was going to stop and get her fortune read in Madame Zara’s tent.

It was a decision she would regret.

Madame Zara dealt the cards quickly and delivered an even quicker fortune.

“Even you can have too much of a good thing.”

Keisha just rolled her eyes.

“Okay. Could have just gotten Chinese food and gotten the same fortune, but whatever.”

As Keisha left, and Madame Zara watched her ass bounce its way out of her tent, the seer of fate did have to question herself.

“Am I getting a bit lazy today? Perhaps I’m getting tired.”

It didn’t matter though. Lazy fortune or not, Keisha was going to get FAT.

Once Keisha was back outside, she knew that she was done putting off her desire for food. If anything, her cravings were even more intense now. She could feel a buzzing of hunger as she pressed a hand to her slender stomach.

The funnel cake was calling her name.

And once Keisha got to the funnel cake stand, she order the most decadent, the most indulgent, the most absolutely sinfully delicious calorie bomb combo that she could think of. She ordered a funnel cake with cannoli cream and cookie butter, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream with strawberries, chocolate syrup, crushed up Ferrero Rocher, and Lotus cookie bits on. 

She squealed with delight and then dug right in.

Each new forkful of the decadent dessert helped to pack on plenty of pounds.

Of course the first thing to expand further was Keisha’s big fat ass. Her already big butt cheeks grew more bloated with fat. The swelled up like two big balloons and stretched the denim she was wearing to its absolute limit. It creaked under the new weight of her blubbery butt cheeks. Her chunky cheeks grew even more cushiony, and for the first time started to develop cellulite as whatever tone they did have was lost. Her big fat ass finally lost the fight to gravity as well. Once her butt cheeks were now so large and full of lard, they finally started to sag. While her ass still surged further outward, it started to hang down like a broken shelf of fat. Her thick cheeks slapped down onto the backs of her thickening thighs.

And those thighs thickened quickly. With each new bite they expanded further with fat. Her thighs soon doubled in size into thick thunder thighs that slapped and then pushed together, widening Keisha’s stance as she ate. Her thighs also became covered in a blanket of cellulite and became so soft and squishy that they wiggled at the slightest movement. Her fat started to roll over her knees, and below her knees her calves swelled up along with her ankles until they became a pair of cankles, and her slender, dainty feet became fat clodhoppers with thick sausage toes.

Keisha was clearly destined to be a big fat pear shape, but while her lower half bore the brunt of her new weight, that didn’t mean that the rest of her wasn’t getting fat as well. She was becoming a chunkster all over as she continued to chow down on her funnel cake.

The snatched waist of hers started to swell. She soon grew a very generous pot belly with a pair of matching meaty love handles that all joined together to make for a mighty muffin top. At that point there was no way anybody could mistake Keish for being slender. Her stomach surged forward and jiggled with each new bite. It didn’t take much to get her tubby tummy fat quivering because it was so redundantly soft and squishy. It bounced around to its own rhythm, and while it couldn’t keep pace with her chunky ass, her big blubbery belly still did its best to act as some kind of counterweight, and it was aided in front by her growing breasts.

Those breasts had once been rather perky. But as she devoured the funnel cake, all of that perkiness was eaten up by fat. They grew bigger and heavier, and as they did they also began to sag more and more. They began large quiver mounds of lard that drooped downward onto the blubbery shelf of Keisha’s big fat belly. That shelf of a spare tire helped to support them as they grew fatter and took some of the strain off her fat back.

Keisha’s arms grew flabby and turned from biceps to bingo wings. They wobbled constantly as Keisha continued to stuff her face. And that face was growing fatter with each new bite. She developed jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin that was very appropriate given the amount of fried dough that she was consuming. Still, she kept cramming big bites of that loaded up funnel cake into her chubby cheeks, and those cheeks responded by getting even chubbier.

She looked like a real pig with ice cream, and various toppings smeared across her chubby cheeks and dripping down her multitude of chins into her canyon of cleavage. Behind her, Keisha was dragging a big fat ass that had given her a permanent plumper’s crack.

Keisha didn’t care about any of this though. Her life was now just one of endless indulgence. And all she thought about as she scooped up the remnants of her meal with her fat fingers and sucked them clean was what she was going to try next. She was content to keep messily eating and embracing the big fat pig that she had become.

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "Caramel Apple Shaped Body"

Two stories today! And there's another one on Discord for Even More BS tier patrons (who also got this one early) called "Caked Up with Funnel Cake".

Enjoy!

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Jordyn’s sense of superiority may have started right from the moment she was born and her parents decided to give her name a “unique” spelling. 

But her arrogance definitely hit a peak in high school and then college. 

Jordyn was an athlete, not a super competitive one. In fact, jokes inevitably comparing her to Michael Jordan had annoyed so much that she dropped out of most competitive sports at an early age. But Jordyn loved being athletic and active. She was a runner, a climber, and an avid kayaker. She loved sailing as well and had the kind of well off family that allowed her to indulge in all of these activities. And she excelled at them. 

She also excelled at making fun of others. 

Making fun of others was another thing that Jordyn loved to do as a way of making herself feel even more superior. Maybe it was those early childish jokes that turned her so sour, but Jordyn now had the beauty and confidence to look down on others, and she made the most of it. This was especially true of fat people. Jordyn loved to make fun of fat people the most because she thought of them as the total opposite of herself. To Jordyn, fat people were lazy, ugly losers. And making fun of them was both easy and enjoyable.

Why was she at the carnival?

She didn’t really know. She just felt some kind of pull. And it was that same pull that made her walk into Madame Zara’s tent leading to the fattening fortune that changed her fate forever.

Madame Zara was already dealing the cards before Jordyn sat down.

“Beauty can be gone in a bite as your vanity eats you up.”

Jordyn just blinked.

“What is that fortune cookie bullshit?”

Madame Zara just looked at Jordyn with a disconcerting smile, and that was enough to drive her out of the tent and back into the carnival proper.

Once there, Jordyn felt another pull. This time it was caused by a rumbling in her stomach that pulled her toward one of the many food stalls.

Food like this normally wasn’t for Jordyn. She knew how fattening fair food could be, and if anything she’d normally be in a place like this showing off her hard earned abominable muscles and flaunting her fit figures as pathetic fatties stuffed their fat faces, but today Jordyn had a craving.

That craving was for caramel apples. 

There were so many to choose from and Jordyn decided to get a caramel apple that was also coated in Oreo cookie crumbs and came with a short of whipped cream as a gimmick. Jordyn did the shot of whipped cream quickly and then rubbed her tight abs as she held the caramel apple up to her face.

She thought about tossing it, of not committing to so many calories and so much sugar, but she wanted it so bad, so she took a great big bite.

The caramel apple started to turn Jordyn into an apple shaped fatty.

This meant that the first thing about her to change as she bit into the sweet, delicious apple was her stomach. Her slim stomach with its washboard abs and its trim concave waist began to quiver and shake and then explode outward in all directions. She was a tight waisted hottie no more as her stomach sailed rapidly past the tubby phase and into full blown fatness. Suddenly she was sporting a great big sagging gut, a blubbery mess that grew so fat and sagged so much that it started to segment itself into tiers. She developed one huge lower roll that sagged low and was humorously tucked into her joggers. Above that she had two other thick rolls that each jiggled to its own rhythm.

Her sides sprung out with love handles, thick slabs of fat that grew beyond the point of being called meaty. They were heavy melting blobs of buttery blubber that stuck out and then hung uselessly over the waistband of her pants. Her blubbery love handles and matching blubber belly were further matched by the squishy back fat that sprung up Jordyn’s back. One particularly thick roll, the lowest one, merged with her love handles and blubber belly to complete the mighty muffin top that the woman who once sported abs now had. She used to be so rock hard, and now her stomach was buried under nothing but softness.

In that moment she looked ridiculous with the rest of her body still slim and sexy and a gut that would have made her look eleven months pregnant if it wasn’t so soft. Of course, the other thing that soon made her look rather pregnant was the expansion of her breasts. They were about to be truly massive melons.

Jordyn’s breasts quickly grew to jumbo size. She had always had large breasts but now they surged outward until she had tits of titanic proportions. Her bosom swelled and spilled over the cups of her bra. Her boobs stretched the t-shirt she was wearing to its absolute limit and left her with a canyon of cleavage. Her blubbery breasts quiver as they grew, and as her boobs got bigger they also got covered in stretch marks. It was inevitable given their size and incredible rate or growth. Her massive mammaries quivered as they continued to fill with fat like big blubber bowling balls that finally gave into the undefeated force of gravity and start to sag like flappy pendulums of flab. They hung downward until they were met by the shelf that was the upper most fat roll of Jordyn’s once slim and toned stomach. And still her boobs continued to balloon. They grew bigger and bigger into proportions that would make porn stars blush.

She had always been proud of her breasts, and she loved to show them off. But now Jordyn would find herself struggling to carry them around with their enormous weight and the strain that they put on her fat back. There would also be no possible way for people to not notice them unless they were distracted by her even bigger belly.

As the formerly slim and sexy Jordyn continued to eat her caramel apple. The rest of her formerly fit figure began to fatten as well.

While her breasts and her belly remained her biggest, fattest features by far, her beautiful butt became big and bulbous as well. Its tone was lost forever, taken away by the sea of fat that surged forward filling her cheeks with chunk. Those chunky cheeks strained the seat of her pants and stretched the fabric tight enough to make the pattern of her cottage cheese cellulite painfully clear. Her once perky ass cheeks became bloated and yet thoroughly defeated cushions. They were saggy pillows of fat that filled her pants and slumped downward onto the backs of her thighs. Her ass was once so firm that you could bounce a quarter off of it, and now it was truly enormous. The fact that her belly was still big enough to call her decidedly apple shape was a real sign of just how big of a gluttonous, gelatinous gut that she had. Still, her butt was no slouch (other than the way the fat that turned her toned butt to mush now sagged.)

The thighs that those titanic butt cheeks were now sagging onto exploded with fat as well. They grew from proud, toned, muscular limbs, to large, lard filled thunder thighs. Her thighs looked like stuffed sausages in her pants. Those pants could now only ironically be called joggers. Just like her ass, her thick thunder thighs stretched the fabric of her pants so much that her cellulite was visible. Her stance as she continued to gorge on her caramel apple was far wider because her thigh fat slapped and then pressed together so much that it forced her feet to move further apart.

Those feet grew fatter too with plump toes. Her feet grew fat and wide enough that her days of wearing strappy heels were long over. And, of course, her feet weren’t the only thing that got fatter. Her calves and ankles both swelled up as well until Jordyn was sporting a pair of swollen cankles. Jordyn’s days of strutting around as a slim and sexy vixen were done for. She was doomed for nothing but waddling around now. And she still kept getting fatter.

Back up top, Jordyn’s arms grew fat and flabby. She developed prominent bingo wings that jiggled as she held up her caramel apple and continued to bite into it. The fat extended throughout her arms, thickening her slender wrists and making its way into her hands. Jordyn’s hands grew chubby as she held up and bit into the apple, and her fingers grew thick to match her sausage toes. Once her arms were done growing fatter, her bingo wings kept jiggling as Jordyn held the caramel apple to her face and took bite after bite after bite.

Jordyn’s face grew fatter as well, and with each bite, her double chin became more and more obvious and till it was thick and doughy and wobbling dramatically. Her cheeks disappeared, hidden by jiggly jowls. She looked rather piggish as she chomped down on the rest of the apple. 

Still, as fat as Jordyn was- and she was quite big and blubbery, it was clear that the fattest parts of her were her big blubber belly and her equally bulbous breasts. They stood out the most, quite literally with how far they stuck out. And they ensured that Jordyn would always be called an apple shape. 

That is if anyone called her anything other than just fat. 

Not satisfied with just one apple, Jordyn got two more, both loaded with a variety of toppings.

Her big fat body and unchecked gluttony was starting to draw some stares- and more than a few unkind words, so Jordyn took her caramel apples and waddle off to find some shade to sit her fat butt down in and pig out in peace. 

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

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PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Taking Fatness for a Spin"

Here is another story from "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 3". If you want more and don't want to wait, 7 dollar Even More BS tier patrons can get early access to my next patreon exclusive story "Caramel Apple Shaped Body" on Discord.

For now...

Enjoy!

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

Maryse was a tall, slim and sexy model with beautiful natural platinum blonde hair. She was an up and comer destined to hit it big. She knew that. But she was also angry that in the meantime she was slumming it in a place like this carnival.

The carnival was beneath her. It was filled with low class working people and- worse- with fat people. Maryse detested fat people. They were greedy and lazy, and smelly and worse. Maryse looked down upon fat people, something that was easy for her to do given her statuesque height. She didn’t just think she was better than fat people.

She knew it.

Maryse was a truly stereotypical beauty standing tall at five feet nine inches and with lean curves. Her body had solid muscle to it, and she was also long and limber. She was curvy and toned but slim. She had great breasts, perfect in size and perkiness as well as a perfect, toned heart shaped ass and a set of six pack abs. It was no wonder that Maryse had been an incredibly popular (and often feared) individual her entire life whose career was about to really pop off.

She just had to get past this stupid carnival, one last necessity gig where she was tasked with looking pretty in a crop top and daisy duke shorts while standing next to tractors and produce and just stupid shit, and then the world would be her oyster. No more carnivals or car shows, just cat walks and major magazines.

And once she was on her last break of the day, Maryse knew that she needed to do something to relieve her boredom.

So she strutted across the grounds and into Madame Zara’s tent hoping that a quick fortune might be good for a lark. Little did she know how life changing her little diversion would be.

Madame Zara watched as Maryse carried herself into the tent like she was a queen and gently took her seat across from Madame Zara as if the chair was her own personal throne.

“Let’s do this.”

“So quick to see your fate?”

“I’m ready for some good news and a bit of fun.”

“Be weary. Fate can be very surprising. Are you sure you wish to see what the cards have in store for you?”

“You don’t scare me, old lady. I said let’s do this.”

Madame Zara ruefully shook her head at Maryse’s arrogance and began to deal and read the cards.

“Your perfect life is in for quite the spin, and your vanity will weigh you down and bring you low.”

Maryse blinked twice.

“Well, okay then. That was something….”

If Maryse was less arrogant she would admit to herself that there was a small knot in her stomach and a tingling of the hair on the back of her neck, but she ignored any signs of trouble and just walked straight out.

Looking to clear her head and with a bit of time left on her break, Maryse saw one of those spinning rides that pin you to a wall with centrifugal force alone, and she figured she would- no pun intended- give it a spin.

As the ride began to spin up, Maryse’s body began to change.

The first thing that started to change was Maryse’ slender stomach. As the ride spun her around, she was still pinned to the side but despite the force, her belly began to surge forward. Her abs disappeared quickly and completed as the fat expanded trim waist and turned her flat stomach into a fat gut. It was getting so big that her spare tire was actually starting to segment into distinct rolls of doughy fat that grew along with a full set of meaty love handles and thick back fat that pressed against the wall of the ride and started to squeeze to the sides. Her gut quivered as it grew, and it would have sagged downward if the force of the ride didn’t keep it up. When the ride finished spinning, Maryse would be doomed to have her big flabby dome of a gut slap down onto her thighs.

Those thighs were starting to thicken as well. Just like her stomach spun outward, the fat that started to cling to Maryse’s once toned thighs began to quiver and radiate outward as well. Her thighs expanded in all directions, becoming great jiggling tubes of fat. All of the lean muscle that she was proud of was replaced by bulbous flab that shook as the ride continued to spin and she continued to grow. Soon there was no sign of any athleticism in her legs, just softness, just fat. Maryse’s thunder thighs pressed against the ride and against each other. Her thigh fat squished against itself and pushed so hard that it forced her to widen her stance even with the forces of the ride working against her. Her legs slid further apart, but her thighs kept touching. She used to have thighs that allowed her to be strong and springy. Now they were just springy with fat and blanketed by cellulite.

Maryse’s ass grew as well. Her toned, perky, perfect posterior was lost forever as the fat swallowed it up. It spread out behind her as it pressed against the wall of the ride and was forced to ooze through to the sides. Her ass cheeks were like two overused stress balls being squeezed. If she could stand freely, her bulbous butt cheeks would be bouncing on top of the backs of her thick flabby thunder thighs. Her butt kept growing, and eventually that fat started to push Maryse further away from the wall like two ballooning cushions. The gap that that made though was soon filled by the fat that was gathering on Maryse’s back which then squished against the wall with a squelching sound. Her buns of steel were now soft blubber buns, caked in cellulite and doomed to be the kind of loose sagging butt cheeks who bounced and quivered at the slightest movement. Pants would be a great difficulty from now on thanks to the girth of her glutes.

The next things to get bigger were Maryse’s breasts which inflated with fat. Her breasts had always been rather large, but Maryse always considered them to be the perfect size. They were large enough to be eye-catching, but they were still a manageable weight with a surprising amount of firmness. But as the ride spun around, Maryse’s breasts exploded with fat and became massive mammaries. They practically threw outward and threatened to not only pop out of her bra but burst through her shirt completely. They filled with quivering fat and were quickly covered in angry stretch marks. Her once perky breasts were now two big fat fat blubbery bowling balls. Just like her belly, they would have sagged heavily and, coincidentally enough, right onto that shelf of a belly, but, thanks to the forces of the ride, if anything they were threatening to fly upward and slap Maryse in the face.

Her face did not escape the fattening. Instead, her model face grew round with fat. Her cheeks got chubby and then developed jiggly jowls that flapped as the ride spun and spun. Maryse’s narrow, well defined chin lost that definition and instead developed a plump and doughy double chin that joined the rest of her face in wobbling. As her high cheekbones disappeared and her slim face grew fatter it also became far more dull and piggish looking, far from the vain model that she had been. Maryse’s face was now redundantly doughy with even her nose getting wider, plumping up with fat.

Finally, Maryse’s arms grew fatter. Soon, her biceps were gone, and her muscles were replaced by fat. She had great jiggly bingo wings that drooped over her chubby elbows. Her wrists grew thick with fat and even her hands grew chubby. Her fingers grew into plump sausages which made her hands just look incredibly clumsy. She was clearly just an awkward fatty.

And yet her transformation went beyond just weight gain.

As Maryse was spun by the ride, her own center of gravity changed. Her body grew wider, and as it grew wider, it also got shorter. She shrank from a statuesque 5’9 down to 4’11. What this meant was that, by the time the ride was done spinning around, Maryse was now a short round ball of fat. She was a big ball of bouncing blubber who practically fell over and would have had to roll off the ride. 

She managed to stay on her two jiggly pudding legs, and as she fought the keep her balance, her big blubber belly sloshed about out in front of her, most of it was completely exposed thanks to the crop top that she was still wearing, a crop top that barely contained her massive breasts. The front of her shorts was mostly obscured by the overhang of her apron of a belly, and her big blubbery booty spilled out the back. The chunky cheeks oozed under the leg openings and onto her tree trunk like thunder thighs, and the tops of her bloated butt cheeks crested over the waistband of her shorts to give her a permanent plumber's crack.

Maryse was none the wiser to this as she waddled off to find some food before her break ended and she would have to be back to modeling at the petting zoo.

People loved getting pictures of her next to the pigs.

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

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PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "Weighted by Water"

This is the first story of what will become "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 3" and if you enjoyed this story and don't want to weight for more, the next one, "Taking Fatness for a Spin" in on Discord for 7 dollar Even More BS tier patrons.

For now...

Enjoy!

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

Alyssa was a real queen bee type. Even though she had graduated college two years ago, she was still the kind of person who dominated her friend group like she was still the head cheerleader. It wasn’t surprising when people learned that Alyssa was prom queen her senior year of high school, something she still bragged about. She was a very classic beauty with a classic mean girl attitude.

That attitude was shared by her skinny bitch friends, Kimberly, Hazel, and Aria. They were also three beauties who were extremely full of themselves, though in the constant beauty contest that was their lives, Alyssa was quick to remind them that they were all playing for a distant second. But they still all ranked themselves far above others, especially fat people whom they loved to make fun of.

Alyssa strutted through the carnival with her loyal friends lagging jus behind her as she went into Madame Zara’s fortune telling tent. Alyssa was a sucker for all things astrology and astrology adjacent, and Madame Zara was quick to read her arrogance and then her fattening fortune.

“Your competitive nature will inflate more than just your ego.”

Alyssa was so taken aback by the strange fortune that she stormed right out of the tent and expected her friends to follow without even getting fortunes for themselves read.

Madame Zara just smiled though as they all disappeared back behind her tent curtain. She knew that Alyssa’s fate was tied to each of them in turn.

Once back outside of the tent, Alyssa wanted to find something that would take her mind off of the strange fortune. She quickly settled on one of those water gun racing games, the kind where you shoot water into a clown’s mouth and it blows up a balloon until it pops. She quickly convinced Kimberly, Aria, and Hazel to play it as well since the more competitors meant a bigger prize.

And in this case a bigger downfall.

When the bell rang to signal the start of the game, Alyssa’s fattening fate was sealed.

The water shot right into the clown’s mouth, straight and true, and Alyssa grit her teeth and furrowed her brow as she held her aim steady. She watched through steely eyes as that water balloon filled up.

And as it did so, she failed to realize that her feet were swelling too.

It was slow at first as the skin stretched and her toes plumped up. They each inflated like tiny little balloons into fat mini-sausage like toes. And her feet became longer, wider, rounder all because of the fat that filled them. They grew big and swollen, and then that fat kept working its way upward. Her ankles filled up with fat until they met her calves and then from that point on they grew together into thick swollen cankles. But the fat was far from stopping there.

As Alyssa kept her eyes on the clown, she failed to realize just how much her thighs had already grown. The fat got to them very quicky, and her lithe limbs filled up with fat and swelled outward. She quickly grew saggy saddlebags, and her thick thunder thighs soon slapped together with a noticeable squelching sound. They strained her shorts but miraculously had no cellulite. Pretty much anyone else with thighs as fat as Alyssa were at that point would have been covered in a blanket of cellulite, but Alyssa’s chunk thighs bear no such marks. Instead, her skin just looked very tight, stretched out yet sagging with fat down over her knees as if that fat was water sloshing inside of a water balloon. Her fat thighs continued to tremble as more fat filled them, and her stance started to widen as she kept filling her clown’s balloon with her water gun. 

Alyssa’s ass was the next thing to inflate. Her perky butt cheeks soon ballooned with blubber. They stretched out her shorts even further, practically blowing out the rear, and sagged like two heavy water balloons as they jiggled with fat. With each passing moment that the balloon filled, so did Alyssa’s ass. But while the balloon got bigger and lighter with air, Alyssa’s ballooning butt cheeks grew larger and heavier with lard. The loose fat that filled them made her enormous ass cheeks quick to quiver at the slightest movement. And just like her thighs, the skin simply remained stretched out (and stretch out quite a ways) without developing the cottage cheese texture of cellulite. That was almost as impressive of the sheer girth of her glutes. And speaking of girth, her gut soon grew new girth of its own.

Her belly went from fat to blubbery real soon. It swelled up with fat just like the rest of her and soon bounced over the waistband of her pants and started to press against the table as she continued to shoot her water gun at the clown head across from her. Her abs, faint to begin with, disappeared completely, swallowed up by the gut that grew in front of her. That gut came with a pair of thick love handles that spilled over the sides of her shorts and combined with a juicy roll of back fat to complete the meaty muffin top. It grew heavy and saggy just like the rest of us, and it hung down toward her thighs and sloshed about as it grew heavier, filling with more and more fat.

Above that, Alyssa’s breast began to swell. The once perky pair soon sagged like a set of water balloons as they grew somewhat bigger but a lot heavier thanks to the fat that filled them. They quivered as they grew and hung low, sagging onto the shelf of her blubber belly. Along with the fattening of her breasts came the fattening of her arms. Those thin limbs became thick with fat, and her biceps turning into flabby bingo wings. The jiggling of them though was surprisingly limited due to the focus she kept on maintaining her aim. It’s what made her balloon fill faster than the others around her, and it’s also what made her grow fatter faster.

The final thing to fatten was Alyssa’s face. It grew round with thick jiggly jowls where her high cheek bones once were. Her jowls drooped down and were joined by a distinctly doughy double chin that complimented her chubby cheeks perfectly. Ultimately her face looked swollen with fat just like the rest of her body. 

The clothes she was wearing looked extremely tight, almost painted on. Her shirt could not contain the girth of her gutt, and her blubber butt was threatening to burst out of her pants. The button on her shorts popped off at the exact same time as Melody’s balloon did. She shouted and raised her arms in victory. This time the bingo wings really jiggled freely.

As her fat arms wobbled, along with the rest of her, Alyssa looked around at her friends. They were all fatter too, but there faces remained for the most part completely untouched.

Kimberly, had a slightly chubby face. She had come within a moment or two of her balloon popping. Hazel and Aria’s faces were exactly the same. And Aria, who had finished last of the four friends now looked brother disproportionate with the way the fat filled her.

Aria’s arms and breasts had not grown any bigger, just a little softer, but her gut and everything below it had ballooned with fat. She had a very squishy stomach, a full on blubber belly just like the rest of her once skinny friends. And she was subject to the same incredibly fat and saggy ass and thick thunder thighs that caused her to waddle, but from the breasts up she looked like the same basic hot bitch that she had been. It would make working angles on social media and dating apps very easy and leave her future dates very surprised.

Hazel, meanwhile, looked a lot more like Kimberly. White her face was completely untouched, her arms had grown noticeably fatter with the requisite bingo wings where her proud biceps once were. And her breasts had also developed quite a bit of sag though they were not as large and lard filled as Kimberly and Alyssa’s. 

By far though, Alyssa was the fattest of the lot. Her lard filled body was incredibly large. She was a big blob of a woman whose flabby form quivered with the slightest movement. She attempted to jump in victory, but barely got her fat feet off the ground, and when she landed again her fat body shook for a very long time. She was very happy to receive her prize, a stuffed pig made up like a clown.

It was very fitting.

And after that, Alyssa and her friends, who were none the wiser to what had happened to them, waddled off to stuff themselves with funnel cake and lots of other fair foods. Occasionally, when they slept at night, they would all remember what their lives had once been, how they had once been the slim and sexy bitches who made fun of others and were now total lard asses. But for the most part, they were very happy and hungry piggies.

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

If you enjoyed this story and don't want to wait for the next one, you an join the Discord as an Even More BS tier patron and read "Taking Fatness For a Spin". You can upgrade your membership HERE. Or you can just wait until tomorrow. It should be here tomorrow.

PATREON EXCLUSIVE: "Melody Munches on Her Feelings"

Here is a patreon exclusive sequel to "Roller Coaster of Fat" which is a part of "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes" 2. If you haven't read that story (and that collection), you can read it HERE.

I wrote this story because "Roller Coaster of Fat" is going to end up released on Deviant Art soon, and I wanted to be fair to patrons since the rest of "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes" 2 is meant to be patreon exclusive just like "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes" 3 (more on that later.)

So.....

Enjoy!

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Melody sat solemnly in a booth with her shoulders slumped as she munched on a bowl of mashed potatoes. She was trying to drown her sorrows in butter and gravy, but it wasn’t helping. Soon the mound of mashed potatoes made its way into Melody’s mouth and she moved on to a big bowl of mac and cheese. 

The bowl of macaroni and cheese helped the blubbery and blubbering woman to feel at least a little better. It’s ooey gooey deliciousness served as a suitably savory distraction for at least a short while. If anything, the calorie laden comfort food’s only flaw was that it was too delicious. The rich and creamy macaroni and cheese was so good that Melody couldn’t stop herself from devouring it quickly. She was positively ravenous with it, and as a result of her tenacity, cheese splatted on her chin and stained her shirt, a shirt that she had purchased less than a month ago and that she was already growing out of. 

With the macaroni and cheese done but with her hunger still unsated and her sorrow still gnawing at her, Melody knew it was time for dessert. 

There was a time where Melody had been a slim and sexy bitch, the kind of vain vixen that loved to lord her fit figure and extreme confidence over people. She loved to make fun of fatties, especially when they were eating, and especially if they were eating alone. 

What could have been funnier to her, the queen bee, a yo-yo dieter who, at the time, assumed she had kicked her hoggish habits for good and was now at the peak of physical perfection, reveling in her victory over fatness, then to look at some poor fat slob, some doughy and defeated hog, and rub their fat noses in it. She loved to point and laugh at those poor fatties, those lard filled and lonely losers. 

The fact that the once mighty Melody was now the one sitting alone and being stared and laughed at as she ate a monstrously large feast that still hadn’t filled up at big fat belly to capacity, was not lost on the large woman. She knew as she dug into the first of her two slices of chocolate cake, each served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side, that many would consider this her just desserts. 

And is she dug into that cake with a gluttonous gusto, she couldn’t help but think back to just a short while ago and how she had ended up in this mess. 

It was all Cynthia’s fault. 

Cynthia had been the one to invite her to this diner and even before she had gotten inside. See, out on the street, Melody had the misfortune of running into an old friend, Sydney. 

Well, okay. Calling Sydney an old friend would have been a bit of a stretch. If anything she was Cynthia’s friend. She was Melody’s acquaintance. In fact, Melody’s main contribution to their acquaintanceship had been no small amount of barbed words at Sydney’s expense because Sydney was a much chubbier person. And when Melody was at her slimmest and sexiest, she loved going on and on about what a bad influence Sydney the Sow was on Cynthia. 

But now, Sydney the Sow looked much slimmer when compared to the morbidly obese Melody. It was a shame that Melody had gotten so fat and yet was still not fat enough to avoid being recognized by someone she used to enjoy bullying back when she was a hottie and before she was a hog. 

The smile on Sydney’s face was seared into Melody’s mind forever. 

“Holy shit, Melody! Wow. Wow. Wow! You- you turned into quite the cow. I mean- Holy Shit! Damn, girl. I knew you were yo-yo dieting, but it looks to me like you finally bottomed out, and I mean with a BIG bottom.”

Sydney gave Melody’s sizable rump and swift snack, and her big fat blubbery butt cheeks bounced for an uncomfortable amount of time. Those chunky cheeks clapped together and continued to jiggle for long enough that Sydney had lost interest in Melody’s blubber butt and turned her attention to Melody’s massive blubber gut instead. 

“And look at this! You grew quite the gut! Guy doesn’t even feel like the right word. It’s such. Spare tire! Just a big, useless, flabby sack of fat. It’s batons pudgy! It’s piggish! It’s pathetic! What a shameless fatty you’ve become thanks to this big greedy gelatinous gut of yours!”

Sydney wasn’t even trying to be clever. Years of pent up rage at Melody’s mocking comments had filled her with malice and drove her to just be brutal, absolutely brutal. 

She took her hand and lifted Melody’s shirt, something that was not hard to do since it was already stretched out and starting to ride up Melody’s stomach anyway. Then she took her other hand and sunk it into the fat of Melody’s big blubbered belly and let the formerly fit woman’s fat ooze through her fingers. 

“So soft! So squishy! So fat! You’re just so an fat! I love it. I really do. I mean- just- I mean…”

Sydney lifted up Melody’s belly blubber and gave it a hard shake before lifting it up again and letting it slap back down onto the front of Melody’s thick thunder thighs. 

“Damn! It’s so heavy. I feel like I got a real workout just lifting your gut right then. It must take a lot to log your fat ass around, so I guess you must eat even more to keep getting fatter aye, piggy?”

Sydney pressed her hands to her own soft but comparatively much thinner thighs as she practically doubled over in laughter. 

“And you deserve this. You deserve this so much for always being such a skinny bitch. I’m so glad you get to show the world that karma is real and karma is FAT! Damn, thought it was so ironic that you could get so chubby and then still be such a bitch when you got thin again. But I guess the world won’t have to worry about that anymore. This ain’t goin nowhere!”

She continued to laugh as she pinched the lower roll of Melody’s plush belly with both hands and shook it up and down a few more times before letting it go again and watching it slap against Melody’s thighs before eventually quivering back into place. 

“Wow! This- this has been fun. I’ve gotta say, fatty, I’m going to be living off this high for… well, for like ever. It’s amazing to see how much you’ve let yourself go, how far you’ve fallen. You’re a real cow now. Anyway, have fun talking with Cynthia. That’s who you’re here to meet, right? I just happened to run into her and she told me she was meeting you- and that you were fat, but like she totally undersold that part. Well, whatever. She’s got some big news for you. Ha! Big. I suppose your whole life is just about big now, isn’t it?”

And with that, Sydney gave Melody’s blubbery belly another slap and then walked off down the street while still laughing to herself. 

Melody was left to waddle into the diner alone and face a new humiliation entirely. 

Cynthia had insisted on sitting in a booth because of course she did. It was just another way for Cynthia to flaunt her superiority these days. She was a thick, curvy beauty who could slip in and out of a booth with ease. 

Melody hated booths these days. She gained now benefit from the padded cushions because all of her fat cushioned her enough. And instead all booths did was remind Melody of how massively obese she now was. Every booth she found herself struggling to slide into was tight going in and even tighter getting out. 

And worse than having to get into the booth in the first place was who Melody was going to have to be sitting across from. 

Trent. 

Cynthia has brought Trent with her. 

Trent was Melody’s ex-boyfriend. He was a gorgeous man with an athletic build and while Melody’s recollection of why they broke up and when was weirdly fuzzy. (She never liked thinking about it for long.) She was sure it had something to do with how fat she had gotten. And now here he was sitting arm in arm with Cynthia, and Cynthia kept flashing her hand at Melody until she noticed it. 

A ring. 

And then Melody had to pretend to be happy for them. 

But she wasn’t happy. 

She was hungry. 

So while Cynthia and Melody went on and on and on, gushing about their love and the moment and their plans, Melody ordered herself a very messy steak sandwich. 

The steak sandwich was smothered in sautéed onions and roasted peppers, blanketed by multiple slices of melting, practically oozing, cheese, and it was slathered in a combination of ranch dressing a Chipotle mayo that left it dripping with sauce and grease from the grizzly meat. 

Melody tore into it like a hog out of hell. She didn’t care how messy she was being. Each word out of Cynthia’s mouth made her take another bigger bite. And the only thing that stopped her from eating the sandwich was when she alternated with the side of loaded French fries that she had also gotten. 

Those French fries came with bacon, scallions, melted cheese as well as both gravy and ranch. They were delicious and fattening and Melody absolutely did not care about either of those things; she just wanted to stuff them in her face and fill her big fat belly. 

And that’s just what she did.

All the grease drowned out Cynthia’s happiness as it slid down Ariel’s throat and dribbled down her chins. Sauce stained her chubby cheeks as well as her lips. It was like she developed a mustache made of ranch which she crudely wiped away with the back of her hand as she snorted like a greedy pig. Cheese was inhaled so quickly that Cynthia was afraid Melody was going to choke on it, but she just responded by snorting more and more as she valued stuffing her fat face with more food more than breathing normally.

The French fries started off crispy, but even at the impressive speed that Melody was munching on them they were soggy mush by the end thanks to all the cheese and gravy and dressing. It didn’t matter to Melody, she scooped that mush up with her hands and smashed it into her face just the same.

Melody barely heard Cynthia ask her to be her Maid of Honor. Her double chins wobbled like crazy as she hurriedly nodded yes. There was a genuine excitement to her jiggling, and it wasn’t until several bites later that she realized the horror of having to squeeze her fat blubbery body into a bridesmaids dress and then be on display in front of all of their old friends! She would have to give a speech!

It was a nightmare, but she was already committed, so she just got through it by doubling down and eating even more. By the time she was done, Melody barely noticed that Cynthia was already paying for the bill which was nice of her because it gave Melody an excellent excuse to order even more food once Cynthia and Trent left.

She didn’t even bother to get up and give Cynthia a hug because she was so weighed down with food.

And yet she wanted more.

That’s how she ended up stuffing her face with mashed potatoes and mac and cheese as she thought all about how she was going to be the Maid of Honor at Cynthia’s wedding where she would make Cynthia and Sydney the Former Sow, who was now of course another bridesmaid, look so much slimmer by comparison to her big fat bloated ass and big blubbery belly.

And that belly was calling out for cake.

So that’s exactly what Melody got herself, those two big slices of double chocolate cake to munch on. It went quickly too, just like the rest of her food and the dreams she once had of a bright and successful future. All that was left behind at the end was another perfect metaphor for her life, a mess. 

Once the cake was gone and she hastily dabbed what she could off of her cheeks, Melody shamelessly sucked on the napkin. Then, Melody paid her check, but she was not done paying the price for her gluttony. 

Melody was stuck.

She was wedged to the booth by her bloated double belly, held tight by the solid drum that was her tummy, stuck to the booth by the sticky mac and cheese that now stuck to her stomach along with the rest of her. Melody was bloated and not budging. 

It was a struggle, one that produced a fair amount of sweat and an extreme amount of humiliation. But eventually, after she let loose the loudest burp that Melody had ever known- something that made sure to draw everyone’s attention to the formerly fit woman’s humiliating situation- the fat woman who once thought of herself as better than everyone else was free.

In fact, she was so free that she tumbled forward and hit the ground with a heavy thud as she bounced on her very full belly and split the seam in the back of her pants with her big fat ass.

Eventually, she was able to get up and waddle on home where she would drown her sorrows in more snacks.

Regrettably, she had a bachelorette party to suddenly plan. That was going to take a lot of ice cream to get through.

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If you've enjoyed this story you can read more in "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2" and if you have already read that and want more, I've started "Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 3" with a new story "Weighted with Water" which is available now on Discord to Even More BS level patrons and will be coming to Patreon tomorrow. If you don't want to wait and in fact want the earliest access to my stories including tons of teasers as I write, you can upgrade your membership HERE.

"Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 7

This chapter comes in at a hair over 8,000 words which brings the entire story up to over 58,000 words right now. This chapter is brought to you by Even More BS patrons who have been helping me shape the future of this story on Discord.

Enjoy!

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Ariel looked like a goddess. 

While Ariel lived a life of glamour and always looked gorgeous, this particular look of divinity was by design. Here she was suspended by wires in the air that were disguised by six feet high golden angel wings and long flowing fabric that spiraled down to the floor. In the ultimate hamfisted metaphor of Ariel’s view of herself, she was floating high above a small sea of groveling worshippers, all gorgeous hard bodied models in scantily clad, all beneath her.

Ariel was also barely wearing any clothes, but unlike the other models who were all wearing rags basically cut like barely there swimwear, Ariel was clad in elaborate golden armor, and by elaborate armor that is to say that she was clad in armor befitting a female warrior in a male designed fantasy game. Her golden bustier perfectly hugged and showcased her bountiful bosom, and came to a quick point that drew attention to her flat stomach and pointed right at her exposed navel. Meanwhile, her bottoms were basically just golden bikini bottoms that fit like a glove around her perky ass.

She was floating in the air, looking down on everyone else with wind blowing through her luxurious red hair and smoke artfully twirling around her. Ariel was always hot, but this was the hottest she’d ever felt. She was doubtlessly a deity and deserving of worship.

This was it, the next big career step that she had been waiting for, breaking into the word of high fashion. Here she was, modeling for Maison Étoile. She was “The Goddess of Vanity”.

And it wasn’t an opportunity she was sure she would get even a week ago.

Just a week ago, Ariel woke up on the morning after her Kelly cooked binge-fest and bounded out of bed. The food and the sleep had been exactly what she needed to recover from her hard partying the night before and she suddenly had far more energy. As she practically danced around her bedroom though, Ariel had a second realization. It wasn’t just the rush of energy that she was feeling.

She was hungry.

It was a distinct rumbling feeling, a vibrating in her stomach that produced a low humming sound. Hunger. Ariel had known it before, but this felt different. She couldn’t place it, but there was just something particular about this particular pang of hunger that made the hairs on the back of her slender neck stand up. And when she placed her hands to her stomach, that’s when she realized why.

The bloating was still there. 

Her stomach flipped, not from hunger but from anxiety. It was undeniable. Sure. It had gone down significantly, and Ariel no longer had a massive food baby, but in a way that made things so much worse. A food baby could easily be explained away. A food baby could simply be called temporary and laughed off. Bloating two days in a row? That was a problem. That was something that signaled that so of the food Ariel stuffed herself with might stick around in the form of pounds sticking to her body.

It could all turn to fat.

And for the first time in her life, Ariel truly panicked.

Could she really be the victim of her own indulgence? Were these actually the first few pounds worth of pesky pudge pasting themselves onto her once perfect waistline?

No!

Not once perfect. Ariel was perfect, always perfect. This was just another temporary annoyance, a minor flair up… Still…. one cannot be too careful.

And Ariel was not known for being a careful person.

She chain smoked three cigarettes and then confined her breakfast to a pair of bananas and three strawberries. For lunch that day she had a salad, and in between lunch and dinner she drank a smoothie. She thought about working out, but that idea was too abhorrent to her to stand. She wasn’t that desperate. A cleansing day, that was what she needed, just no junk. For dinner she ordered from another salad place and “enjoyed” some boneless, skinless chicken breast to go with it.

No dessert.

It was a woeful day, but it worked. By the next morning, all of the bloating was gone, and she felt free to eat again.

So she immediately ordered some pancakes with a side of bacon and a side of hashbrowns, but after that breakfast- and now far more paranoid about any signs of bloating- Ariel roped herself back in for the rest of the day.

And that’s how she tried to keep things, at least for a little while, at least until she could be sure that she still had a handle on everything. Her control wavered by the day. When she felt better, she indulged more. When she didn’t she stopped. It was a long start to the week, but by the end of it, Ariel found herself more or less back to normal.

If anything, her eating habits were leaning in the “more” direction. But Ariel conveniently kept that thought out of her head as best she could. The vanity that had been such a constant presence in her life made admitting any kind of weakness or fault a difficult task, and seeing herself in nothing but the best light was even more tempting than the food that called to her.

Her confidence was at an all-time high (which is saying something) once Eleanor told her she had finally booked the Maison Étoile shoot. She had been putting off doing a ladies night with Eleanor and Penelope, and then when she got the news she let Eleanor talk her into doing one after the shoot to celebrate.

The shoot itself had Ariel one an extra sharp edge the morning of.

She meticulously checked her reflection in the mirror, suddenly afraid that she would see a double chin sprout up. She tentatively pressed her fingers to her tummy hoping that there wouldn’t be any sign of tubbiness. The thoughts of fat, of sag, of stretch marks, swirled around her head, but as she twirled around in her bedroom and so just how slim and sexy she looked, those fears were eased, and she gleefully skipped off to take a shower before breakfast.

In the shower, Ariel found comfort in her breasts, perky yet supple, effortlessly perfect. As she held her breasts in her hands and gently rubbed circles around her nipples with her thumbs as the hot water ran between her cleavage, all was right in the world. Her body twitched with pleasure and a moan rose from her lips and joined the steam of the shower.

Ariel’s toned thighs trembled, perhaps just slightly more than usual, as she reached for her soap and lovingly began to worship her body as the lathered up. Each inch that she touched of her glorious body was another moment of reassurance that she was indeed better than everyone else that she knew. Who else could feel so good, emotionally, physically, everything? Who else could hold a candle to her?

She purred as she slid her hand between her legs.

The soap and water mingled with her pleasure as she thought not of sex, but of herself.

After her very pleasant distraction, Ariel continued to clean herself, reaching behind to her perky posterior. She enjoyed her time playfully massaging her butt as she reflected on how many heads she had turned with it and how many eyes would follow her as she walked past today. She thought of her butt, and she thought of dominance. She was the kind of model that could own the print ads and would now own high fashion. The camera loved her. The people loved and hated her but were always captivated by her, and a large part of that was because of her perfect heart shaped ass.

Once she was done playing with herself down there, Ariel’s hands moved trepidatiously back to her stomach. It was her greatest point of tension, of fear, and she felt a compulsive need to wash it again as an excuse to feel it tentatively. She examined it for more softness, but her anxiety was too high to yield any concrete knowledge. Instead she alternated maddeningly between being convinced that there was some kind of softness there and then completely convincing herself that she was crazy.

“It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head. You’re perfect,” she muttered to herself.

She closed her eyes, and for a moment she was holding a big blubbery pot belly, a spongy sack of fat that squished between her fingers. She could feel the fat as she kneaded it like bread dough. There was real weight to it and it was heavy. Extremely heavy.

And it was growing heavier.

As she felt the fat surging forward, oozing through her fingers despite her best efforts to push it all back inside her, Ariel finally opened her eyes.

Ariel breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she looked at herself and was reminded that the horribly blubbery gut she had imagined was a complete fiction and that her truth was far more slim and sexy. She looked at her reflection in the heated anti-fog shower mirror that she had just had installed that week. It had cost her hundreds of dollars but was worth it for moments like this when she absolutely needed to admire herself.

And admire herself she did. She once again ran her hands across all of the curves of her body but this time while doing her best to make eye contact with herself. When doing this, Ariel was able to convince herself that her body was in tip top shape and that her stomach was slim as ever. In fact, she managed to convince herself that what she was seeing was the exact opposite of what she had imagined.

Through the shower steamed colored glasses that she wore, Ariel saw only what she wanted to see which included the faint definition of abs that were no longer truly there.

When thinking about her tummy got to be too much, Ariel went back to the comfort of massaging her breasts, teasing her nipples and feeling another round of pleasure rush through her until she rinsed off once again and stepped out of the shower.

After the shower, Ariel slipped into the comfort of her silk robe and sauntered downstairs to deal with the discomfort of having to decide what to have for breakfast.

Once she stood in her kitchen, she looked around and surveyed her choices. Kelly had left her tons of croissants- and several other pastries that she had already sampled over the last two days. Regrettably, she decided that today was definitely not a day for pastries.

There was also plenty of fruit, mostly for making smoothies, but Ariel nervously ate a clementine and noshed on a pair of grapes as she mulled over her other choices.

Eventually, she settled on cereal.

Plain bran cereal that she drowned in whole milk, and as she stared at it disappointingly, she knew it was already turning to mush.

This was far from what Ariel wanted.

What Ariel wanted was a big plate of scrambled eggs that she could stuff her face with. For a moment, as she looked at the spoon holding a half soggy bite of cereal, she imagined it was a big forkful of eggs lightly sprinkled with salt and pepper and dabbed with hot sauce, and as she closed her eyes and imagined that she was tasting her well seasoned fluffy eggs she thought about having a side of bacon.

Bacon would be so delicious. Ariel could picture herself picking up a crispy piece of bacon between her delicate fingers and snapping it off with her teeth, letting the saltiness of the bacon dance along her tongue. 

Then Ariel felt the mostly mushy cereal slide down her throat as she looked down at the empty side plate she had placed on the counter before deciding that bacon wasn’t happening this morning. Now the plate just sat there sadly, and as she ate her cold cereal, Ariel felt that plate’s sadness in a deeper way. She picked up the plate, closed her eyes and took in a deep sniff of the tasty bacon that wasn’t there.

And then she practically threw the dish into the sink.

What was wrong with her? Sniffing bacon that wasn’t there? Was she suddenly that desperate for food? That couldn’t possibly be her at all.

She brought her hand to her purring stomach and wondered if maybe it was.

Her hand lingered on her flat abdomen, still perfect, but buzzing with hunger, burning with the desire for more delicious food. Bacon…. Eggs… maybe even pancakes. It was easy to imagine stuffing her face with a big pile of fluffy pancakes drowning in melted butter and syrup. She wanted a big fat stack of flapjacks in front of her dressed with a combination of blueberries and strawberries and topped with a perfect spiral of sprayed on whipped cream.

And then Ariel imagined putting the can to her lips, pressing the nozzle and shooting sweet whipped cream right into her mouth and letting it glide down her throat. She wanted to guzzle that whipped cream, stuff her face with pancakes, eat just all the bacon and-

Was this normal?

Was it wrong?

Could it be anything else?

Ariel was thinking like a fatty. She knew that. She was fantasizing about food while she should have been content with the simple cold cereal she was eating. That was a proper model’s meal. It was exactly what she needed to be having after her incredible day of overindulgence yesterday. This was about getting back on track, about being in control.

But it was just all so damn unsatisfying.

She picked up another spoonful of plain soggy cereal and ate it, and it might as well have been like ash in her mouth after one- no- two days of just indulging, enjoying, living. Now this cruel diet gruel?

Ariel scoffed and dropped the spoon.

Diet?

Just the thought of the word caused her to twist her face into a grimace. Diets were for fatties. Diets were for losers. Ariel didn’t need to diet.

She dropped the spoon into the bowl and listened to its rattle as she remembered just who she was.

A model, a flawless model, the kind of slim and sexy supermodel that made others jealous, including those in the same line of work. Other models wish they could be like her, as beautiful, as confident, as in control. And what was a large part of that?

It was Ariel’s ability to eat.

Other models had to watch their figures. They had to be careful about what they ate, how much they ate, even when they ate. Not Ariel. Ariel was better than them. Ariel was perfect. She could eat whatever she wanted. She had to eat whatever she wanted. That was her reputation, practically her brand. If people knew Ariel had gotten spooked just because of two or three days of eating- maybe- a little bit more than she was “supposed to”?

The rumbling in Ariel’s flat stomach grew louder, and she pressed her hand to it further while failing to notice just the barest hint of new softness that hadn’t been there before, the slightest bit of give on the lower part of her tummy that was traditionally completely firm. Ariel’s mind may have been elsewhere, but her fingers- even if the rest of her didn’t realize it- they couldn’t help exploring.

Her pinky finger slid below her belly button and ran along the bottom part of her stomach, right where it met the waistband of her underwear and then worked its way back up. As it did so, that little bit of softness- barely a hint- gave a little ripple as her finger brushed against the skin. Ariel paid it no mind.

She was too busy thinking about food.

Why should she limit herself?

Ariel stared down at the bowl of cereal and mulled over her immediate future. As her fists clenched in determination, Ariel decided it was time to settle up with herself. Food was not something she was going to be afraid of. Indulgence was not something she was going to run away from. She was going to embrace it because she was in control of her body and her actions, not food, not the thoughts of others who were beneath her.

Still… Ariel wasn’t crazy. She did have to admit that she had the Maison Étoile, so she would settle for the bowl of cereal for now… and a buttered croissant… and some fruit.

And then she would really indulge when she was done.

With a smile on her face as she imagined all the food she would eat after the photoshoot and with renewed confidence in her sense of control, Ariel finished her cereal, slurped the milk and grabbed one of the croissants that Kelly had ordered her. She threw that in the toaster and while she waited selected her fruit.

There was a handful of grapes, but after nibbling on those she wanted some strawberries. Two of those went down her throat and then she found herself bored with strawberries and settled on a banana. She peeled it slowly and slid the banana into her mouth, running her tongue along it and enjoying its taste as she pulled off a creamy bite. 

The ding of the toaster oven went off practically in tandem with the alarm on her phone to signal that it was time to get going to the photoshoot. Kelly had undoubtedly been waiting in the care for the last forty minutes ready to drive her, but now was the time she had to actually get going. This meant that the rest of the banana went down her throat very quickly, and she slapped the butter on her croissant and scarfed it down with no care for the crumbs that she left on the counter. She had one more strawberry as she finished getting dressed.

Once dressed in designer shorts, heels, and a crop top that purposefully showed off her still fat tummy, Ariel couldn’t help but grab a second croissant to eat while she was in the car. After all, she wouldn’t want them to go bad.

Meanwhile, Kelly had in fact been sitting out in the car for a full ninety-minutes. 

While Ariel was normally on the later end of things, Kelly didn’t want to risk that on today, such a major event, she wouldn’t randomly decide to be exceedingly early and demand that Kelly be at her beck and call. So, rather than risk her wrath, Kelly had done the sensible thing and gotten there extra early. This was fine with her because she had recently signed up for an online cooking course and could kill her time by watching videos and daydreaming about meals that she would cook and feed to Ariel to fatten her up.

Currently she was working her way through a playlist on cooking dishes in cream sauces. She had already learned about a creamy Tuscan garlic salmon, beef stroganoff, shrimp and grits, and scalloped potatoes with ham in a cream sauce, and now she was studying up on a recipe for cream chicken alfredo lasagna that was worth 1,500 calories a slice!

As Kelly listened to the instructor talk about all the calorie dense ingredients and their measurements, she reached down and grabbed her own squishy belly. With her eyes closed, she listened and massaged her gut and pretended that it was Ariel’s soft, spongy stomach. She imagined Ariel stuffing herself with lasagna. She imagined that she was Ariel in that moment, eating greedily, growing fatter, more helpless.

She moaned softly and then she opened and closed her mouth in a silent performance as she mimicked the slow sensational bites of creamy lasagna slipping past her lips. She could taste it on her tongue and coming down her throat even though she was taking in nothing but air. Her double chin jiggled with delight as she imagined herself- no- imagined Ariel ingesting more and more lasagna, growing more stuffed, practically begging to stop but being unable to.

Kelly moaned. She oinked softly as she imagined Ariel as a pathetic piggy, a greedy, naughty little piglet who couldn’t stop eating, who was completely under her power. She kept eating in a dreamy way, her mouth lulling as she slowly opened and closed it and opened and closed it again.

And then-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Kelly was jarred from her daydream by Ariel knocking on the window.

“What the fuck?” she clearly said even though Kelly had her window rolled up.

She hurriedly sat up and unlocked the car doors so Ariel could slip into the back seat. Once she was there, Ariel was far more pointed in her comments.

“Were you seriously daydreaming about food or something? Damn! You really are a piggy! Who does that? You’re so pathetic.”

Kelly, not being privy to Ariel’s own breakfast daydreaming, just hung her head in shame, double chin sadly inflated, and drove off toward the photoshoot.

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Eleanor had been working on getting this photoshoot for months, not that she thought Ariel deserved it in any way but because of her cynical need to make money. It was a problematic cycle where she needed Ariel to succeed so that she could benefit for herself and the more successful Ariel was the more insufferable she was. Even as she plotted Ariel’s fattening downfall, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she had to plan her own career escape route. 

So why pull the trigger on this shoot right now? Why call in one of her biggest favors?

It was because she saw an opportunity, the perfect opportunity to set Ariel up for the ultimate humiliation. And she wanted to have high quality photographic proof of her downfall, humiliating proof that she would dress up and show to the world.

All the had to do was convince Ava de la Winter.

Ava de la Winter was a stern older woman whose love for long stemmed cigarettes and the sun was evident on her well leathered skin. Her hair was snow white and her eyes were a piercing blue when they weren’t hidden behind big bug eye sunglasses. Ava wasn’t just in tune with fashion, she was a tastemaker. More than that she was an artist who took great pride in staging and photographing her own work.

Her money and influence meant that she was capable of staging some truly grand and life changing work.

And life changing was exactly what Eleanor was looking for when it came to Ariel.

Ava del la Winter was the kind of woman that even Ariel would have to begrudgingly respect, and, luckily for Eleanor, she was also Ava’s friend. The two went way back. So why hadn’t she been able to secure such a prestigious photoshoot for Ariel before?

“Because, darling. Your client’s an asshole,” Ava said after blowing a perfect smoke ring.

Then she waved her Cruella de Ville style cigarette holder in Eleanor’s direction.

“So why are you asking me to do this thing again?”

Eleanor felt the fluttering of butterflies from deep inside her blubbery double belly, but there was no turning back now.

“Look, I know she’s a little arrogant but-”

Like a pestered dragon, Ava rolled her eyes behind her circular sunglasses and blew another annoyed puff of smoke.

“Please, darling. I work in fashion. Arrogance I can handle. Your client is just a stone cold bitch.”

“Yes. Yes. I’m not arguing that. I get that she can be a pain in the ass, and she loves to demean people- to put them down and-”

“She thinks she’s bigger than the art, darling.”

That should have felt like a dagger to Eleanor’s heart, a death sentence. But instead it brought the twisting of a smile to her face.

“What if she was just bigger?”

In response, Ava gave Eleanor an appropriately dramatic tilt of her Aubrey Hepburn sunglasses.

“Well, now that tone of yours is very interesting, darling. It tells me you’ve got more to say.”

“And what if that something more was more of Ariel?”

“Yes. Yes. I’m already tantalized. Now get to your point.”

“My point is, I’m going to make Ariel fat.”

Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat. This was the first time she had ever so boldly said her plan out loud to someone other than Penelope. Her heart raced as she waited for a response from Ava. She had hoped that such a bold decree would have gotten a sudden cough of smoke out of the woman, but instead Ava just took another long cool drag of her cigarette.

“Good,” was her solemn response.

“Good?”

Ava nodded as she snubbed out her stub of a cigarette. 

“Yes. Good. Make her fat, darling. That would be a think she’d hate. It would personally wound and humiliate her, and for that I say good. But what do you need me for? She could be a plus-sized model and I still wouldn’t book her purely because of who she is.”

“But I have an idea.”

“About how to make her fat?”

“More than that. I have an idea for a piece.”

“A piece?” ask Ava, and Eleanor could hear the tremor in intrigue in her voice.

“A pair of pieces actually,” responded Eleanor, and the words practically spilled out of her mouth.

“A pair? You are pitching me campaign concepts now, darling?”

“Just this once. I think you’ll like it.”

Slowly, Ava pulled out another cigarette, slid it into her holder and lit it.  She mulled the whole thing over a long drag.

“Well, darling. I have to say you’ve officially gotten me curious. What is this idea of yours?”

Eleanor let out a heavy sigh of relief that caused her entire big fat body to quiver.

“Dress her like a goddess.”

“Oh, darling-”

“No. No. You don’t understand. I get it. She’s so arrogant, so vain, so lead into that. Make her the goddess of vanity. Dress up in something tiny, make her look super glamorous, powerful, everything she already sees herself as.”

“You’re starting to lose me, darling.”

Eleanor’s belly wobbled furiously and spilled across her fat lap as she leaned forward to plead her case to Ava.

“But you haven’t heard about the after.”

“The after?”

“The after.”

Eleanor paused for dramatic effect.

“After she’s fat, you have her do another photoshoot in the same outfit, but now she isn’t the queen of vanity. She’s the queen of gluttony, plump and red-faced from exhaustion and humiliation. Wouldn’t you love that? To capture Ariel in all her humiliated glory? To pose her in all sorts of angles to make the world see just how fat she’s gotten, to make her feel so tremendously low after feeling so high and mighty for years?”

Eleanor could see the wheels turning in Ava’s mind and knew she had her. Once Ava started to get her own ideas going in her head, it was only a matter of time before she set herself to carry them out. It took very little pushing after that to get her on board. 

“You can sell it as some kind of metaphor for the dangers of consumerism or corporate greed or some kind of bullshit like that.”

Ava nodded along in agreement and let the ashes of her cigarette fall away as she contemplated her next move. 

“And she’ll actually agree to a second photo shoot after the first?”

Eleanor waved this concern off with a literal wave of her hand that caused her bingo wing to wobble. 

“You just sign her to two shoots with one contract. She’s too stupid to think about it too carefully and just be overjoyed to get such high profile and prestigious work. Then, once she’s fat enough we make it clear that her contract requires her to do the shoot or face financial ramifications that she won’t be able to afford at that point. She’ll have to do it!”

Eleanor was practically foaming at the mouth. And that kind of fervor brought a smile to Ava’s face. 

“Very well, darling. You have officially moved me from curious to invested. I’m in.”

The two shook hands and sealed Ariel’s humiliating fate. 

The shoot itself started out well. Ariel’s outfit fit her perfectly. It was tight. It showed off everything. Eleanor enjoyed thinking about what Ariel would look like in the after photos. 

It was easy to imagine, her slim stomach turned into a big sagging spare tire, a round ball of blubber spilling over the waistband of her bikini bottoms and wobbling with the slightest movement. She could see Ariel standing there self consciously with her perky bosom now two massive blobs of stretch mark covered fat quivering as they practically spilled out of her brassier. 

Eleanor could see it perfectly clear. It was like that fat Ariel was standing right in front of her with tremendously thick thunder thighs that forced her to waddle about like a fat penguin and a doughy dump truck ass that spilled out of the bikini bottoms. It was an ass that was as hungry for eating the back of the bikini bottoms as Ariel was for eating food. Even her arms were big and beautifully wobbly with flabby bingo wings, and her face looked piggish. It was round and fat with jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin. It was a face made for eating, for stuffing. It was covered in grease and crumbs and sauce and-

It was all Eleanor could do to avoid touching herself in front of a room full of people as she imagined just how different Ariel would look during her very special after photoshoot.

The present one was close to wrapping up when Ariel noticed Penelope had come for a set visit.

“Miss Pudgy Penny! Look at you! I didn’t think I’d see you till our little get together tonight. Just couldn’t wait? Had to see me at my greatest? Soak it in. Oh my god! Are you jealous? Is that it? You had to see what you’re missing?”

Penelope just rolled her eyes because sometimes it was easier to roll with Ariel’s punches than to fight back.

“Oh yeah, like definitely. I’d like totally kill to be in something like this.”

Then Ariel looked down at Penelope’s pudgy belly and smiled as she came up with a terribly wicked idea.

“You want to be in this one?”

Penelope looked stunned, backed into a corner by Ariel’s seemingly polite offer. 

“Oh yeah, like I’d totally love that.”

Then she looked over toward Eleanor and Ava, confident that Ava would never allow such a thing, after all she was not exactly feeling like she was in high fashion shape at the moment. And of course, Ariel knew the same thing and went right over to her.

“Wouldn’t it be amazing, Ava? Just think about it, you could use a servant or two who are a little… plainer looking to serve me and juxtapose my beauty. In fact- Kelly!”

Kelly was standing over by the craft services in the middle of stuffing her face with a doughnut. Her face went beet red as people turned to look at her with her cheeks looking like a bloated chipmunk. 

Ariel continued as she walked over, grabbed Kelly by the chubby hand, and started dragging her toward Ava. 

“Just think about it, Kelly. This could be your big break! What do you say, Ava?”

And Ava, whose mind raced quickly from disgust that Ariel would dare insist on making additions to her piece to being intrigued by what she thought of as a genuinely good idea, did a rare thing and turned her head just slightly to Eleanor in deference, as if asking for permission. 

Penelope looked Eleanor in the eyes, and her heart dropped into her pudgy pot belly as Eleanor nodded. 

That’s how Penelope and Kelly ended up on their knees with the fat on their bodies fully exposed by the rags that they wore. Sure, they signed some quick contracts and got fairly paid for services they chose to give. But who would have said no in a situation like this? 

And Ariel? She was ecstatic to have two fatties serving her on hand and foot. It made her feel like the perfect goddess of vanity. She loved the way their blubber quivered as they groveled underneath her and loved even more that that camera was catching it all.

She would be sure to have a life-size portrait printed, framed and hung in her home so she could cherish this memory forever, and make Penelope and Kelly look at it over and over again. It would be a good reminder of their place in this world, always beneath her.

In fact, the only thing that made Ariel more happy then the pictures was the fact that the shoot was done and she could enjoy some craft services.

She was starving.

Ariel thought about being a bit more polite at first as she nibbled on some cheese and crackers. But by the time she had her second sandwich formed by two pieces of cheese and pepperoni between two crackers, she had spotted the pigs in a blanket. With eyes wide and greedy, Ariel pushed past several models and strut right passed the salad to chow down. 

Her fingers went to work quickly, and her high heels had hardly stopped clicking on the concrete floor of the warehouse before the was picking up piggies and throwing them into her mouth. She’d pick up one in each hand and then alternate popping them into her mouth and dipping them in spicy brown mustard. 

From about twenty feet away, Eleanor and Penelope softly chuckled and pinked to themselves before motioning to Ava who in turn motioned to one of her photographers to keep his camera clicking. 

Completely unaware of what was happening, Ariel kept cramming pigs in the blanket into her greedy mouth. It felt so good to eat real food again today. She was living for the saltiness of the mini-hot dogs mixed with the spiciness of the mustard and the subtle sweetness of a pastry dough. And, of course, there was just the right amount of grease that danced along her tongue and slid down her throat. 

Ariel was making quick work of the pigs in the blanket. People were taking notice and she was noticing their noticing. 

All that did was make Ariel eat faster. 

It was like a click went off in her head, something that made her competitive nature take over. Suddenly it wasn’t enough that she was having pigs in a blanket or even a lot of pigs in a blanket. She needed to have all of the pigs in a blanket. 

As others observed from a safe distance, less they get their fingers bitten off, take an elbow to the face, or at the very least get yelled at, Ariel suddenly became the Joey Chestnut of pigs in the blanket, shoving them into her mouth two at a time and hitting an impressive form. If humans could be vacuums then Ariel would have been at the top of the market. It was impossible to keep count of just how many mini-hot dogs she was horking down because of the speed in which Ariel was doing it. But the slim and sexy model was certainly putting away a sizable amount and her slim stomach was starting to stretch out accordingly. 

Other models watched with jaws hanging low as Ariel practically seemed to unhinge hers to cram more pigs in a blanket into her mouth. It was a storm of gluttony, and they could help but watch with a small glimmer in their eyes as her trim stomach grew taut with food, stretching forward and out over the waistband of her gold bikini bottoms in the start of a food baby. 

Little did they know how far away that food baby was to term. 

Ariel kept eating. And eating. And eating. Those little piggies went wee wee wee right into her growing stomach. She showed no signs of stopping, and she likely wouldn’t have stopped if her eyes didn’t catch a tray of her familiar favorite. 

Crab cakes. 

Those poor crab cakes didn’t stand a chance. They went down one right after another with no care given to the amount of crumbs that fell onto the table and the floor and into Ariel’s cleavage. By the time she had put away four of them (which wasn’t much time at all, all things considered), Ariel turned around and gave a victorious smile to all those who were observing her. 

Her bountiful chest shimmered with grease as she gazed upon all those who had witnessed her gluttony. 

“You’re all jealous. You’re all just so damn jealous. You wish- wish so fucking badly that you could eat like me and still look this hot!”

Her grease stained hands stroked her now shiny stretched out stomach. 

“And you think I’m done? You ain’t seen nothing yet!”

There was a twinkle of madness in her eyes as Ariel issued her decree and then turned to face her next tray of food, some jalapeño poppers, deep fried and stuffed with cream cheese and bacon. The grease squirted straight down her throat as she tore into them, and she took it like a champ. 

Meanwhile, Ava and Eleanor stood off to the side, whispering to each other as they watched Ariel jam the jalapeño poppers into her mouth. 

“You know, we don’t normally have this much fried food at my photoshoots, darling.”

Eleanor chuckled in response, a chuckle that threatened to turn itself into a maniacal cackle the more Ariel ate. 

“Yes. But I told you she’d go for it all.”

Ava struggled to keep her jaw in place as she watched slim and sexy Ariel continue to stuff herself, to gorge like a gluttonous pig. 

“My god, she might actually get fat.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I have to say, darling. I was skeptical at first. But this…. This is something. You are onto something, darling. This is art!”

Back at the craft services buffet, Ariel had moved on from spicy jalapeño poppers and into a dessert of big pretzel sticks that she was liberally dunking in Nutella. The sweet hazelnut and chocolate spread went perfectly with the saltiness of the pretzels, and Ariel made of show of snapping the pretzels with her teeth, creating a satisfying crunch as part of her display of dominance. 

And it also just tasted really really good. It was such a perfect come down from all of the savory she had been eating which of course meant that Ariel could eat even more. Eventually, the stickiness of the sweet Nutella began to slow Ariel down, and she started to feel something close to being satisfied. 

With her performance coming to an end, Ariel picked up a napkin and daintily dabbed the Nutella stain from the corners of her mouth, let out a soft burp and rubbed her stuffed belly. As she gave her bloated belly a bit of a massage, she shot glares at those who still lingered there watching her, and she smiled at the way they cowered. 

Then she got herself a strawberry smoothie and went off to her dressing room to change into a completely new outfit before her ride home. 

Ava, watching this, took this as her own cue to leave which just left Eleanor standing there alone until Penelope came walking over to her. Her make up was still smudged by her tears, and she was self-consciously rubbing her soft squishy belly as she stared off in Ariel’s direction. 

“This better all be worth it,” she said with a sneer. 

Eleanor just smiled as she stared at Ariel and looked for the subtle signs of new softness on her perky butt. 

“It will be. Don’t worry. It WILL be.”

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

Kelly once again found herself sitting and waiting in the car. This time she wasn’t bothering to watch any new cooking videos. She just sat there, stewing in her humiliation. Her thunder thigh tremendously, and the fat shook as her leg bounced up and down in anger. The quivering of her fat radiated up from her thigh and into her bouncing blubbery belly. She clenched her jaw, but even her doughy double chin wobbled as she fought back her tears. 

She turned that humiliation, that sadness, into focused anger and determination. And she imagined her revenge. 

She imagined slim and sexy Ariel, skinny bitch that she was, turned into the fat servant groveling at her feet. She picture Ariel reduced to crawling on all fours, blubbery and blubbering. That’s what she wanted to see, to see her fallen, fattened, a failure, a big fat failure. 

Kelly wanted to squeeze Ariel’s big blubbery belly, to spank her fat ass, to make her pay. She wanted to tease her, taunt her, pinch her, prod her. She wanted to feel Ariel’s fit body turned to fat and soak in the humiliation that came along with that. 

She was still thinking about it when Ariel threw the door open and slipped into the car. 

“Are you still pouting, piggy? Don’t be so pathetic. You’re lucky I got your fat ass a few extra dollars. Say thank you.”

As a reflex, Kelly went to say thank you, but the words caught in her throat, held there by what pride she had left. She just put the car in gear and drove off. 

Ariel took in this silence and broke it with a huff. 

“Ugg! Fine! If you’re going to be a baby about the whole thing and just insufferable, I’ll tell you what. You can come to ladies' night tonight.”

Kelly sat turned for a moment and nearly missed the turn she was supposed to make. 

“Really?”

Ariel rolled her eyes and looked out the window. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. It’s like just a super casual one at home. In fact, we need someone to cook something. You do that so we don’t have to order food or whatever. Just make it good. Got it?”

Kelly smiled as the video of the chicken Alfredo lasagna replayed in her head. 

“Oh yeah. Of course. I’ve got it. I’ve got it. No worries. I have something special in mind just for you.”

“Perfect.”

Ariel continued to look out the window, and had to admit she was starting to somehow feel hungry again. Maybe it was the sight of all the various food places they were passing. Maybe it was the fact that she had now primed herself to think of dinner which was hours away. It was probably a combination of both those things. But the point was that Ariel wanted to eat and Ariel always got what she wanted. 

As the car slowed down for a light Ariel looked at the choices in front of her. There was a Thick Burger which she had never had before though she had heard great things and had to admit that she was tempted. Still, even she had to admit that red meat right now was not probably something her stomach could handle. Burgers, sandwiches of any kind, it would all be a bit to heavy, especially with dinner and drinks, lots of drinks, still to come. 

But next to Thick Burger, there was St. Michelangelo's, one of those viral pizza places that only sold personal sized pizzas, not slices. 

That would do perfectly. 

“Pull over and pick me up a pizza. I’m feeling a bit peckish,” Ariel ordered as she smacked her lips together and thought about stuffing her face with some cheesy saucy pizza.

“More like piggish,” thought Kelly as she smiled and pulled into a spot right in front of St. Michelangelo’s. 

Despite her heftier size, Kelly practically sprung from the car eager to enable Ariel’s continued gluttony. 

And as she waddled up to the pizza place, she muttered her previous thought under her breath giving it a greater sense of reality, a greater weight. 

“More like piggish.”

The pizza was plain cheese, but it was delicious. Split into four pieces, Ariel opened the box and took a big whiff of its intoxicating scent. Somehow her stomach rumbled with new hunger. It was like the scent of tomato cheese and basil brought out something in her.

She held up the first piece and gazed at the glorious cheese pull that she was able to achieve and made sure to blow on the pizza real good. She knew she couldn’t risk burning her tongue, damaging tastebuds and ruining the eating she planned on doing later that night, and she planned on doing plenty of eating.

That first slice was a piece of heaven. 

Ariel almost wished she had taken a picture. It would have certainly helped the restaurant’s virality, and she might even pick up a few more followers herself. But she wasn’t going to share photographic evidence of her eating. After all, technically speaking pizza was beneath her.

Instead she just enjoyed it. She placed it dripping cheese first on her tongue and then bit into the perfectly crispy crust. A burst of tomato sauce exploded in her mouth, and Ariel let out a quiet moan.

It wasn’t quite quiet enough though to escape the perked up ears of Kelly sitting in the front seat with one hand on the wheel and one slid between her legs.

Ariel enjoyed that twice, but somehow she might have enjoyed the second slice of pizza even more. She ate it even faster. Sauce carelessly stained her lips and dribbled onto her sundress, something she noted she would toss when she got home. She made a note of the sauce stain and made a point of taking the opportunity to wipe a bit of grease that was on her finger onto the dress as well as if it was a lovely designer napkin. Then she went back to focusing on that lovely second slice as her belly subtly swelled just a bit more with each bite.

The nice thing about wearing a sundress was that it was so loose, so Ariel didn’t have anything restraining her belly and enhancing the natural tightness that was already there. The loose fabric just rose very casually.

And Ariel casually moved onto her third slice.

One might have thought that Ariel would slow down on the third slice, but the lightness of the thin crust made the pizza pretty manageable, and its deliciousness made it irresitable. She was still floating on cloud nine as she felt the flavors of the cheese and sauce mingle together and dance on her tongue. Food was a wonder thing, an addicting thing, and Ariel was hooked on this pizza. For the moment it was like the rest of the world no longer existed. It was just here and that third slice of pizza, and the only thing that took her attention from that third slice was the fact that there was a fourth slice sitting right in front of her.

If anything, that realization made her eat the third slice of pizza even faster so she could get to the fourth, and the fourth was where Ariel finally started to hit a wall. It was good, but it was also a lot. Still, by that point Ariel was beyond caring about the deliciousness of her meal. This was about completion. This was about competing with herself. This was about control.

So she finished that slice bite by bite, chew by chew, swallow by swallow until there was nothing left but crumbs, and even those she scooped up and sprinkled into her greedy mouth. Then she let her hands rest on her ridiculously bloated belly and let loose a victorious and satisfied burp.

Ariel was eager to get home and crawl into bed for a bit. Eleanor and Penelope would be joining them for ladies night later.

And Ariel knew that a nap would be the perfect way to digest all this food and get herself ready for all the eating she still had to do.

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I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Like I said, it was heavily influenced by Even More BS patrons on Discord. If you'd like to join us and help shape "Model Made to Waddle"- and get a teaser of chapter 8 which is on the Discord right now- you can upgrade your membership right HERE.

PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Fattening Summer Fashions at Katrina's Closet"

Here is a new Katrina's Closet story that comes in at a little over 2,000 words and is hopefully something that will provide an enjoyable distraction during this extra hot time.

Enjoy!

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Mathilde could feel the rivulet of sweat running through the fold between her belly rolls as she sat at the counter feeling like a melting ice cream cone. The heat of summer had forced Mathilde to abandon her usual corsets, and while she still stubbornly clung to her preference for black clothing, that clothing was far looser and allowed for her blubbery body fat to spring outward and sag with much left restriction. 

As a result, she was now sitting on her double wide stool behind the counter with her big bloated butt spilling over the sides and with her thighs sweating something fierce due to all of her thigh fat pressing together while being buried under the fat of her blubber belly which rolled across her fat lap. 

It wasn’t that the air conditioning wasn’t working. If anything it was working overtime, but Mathilde’s body was just so fat that it acted like a natural furnace. Normally, she was fine with being a big beautiful woman. She rather enjoyed it. But on days like this she missed being a svelte little vixen who was slim enough to not be so bothered by the heat. 

Gwendolyyn had no such qualms about the heat. The waifish blonde was unusually spritely as if the summer heat had melted any of her usual coldness. She was was positively buzzing.

It reminded Mathilde of how cockroaches spread wings and fly on the hottest days.

“Do you want some ice cream?” Gwendolyyn asked out of the blue in a move that immediately made Mathilde regret thinking of her boss as a cockroach.

But before she could answer, the bell to the store’s door rang to signal the entrance of a pair of customers.

“Damn,” muttered Mathilde to herself as a bit of sweat dripped down her chins, dropped onto her chest and ran into her massive cleavage.

Shanice and Jae-Min were two good friends and bad bitches who loved the flaunt their looks in public and were specifically stopping by to pick up some new summer wear. For Shanice this meant a nice summer dress to go over her thong bikini, and for Jae-Min this meant a new bikini itself.

Of the two, Shanice was the noticeably taller one. She had something of an athletic build that was not quite Amazonian but was not far off. Meanwhile, Jae-Min was a much more petite woman. Regardless of their stature, both women were absolute gorgeous and they knew it. And immediately after their shopping trip, they were planning on heading to the beach which was the perfect place to show off their fit figures on this hot and sunny day while also making fun of the less genetically gifted.

This meant laughing at fat people most specifically.

Both Shanice and Jae-Min hated fat people, who they found to be lazy and greedy. But this meant that they loved laughing at them.

And when they got to Mathilde their eyes went wide with disgust that devolved into chuckling.

“Looks like they rolled a beached whale in here to get her out of the heat,” laughed Shanice.

“Looks like she’s melting even here,” joined Jae-Min.

Mathilde was too hot for their bullshit and quickly pasted on her best customer service face so she could hustle these slim bitches along and get them fattened and out of her hair as soon as possible and before Gwendolyyn changed her mind about buying Mathilde ice cream.

Inside one of the changing rooms, Shanice slipped out of her clothes and admired her athletic body flexing before blowing herself a kiss, slipping on the sundress and sealing her fattened fate.

The sundress was supposed to be loose, but as Shanice twirled around in the dressing room and blew herself another kiss, the dress began to grow significantly more snug as her body began to balloon.

The first place this was noticeable was around the waist. It was the part of the dress that had a bit of a cinch to it, something to give the dress a put of a shape even as the rest of it was designed to hang loosely. That little bit of elastic began to stretch as Shanice’s slim middle began to bow outward. Her once defined and trim shape began to buckle and bubbe with fat that started to spill outward. Her tight sides which were just moments before elegant inward curves, reversed course as the bulged outward with meaty love handles. Her refined waist was no more, replaced by a big blubbery bulging gut that pushed her dress outward and would have made her look nine months pregnant if it wasn’t clearly so soft.

Instead, Shanice grew a big jiggly pot belly full of soft, squishy fat. If she was wearing something other than a dress, it would have formed a mighty muffin top as it melded with her meaty love handles and the thick roll of fat that was developing along her back. The sudden transformation mixed with the heat of the summer’s day meant that Shanice was sweating already, and that sweat meant that the cute summer’s dress was quick to cling in a rather grotesque manner to the glorious fatty folds that were forming on Shanice’s gluttonous body.

That gluttonous gut was soon joined by a juicy pair of thick thunder thighs. Shanice’s trimmed legs ballooned into tubes of fat and her new saddlebags pushed out the sides of her sundress which suddenly found itself about and inches shorter thanks to the new girth that was widening out Shanice’s body and causing the dress to ride up. 

Shanice’s thigh fat slapped together as her chunky thighs grew larger still. Soon the thighs pressed together and even while standing in the sundress, her thighs got so fat that she had no choice but to widen her stance. If Shanice had been wearing pants the seams would have split by now. But the forgiving fabric of the sundress just spread across her thighs and clung to the sweaty fat. It couldn’t be seen currently, thanks to the long dress, but Shanice’s thick thunder thighs were now also covered in cellulite. 

The cellulite spread to Shanice’s ass, once a plump peach that was now overripe and sagging with fat. Her chunky cheeks lost any kind of muscle tone that they once had, and Shanice quickly found herself with a big bloated blubber butt, a shelf of fat that jutted outward in direct opposition to her bulbous blubber belly. Her butt was big and squishy. The sundress spread across it, but her fat butt was so fat and sweaty, that the fabric clung to it and clearly defined the crack between her chunky cheeks. 

Up top, Shanice’s breasts grew big and saggy. They hung down like fatty pendulums until they rested on the blubbery shelf that was her big fat gut. Her breasts were swollen and heavy, and that weight caused a real pain in her fat back. And the fat didn’t stop with her hefty bosom. 

Shanice’s muscular arms grew fat and flabby. She developed soft jiggly bingo wings that were on full display because of the dress. Her fat arms grew until they were as thick as ham hocks, and the soft squishy fat started to roll over her fat elbows like melting marshmallows. Her wrists grew thick and her dainty hands grew fat with thick sausage fingers that perfect matched the chubby toes that were on her fat feet which now filled her flip flops. 

Finally, Shanice’s face got fat. Her cheeks grew chubby and she developed a doughy double chin. She no longer looked like a model. Instead she looked like a professional eater, someone whose face was bloated from consistent stuffings. She was a sweaty pig of a woman. 

That sweat caused the dress the cling to the side of Shanice’s underbelly and neatly outline the folds of her gut and the meaty love handles that she now possessed. 

Meanwhile, in the next stall over, Jae-Min was having a similarly fattening experience. 

The bright pink bikini that Jae-Min was wearing was already tight, designed to fit her curvy and toned body perfectly. That tone very quickly disappeared starting with her pert and perky butt. 

Jae-Min’s beautiful butt started to jut outward as it filled with fat. That fat turned her toned cheeks to chunk and then her swollen cheeks started to eat the fabric of the bikini, swallowing it up with her fat. Unlike Shanice, the cellulite that took over Jae-Min’s fat butt was abundantly clear.  Her perky butt grew fatter and flabbier and soon started to sag downward onto her thighs. 

Those thighs grew thicker as well, blanketed in cellulite and marred by stretch makes as the fat filled her previously lithe limbs. Saddlebags sprung outward and sagged down. Her thighs grew fat enough for that fat to slap and push together and then push her legs out into a wider stance. The fat filled her legs and made its way down from her thighs and into her calves and ankles as well before settling in her feet which grew swollen with fat. 

The fat of her feet pressed against the straps of her sandals, and her toes grew plump like mini-sausages. 

Back above her bikini bottom, Jae-Min’s trim tummy became a tubby one, and then it swiftly turned into a big fat gut. The faint lines of abs that she had gave way to rolls of buttery fat that drooped over the waistband of her bikini and obscured most of the bottoms. It rolled forward, a flabby apron of stodgy fat that jiggled with every little movement. It was the kind of blubbery belly that gave off real beached whale vibes, and it was far from the only part of Jae-Min that was getting fat and jiggly.

Jae-Min’s arms grew weak and flabby with jiggly bingo wings that quivered at the slightest movement. And Her breasts did get somewhat bigger, filling the cups of the bikini top and threatening to spill out of them. But they still looked smalled and saggy when compared to the voluminous nature of her blubber belly. Her breasts didn’t grow big enough to draw the same amount of attention as her great big gut.

Something else that grew quite a bit was her face. Jae-Min developed a big round moon face filled with fat. Her cheeks were swollen like a fat chipmunk. Her dainty chin developed a doughy second one. Her cheeks grew to be bloated and rosy and gave her eyes a beady look and her face an overall piggish quality.

The pink bikini was suddenly very fitting, metaphorically if not physically, for the pig that Jae-Min had become. And as she looked at her fat reflection in the mirror, or at least what she could see given the width and girth of her blubbery body, she went to scream.

And then that scream was cut off by the rumbling of her soft stomach as it screamed to be fed. She was suddenly hungry and strangely relaxed with that. She slipped on a sundress that she did remember picking out, but one that had been placed there by the ever professional Gwendolyyn, and slipped it over her bikini ready to waddle out of the store and right to the beach.

Shanice and Jae-Min met again at the counter, both now extremely obese and far from the fit individuals that they were when they walked in. Now they would be waddling out of the store.

Once they paid, the two waddled toward the door and nearly got stuck for a moment as they tried to exit at once and their fat bodies pushed and bounced off of each other which caused an obscene amount of jiggling.

And as soon as they were gone, Mathilde felt her own belly rumbling once again. Fatty needed her food. She rubbed the fat lower roll of her blubber belly, kneading it like bread dough as she turned her fat face toward Gwendolyyn.

“Soooooo…. You were saying something about ice cream?”

PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2"

Here's three more tales (and over 12,000 words)

PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Guess Your Weight"

Here is the second story from "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2" (though there a things in it that might make me wish to publish it first when I publish the whole collection.)

It comes in at a little over 3,000 words.

Enjoy!

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

Sandy was a slim and sexy bitch who carried herself with confidence because she was always in control. And what gave her that control? It was her beauty, but that beauty wasn’t something that just came naturally. It was hard earned by hours and hours in the gym, of careful control of herself.

She was the kind of person who lived for numbers, counting calories, tracking macros, and more. In the gym she tracked her weights, her sets, her reps. She timed her rests perfectly. She knew exactly what she was supposed to do on which day. Sandy tracked her heartbeat and knew her exact step count and how many miles she had walked or cycled or swimmed that day. Then she measured her protein and everything else about her life before and after. Sandy was relentless in that way.

And then she took that relentlessness and aimed it at others, especially fatties. Sandy hated fatties because she found them to be lazy. She could control her life, she didn’t just know how to be fit, she learned it, she lived it. She did everything she could to be lean and mean, and if fat people couldn’t get their lives together and still insisted on being in her presence, then she was going to be extra mean.

Sandy was good at being mean too, just like she was good at everything else. She loved to make people cry and watch them suffer. It made her feel even more powerful, and with her lean muscles, Sandy was plenty powerful to begin with.

Of course, she wasn’t as powerful as Madame Zara, and that’s whose tent she found herself in.

The old lady looked the young and fit one up and down.

“My, my… you are a confident one aren’t you? So proud, so vain.”

Sandy rolled her eyes.

“Wow… okay. Is that supposed to be the fortune or-”

“No… no. Just an observation. Would you like your fortune read?”

Sandy almost walked out, turned off by the attitude that she was presented with. But there was something strangely compelling about the old woman who just sat there shuffling cards in front fo her, something that made her want to stay. Of course, she wasn’t going to let Madame Zara just get away with giving her attitude without at least matching it in return.

“Well, yeah. Of course. That’s why I walked into this stupid tent, isn’t it? But I sure don’t want to pay for it, not if you’re going to have such an obnoxious attitude. I think you owe me that.”

Madame Zara just smiled.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me.”

And then she began to deal the cards and read Sandy’s fattening fate.

“You will grow to match your ego and in ways that you could never guess.”

“You’re weird as hell, lady.”

Without another word, Sandy turned on her heel and flexed her muscles as she did so that Madame Zara got a good look at what she had been messing with. She then confidently stormed out of the tent.

Still in a huff, Sandy looked around the fair eager for a win. The fortune had been confusing and off-putting, and Sandy wanted something that would make her feel in control again. Would she try a ride like the roller coaster? Maybe she could try a game like the shooting gallery, or the water balloon race. Hell, there was even a pie-eating contest which Sandy knew she could win. With her athletic prowess and the amount she ate while training, Sandy could easily best a bunch of fatties and still survive the calories.

Then she saw it, the “Guess Your Weight” booth. 

The guesser, a rather rotund woman, would have to guess Sandy’s weight within five pounds or Sandy would win a prize. (Sandy didn’t even care to find out what the prize was.) Sandy was very confident that she would win because, thanks to all the muscle that kept Sandy looking so trim, people were constantly underestimating how much she weighed. The fact was that Sandy proudly weighed 140 pounds of pure muscle and was confident that the fat woman at the guess your weight booth would peg her for weighing 120.

That’s why Sandy was so caught off guard when the smiling fat lady said-

“500 pounds!”

Sandy practically choked on the confidence with which the fat weight guesser told her she was 500 pounds.

And then she felt like her head was spinning and there was a burning sensation in the back of her neck that told her something was very wrong.

“500 pounds?” She muttered mostly to herself.

Sandy would have felt insulted if she hadn’t found the guess so incredibly absurd. Perhaps the fat woman who guessed her weight was trying to play some kind of mean spirited joke? Jealousy? Maybe she was flirting with her and causally rigging the game so Sandy would win? It wouldn’t be surprising that she was entranced by Sandy's luscious figure, curvy and toned as it was. Or perhaps she was just daft.

500 pounds.

It was nonsense. It was absurd. That one could think she was anywhere near 500 pounds was ridiculous, crazy even.

And then she felt her feet start to swell.

It was barely noticeable at first. Perhaps it could best be described as a bit of a hum, a tingling of her toes. It started with the kind of pins and needles sensation that one feels when their feet fall asleep. And then she could have sworn her feet were stretching. It wasn’t painful by any means, even when her feet pressed against the walls of her shoes. There was just a bit of pressure that came from her feet swelling up with fat.

New pudge padded out the soles of her feet. The sides gained layer after layer of fat. It was of her feet were being wrapped in fat. As they grew more plump and swollen, eventually the fat made its way into her toes. All of Sandy’s toes grew thick like Vienna sausages. They were plump little pigged ripe with fat. 

Her feet got so fat that they seemed to stretch longer as well as wider. Sandy soon found herself with a real fat pair of clumsy clodhoppers. Full, fat feet, fitting for a fatty who seldom enjoyed walking, or waddling about. Her feet filled her shoes completely and forced them to size up or split. 

For just a moment, Sandy looked away. She looked at the man who had guessed her weight as if pleading with him to guess again, but before she could even utter a word in protest, a strange sense of relief washed over her. The pressure was no longer there. 

Perhaps it had stopped. 

But then Sandy looked down and saw to her horror that her feet hadn’t suddenly stopped getting fatter. What had happened instead was that her previous shoes were now replaced with a set of flip flops that put her fat feet fully on display. 

Those fat feet practically spilled over the bottoms of her flip flops. They were clearly far rounded that they had been before thanks to all of the added fat, and her fat toes were a particular sight to see. Her sausage toes were painted with garish pink nail polish that fit those plump piggies pretty perfectly. As Sandy looked down at them, she gave her toes a wiggle hoping they wouldn’t react, but as they twitched she nearly screamed at the horrible realization that these big fat fat were unfortunately all hers.

That scream caught in her throat, trapped by the added surprise that followed her fett inspection.

Her feet weren’t the only thing getting fatter.

The fat slowly began to make its way up her body. It was like her legs were sponges, but instead of sucking up water they were filling with fat. The fat flowed upward from her plump feet and began to fill her slender ankles. Those slender ankles began to swell with fat just like her now fat feet had. Sandy had seldom considered her ankles when appraising her overall beauty, but now- as they were rapidly lost to this sudden swelling of fat- she scarcely had time to somberly morn their passing from fit to fatness.

Instead, she could do nothing but watch as the inward curves of her ankles bent back outward, now blown up with fat. Any sign of definition, of slenderness was lost as her ankles grew into tubes of fat that ran straight down into her fat feet. They kept swelling fatter, growing thicker, and her calves started to grow with them. They lost their tone and bloated up with fat, but her ankles ballooned at a faster rate, and soon the two things were bound together in an indistinguishable mess of fatness.

They were cankles.

They were big fat swollen cankles.

And there was nothing that Sandy could do about it.

Because her thighs were next.

Sandy had always loved her long slender thighs and the tone that they had. And soon all that muscle tone was gone as the fat filled up her slim legs until they were turned into stretched out sausages. They didn’t even stay taut like that for long. As the muscle left her body, Sandy’s thick thighs lost any kind of tone and became soft and squishy. She soon developed saggy saddlebags, and her thighs became thick, flabby thunder thighs, complete with cellulite that ravaged them as they continued to swell with fat.

Eventually- an eventuality that Sandy would have rather had not occur at all- happened. Her thunder thighs began to gently touch. Then they slapped together. It was a loud, wet sound thanks to the sweat that had gathered on her thick thighs as they fattened. She was dressed in just shorts now, so the sound was as noticeable as the cellulite that also blanketed her lard filled legs. After the slap, her thighs bounced and slapped together several more times, each one a little less violent than the last, until her flabby thunder thighs were just continuously pressing together. From that point forward, her thighs stayed stuck together, but her legs were forced farther apart. Any gap that should have been there was easily filled with more soft fat.

Sandy used to be the kind of woman who could easily run a mile and then strut down a runway with complete confidence. She could dance and twirl and show off her fit figure without even breaking a sweat, and now she was stuck breaking down into a fat sweaty mess who was doomed to walk thanks to the tremendous girth of her tree trunk like thunder thighs, thighs that were so filled with fat that some of that flab inevitably started to roll over her fat knees.

But the fat was far from done. In fact, it found its way into her butt next. Sandy’s beautiful bubble butt lost any kind of shape that it originally had. Soon the only shape it could be identified as was “large”. Her fat ass ballooned with two chunky cheeks that became covered with cellulite just like her beyond chunky thunder thighs. Her ass grew so fat so fast that the cellulite could be seen through the stretched out fabric of her shorts. Her blubber butt featured two big fat bloated ass cheeks that bounced up and down and eventually settled for sagging onto the back of her fat thunder thighs.

Sandy’s prized posterior was once so perfectly toned that a quarter could have been bounced off of it. Now it was soft and squishy and getting softer, squisher, and saggier by the moment. The fat kept filling her fatt butt cheeks which first inflated outward before ultimately giving up and sagging further down onto the backs of her fat thighs. Her blubber butt was like a broken down shelf of fat. The tops of her chunky cheeks were actually so bold that they pressed up and crested over the top of her shorts to give Sandy a permanent plumber’s crack situation.

She could feel the way her ass cheeks trembled with the fat that kept filling them. She could feel the way her now titanic ass was forcing her down, threatening to topple her over and pull her down into a seat on the ground that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get up from. It was a perilous position that her posterior, once perky and now puffed up with pork had put her in. 

And it just kept getting fatter. 

Sandy’s ass had once turned to many heads. She had loved it. Loved the attention. Loved knowing she was so perfect. Now the monstrously mushy mounds of fat flabby flesh that made up her enormous ass also made her feel absolutely disgusting. From the ass down she felt like an absolute cow. She had a certified pair of hippo hips and a rear end like a fat and lazy rhinoceros. All she could do at this point was hope and pray that all that fat would keep itself to her lower half. 

But of course it wouldn’t. 

The fat spread. 

And it just kept spreading. 

Next it came for her perfect abs. It turned her trim tummy into a pudgy mess that pressed forward. Soon her stomach was surging forward and sagging with the fat that filled it and pulled it down over the waistband of her pants and toward her thick thunder thighs. As Sandy moaned in defeat and sunk into a heavy frown, her heavy gut sunk further down while billowing further outward as well thanks to all the fat that just kept coming. 

That fat expanded sideways as well. Sandy had worked so hard to maintain a trim waist and now it was all gone as her gut grew and love handles sprouted up alongside it. Those love handles didn’t stay small for long. They started to stick out and then sag just like the rest of her. It bubbled forward with blubber, and Sandy tried to catch it with her hands and shove all the fat back into her body, but such a struggle was completed hopeless. There was no putting the dough back into the can, the toothpaste back into the tube, the fat back into her body. She was just going to keep getting fatter and fatter, and her gut was going to just keep growing. 

Eventually, the weight became too much to bear. Physically it was heavy. But emotionally it was worse. Sandy was not prepared for the emotional toll of feeling the softness of her gelatinous gut and feeling of all that fat spill over her palms and oozing between her still slender fingers. She felt completely out of control, and eventually the only thing she could do was turn into the skid and let it go. 

Once she did, her big blubbery gut flopped forward and wobbled for a few moments before it more or less settled like a mold of loose jello. Then it just kept sagging forward like a heavy sandbag of fat that soon formed a fleshy apron of flab that obscured a good portion of her thunder thighs. It was a heavy sack of blubber flanked by fat love handles that were big thick meaty slabs, and in the back they were met by another big thick roll of fat that ran along her lower back and rolled over the waistband of her pants just like the rest of her big mushy midsection. It was the perfect paunchy counterweight to her big bloated butt.

Sandy’s breasts suddenly surged forward. Her boobs ballooned with pillowy puppy fat, soft yet heavy. Her breasts gave way to gravity and became covered in stretch marks as they swelled with fat and then looked quite deflated as they pulled downward and settled on top of her shelf of a blubbery belly. They were supremely heavy, and Sandy could feel that thick roll of fat in her lower back twinge with the pain of having to heave those heavy hooters around. Her breasts formed a big and luscious canyon of cleavage thanks to all the lard, and her plush, plump, flabby flesh quivered as they continued to grow.

While her breasts did get bigger, they didn’t grow as fast as her belly, and Sandy could also feel the fat fill up her upper back. Even her shoulders were getting thicker, and Sandy felt the fat forming around the straps of her bra and giving her big jiggly back boobs. Those were getting big and heavy and sweaty, just like the rest of her fat fold covered body.

The fat poured down from her shoulders and filled her arms.Her formerly lithe and limber limbs lost their muscle town and became thick and flabby. She grew big pillowy bingo wings that jiggled with even the slightest movement. Her formerly muscular biceps grew so filled and heavy with fat that the fat rolled over her elbows. Her wrists grew thick with fat and well, and finally that fat came for her hands. Her hands grew chubby, and the fingers that had been slender remained slender no more. They grew plump like sausages to better match the thick toes on her fat feet.

And the last thing to go was Sandy’s face. It was filled with fat, and even her cheeks started to sag with fat down as she grew chubby cheeks with jiggly jowls and a double chin. Her face grew round, and then that roundness sagged. She looked crazy bloated with a big fat piggish face. Her face was a beacon of gluttony. She looked like the kind of person who would get winded easily but could also win eating contest after eating contest. Sandy simply put looked like the kind of fatty that never stopped eating, and that’s why she weighed-

“560 pounds!” She said with a burst of pride.

In that moment, Sandy caught what she said and wanted to scream in response to her own words, but then that apprehension faded away as if it had never been there to begin with. Now she was just feeling pride in the fact that she had won. She was far fatter than what the carnival woman had guessed.

Sandy got to waddle away with a big stuffed pig and a coupon for two-for-one corndogs.

It was a good day, and she was fat and happy!

PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Roller Coaster of Fat"

This story will eventually be published as part of the patreon exclusive collection "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2", but I didn't want to wait to publish it all in one, so here it is for now.

Full disclosure, I like this story (which comes out to over 5,500 words) so much, that I might end up publishing it separately down the line. If I do, then this will get a patreon exclusive sequel story.

For now....

Enjoy!

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

Melody was a nasty little minx. She was perfectly petite and a known yo-yo dieter. Lots of people have their weight fluctuate, and that’s perfectly fine and normal. The problem was that Melody was an incredible hypocrite. When she was at her slimmest, she was always keen to mock others. She loved belittle people who were even the least bit heavy, making fun of them for being greedy or lazy, for not having control.

And then Melody would routinely eat herself into a big pair of fat pants herself and try to hide away from the world. Whether it was using flattering angles on social media, girdles and other elaborate body shapers, or just straight avoiding people, Melody would feel the sting of humiliation until she finally got herself back into shape, and after that, after feeling all the judgment of others, especially those she used to mock taking their revenge, Melody would go right back to her old ways as soon as she got ot her old weight.

It was like she never learned a thing.

In fact, if anything, Melody seemed to treat her fat time as a reasoning for her cruelty when she was slim and sexy. If people were going to make her miserable when she was porked up, she was going to make sure to work extra hard putting people down when she was back in her prime.

And when she was in her prime, Melody was extremely sexy.

She was a short stack snack, at 5’1, she had ridiculous curves, big supple breasts and a large ass that would not quit. When she worked hard, her body was in extreme shape, slim thicc and full of powerful muscle. Before Melody had begun her yo-yo dieting experience, she had been an athlete throughout high school and college, doing an array of sports and cheer and frequenting the weight room. In her prime, this meant a trim waist and six-pack abs with lean muscular arms pair with a booty that effortlessly filled out her booty shorts, stretching the fabric something fierce while seeming to defy gravity. And she had thighs that looked like they could crack a watermelon.

But real life got in the way after college, and work schedules were not conducive to workout schedules. Work also meant stress, and stress meant an increased need to party even harder on weekends. And work plus hangovers plus lack of time equaled lots of quick and greasy meals. The quick and greasy meals became habit forming and stretched her stomach and therefore her appetite which led to more snacking between those large meals which led to more pounds piling on. Melody kept her athletes appetite, and grew it even larger, while losing her other athletic habits, and so she became quite a fatty.

And Melody was a petite woman, so when she got plump, she turned into a great big ball of pudge. Any pounds clung to her body and were quickly and extremely noticeable.

Her belly would grow especially big, quickly jutting out in a race to outpace her breasts which grew softer and saggier but not much bigger. Her belly packed on the blubber and became the star of the show. She would inevitably cram herself into girdles like a short, extra plump sausage in a casing that was pressed to its limits, but girdles could only do so much for so long, and Melody frequently found herself on the embarrassing end of a few wardrobe malfunctions.

Melody’s perfect ass would also get all mushy, growing bigger and heavier and losing her precious muscle tone as it became a flabby mass that sagged behind her and weighed her down. It was sad for so many to watch those lovely balloons deflate and yet fill with fat that made them extra squishy. Melody was also the kind of woman who enjoyed wearing leggings, especially when she was on the heavier side and they were one of the few things that fit, and when her ass was at its fattest it stretched those leggings so hard that the pattern of her cellulite was clearly visible.

Her ass wasn’t the only thing that suffered from cellulite when she was fat. Melody’s thighs also gained lots of cellulite when they got chunky. Her thighs would explode from thick but sexy with muscle into flabby thunder thighs whose fat slapped together when she walked, damn near waddling, around. Her thighs would end up looking tremendously unathletic and she would be left moving far slower. Part of that was because her pride made her force herself to walk in a more dignified way without giving in and just becoming a lazy waddle which her thighs very much wanted to do.

At her fattest, Melody did her best to vainly keep herself together. Her pictures became more carefully curated, especially selfies which she always made sure to take from the highest angles possible to avoid showing off the double chin that would come and visit her when her face was at its plumpest. And a lot of contouring was done to hide the state of her chubby cheeks. But makeup, angles, and tricks with a variety of filters could only hide things for so long, and especially after late nights of hard partying and even harder snacking, Melody’s face would look extremely bloated, and when she ate a lot she would like positively piggish with the way her fat double chin wobbled with each greedy bite.

Even Melody’s arms would look out of shape when she was at her fattest. At her thinnest, Melody’s biceps were a point of pride, but when she was carrying a lot of extra weight on them, her bingo wings were something that Melody definitely wished she could hide. Her arms were often the last part of her to really gain weight and the hardest to keep hidden.(She hated stretching out sleeves like her arms were sausages.) So when those plumped up to a noticeable degree, Melody usually considered that to be her rock bottom and the time to whip herself back into shape.

Remarkably, Melody always seemed to manage to do that. Her old habits wer hidden but never gone, and when she worked to find the time to dedicate to the gym, her previously athletic body awoke from its food coma and got going once again. She found diet and discipline, and soon the fat melted away and the muscles returned.

But fat cells just shrink. They don’t disappear forever.

And bad habits are easier than good.

So slim Melody would slip.

And fat Melody would return.

Thus the cycle would continue.

But it would not be fat Melody that entered the carnival today. It was slim and sexy Melody, the vain vixen, the insufferable bitch. She was the petite queen with the perfect body.

And she was perfectly unaware that while slim and sexy Melody had come to the carnival, fat Melody would be the one leaving it.

The beautiful Melody had also brought a friend with her, someone who also had the same yo-yo dieting tendencies as her. This friend was called Cynthia, and unlike Melody, Cynthia was a rather kind person no matter how fat or thin she was.

And currently she was very fat.

Cynthia and Melody had known each other for what felt like together, and through high school they were the most dominant ones of their popular clique. They went everywhere together, including to the same college, and it was in college that Cynthia’s weight troubles really began. The freshman fifteen hit her extra hard. It was really more like the freshman thirty-five. And she just kept struggling with her weight from there.

When Melody had her yo-yoing, she usually evened out at more or less the same weights. However, when Cynthia went on her yo-yo dieting cycle she never quite got back down to her lowest, and she always crept back up past her highest. For a long time, Melody contemplated totally dumping Cynthia. After all, why would she want to associate with someone so chunky?

But then Melody realized that having a fat friend around was very useful. She would always have Cynthia there to make herself look even better by comparison. And when Melody started chunking up on her own that fat friendship was even more important. While Melody was always “friendly” but also extremely catty around fatter Cynthia, Cynthia was always kind and supportive of Melody as she struggled with her own weight and the feelings of self-consciousness and humiliation that came with it. When they were both on the heavier side, they were both bonded together. Their friendship grew closer the closer they grew in weight, deeper the doughier they were.

Of course, Cynthia never stayed fat. And the time would inevitably come where Melody was stuck watching Cynthia’s weight go down while her own kept climbing upward. And while Cynthia never got back to her originally slim cheerleader form prime, she lost enough weight to officially stick Melody with the unfortunate title of “fat friend”.

Melody hated being the fat friend.

When she was the fat friend, Melody got devious. And she took advantage of the support that Cynthia would give her to diet. Part of that dieting was to push food away from herself and toward Cynthia.

Cynthia never stayed the slimmer one for long, Melody made sure of it.

And that’s how they ended up at the carnival in the state they were in today. Melody was back in her prime shape with her rocking body drawing plenty of stares and positive attention. Meanwhile…

Cynthia was fatter than ever.

She had reached her zenith, the fattest she had ever been, and she felt like she was as big as a house, a house tented for termites, wearing a sundress in an attempt to flatter her figure, but the sun and the sweat just made the fabric cling unfortunately to her fat rolls.

Cynthia’s big blubbery belly was beyond chunky. It was a ball of blubber, a sloppy slab of fat whose flab encircled her fat body in the form of thick love handles and plenty of thick rolls of back fat. Her globular gut was a heavy mass that stretched out the fabric of her sundress and also sagged down low toward her knees. It bounced up and down as she waddled about (because of course she had to waddle instead of walk), and it quivered like jello at the slightest movement that she made. It was extremely heavier, a great wobbling weight, but its lack of muscle and its abundance of soft, squishy fat made it extremely susceptible to jiggling.

Her ass had a lot of jiggle too. It was a broken down shelf of fat that jutted outward before sagging down and slapping onto the fat of her flabby thighs. Those thighs were thick with thunder, tubes of sloppy fat that shook with each step that she took. The fat slapped and rubbed together as she waddled slowly and awkwardly, fighting her way through the carnival as all the weight she was carrying on her obese body tended to make her very tired very quickly. Her enormous ass acted as an excellent anchor, pulling her backward and acting as a perfect counterweight to her blubbery belly. Combined with her cellulite covered thunder thighs, her equally cellulite covered chunky ass cheeks contributed to her slow pace.

There was a time when Cynthia was a cheerleader, where she walked and moved gracefully. Now she was a plodder, an obese woman whose fat body quivered with each slow, laborious step that she took. She moved clumsily with fat fat, chunky swollen cankles and tree-trunk like thunder thighs.

Cynthia was very fat up top as well with big pillowy breasts that field her bra and sagged onto her blubbery belly. She had fat arms with melted marshmallow like bingo wings, thick wrists, and chubby hands with clumsy sausage fingers. And her face was round with fat with jiggly jowls and a doughy double chin that wobbled when she ate.

And she ate a lot.

Cynthia was a constant snacker, and was positively addicted to anything fried. That’s what she was enjoying most at the carnival, the fried dough stand. She loved indulging in delicious balls of fried dough, dripping in oil with their crunchy outsides and airy but chewy insides. They were covered in powdered sugar and sweet. She couldn’t get enough of them. Powder sugar covered her lips and chubby cheeks.

Of course, Melody saw the state of her fat friend’s fat face and chuckled.

“See? This is why you’re so fat.”

Cynthia stopped cold with her mouth full of dough from one ball and a fresh hot one in her hand ready and waiting to be stuffed in her fat face.

“Wwhuff?” she mumbled through the doughy that was currently crammed into her cheeks and making her look like a fat chipmunk.

“You need to learn some self-control again, fatty,” laughed Melody as she prodded Cynthia’s plush blubbery belly.

Cynthia was too humiliated to respond and just stuffed more dough into her face as a defense mechanism.

Melody shook her head and looked around. There seemed to be just so many fat people waddling about with their fat shaking, bouncing as they ate or moved in any way. People were waddling by with turkey legs dripping grease down their chins. They were stuffing themselves with cotton candy and corn dogs. It was all so much.

And Melody had to admit that the smell of all the carnival food was heavenly and she was craving it all so bad, but today was one of those days where she was trying her best to be good, telling herself that she would not be allowing herself to look anything like Cynthia.

“This place is so full of fat slobs that it’s disgusting. These people should all be ashamed of themselves. How do they come out in public with their fat just shamelessly hanging out like that? I would die. I would. I would die. And they just eat so much, gluttonous pigs all of them. Oink. Oink. Oink, piggies!. Oink! Oink! Oink!”

Melody’s tight tummy rumbled as she oinked at the crowd, and those fried dough balls were looking extra good.

To distract herself from the food, Melody looked around at the various tents instead and the ways they could be entertained. She knew there was a roller coaster and a ferris wheel and a variety of carnival games. There was the funhouse full of mirrors and a carnival freakshow back toward the entrance of the carnival.

But right across from her was a sign that really caught her eye:

“Madama Zara: Seer of Futures and Sealer of Fates”

“Oh, a fortune teller,” Melody mused.

Cynthia, finally finished with her fried dough, interrupted her contemplation with a much delayed reaction to Melody’s earlier ranting.

“I am trying to lose weight, you know.”

Melody suddenly gripped Cynthia’s chubby hand like it was in a vice-grip and started to drag her fat friend toward the fortune teller’s tent.

“Well, let’s see if you’re successful then.”

“What?”

“The fortune teller! Come on! Let’s see what our future has in store.”

The tent smelled of incense and, strangely, powdered sugar. There was an undeniable sweetness in the room as Madame Zara calmly shuffled her cards and Melody made Cynthia plop her fat butt into a chair before sitting down next to her.

“Fortune time, granny!”

Madame Zara just shook her head and offered a soft chuckle as she pulled one card and looked up slowly.

“I see the two of you are bound together, so close, inextricably tied, eternally intertwined.”

“Yeah yeah. You saw two people walk in together and assumed they were close friends, real magical. You’re putting that third eye to work.”

Cynthia shook her head.

“I’m sorry about my friend. Please forgive her. She’s… she’s just very eager to have her fortune read.”

Madame Zara smiled.

“Two as connected as you are… I will read you together.”

And then she dealt the cards.

“Your ups and downs are coming to an end, and soon fate will reveal you for who you truly are.”

“Wooooow,” Melody whined.

“That was a whole lotta cryptic bullshit. What a waste of time.”

And then she got up and stormed out of the tent. Clearly she was waiting for Cynthia to follow, but Cynthia stayed behind to leave Madame Zara an extra generous tip to make up for Melody’s rudeness.

“I’m so sorry. Thank you.”

Then she waddled out of the tent to meet Melody once again.

“That was rude?”

“Who cares? Let’s ride the roller coaster next.”

“I.. I don’t know about that.”

“Come on. Don’t be a scaredy-cat!”

Cynthia didn’t have the heart to tell Melody that it wasn’t a fear of roller coasters that was making her afraid. She was anxious about whether or not she would actually be able to ride it or if her big blubbery belly was going to get in the way of the restraints.

But even if she did express that fear, Melody would have made her try regardless.

Soon the two made it to the roller coaster. It would have been sooner if Cynthia hadn’t moved so slowly. Melody considered herself lucky that Cynthia had insisted on stopping for food along the way, though she did need to stop several times to catch her breath much to Melody’s annoyance.

When they got to the roller coaster, the fat attendant looked them up and down, almost as if she was sizing them up. And then she smiled. 

Melody found that grin on the fat attendant’s face rather disconcerting but quickly shook it off as she skipped to her seat. 

Cynthia plodded along behind her and plopped down next to Melody. The two of them both took note of how Cynthia’s meaty love handle pressed against Melody’s lithe body. Cynthia was mortified, Melody just chuckled.

When the lap bar was pushed down, Cynthia was relieved to hear it click into place, though it was pressing into her belly something fierce. The fat of her blubber belly was squished both over and under the bar.

As the roller coaster lurched out of the station though and slowly made its way up the first hill, Cynthia noticed something. It was as if her belly suddenly felt less pressure, ike it suddenly had more room.

The same could not be said about Melody.

With each tick upward as the chain pulled them along, with each turn of the coasters wheels, Cynthia grew thinner and Melody grew fatter. 

Slowly, the inches began to melt away from Cynthia’s waistline. Her big blubbery belly stopped pressing against the lap bar. The folds of her belly, just moments ago squeezed under and over the bar, receded like an outgoing tide. Her breasts, still quite large and heavy, grew lighter as they shrank in size and lifted upward, regaining some of their perkiness. 

Cynthia’s lap with her blubbery belly spilled onto fat sweaty thunder thighs, began to shift dramatically. As her belly receded further, it revealed more of her lap, and that lap was comprised of thunder thighs that were becoming noticeably less thick. The pounds continued to fall away, and her thighs shrank until air was able to fit through her legs again. Cellulite started to disappear as firmness returned. That same firmness returned to her arms as well, and her bingo wings stopped quivering nearly as much as the roller coaster kept rolling up that first hill. 

To an outside observer, it might have looked like Cynthia was getting shorter. And while she was shrinking in many ways, her height remained unchanged. She was shorter when sitting down however because her ass cheeks, which had previously been big balloons of butt fat acting as chunky cushions propping her up in her seat, we’re now deflating. They shrunk in size, and Cynthia got closer to her seat as more and more fat left her body. 

Her body continued to feel lighter than it had in months, then maybe a year. The fat yielded back to some muscle. She retained her curves and an exaggerated hourglass figure but looked much sharper. 

Cynthia’s face, which had become dumb, depressed and doughy looking over time after the constant defeats and disappointing diet failures, regained a sense of joy and youthfulness as her chubby cheeks retained a cherubic quality to them but lost their jiggly jowls. Her doughy double chin which had hung down toward her chest like a neon sign pointing out her gluttony retreated back until it was nothing more than sliver helping to round out a face that was still chubby but not longer fat to the point of piggishness. 

She couldn’t see it. (Hell, she wasn’t even fully aware of what was happening at all.) But a spark returned to her eyes which had been dulled for some time. There was a renewed feeling of confidence, of hope, of joie de vive.

Cynthia was becoming her old self again. 

And, in a way, Melody was becoming her old self too. 

Just not in a way she would have liked. 

The one place that Cynthia didn’t really feel her fat pulling away was from her right side. But that wasn’t because her waist wasn’t getting thinner. It was, and her left side love handle pulled away from the wall of the coaster’s car just fine. But her right side was an entirely different story. It stayed pressed against Melody’s side because as her love handles were shrinking, Melody’s were growing.

Melody’s middle went from being trim to pudgy in a matter of moments as the roller coaster inched its way up that first main hill. Her sides, which once caved inward to truly create her trim waist, started to bow outward as her midsection bloated it into something that looked like a busted barrel. Her belly fat exploded in all directions. Her tight waist turned into thick love handles that spilled over the waistband of her pants. Her left love handle kept in contact with Cynthia’s receding right one. And Melody’s right love handle inched closer and closer to the wall of the coaster car as the fat continued to spread.

Melody’s belly burbled forward as the coaster inched along up the hill, and as the car really began to lurch toward the top, her stomach suddenly started to surge forward. Her tight tummy became tubby as it grew puffy with fat. And then that bit of pudge turned into a full blown pot belly that forced her shirt, already cut short to reveal a sexy sliver of her stomach, to ride upward and turn her t-shirt into a crop top that revealed her fully bloated and blubbery muffin top. Her softening stomach grew saggy as it surged onto her lap. The fat kept filling it, and it kept spilling forward, covering up more and more of her thighs as it grew into a mighty mound of jiggling fat.

Her thighs grew thicker too. Her formerly trim thighs filled up with fat and quickly ballooned into thick thunder thighs that strained the shorts she was wearing until the fat, which crept onto her and spilled out in fall directions, began to make her quivering thighs touch. Then the movement of the coaster made them slap. And after that the fat became so bountiful that her thick thunder thighs pressed together and her stance, even while sitting, was forced to widen thanks to the pressure of the fat that had turned her once lean legs into flabby tubes of blubber and covered them in chunky cellulite. Just like her love handles, Melody’s thunder thighs pressed against Cynthia’s thigh, which was becoming leaner and more muscular, while inching toward the side of the coaster car like it was trying to make an escape.

But there was no escape to be had. Melody was strapped in and stuck suffering the consequences of her vanity. As the roller coaster headed toward its zenith, Melody’s body continued to expand. And it was just her thighs and tummy that were growing thicker.

The rest of her previously fit body was getting fatter as well, far fatter.

Just like Cynthia, it looked like Melody’s height was changing, but whereas Cynthia looked like she was shrinking, Melody looked like she was growing taller. The cause of this new optical illusion was the same.

Her ass.

Melody’s toned ass grew mushy with the fat that filled it. And although that fat was soft and squishy, and it stretched the seat of her pants as it spilled out to the sides, it eventually filled with enough fat that her ballooning blubber butt caused her to rise up in her seat. Her chunky cheeks became great big cushions of fat that elevated Melody and made her look taller. Were she to step off the roller coaster at the moment- an extremely inadvisable idea given the height they had reached- her blubbery butt cheeks would have sagged downward and bounced against the backs of her fat rich thunder thighs.

As the coaster continued to tick upward, Melody’s arms began to quiver with each turn of the wheels on the tracks. Her biceps, once toned and strong, became weak and flabby. They muscle melted into fat, and her arms ballooned outward with big jiggly bingo wings. As her body gently rocked back and forth from the action of the lurching roller coaster, her arms continued to quiver more and more as they grew softer and saggier with spongy, squishy, pillowy fat. Soon they were beyond pudgy with thick wrists and fat hands with chubby sausage fingers.

Her body naturally moved closer to that safety bar as her belly grew bigger, filling with more blubber and pressing its fat against the bar just like Cynthia’s had been. But it wasn’t just her belly that was growing. Melody’s breasts began to balloon and spilled over the safety bar like they were two saggy, half-deflated airbags. Her breasts grew heavy with fat, and while it made them surge outward, all the blubber also made her boobs sag something fierce. Even sitting down, Melody could feel a twinge in her lower back. Her breasts would have rested on the shelf of her belly, but that blubber gut was still somewhat restrained by the safety bar which it was starting to spill both over and under.

As the top of the hill got closer and closer and closer, the formerly slim and sexy Melody got fatter and fatter and fatter. The pounds piled on and made her petite body look like a big ball of doughy fat, a short blob of buttery blubber.

And the last part of Melody to get truly fat was her beautiful face.

Melody’s face lost any kind of definition as the fat filled out her cheeks and turned them into drooping, jiggling jowls. And her chin sagged downward into a second one which threatened to obscure a large portion of her neck with its doughiness.Her chubby cheeks were redundantly plump, and she looked like a fat chipmunk even without food crammed into her fat face. Even her nose had grown swollen with fat, something that gave her face a definite piggish quality to it. This was further aided by the fact that her fat swollen cheeks made her eyes look far beadier than they had before.

By the time the roller coaster crested the hill, Melody was a true fatty, the fattest she had ever been by far. She had put on just as much if not more weight than what Cynthia had lost, but since Cynthia was taller, the added weight made Melody look much fatter than Cynthia had ever been.

Then the roller coaster dipped over the other side of the hill.

And that’s when things got really crazy.

As the coaster pitched downward, Melody’s and Cynthia’s bodies began to change again. Far quicker than before, their weight shifted. Cynthia began to swell back up with fat, her now mostly trim tummy once against surging forward into a bloated gut. And Melody’s mound of a belly began to become a bit smaller. Pound by pound the weight seemed to melt off of Melody and find its way back onto Cynthia’s now chubby body.

But then the roller coaster twisted, and as it did so it rocketed up another, smaller hill. This time Melody ballooned even fatter as Cynthia lost the weight again. The biggest gain came to Melody’s fat flabby belly which flopped upward as the coaster came over another hill and then slapped back down onto her fat lap as it shot back upward.

Through every twist and turn, it was like Melody was living through months, if not years, of yo-yo dieting in a matter of moments. Her belly got smaller than bigger than ever. Her thighs got thinner than thicker. Her breasts bounced up and slapped her in the fat face and then suddenly looked so much smaller as they slapped back down onto her belly. Her gut grew and shrank along with her big blubbery butt.

And Cynthia was the same, chunking up and then slimming down, looking fit and slim and that fat and sloshy with her whole body jiggling along, fat shifting based on the movements of the coaster.

Then came the loop-de-loop.

The roller coaster was rocketed toward the loop-de-loop and went fully upside down. For a moment, both obese women looked ridiculous with the way their fat bodies shifted and sagging fat shifted. The way their fat swelled meant that it was pushed forward and sagged down toward their fat faces instead of into their fat laps, and by the time the coaster was right side up again, the world, and their bodies, had reset themselves once more.

There were still a few more twists and turns to be had, but the changes to their bodies became less and less dramatic, and by the time they pulled back into the station, the fat and settled down and their lives had been changed forever.

Cynthia was now the slim and sexy one.

She wasn’t as slender as she had been when she was a college vixen, but she now possessed some very tight curves that formed themselves into an exaggerated hourglass figure.

Meanwhile, Melody was far from bit.

She was a big ball of fat.

Melody struggled to get out of the roller coaster car thanks to the combination of her complete lack of fitness and abundance of fatness. Her big fat gut alone made it so she had to rock herself several times and adjust where her soft, saggy stomach fat was so she could get up from her seated position. This also required leaning heavily on the side of the car. Pushing herself up and out of the car was already enough to leave her winded, and she could feel her fat feet swelling up from the exhaustion.

Before she could even get away from the coaster, Melody was doubled over and sucking air as her fat apron of a blubber belly sagged downward and bounced up and down against her tremendously thick thunder thighs with each heavy breath. With each labored breath, her breasts bounced, and her thighs quivered. When she finally managed to get herself standing up right again- something that involved sinking her chubb hands into the fat flesh of her flabby thighs- her enormous ass cheeks wobbled and clapped together.

Finally, Melody was ready to walk away, and she couldn’t even do that.

Her pathetically weak legs were so fat that her wide stance forced her to move in a slow, ponderous waddle. It was at least better than rolling her fat as around like a big ball which is something that Melody was afraid people would do if she ever fell over. With each slow step, her entire body jiggled. She could feel it from her bloated cankles all the way up to her fat face, all this sagging fat leaving her exhausted and sweaty as she tried to move her blubbery body around. It quivered.

And then her fat hands went to her stomach.

For a while she held it in her hands as if all of this fat was an alien substance. She inspected it. She weighed it in her hands. Melody pinched her fat as if it might wake her up from some kind of horrible dream. He poked it, she lifted it up and let it flop back down. She slapped it, palmed it, jiggled it. Over and over again she stroked and sapped and rubbed her big blubbery belly.

And in the end the only response that her big fat gut gave her was a loud, low grumble. And that was enough to pull her into this new life for good.

No more yo-yo dieting.

Cynthia was the hot friend now.

Melody was forever the fat one.

And her big fat ass was hungry.

Those fried dough balls were calling her name, and she was ready to pig out.

SUGGESTION CALL! And TEASER! Suggest a Fattening Carnival Fortune and More!

I need more fattening forutnes for the "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2". I'd like suggestions of carnival based fortunes that could lend to fun fattening scenes.

(Things I have used: fried dough, house of mirrors, freak show fat lady, cotton candy, rollercoaster.) Anything else is fair game. Suggest in a comment and I might write it.

NOW A TEASER!

Remember how I said I used a rollercoaster? That's a bit of a misnomer. I am USING a rollercoaster in the first story I have started "A Rollercoaster of Fat".

Here's that teaser:

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Melody was a nasty little minx. She was perfectly petite and a known yo-yo dieter. Lots of people have their weight fluctuate, and that’s perfectly fine and normal. The problem was that Melody was an incredible hypocrite. When she was at her slimmest, she was always keen to mock others. She loved belittle people who were even the least bit heavy, making fun of them for being greedy or lazy, for not having control.

And then Melody would routinely eat herself into a big pair of fat pants herself and try to hide away from the world. Whether it was using flattering angles on social media, girdles and other elaborate body shapers, or just straight avoiding people, Melody would feel the sting of humiliation until she finally got herself back into shape, and after that, after feeling all the judgment of others, especially those she used to mock taking their revenge, Melody would go right back to her old ways as soon as she got ot her old weight.

It was like she never learned a thing.

In fact, if anything, Melody seemed to treat her fat time as a reasoning for her cruelty when she was slim and sexy. If people were going to make her miserable when she was porked up, she was going to make sure to work extra hard putting people down when she was back in her prime.

And when she was in her prime, Melody was extremely sexy.

She was a short stack snack, at 5’1, she had ridiculous curves, big supple breasts and a large ass that would not quit. When she worked hard, her body was in extreme shape, slim thicc and full of powerful muscle. Before Melody had begun her yo-yo dieting experience, she had been an athlete throughout high school and college, doing an array of sports and cheer and frequenting the weight room. In her prime, this meant a trim waist and six-pack abs with lean muscular arms pair with a booty that effortlessly filled out her booty shorts, stretching the fabric something fierce while seeming to defy gravity. And she had thighs that looked like they could crack a watermelon.

But real life got in the way after college, and work schedules were not conducive to workout schedules. Work also meant stress, and stress meant an increased need to party even harder on weekends. And work plus hangovers plus lack of time equaled lots of quick and greasy meals. The quick and greasy meals became habit forming and stretched her stomach and therefore her appetite which led to more snacking between those large meals which led to more pounds piling on. Melody kept her athletes appetite, and grew it even larger, while losing her other athletic habits, and so she became quite a fatty.

And Melody was a petite woman, so when she got plump, she turned into a great big ball of pudge. Any pounds clinged to her body and were quickly and extremely noticeable.

Her belly would grow especially big, quickly jutting out in a race to outpace her breasts which grew softer and saggier but not much bigger. Her belly packed on the blubber and became the star of the show. She would inevitably cram herself into girdles like a short, extra plump sausage in a casing that was pressed to its limits, but girdles could only do so much for so long, and Melody frequently found herself on the embarrassing end of a few wardrobe malfunctions.

Melody’s perfect ass would also get all mushy, growing bigger and heavier and losing her precious muscle tone as it became a flabby mass that sagged behind her and weighed her down. It was sad for so many to watch those lovely balloons deflate and yet fill with fat that made them extra squishy. Melody was also the kind of woman who enjoyed wearing leggings, especially when she was on the heavier side and they were one of the few things that fit, and when her ass was at its fattest it stretched those leggings so hard that the pattern of her cellulite was clearly visible.

Her ass wasn’t the only thing that suffered from cellulite when she was fat. Melody’s thighs also gained lots of cellulite when they got chunky. Her thighs would explode from thick but sexy with muscle into flabby thunder thighs whose fat slapped together when she walked, damn near waddling, around. Her thighs would end up looking tremendously unathletic and she would be left moving far slower. Part of that was because her pride made her force herself to walk in a more dignified way without giving in and just becoming a lazy waddle which her thighs very much wanted to do.

At her fattest, Melody did her best to vainly keep herself together. Her pictures became more carefully curated, especially selfies which she always made sure to take from the highest angles possible to avoid showing off the double chin that would come and visit her when her face was at its plumpest. And a lot of contouring was done to hide the state of her chubby cheeks. But makeup, angles, and tricks with a variety of filters could only hide things for so long, and especially after late nights of hard partying and even harder snacking, Melody’s face would look extremely bloated, and when she ate a lot she would like positively piggish with the way her fat double chin wobbled with each greedy bite.

Even Melody’s arms would look out of shape when she was at her fattest. At her thinnest, Melody’s biceps were a point of pride, but when she was carrying a lot of extra weight on them, her bingo wings were something that Melody definitely wished she could hide. Her arms were often the last part of her to really gain weight and the hardest to keep hidden.(She hated stretching out sleeves like her arms were sausages.) So when those plumped up to a noticeable degree, Melody usually considered that to be her rock bottom and the time to whip herself back into shape.

Remarkably, Melody always seemed to manage to do that. Her old habits wer hidden but never gone, and when she worked to find the time to dedicate to the gym, her previously athletic body awoke from its food coma and got going once again. She found diet and discipline, and soon the fat melted away and the muscles returned.

But fat cells just shrink. They don’t disappear forever.

And bad habits are easier than good.

So slim Melody would slip.

And fat Melody would return.

Thus the cycle would continue.

But it would not be fat Melody that entered the carnival today. It was slim and sexy Melody, the vain vixen, the insufferable bitch. She was the petite queen with the perfect body.

And she was perfectly unaware that while slim and sexy Melody had come to the carnival, fat Melody would be the one leaving it.

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Want more? The full preview of what I have so far is over 3,000 words long and available in PDF on Discord for Even More BS patrons. You can upgrade your patron level HERE.

Regardless of your patron level, "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2" is going to be patreon exclusive and available to all paid patrons, and you're all welcome to suggest ideas for it right here. Comment below with your suggestions or join the discussion on Discord.

"Model Made to Waddle Chapter 6"

Ariel sees some signs of her potential downfall as three different people plot their revenge.

This newest chapter comes out to just over 7,000 words and brings the whole thing so far to over 50,000.

Enjoy!

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Ariel looked at the ice cream as she rubbed her belly.

It was just…. There, staring at her.

It was one of those hot summer nights, and the cool air coming off the freezer alone was refreshing enough, but that ice cream, a simple carton of vanilla, it was giving off some kind of syren song. Ariel hung by one arm on the freezer door as she stood slumped forward and letting her upper body twist to the rhythm set by the door as she contemplated her next move.

Suddenly she slammed the door shut and stood straight up.

Ice cream was a bad idea. She didn’t need ice cream. She was better than ice cream.

Slowly, Ariel’s hand tickled her tummy as she thought about all the food she had already eaten today, including two scoops of that very same ice cream. Sure, she had a rock solid metabolism, but even she had her limits. She didn’t need any more food today- period, let alone that ice cream… that delicious… cool… creamy….

No!

Ariel turned around. She shunned the fridge, matching the coldness of the ice cream with her cold shoulder. As if to double down on her scorn of dessert, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and made sure to let out an audible huff to show that ice cream who was boss. A stomp of her foot reinforced her resolve.

But…..

There was just this itch in the back of her mind, a nagging sensation that kept growing, protesting louder the more she tried to fight it back. It was this strong prevailing thought that demanded to be heard.

Ice cream’s just so good.

Plus, Ariel was having trouble sleeping. Why was that? The heat? Hunger? A combination of both? Ice cream would solve both problems with one scoop… or two. It would cool her down and fill her belly.

Her belly… it was still so bloated. She had eaten so much, been so full for so long, made an absolute pig of herself and now her stubborn stomach was making sure to remind her of that. She needed to slow down. She needed to stop. She needed to cool it- and not with ice cream!

Who was she to be having cravings like this anway? She wasn’t some fatty. She wasn’t like Kelly or Eleanor, or even like what Penelope was on her way to becoming, pudgy Penelope, pathetic Penelope, Penelope who was practically a pig. She was better than her, better than all of them. She owed herself some self-respect and a trip to bed to sleep off the rest of her bloating from already stuffing herself enough that day.

Ariel headed toward the staircase, and there was something about the way the first step creaked, that sudden sound that broke her rhythm, made her pause just enough for that itch in the back of her head to return. It pried at her, slowly starting to strip away the resolve and eat at her self-consciousness as it pushed her toward eating the icecream.

With one hand still on the banister, Ariel spun herself around dramatically, allowing herself to drape down toward the floor, supported only by her one hand on the banister and one foot braced against the bottom step. With her other hand and foot, the very flexible model reached out the refrigerator and let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

There was a longing in that sigh, a need, a burning desire that could only be cooled by the sweet taste of that forbidden vanilla ice cream.

She shouldn’t.

But she could.

That was the thought that began to bubble up in her brain as she allowed herself to fall gently onto the floor and then turned onto her stomach as a way to ignore its fullness while she stared up at the freezer with her head in her hands, propped up by her elbows against the floor as behind her she kicked her feet in contemplation.

She could have the ice cream. She could totally eat it. She could afford to.

Kelly couldn’t. Eleanor couldn’t. Penelope couldn’t.

If those three so much as looked at ice cream they would find another inch of fat spread round their thighs. If that ice cream passed their lips it would mean a lifetime on the hips. Those pathetic piggies couldn't afford to risk indulging in a dessert as decadent as a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream.

But Ariel?

She was better than them. She was superior in every way. She was slim and sexy and blessed with a perfect metabolism that one big beautiful bowl of ice cream wasn’t going to wreck. She would never see a pound placed on her perfect figure just from eating some ice cream, even if she smothered it in whipped cream… and drowned it in chocolate syrup. 

Her stomach rumbled.

She was so hungry.

She was so bloated.

“So what?”

Ariel kicked the floor in defiance.

So what if she was bloated? She wouldn’t be bloated in the morning, once she actually had a good night’s sleep, even if she did have herself an ice cream sundae. Plus, today was already a wash in terms of diet. Yes. She had stuffed herself silly. So what did she really have to lose? This was a cheat day. It was okay to have ice cream as part of her cheat day. She could have anything her heart desired on her cheat day. She could certainly afford it.

Most importantly, Ariel wanted it.

She wanted that ice cream.

And nobody was going to tell Ariel that she couldn’t have something she wanted, not even herself. Once she had it in her mind that she wanted that ice cream, the matter was settled. Yes. Settled. She was having that ice cream.

After all, who was going to judge her? Who was going to call her a pig? Certainly not herself. And nobody else was around. That ice cream was her right. It was all hers, and she was going to eat it, and nobody else would be the wiser. She wouldn’t have reason to feel bad at all.

It was ice cream time.

Ariel pushed herself up off the floor, completely ignoring the groaning of her bloated stomach, and practically rand toward the fridge. As she neared it, her legs and her heart skipped.

She threw open the freezer, snatched up the ice cream and tore into it before she even realized she was without a spoon. It didn’t take long for Ariel to rummage through her kitchen draws and grab the biggest one she could find. Like a harpoon, she plunged that spoon into the carton of ice cream. She pulled out a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream and stuffed into into her mouth. It rolled down her tongue, and she slurped the remnants off the spoon before going back for a second spoonful, stuffing that into her barely empty mouth and then-

No. This had to stop. This was madness. This was savagery.

She needed a bowl.

Soon, that bowl was filled with three heaping scoops of ice cream, and true to her desires, Ariel had buried those scoops, absolutely smothered them in whipped cream and drowned them in chocolate syrup. She even found some sprinkles!

Ariel was a delighted little piggy as she stuffed herself with that sundae. The ice cream felt so good as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. It filled her stomach with its sinfully sweet sugar goodness, and the whole thing just felt so damn pleasant. It was like all her worries about eating and bloating too much disappeared- even though her belly was in fact even bigger thanks to all the sugary ice cream adding to her previous bloating. 

She didn’t even care that she was making a mess. Syrup staining her cheeks was no concern to her. Globs of whipped cream plopping into her cleavage? She didn’t care. She just fished it out with her fingers and sucked those fingers dry. 

She licked the spoon clean too, and when she was finished with that and looked at the dregs of her ice cream in the bowl she thought about running her tongue all along it and licking up every last drop. But she was no animal, no pig. Two fingers run along the side and sucked clean would do. That was satisfying. 

Ariel looked at what she had done. More importantly, she felt it. She felt the weight in her bloated belly from all the ice cream. Her sticky fingers rubbed the swell of her stomach. She pressed down gently and an unladylike burp came out of her mouth. 

She certainly had outdone herself today. She gave herself a lot of credit for that. Even she had to admit that the amount she was able to eat was prodigious and definitely excessive. Overdid it was an understatement. But, in a way, she was proud of herself, proud of what a pig she had been. She had given into her desires, reinforced the idea that she was good enough to have whatever she wanted, and she had gotten to show off in front of Kelly to boot. That was a big plus. 

And so what if there was a little bloating? That would go away. She could afford this day. She deserved this day.

She would have more of these days if she wanted. 

Ariel always got what she wanted. 

And as she dwelled on that thought while pouting like a spoiled brat, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar itch in the back of her head. What she wanted…what she really wanted was….

Well, one or two more scoops of ice cream couldn’t hurt, right?

So she reached for the carton. 

———

“How long does it take to make something a habit?”

The music in the bar was far too loud, and Eleanor was certain that Penelope hadn’t heard her. Her pudgy friend was too busy dancing and hoping to be picked up by some guy or girl- Penelope was not picky- that would notice her. But with her pudgy body, and- more importantly- the erratic nature of her drunken dance moves, Eleanor thought that the chances of Penelope getting picked up at this dive bar tonight were very slim. 

It was funny to think of Penelope as pudgy, not that Eleanor found it amusing- well- not that amusing. What Eleanor found funny was the oddness of it all. It wasn’t a joke it was just weird to see that the person that Eleanor had known for so long as a slim and sexy model was suddenly so porky. 

That was the truth. There was no denying it. Penelope had porked up. She had pigged out and piled on the pounds and-

Eleanor briefly chastised herself for thinking so much like Ariel. (Perhaps old model habits die hard even when you’re now clinically obese and far from being one to judge others.) But then she got right back to looking at Penelope and her new pudge which was once again prominently on display in and ill fitting pink dress. (Like, girl, why would you wear pink of all colors?) And Eleanor couldn’t stop thinking about how carelessly chunky Penelope had gotten. 

Her fat was even more noticeable as she danced. 

Penelope’s pudgy belly had quite the bounce to it and this bounce was further accentuated by the tightness of the dress that she had stubbornly insisted on cramming her stomach into. Now the fabric clung to her tubby tummy like saran wrap, highlighting every curve of it. But it had enough give to stop it from being in place, and just let that belly jiggle as much as it wanted to.

And it wanted to jiggle a lot.

Her belly lacked the support of stomach muscles to keep it in place because Penelope had always been naturally thin prior to her plumpening. She had never known the need to workout and develop her abdominal muscles back when she was a super slim babe and thought she would stay that skinny forever. Unfortunately for Penelope, she was not as genetically gifted as Ariel and her lack of exercise regime was a large part of the reason she had gained weight so quickly, that and her garbage junk food diet. The lack of exercise also meant that when she packed on the pounds all of that fat just hung off of her as saggy flab which meant her stomach was extra soft and squishy hence why she was walking around looking like ten pounds of pork squished into a five pound bag with a chubby belly whose chunk wiggled and jiggled at the slightest movement.

And dancing was a lot of movement.

So that belly bounced a lot.

It bounced up and down and side to side, and even when the rest of Penelope would pause for a moment to catch her breath, which was often, her tubby tummy would take a few more moments to settle down. When Penelope reached for a drink, her stomach surged forward. When she sat down, her pot belly plopped into her lap. That soft sack of fat was super noticeable even when Penelope was sucking in, like when she was trying to flirt.

Penelope used to be good at flirting. Everyone was drawn to her, and she loved that. She used to know how to rock her body, and she oozed charisma. 

Now her flirting was stilted, awkward. It wasn’t that Penelope was suddenly unattractive just because she had put on a few pounds. Plenty of people would have said she was hotter than ever. But her chubbier body had tossed her confidence out the window, and the charisma that she used to have was replaced by the ooze of cheese whiz filling her mouth as she spent another lonely night at home lamenting what her social life had become.

This was trending toward being another one of those nights.

But at least tonight Eleanor had something to cheer Penelope up with. They could talk about Ariel! About the party, about the early success of their plan and what to do next. That was all Eleanor wanted to talk about after she had slept off her hangover, and she wanted to just visit Penelope at her apartment, but Penelope had insisted on coming out to this bar for “Ladies Night” and Eleanor only agreed to go along because Penelope had been to stubborn about it- and because, truth be told, this place had amazing Buffalo wings.

Eleanor was sucking down her seventh wing as she continued to watch Penelope who would just not stop dancing.

As Penelope danced, her thighs clapped together.

It was subtle. Her thighs weren’t completely full of thunder just yet, but the storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. They were certainly far chunkier than they used to be, and they had the distinct hint of cellulite, the first wave of a foe that would absolutely ravage her thighs if she wasn’t careful, if she got fatter. Her thighs held plenty of weight in them already and looked like they were ready to take on far more. It was easy to imagine her plump legs growing larger, heavier, fat enough that that flab pressed together and robbed her of her mode strut forever. Penelope’s drunken dance moves were already awkward. It would be quite the scene to see plus-sized Penelope waddling about on the dance for shifting from one fat foot to the other with her thunder thighs quaking.

Of course, her fatter thighs were accompanied by a bigger booty, a butt that had blown up just a bit from a perky posterior to the beginnings of a mushy mess. Her butt cheeks were chunky and lacked rhythm as the wobbled while she danced. They were big which drew some positive attention, but they were far softer and squishier than Penelope, and most people she seemed to meet, would prefer.

Eleanor was pretty sure Penelope’s butt had once been firm, but the more she saw of those squishy ass cheeks shifting under the stretched out fabric of her dress, the more she questioned if their previously perceived firmness was just a result of Penelope’s overall skinniness. Now that she was more plump, the plush nature of her posterior was far clearer. 

The sway of Penelope’s bloated butt cheeks was almost hypnotic. Her chunky cheeks were plump and juicy, and there was something about the way they moved that made them very inviting, and when she stood still, Penelope’s big butt looked like a mushy peach. It was still by far her best feature, and it’s a shame that her butt’s squishy nature sapped her self-confidence otherwise she could have worked it in her favor. 

Instead she just kept dancing awkwardly and drinking more. The sugary calories of those drinks were sure to cling to her butt, thighs, hips, belly, everywhere. 

While Penelope’s belly, butt, and thighs had been the most prominent places her weight gain had settled, they were not the only places. Penelope had grown softer everywhere; it was just that some of the growth was more subtle in places. One had to really look for the way fatty deposits had affected those aspects of her previously completely slender figure.

For instance, Penelope’s arms were softer, but she hadn’t developed a big set of bingo wings yet. Still, previously she had a delicate line that delineated her biceps from the rest of her arms, and now that line was gone. Her arms just looked like soft tubes, and the only real part of them that hadn’t shown any sign of weight gain so far were her hands. Her fingers had yet to swell up like Eleanor’s had- into thick sausages- and they remained as dainty as ever.

The same could not be said for her breasts which looked quite a bit sloppier than they used to. Her weight gain hadn’t grown them very much at all, but they had contributed to a fair amount of sag that had any bra she wore working overtime. The lack of growth to her breasts was one of the things that made Penelope’s weight gain so frustrating to her. It felt like she was getting fatter without any of the benefits.

Eleanor just shook her head as she watched Penelope dancing there with her belly bouncing about. That belly was still the most noticeable thing about her. In Eleanor’s mind, at least she was used to her body, she had gotten adjusted to life as a fat girl, and while she wasn’t happy about it, she had come to terms with it. Eleanor was fat. She knew it. She lived accordingly. 

Penelope was chubby but she was still vainly clinging to her past as a skinny woman which put her into a rather awkward phase in her life. It was like she was becoming a fat girl who just didn’t know it yet.

And that’s of course untrue. Penelope was VERY aware of her weight gain, but her actions made it seem otherwise at times.

Still, Penelope’s weight gain had filled Eleanor with some hope- not that she hoped Penelope would get even fatter of course- though that did seem inevitable- but the fact that it had happened at all had proved inspiring. Eleanor had been slim and sexy and gotten fat. Penelope had been slim and sexy and was getting fat.

So why couldn’t it happen to Ariel?

That’s exactly what Eleanor wanted to talk to Penelope about if she ever stopped dancing, damn it.

Luckily for Eleanor, Penelope did stop dancing. Her weight gain- and alcohol consumption- meant that she wasn’t capable of dancing for as long as she used to (which at one point could have been all night), and the lack of positive attention that she was getting was admittedly demotivating. So she eventually just settled for getting herself another drink, after lamenting that she had to pay for it herself, and then wobbled back over to the table, winded and sweaty.

“How long does it take to make something a habit?” Eleanor asked again now that Penelope was once again in front of her and far more settled.

“What was that?” asked Penelope as she was still coming down from her physical activity, and apparently the blood rushing to her head had hindered her hearing.

“I said… How long does it take to make something a habit?”

“Why does that matter?”

“For Ariel.”

“For?”

“For Ariel!”

“Oh!”

And then Penelope sat there for a long time staring off into the distance, and then down at her drink, saying nothing until Eleanor finally got tired of the awkward silence.

“I wanted to talk about Ariel!”

Suddenly, Penelope’s eyes brightened with life again like a robot turning on or more like a drunk person popping into a moment of lucidity.

“Oh yeah! Wasn’t last night great? I was… I was really on.”

She was. Penelope had been at her best, a real lynch pin of the plan, clever and adaptive, and it was those qualities that made this current situation so damn frustrating for Eleanor.

“Yes. You were. It was great. But what’s our next move?”

“What’s your hurry?”

“I want to strike while the iron is hot.”

“More like strike while the iron is FAT!” snorted Penelope.

It was patently ridiculous as a metaphor and barely even reached the qualifications for a pun. And Eleanor was having none of that.

“Can you get it together, please?”

Penelope let out a long winding whine as she sulked down onto the table, an action that caused her softened arms to quiver. Eleanor couldn’t see it, but she assumed that, under the table, Penelope’s tubby tummy was wobbling quite a bit too.

“Can’t we just savor the moment for a little while longer El?” asked Penelope as she rode that ear grinding whining note for as long as she could.

Eleanor practically had to cover her eyes, and she was genuinely afraid that her glass would break.

“Yes. Yes. It was lovely. Everything worked out really well. Ariel ate a lot.”

“A LOT!”

“Yes. A lot. But if we want her to keep eating until she gets fat, we need a plan.”

“Plan later.”

“Plan n-”

“Soon.”

“N-”

Penelope cut off Eleanor’s demands for prompt planning by pressing a finger to her lips.

“Shhhhh. Savor now. Plan later. Let’s…. Let’s just talk about last night for a bit, okay? I really want to enjoy it again.”

“But-”

“Oh, come on. Indulge me.”

There was something about the way Penelope pouted that made her face look fatter, but Eleanor was powerless to resist those sad puppy dog eyes, so decided that she was indeed going to indulge her.

“Yeah. Last night was amazing, far better than I ever thought it would go. Ariel made a complete fool of herself.”

“And she ate so much!”

“Yes she did.”

“Like a pig!”

“Yes, she ate like a pig. It was really dazzling to watch her just eat appetizer after appetizer and then still have room for multiple helpings at the buffet plus dessert. She made a total pig of herself, and so many people watched her do it. I could hear them whispering about how much of a pig she was being, judging her. It was so refreshing. And the was so drunk and oblivious that she just kept eating, and eating, and eating, absolutely stuffing her face to an unreal degree. I would have thought I was dreaming it. But it was real. She really did eat that much. Slim and sexy Ariel really did go hog wild and completely pig out.”

Penelope had a wide stupid smile on her face as she tapped her forehead with her middle and index finger.

“And we know….”

Then she reached under the table and began to prod Eleanor’s big blubbery double belly.

“We all know where the food is gonna be goin…”

Gently, Eleanor reached down and removed Penelope’s hand from her stomach. She placed her hand back on the table and gave it a small chastising pat.

“Yes. That’s right. We all know at least a few of those calories are going to settle somewhere, probably her tummy. Her belly just looked so damn bloated from all that food, more bloated than I’d- then we’d- ever seen before, more bloated than we could have ever imagined. It was too good to be true.”

“But it was true.”

“It was. It was the most out of control I’ve ever seen Ariel, the most vulnerable she’s ever been in her life, probably, and she didn’t even realize it because she was too drunk and hungry to notice how much everyone was laughing at her for eating like a big fat greedy pig.”

“Fat. She’s going to get like so fat,” chuckled Penelope. 

“Yes, Penelope, and that’s just what I wanted to talk to you about. How to make her-“

“Fat. She’s gonna have a big fat belly, fatter than mine. And she’s gonna have big fat thighs and a big fat ass, but not like a nice one. She’s gonna have a big fat dumpy ass, one that’s really like soft, and saggy, and covered in cellulite. She’s going to look so stupid with a fat flabby ass and a big gut and like and like…like…and… thunder thighs. She’s going to have big fat flabby thunder thighs that rub together. She’s gonna be a model made to waddle.”

Eleanor couldn’t help but smile along. She nodded at everything Penelope said, something that really made her double chin wobble. It was certainly a nice dream, imagine Ariel so fat that her model strut reduced to a slow waddle, thinking about slim and sexy Ariel struggling to fit into her designer dresses, bursting through the seams with her big butt and even bigger blubber belly. She wanted to savor all that had happened and all that could happen, but she also knew that it wasn’t helpful to just live in a dream world, dwelling on what had been and might be. Eleanor wanted to find a way to bridge those two things together, to make it all real. She was so close she could taste it. 

And it all hinged on getting Ariel to eat more. 

“That’s really great, Penelope. And I want that too. Believe me, nobody want to see Ariel waddling around and getting laughed at, facing the same kind of humiliating judgment she throws at others, more than me. I’d love to turn her into a real cow, get her fatter than I am. But the question is- How?”

“Or yeah… like how cow? Cow how?” Penelope drunkenly stroked her chin thoughtfully which had the inadvertent effect of pulling down some softer flesh as if she was teasing out a double chin. 

“It’s possible. It just takes planning.”

“Right. We should like plan.”

Eleanor’s hand hit her forehead so hard that it threatened to give her a concussion. Eleanor was glad it didn’t. Having to put up with one Penelope at the moment was frustrating enough. If she were to suddenly be seeing two of them, it would drive her up the wall. 

“That’s… what… I’m trying…. to do.”

“Oh.”

Silence. Long. Painful. Silence.

“So what’s the plan?”

Eleanor slumped down and her head would have hit the table if her big belly and breasts didn’t act like airbags and prevent that from happening as they both pressed against different parts of the table first.

“Habit. We need to get her to eat a lot as a habit.”

“She already eats like a lot.”

“Yes but not all the time.”

Penelope, her mind still slowed by alcohol, nevertheless began to tape the table with her fingers in thought. 

“But she did with us, we can like totally get her to eat a lot with us. We know how to do that.”

“Yeah, but we can’t keep being there with her all the time. So- okay- plan A, right? We definitely want to have brunch be a more regular thing. And we definitely need to encourage more ladies' nights, even if we somehow just get her to stay in and watch movies and eat a hell of a lot of ice cream or something. That all works. That’s all good. That will all help. But eventually she’s going to realize something is up. Even if we get her to gain weight with our strategy of lots of food filled nights out, she’s going to eventually realize that and take some kind of action. So that means we need to figure out two things: One, how do we delay her realizing she’s gaining weight for as long as possible? And two, we need to figure out how to make her eating a habit so that she does it without us and she does it even after she realizes she’s gaining weight. We want to get her to the point where there’s no going back, where she’s stuck on the downward spiral into fatness.”

“Mmmmmmm, I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah. It’s nice sounding, but now we need to figure out how to actually make it all work.”

Penelope paused for a long moment and looked at the ice in her empty drink when it hit her. 

“Alcohol,” she said. 

“I know you want another drink, but let’s focus.”

“I am. If we keep making sure Ariel drinks lots of alcohol when we’re with her, she’ll eat more and like forgot more about what she ate. And then like, if she eats with us enough times and we keep her fridge stocked maybe- like then she’ll form a habit of eating and probably snack.”

Eleanor followed along and liked about half of what she heard. Drinking certainly was a weakness they could readily continue to exploit. 

“But I’m not sure we can reliably keep her place stocked with snacks. That would be crazy suspicious. We’d be going out of our way.”

Penelope nodded in agreement which made the start of a double chin appear on her face. Then she snapped her fingers as a new idea hit her. 

“Weed!”

“Weed?”

“If we get her to smoke weed, take the edge off, come down after a party, or at a party, or like whatever. If she smokes weed enough with us and then kinda kept that going as a habit that would give her the munchies. That would get her eating more and like ya know that stretched stomach thing. Once she gets the hunger she’ll like stop fighting it. She doesn’t have the willpower. And then boom- She’s fat and getting fatter, fat and helpless, a helpless fatty.”

Eleanor took a while to mull that over. It was certainly something to think about. It could work. 

“I like it. It’s a direction. Could get us going, but the food is an issue. We need the food to be there when we aren’t and get replaced by someone other than us too.”

“Well, hopefully when she gets the cravings she’ll get the munchies and get the food herself or order it in or like whatever.”

“Maybe. But we can’t just count on that. If we want this to work we need to be sure. We need to be perfect with our plan. I think there’s something else we have to consider.”

“What?”

Eleanor reached across the table, put one fat hand on Penelope’s shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. 

“We have to get help.”

— — —

Kelly had fallen down a rabbit hole.

What a day it had been. Was it all real or just some kind of dream? 

A smile stretched across Kelly’s fat face.

Real. It had been real. Kelly had really gotten to spend the day fattening Ariel, not just feeding, fattening. She was actively contributing  to that skinny bitch, that slim sexy model gaining weight. She was in the act of making the vainest, coldest, most arrogant bitch she knew into a big fat pig. What a turn of events!

She could still smell the grease of the sizzling bacon from the bacon egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast. The taste of the cream sauce from chicken and pasta lunch still lingered on her tongue, and the smell of taco seasoning still danced inside her nostrils.

Kelly liked to close her eyes and replay every moment of the day in her head like she was playing a video tape, rewinding and rewatching until the tape itself broke. In those moments when she could no longer handle it, when visualizing just wasn’t enough anymore, Kelly plunged her spoon into a fresh pint of chocolate ice cream. And she ate. She ate, and she ate and she ate. But it wasn’t her eating. It was Ariel.

With every new bite of ice cream, Kelly kept her eyes closed and fantasized about being Ariel. When she stuffed her face with a spoonful of ice cream so large that her mouth couldn’t contain it all and it dripped down the sides of her chins, that was Ariel making a mess, being a pig. As she felt the tightness of her pants, that was Ariel dealing with the consequences of her bad piggish habits, not Kelly. When Kelly squeezed her fat belly with one hand while shoving another heaping spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, she really did feel like Ariel, this must be Ariel, Ariel in the future but also right here in the moment. She imagined it, and she moaned, and her lips parted to let out what Kelly felt Ariel would have to say at this moment.

“Oink. Oink.”

And then Kelly squeezed her belly again and giggled.

By the time Kelly opened her eyes again and let herself out of her fantasy of being Ariel, the pint of chocolate ice cream was completely gone, and the rest of the can of whipped cream she had been periodically spraying into her mouth was mostly gone. It’s last gasp of cream went into Kelly’s eager mouth as she once again opened up her laptop.

It was time to get back in the rabbit hole.

For most of the night since she had gotten home, Kelly had been on her computer saving recipes, finding the most fattening ones she could and pinning them to her favorites to review. Some she read over and over again. It was like she was becoming obsessed with calories counts, running numbers in her head, doing math and scientific theorizing that was far beyond what she was actually capable of and that may have stretched the limits of actual reality a bit much. But Kelly didn’t care.

From researching recipes and fattening foods and how to get people to eat them, that all led Kelly to quite a few feederism sites that she bookmarked. And she read herself a few stories that were so in line with what she wanted to do with Ariel that she hoped she could use these fictional pieces as instruction manuals of sorts. She knew ultimately that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but they still served as some extremely erotic inspiration.

Kelly had never felt like this. In all her years of making fun of fat people, and all her years of getting fat herself, she had certainly never found the idea of weight gain to be arousing, especially when it was her fit figure that had turned to fat. But there was something about the idea of ruining Ariel’s slim and sexy figure, of making her fat- making her into a total pig- that made Kelly’s head spin, made her breath catch, and made her wet between the legs. And Kelly couldn’t help but wonder if her own downfall had played into it. Would she have been aroused as much by turning Ariel into a fatty if it didn’t so closely mirror her own story?

When it got to that kind of thinking, Kelly trained her eyes back on the computer. She could unpack all of that with a therapist once she finished turning Ariel from hottie to fatty. For now, it was just enough to enjoy the fattening journey and ensure that she was on the road to real results.

And the recipes were all well and good. They were a start. She could start sourcing them into categories based on usefulness and feasibility, along with keeping in mind which recipes would be better down the road because they might cause too much attention now. Kelly had a knack for organizing things. It’s what made her a good assistant. 

It was also what was going to make her so good at fattening Ariel. 

But the other thing that Kelly needed to do was to learn how to cook, properly cook, to make things that were irresistible and to figure out how to make things secretly fattening so that Ariel wouldn’t catch on for as long as possible, until it was too late to turn back. So she searched and searched until she found a reasonable online cooking course that she could take, and she figured she could find some occasional drop in classes around town too. She didn’t need to be a master chef. She just needed to be good enough to fatten Ariel into obesity. 

Obesity. 

The word really rolled off the tongue, and thinking about how it rolled off the tongue got Kelly thinking about all the fat rolls that Ariel would soon have. She particularly enjoyed thinking about Ariel having a big blubbery belly that rolled over the waistband of her pants, that rolled onto her fat lap. 

But while she was thinking about that, Kelly also realized she had another problem. All her plans could certainly work in the short term. But for the long term? There were just so many variables she hadn’t even accounted for yet, there was so much time where she wouldn’t be around Ariel. There was just so much to think about, and she was only one person. 

She was going to need help. 

And that’s how, in two different parts of town, three people all had the same ideas about fattening Ariel. 

Meanwhile…

The empty carton of ice cream lay rocking on the floor, and Ariel laid next to it with her head resting on the couch. Somehow she had ended up sliding to the floor and now lay there slumped against the couch with the spoon she had used to finish off the ice cream still clenched in one hand with her other hand cradling her bloated belly. 

Her lips were stained with white cream and it felt like her whole body was sticky either from the ice cream feast itself or from the sweaty exertion of stubbornly eating it all. 

Ariel felt like a total pig. But she also felt like a very successful one. It was like she had won something, a prize that nobody was around to see her claim. 

And she was very grateful for the solitude. 

Normally, Ariel was proud of her displays of gluttony, at her ability to eat so shamelessly and still look so good. It was a sign of strength, a weapon to wield against all those who were lesser than her. She inspired their jealousy and reminded them of her own superiority. 

But this felt different. 

This felt so much more unhinged. 

It was like something deep inside her had taken over. Suddenly she had a craving and she had to give into it. It was beyond a simple want, beyond even desire. It was a need, a deep seeded need. 

And giving in was so delicious. 

The ice cream, simple vanilla, had been so captivating, the most delicious trap she could have possibly fallen into. 

Delicious. 

That word kept rolling around in her brain, teasing her. Ariel had certainly enjoyed plenty of things in her life. She was always one for indulgence, but over this last day it was as if the word delicious had truly entered her vocabulary for the first time and now she was suddenly obsessed with it which was bad. 

Fat people got obsessed with food. 

Fat people were greedy. 

Fat people were lazy. 

Ariel was not a fat person. 

She was slim and sexy and in control. 

Yet here she was sitting on the floor next to an empty container of ice cream after a day of lounging about and stuffing her face between naps. 

And it had been fun. 

That was the scariest part. It was enjoyable. And it was easy. Her hands both went to her stomach, and she ran her sticky fingers along the curve. 

It felt so big. And Ariel still felt mostly confident that it would all go away like it always did…

But the bloating hasn’t gone away from the night before. 

And now there was more of it. 

So what if that didn’t go away either?

Could that really happen?

Could she actually find herself stuck with an actual pot belly and not just a food baby?

No. It was impossible. She was perfect and she would always be perfect. Lesser people had to worry about calories. Lesser people got fat. 

Ariel reached out for the carton. It took an effort thanks to the size of the food baby trying to hold her back. Her bloated belly made her groan as she rocked herself forward until she could grab hold of the carton. 

Then she ran her two fingers along the inside and scooped up whatever melted dregs she could. 

And soon those two fingers were in her mouth getting licked clean as Ariel greedily sucked down every last bit of that ice cream. Deep down there was a part of her that knew if there was another pint of ice cream to be had in her freezer, she somehow could have managed one more bowl. 

Delicious. 

 Ariel knew then that she had to be careful. 

This could become a habit.