BS Writer

Fat Trimmings Update and a Thank You.

Happy Fattest Tuesday, everybody. I hope that you've enjoyed it.

Today I dropped over 11,000 words. 10 stories. Truly it was the fattest of Tuesdays.

And I just wanted to take the time to thank all of you, my wonderful patrons, for the support that you have given me since I launched this Patreon. Your support is my inspiration for doing absolutely crazy stuff like cracking out so much content to celebrate one random week in February. 

And my thanks for all of you continues. I still have stories coming out all week, including two more posts tomorrow.

Here's an update for the "Fat Trimmings" series. It will definitely continue to be published every Tuesday. However, I will be bringing the "What If" story to its conclusion with "Fat Trimmings" Volume 15. After that, the continuing feature for following volumes will feature around Thick Burger, the fast food joint that I introduced in Volumes 11 and 12. I'm excited to build out that kind of world inside the "Fat Trimmings" Volumes, and I hope it will encourage more people to follow the series.

That's it for now. Tomorrow I'll be dropping the first chapter of "Bad Influence", the 5th volume of "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" and a poll for you to choose the subjects for Exclusive Cuts volume 6th. I look forward to seeing what you choose.

Thank you once again, and I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of this week!

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 12 (Fattest Tuesday Edition Part Deux!)

Here we are, the second half of Fattest Tuesday. This volume has five stories and over 5,000 words. It was a lot. But here we are. I hope you enjoy.

“Immobile”

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

You fat pig. Look at you. Just looking at a piece of food is enough to add the pounds onto your pudgy frame.

It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting and you should feel…. Disgusted.

Do you, Piggy? Do you feel how fucking fat you are, with your gigantic doughy belly? It must be so fat that it’s hard to breathe. It just surges out in front of you, this tremendous spare tire, this globular hanging gut over any pants that you try to wear. It always needs to make an appearance. There is no top in the world that will be containing your muffin top. How pitiful it is to have such a huge jiggly pot belly. How embarrassing it must be to be you.

It is humiliating isn’t it, Piggy? You know it. Admit it, Porker. Admit how embarrassing it is to be such a fatso, a real oinker. You’re a nervous sweating mess just thinking about it aren’t you? I can see the hairs standing up on the back of your fat neck as you think about all of this. I can see your whole body tense, well as tense as it can be with all of the thick rolls and folds of flab that you have flapping about. You’re a giant melting marshmallow of fat, a big flabby mess of a human being. You’re less than a human being. I could call you any number of fat ass animal names, piggy, whale, cow, hippo, manatee, but I’m not sure you’re even an animal anymore. Your fat ass is that useless, that helpless. You’re like a big ball of dough, fat useless, shapeless dough, Fat Ass..

And speaking of fat ass, my god. It’s hard to see now because you can’t even get up anymore, but your ass literally fills an entire couch. A couch! Not just a chari or two but any entire fucking couch. That’s pathetic, Lard Ass. You’re beyond a wide load. Your ass is two monstrous pillows for you to sit all day on. It's a shame. You spent a long time not moving that ass much as all, and every time you did move your big fat butt, it would keep moving on its own full of bounce and jiggle with every movement. For awhile those fat flabby ass cheeks of yours had a mind of their own. Before your incredible fattening, that ass of yours used to be so tight, that and your perfectly sculpted abs. You used to be so slim and sexy, so worthy of showing off your tight sexy body. You used to be so proud of your body.

But now you’re just a prodigious fatty. The only thing you have to be proud of is the perverse fact that you somehow managed to eat yourself into this gelatinous tribute to massive obesity and keep on getting fatter by the day. You could show yourself off today at a county fair winning first prize for biggest hog. To think you used to win beauty contests and parade around with ribbons. Just thing of how much fabrice they would have to use to get a ribbon around your fat waist. Disgusting! You shouldn’t be rewarded for becoming such an incredible glutton, though you could certainly win a ton of eating contests. That’s part of how you got this way.

Your fat thunder thighs are so fucking useless. They can’t even carry your fat ass around anymore. You used to be stuck waddling about, but now you can’t even manage that, you pathetic piggy. They're so huge and jiggly. They're like tree trunks that have fallen down never to get back up because you’re never going to get back up, you fat ass pig. Your thunder thighs are somehow gonna grow fatter and fatter just like you, pal squishy flesh pushing together, rolling over your fat knees. The only thing you can do is eat and watch.

No, you can’t even watch your thighs can you, porker? You fucking whale gut is too fucking big. What a shame you’re such a hippo with a huge hippo gut that’s so fucking large it spreads out enough that you can’t even see over it. I hope you’re proud of yourself, you hambeast. You’ll just have to settle for me describing how fat your useless thighs have gotten, tubbo.

And they’ve gotten huge. You used to be so athletic, and now these things are fat and useless. Your gluttony has made them atrophy. They’re pasty jello, cellulite and stretch mark riddled flab just like the rest of you.

You truly are ashamed of yourself, aren’t you? Ashamed and aroused. Disgusting. You naughty piglet, you bad bad hippo. I can see your heavy chest heaving as I tell you what a weak useless pig you are, you cow, you tub of fat lard. You used to be so fit, so hot, so vain. And now you’ve been reduced to this, an immobile blob, a helpless sack of fat. You can’t get enough of this. It’s all you are now, just this ball of what, a giant wad of fat like melted bubblegum, rolls, and folds of fat. That’s all that’s left of you.

Just fat.

And I love it.

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

“Teacher Butt”

—-----------------

She’s got that teacher butt, that big fat teacher butt, the kind of butt that happens when you spend too much of your time sitting behind the desk.

Sit behind your desk and get a big behind. That’s the curse of the teacher butt. Gott keep on standing up if you don’t want to get that big fat teacher butt. And she’s gotten too lazy. She used to be so slim, athletic. She ran. She played sports. She was a social butterfly who loved to party, but she was also the kind of girl who used to have a figure and a metabolism that she always figured she could count on.

She counted wrong.

Too many class parties. Too many cupcakes. Not enough gym time. Not enough movement period. So now that tight body is going to pot. Just look at how fat she’s gotten. She’s gotten fat all over, but it really started down below, and that’s where it’s most noticeable.

She’s got a big butt, a fat butt, but not a round butt. No, her teacher butt is the big and wide kind, soft and weak, squeezable, pliable, jiggly blubber butt. And on days when she dresses a bit more casual, strutting around in her yoga pants, everyone can see just how big, and wide, and soft, and fat it has gotten. It’s a big, spongy, wobbly, out of shape teacher's butt.

Her students love to watch it wobble. Whenever she takes a step it bounces, but not in a cute way. It has a mind of its own, that big fat teacher’s butt is a sloppy, sloshy mess. It wiggles and jiggles at the slightest movement. It’s redundantly soft, and through the too tight yoga pants you can see the marks of the cellulite.

And that fat butt isn’t the end of things. That may have been where the new softness that the former header cheerleader found herself piling on landed. She’s started growing a bit of a belly as well. Those frequent faculty luncheons led to her abs going away. And in their place came a new pudgy paunch with the pounds piling on pound by pudgy pound. She was getting softer. Students were noticing, and so were parents.

And those parents loved it, especially the jealous moms. So she found herself routinely getting gifts and treats- all kinds of delicious chocolatey snacks for her to stuff her face with. And all that gooey goodness meant she has been growing a globular gut.

And that’s where she is now. She’s not exactly the hot teacher anymore. She’s the chubby teacher, the going on fat teacher. And that’s where everyone knows she’s heading. She’s going to keep getting bigger, fatter. She’s doomed to become one of those fat teachers who the students love to taunt and make fun off behind her big back.

She’s the kind of fat teacher the parents love obsessing over, being catty about to make them feel better about themselves. They love watching her go from fit to fat and can’t wait to see her complete the journey from outstanding athlete to obese cow. And it feels like obesity is coming for the former mean girl turned fat teacher far faster than she would like to admit.

That big, fat, squishy, wobbly teacher’s butt is going to get bigger and bigger. That wide load is gonna keep getting wider until she can’t get through doorways without going sideways.

Keep it up, lard ass. You deserve it!

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

“Getting Fat at Thick Burger”

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

God, I’m getting so fat. I used to be such a slim hottie. And now…. Now look at this gut! Just look at it. It’s so freaking big and soft. I can feel it whenever I move around. It’s such a heavy, saggy, weight. Whenever I move, it swings itself around, a big jiggling mess announcing its presence. I can’t stop feeling it, squeezing it, prodding it, jiggling it. It’s just so damn pliable and so far from what it used to be.

Look at how fat it’s gotten! How fat I’ve gotten! And you know I wasn’t always this way? Let me tell you about it.

I used to have rocking abs, the kind that you could grate cheese on. I loved to touch that belly too, a flat belly, a tight and muscular one. I loved to rub my hands all over it. Maybe that’s just always been my thing, like an oral fixation except for my own stomach which I guess makes a lot of sense and probably explains a lot.

That and the fact that the food here is somehow just so damn good. But isn’t that how it works? If it’s good it has to be fattening, right? And these burgers come cook with lard and on richly buttered buns, and you can get them with all sorts of toppings, so I of course just have to get bacon and extra cheese. But the lettuce, tomato and onions are healthy, right? Lettuce is technically negative calories! And I always make sure to order mine with avocado because that’s a healthy fat.

This, as I cradle my bloated belly, looking down at this unmistakable lump of pudge- this is not healthy fat. This is useless fat, fat fat, just thick, stodgy, poke it and feel you finger sink in an entire inch of fat.

But the burger- The burger is heaven, mouth water heaven even as the grease drips down my chin and into the crease of my second one. Do you know you can have up to four patties on one burger? A quad burger is to die for, although, of course…. If I’m feeling like an extra naughty piglet, I get a quintuple. They don’t normally do that because legally serving you that much red meat is dubious, but they’ll do it if you’re a regular… and if you ask nicely… and by “ask nicely” I mean oink for them like the piggy you are.

I used to be a cheerleader, the head of my sorority, and I had a few months where I had legitimate modeling gigs lined up. And now I find myself oinking for my burger at least once a week…. On average- or… well… at least, at least once a week, often more. Oink. Oink. That’s me, Miss Ex-Skinny Bitch oinking for her dinner because she can’t get enough of that grease no matter how fat it’s going to make her- no matter how much FATTER it’s going to make ME.

I can’t control myself once I’m around all this food, and when I’m not around this food, I feel an incredible desire to be be around this food, a NEED. I used to be the kind of popular mean girl who made fun of fatties, and now that I am one, I just want to keep stuffing my face with the greasy, fattening food that made me this way. I’m never going to be skinny again. All this delicious food has weighed me down too much. I used to run half marathons and now the thought of even looking at a treadmill makes me break out in cold sweats, as opposed to the meat sweats I get from eating all of this delicious junk. It makes me feel disgusting, but I can’t help myself. I need to keep coming back for more. I can’t waddle away from all this now.

I used to have such athletic legs, but Thick Burger has turned them into thick thunder thighs, pasty tree trunks covered in cellulite. I’m a big waddling pig with wide hips and a big ol’ lard ass. Everything about me used to be too tight, and now everything wobbles. My pert bubble butt is a flabby blubber butt. It used to be something to brag about. Now it’s something to gag about. I’ve got a big blubbery butt. If you spanked it, it would jiggle on its own. I know that’s true. I’ve done it. It’s such a saggy, sloppy mess. I’m such a saggy, sloppy mess.

Skimpy skirts used to be my thing, the perfect way to show off my figure, but now I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those with my gooey thunder thighs rubbing together and my big fat ass hanging out. And of course, jeans are right out too. My blubber butt and thunder thighs have busted the seams of all of my favorites, and my spare tire makes buttoning the front next to impossible. That’s right, all these gut busting meals have made sure my gut busts my buttons. Nope, it’s just the regular fat girl uniform for me, sweatpants stained with my finger prints from all of the greasy food I love to cram into my fat face.

I should be better than this. I should get myself back under control and on a diet or else I’m going to be an obese slob forever. But I can’t help it… just the smell of this food. The food here is everything. Thick Burger is in control now. And me? I’m not a cheerleader anymore. I’ll never be anywhere close to being in that kind of shape again. And eventually, I’ll look back at this fat body of mine and recall this as being thin. I’m going to be an absolute blob, and I can’t help it because I know the simple truth. I’m not a hot girl anymore.

I’m just a pathetic fatty.

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

“From Author to Subject”

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

“That’s right. Get on all fours for me, Piggy and eat that cake,” Carl barked at his pet with a voice that was filled with both lust and dominance.

Alana did as she was told. She was his now, his pet, his piggy.  She was a far cry from the stuck up- confident skinny bitch of a woman that she was when they first met. Back then she had rejected him for being too fat. Now she dwarfed him in size and would do anything to please him, including getting on all fours and eating an entire sheet cake with just her face like the pig that she had become. She enthusiastically shoved her face into the cake, oinking like she knew her master would want.

“That’s right. From hard body to hog. It’s quite the sight. Prom Queen to pig. You deserve this, don’t you?”

Alana could barely pull her greedy face away from the cake.

“Yes. Yes. I deserve this. Oink. Oink. I was such a skinny bitch. I was so mean to fatties. Now I’m the fatty. I’m your fatty, your pathetic pet piggy. I deserve to be treated this way because I’m a naughty little piglet who can’t stop eating. I’m a greedy piggy. No more hard body for me. I’m all blubber! Feed me. Tease me. Degrade me like I used to degrade others. Make me fatter! Fuck your fat, piggy! Oink. Oink. You’re so much better than me, now, and I need you. Please. OinkOinkOink. I’m so horny for you like I always should have been. OinkOinkOinkOink. Fuck your fat fucking piggy!”

Carl got behind his pet pig, grabbed the wide blubbery hips of the once stuck up princess who used to look down on him, and he thrust himself inside her. With each thrust, his own large belly slapped against her plentiful back fat, and her entire obese body shuddered with pleasure and humiliation.

As Carl continued to call her names, Piggy, Cow, Whale, Fatso, and remind her of how far she had fallen, the degradation got to be too much to handle. Alana shoved her face into the cake and moaned deeply as she began to orgasm. Carl kept his pace, and the pleasure crashed over her in waves. It became a consistent cycle of eating, oinking, and orgasming.

“Yeah. They should like that,” Annie thought as she stopped typing and closed her laptop.

“Is it good writing? Who fucking cares? These people will pay me for anything if I put the word piggy in it enough times.”

Annie had been an English major in college and quickly grew bored with the copy editing job she ended up settling for once she realized trying to make it as a serious writer wasn’t panning out, and she found that the work she ended up doing was largely unsatisfying both in the creative sense and the monetary sense. Therefore, after a few months of giving up writing she had gotten back to it and tried out whatever trends she thought she could do quickly enough to turn around some fast cash.

She had completely missed the vampire fiction trend, and her go at young adult dystopian novels was an abject failure. Next, Annie tried to capitalize on the rising demand for Dungeons and Dragons and other tabletop RPG based fantasy products with a series of quick pulp fantasy adventure novels, but, quite frankly, Annie just never really got the genre in the first place, so her sword and sorcery face petered out even faster than her ‘Your real father is secretly a god and also this world is awful because this blatant symbol of capitalism is in charge and only you can change it’ phase.

All this meant that Annie found herself falling back on the old standby that all writers keep in their back pocket and hope they never have to use.

Smut.

She tried writing vanilla shit at first, but the market was too heavily saturated to make any real impact. Annie read you could make a surprising amount of money writing hot lady fucks dinosaur porn, but then she decided that that was perhaps a bridge too far for her. No. She needed a trend that had a dedicated enough fan base but wasn’t too overly saturated with writers so she could still carve out something for herself.

And that’s what led her to fat fiction.

Annie took to writing weight gain stories with a fervor. And to separate herself a bit more, she didn’t just write any weight gain stories. Her specialty was in degradation, the hot girl turned pig type of genre. She loved to get mean. It was easy to start, she’d just take the names of some of the prettier and more popular girls from her high school and college days and enjoy the idea of these pretty, petty bitches getting super fat and having them get aroused by being called pigs.

At first, Annie had a clear rule. Like any good drug dealer, she didn’t get high off her own supply. She simply wrote stories about abs turning to flab, and tight asses becoming blubber butts. She published some quick e-books. She started picking up commission work, and she used that commission work to fill her patreon with content to attract more patrons. It was a pretty steady cycle with hopeful monetary growth.

But as her work output grew, and the money she was making grew, so did her own desires. She couldn’t help but be turned on by what it was she was writing, and by all of the other stuff that she was reading in the name of research. She had always been a rather trim woman, someone who had been trained her whole life to consider fat people as weak, lazy, ugly, people to be looked down upon. And she admitted to having said her fair share of unkind words. But she began to wonder… what would it be like to live life like one of her characters? To just let it all go and do whatever she wanted? Eat whatever she wanted?

What if she just did it?

What would it be like to truly take control by choosing to give it all up, to find strength by allowing oneself to be degraded, humiliated. She wanted just a taste of what that might actually look like.

And then she met Mike.

Mike was one of her avid readers, and after a long period of talking online, they eventually decided to meet. Mike was a handsome fellow, trim and attractive, and eager to feed Annie. And Annie was eager to be fed. With Mike at her side, Annie ate and ate and ate. If there was an indulgence she could think of, Mike was there to indulge her in it. They engaged in every roleplay scenario Annie could come up with, and soon went about taking many of them a fair few steps farther into reality.

With all the food,  before, during, and after sex, and all the lounging around she did when she wasn’t engaging in bedroom antics, Annie began to put on weight at an astounding rate. She went from thin, to chubby to fat very quickly, but she made sure she took enough time to properly monetize her own journey. She took pictures and videos as her life became its own story. She sold it all right alongside her fiction pieces, and she became more popular than ever. People loved to call her all sorts of names online, and Annie loved to hear it.

As for Mike, well, all of Annie’s eating began to rub off on him as well, and soon his abs had turned into a dedicated pot belly and his well chiseled pecs became flabby man boobs. He had gone from a stereotypical hot guy to a chunky fat boy with a gut and moobs and a fat flabby ass, and Annie couldn’t have been happier because it meant that they were finally able to reenact the favorite scene Annie had ever written.

“That’s right. Get on all fours for me, Piggy and eat that cake,” Mike barked at his pet with a voice that was filled with both lust and dominance.

Annie shivered with the thrill of being told what to do, of knowing that this was the life she had chosen for herself. She had willingly become the subject of her own story, a fat pig to be controlled and humiliated by others. She was free of anything other than what she wanted to do. All her smut, all of own degradation, paid for everything she would ever need, and she was happy.

“I said eat you fat fucking pig, you useless sack of lard. All you’re good for now is eating, and fucking, so eat, piggy. EAT!” Mike commanded.

Alana smiled and did as she was told. She was his now, his pet, his piggy.  She was a far cry from the stuck up- confident skinny woman that she used to be. Now she dwarfed her fat boyfriend in size and would do anything to please him, including getting on all fours and eating an entire sheet cake with just her face like the pig that she had become. She enthusiastically shoved her face into the cake, oinking like she knew her master would want.

“That’s right. From hard body to hog. It’s quite the sight. Prom Queen to pig. You deserve this, don’t you?”

Annie could barely pull her greedy face away from the cake. Its taste was incredible, and her hunger was second only to her desire to degrade herself further.

“Yes. Yes. I deserve this. Oink. Oink. I was such a skinny bitch. I was so mean to fatties. Now I’m the fatty. I’m your fatty, your pathetic pet piggy. I deserve to be treated this way because I’m a naughty little piglet who can’t stop eating. I’m a greedy piggy. No more hard body for me. I’m all blubber! Feed me. Tease me. Degrade me like I used to degrade others. Make me fatter! Fuck your fat, piggy! Oink. Oink. You’re so much better than me, now, and I need you. Please. OinkOinkOink. I’m so horny for you like I always should have been. OinkOinkOinkOink. Fuck your fat fucking piggy!”

Mike got behind his pet pig, grabbed the wide blubbery hips of the once stuck up princess who used to look down on him, and he thrust himself inside her. With each thrust, his own large belly slapped against her plentiful back fat, and her entire obese body shuddered with pleasure and humiliation. She loved feeling Mike’s fat gut and thinking about how it used to be washboard abs. She was happy that she had destroyed him too so that there was no way he would cheat on her. No woman would want his fat flabby body now. The former ladies’ man was all her. He would be her master and she would be his big fat pet piggy forever.

As Mike continued to call her names, Piggy, Cow, Whale, Fatso, and remind her of how far she had fallen, the degradation got to be too much to handle. Annie shoved her face into the cake and moaned deeply as she began to orgasm. Mike kept his pace, and the pleasure crashed over her in waves. It became a consistent cycle of eating, oinking, and orgasming.

Eventually the two collapsed and lay there entangled in fat and food and bliss, and Annie sucked cake from her fingers and thought about how wildly happy she was. Then she pressed the stop recording button and dreamed about uploading her latest video to her website.

She was her own best selling story.

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

“What If?” Part 12

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

What if she doesn’t want to stop?

These feeding sessions are getting extra intense, not just the ones she does on live stream, but the ones she does with her knew feeder boyfriend. He’s so loyal. So kind. So cute. He started out as a fan and then became so much more.

Now he loves to feed her, tease her, and play with her. And she loves it all too, especially the feedings- the stuffings is what they are. She is always stuffed until she feels like she can’t move and it is pure unadulterated bliss.

Her stomach is getting bigger. It’s been a generous potbelly for a while now, but with each feeding it gets stretched further. All the eating that she does ensures that her belly is pretty much always bloated and has become the predominant feature of her fat body. It is a spongy gut that sags and bounces whenever she walks. It leads the way as she enters any room, and it loudly announces itself, peeking out from any shirt that she tries to wear, either under the fabric or through gaps in the buttons. It is flabby flesh that jiggles at the slightest movement and consistently begs for two things: More food and belly rubs.

The belly rubs really help out. With all the food she consumes, she needs to be rubbed down to make more room in time for whatever video it is that she’s going to shoot. And it just feels so good, to have her flabby flesh touch, caressed, squeezed, patted, prodded, jiggled, anything. She loves it when her feeder whispers in her ear and calls her names, tells her what a naughty piglet she is, reminds her of how thin she used to be and how fat and out of shape she is now.

And she is getting very out of shape. She can still dance, but it’s not for nearly as long as she used to when she first started her live streams. And all the added fat, the fuller belly, thicker thighs, wider hips, all of that excess flab has made her movements more clumsy and awkward. She doesn’t have the same dancers grace she did when she started and was chubby to borderline fat and not knocking on the door of full blown obesity. She makes up for it though with the sheer amount of movement. Her stomach sloshes, her thick thighs quiver, her as bounces as her wide hips sway. Everything moves – often to a rhythm, and it is always hypnotic. Her dance sessions are still one of her biggest money makers even if they don’t last as long as they used to because she’s getting winded sooner.

That’s the problem. That’s why she’s worried that she might have to stop eating so much. She’s all for gaining more weight. She has no delusions about being a slim hottie again. No. She knows she’s a big fat piggy for the rest of her life. But how fat is she going to get, and – more importantly – how long is she going to take to get there? She wants to be able to milk as much content out of what she does as possible which means that she wants to keep her gain steady but slower so that she can draw out her dancing, draw out the kinds of play that she does, draw out the amount of food that she’s eating so that she doesn’t hit a major plateau and get stuck there for too long.

So she might have to cut back on the extra curricular feedings and keep all of her big stuffing moments till she’s on camera?

But then what will her boyfriend think? How can she please him?

She wants to please him. She wants to make him feel good. Making him feel good makes her feel good, and she wants them both to be in that forever state of bliss, entangled together, flesh on flesh. She wants to feel his arms around her, his touch as she squeezes and plays with her weighty fat in his hands. She wants to be fed by him because that’s what arouses her the most, especially because she knows that’s what arouses him the most.

So if she has to cut back on the extracurricular feeding sessions, at least a little bit. Than she’s going to have to figure out something special to do for him instead.

What might that be?

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 11 (Fattest Tuesday Edition!)

It's here! Happy Fattest Tuesday to all who celebrate.... which I guess is everyone on this Patreon. Huzzah!

Here is the first of two volumes I'll be dropping today. It features five stories and over 6,000 words! Enjoy!

“Beignet and Bust”

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

Another beignet, dear?

Of course you want it. You can’t get enough of these sweet treats can you, my little piggy?

I love watching you eat. I could spend all day stuffing your face- and you could too, couldn’t you, piggy? Yes. I’d love nothing more than to lounge around with you and watch the pounds like on.

Sometimes when I’m dreaming I like to play your transformation back in my head, and it’s like a time lapsed photo. There you are standing in your pink bikini with your hands rubbing along you rock hard abs as you turn just enough to show me how proud you are of your pert ass. You look like such a stereotypical hot girl, the kind that knows how hot she is and loves to show it off.

But it doesn’t last for long.

I know how much you secretly love to eat, and know just how to tempt you. It’s so easy it’s almost like you wanted to be fat. But I know you didn’t you hated the idea. Fat people were lazy. They were pigs. I watched the way you sneered at others, shamed them. I heard your cruel, cruel words, and I looked forward to making you eat those words.

So I got you to eat. Pampered you. Fried dough was your biggest weakness. Still is, fatty. I got you eating all the time and soon the pounds began to pile on. You were too vain to notice at first. That made it easier. When those beignet’s started to bust your pants buttons it must have been the laundry that did it. By the time you finally noticed, it was too late. You were too much of a fat lazy pig to do anything about it. I saw to that, fatso.

That’s when your pretty friends turned on you, and all the people you used to make fun of got a bit of their own back. You were the one to be the victim of sneers and cruel words. Your big butt became the butt of so many jokes. And it was hard at first, that sting of karma, to be the girl you always used to make fun of and learn how cruel your words and actions had been now that you were on the receiving end.

But then you just stopped caring, didn’t you?

Because you have me.

Me. And food. And that’s all you need in this world.

So now look at you with that big sloshy spare tire. It’s a huge greedy gut that can’t get enough food. I have to work overtime to keep your big belly full. It’s a real monster that sags heavily and spills out over your lap when you’re sitting down.

And that lap is formed with two juicy thunder thighs. You used to be such a slim and athletic girl, capable of taking off in an elegant run or strutting like a model. Now all you can do is waddle and by now we both love it. You love the feeling of your flesh rubbing against itself. We both love when you envelope my head with those meaty thighs of yours, and I love sliding my hand between them. They are a wonderland of wobbling flesh.

Those thunder thighs are matched by your colossal ass, you big all blubber butt. You really are a lard ass, and I know you’ve come to love it. It’s your favorite feature once again even if it is three times its original size, and only going to get bigger. You want that, don’t you? We both know you do.

And we can’t forget your breasts, your big wonderful breasts. They’re so big that they spill out of my hands. They are huge heavy melons, a heaving bosom that gets its fair share of stares, and I love that they’re all mine. You love that too.

I want to feed you forever, to spend our lives together in bliss with my hands constantly moving food from the plate to your mouth. I know that’s what we both dream about, a world in which I never have an empty plate for you. We’ll grow you bigger than anyone would think possible. That’s the dream that calls to us with the scent of fried dough and chocolate. You’d like these beignets dipped in chocolate wouldn’t you?

So here we are, eating once again, and I can see the look on your fat face, the smile spread from cheek to chubby cheek as I feed you more beignets. Your double chin wobbles as you chew. You want more, don’t you? Of course you do.

You’re always hungry.

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

“Getting Into Character”

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

It was supposed to be her big break, and all that she had to do was get big.

Rachelle was a fairly successful supermodel with a smoking hot body. She had generous curves, pert breasts with a matching perky ass and a trim hourglass waist that feature delicious abs. She was a statuesque beauty that turned heads wherever she went. She had people eating out of her hands and got whatever she wanted. And often what she wanted was to make people jealous and make them miserable.

It was a sense of power that Rachelle reveled in. She loved to throw her body and her money around and in people’s faces. She loved to taunt others and make them feel in inferior, especially if she was fat. Rachelle hated fat girls. She found them to be lazy and greedy piggies. She enjoyed reminding them of that and was absolutely savage when given the chance.

But Rachelle really wanted to do was act, and while she got roles in a few raunchy comedies and some cheap horror flicks, she had never gotten a chance to get into a movie that would make people think of her as a serious actress, something that would get anywhere close to award recognition.

And then her fat hating antics got the better of her. Rachelle had gone on one fat girl hating rant too many and found herself on the wrong end of being canceled. Sponsors were leaving. Jobs were drying up. Rachelle needed a big gig to turn it all around.

And then, like a miracle, it seemingly came.

A serious movie role that would also help rehab her into a kinder, softer image- emphasis on the softer. The part was Oscar bait, Rachelle would play a young woman, whose life had taken a turn for the worse and managed to turn it back around. The only problem was that she had to gain a sizeable amount of weight to play the down on her luck part. Rachelle absolutely hated the idea of saying goodbye to her perfect figure, even temporarily. She certainly didn’t want to turn herself into a weak, soft, lazy fat ass, but she didn’t see much of a choice. She would lose the weight later and her career would be even better. She could shoot a fitness video to boot!

So on came the doughnuts. Rachelle made a point of trying to eat at least six a day almost as if it were her medicine. And she chased them with thick milkshakes. It was a combination that made her a bloated mess, but she was so determined that she still made sure she ate big pasta dinners and the like toward the end of the day and squeezed in dessert. For a supermodel, she sure was an impressive glutton. And the results came quickly. In know time at all, the skinny bitch became a chubby little piglet, then a full blown fatty – exactly the kind of fat flabby girl she would have loved making fun of.

Rachelle moaned the loss of her abs as her hourglass waistline as it blew out into a thick pot belly and matching love handles. She would stare at herself in the mirror and pinch an inch on her love handles, poke them, prod them and sigh. She would cradle and shake her growing gut even as she shoved more doughnuts in her mouth. That fat pot belly hanging around her middle popped the buttons on her jeans and hung over the waistlines of her pants, even the purposefully stretchy runs. Every shirt became a shirt that rides up. It was a heavy burden that Rachlle hated, especially since it seemed to jiggle at every little movement as a way of reintroducing its presence. It was a humiliating lump of fat, something that people who she used to make fun of would love to poke and prod and tease her about whenever they ran into her. But her gut wasn’t the only thing that grew.

Her thighs became thick with quivering fat. Rachelle had given up running and taken up eating and the result was that her athletic thighs quickly turned to jelly, they grew so quickly and got so big and soft that Rachelle was afraid that if she wasn’t careful she would end up with a humiliating waddle. She found with her new heavier thighs and lack of physical activity she was feeling very out of shape. She felt like she was winded incredibly easy and walking was getting tiring so quickly that Rachelle found it alarming, but she knew she couldn’t stop. So instead of just tiring herself walking around, Rachelle made a point of sitting down more.

And all that sitting on her ass meant that her ass got very very fat. Her prized asset became a fat mushy mess as it filled with soft blubber and coated itself in cellulite. Rachelle hated it. She hated the way her heart shaped ass became a lumpy lard ass, a chunky caboose that swayed with a mind of its own and made every step feel labored and uncomfortable. She felt like a big blubber butt, a wide load, a total fat ass, the very thing she had always hated. Every day she would grab her thickened ass with her thicker hands and cry over what she was doing with herself. And then she would go and eat her doughnuts like a good little piglet.

Rachelle’s breasts had also grown bigger, but not in a good way. Rachelle was already quite happy with the size of her breasts, and when they grew bigger they grew heavier and saggier and became an incredible burden. They hurt her back, a back that Rachelle was also unhappy to see had grown several chunky rolls.

Even Rachelle’s face got fat. She felt like she was looking at a stranger when she looked in the mirror and saw that her cheeks were getting super chubby and her chin had given way to a plump second one.

She now had the rolls for her new roll and looked the perfect part, a lazy pig, a true fat girl.

Filming the movie was hard. It involved a lot of heavy fat shaming scenes and scenes where Rachelle had to show off her fat, bloated body with extreme close ups to show off every inch of pliable, flabby flesh. During one particularly intense fat shaming scene, Rachelle had to stuff her face with food and oink like a pig while girls that looked the way she used to look play with her fat stomach and spanked her doughy ass. But it was all supposed to be worth it.

And then the movie bombed and everything came crashing down.

It turned out Rachelle was a terrible actress, and the intense fat shaming scenes were termed pure hardcore fetish fuel which, in fairness, they were. Rachelle found out later on that the director and executive producer were FAs who had seen her fat shaming rants and jumped at the chance to teach her a lesson. The movie made plenty of money for them from members of the community who loved to share and use the scenes where Rachelle was fat shamed. There were plenty of remixes combining those scenes with the slim and sexy Rachelle ranting about fat people to make it look like she was taunting herself. The whole thing ruined Rachelle’s career for good. And everyone she had ever slightly was happy to see her become a big fat failure and let her know just what a fat loser she had become.

The failure sent Rachelle into a fattening depression. No longer eating food for work, she instead ate food for comfort, and the more she ate the fatter she got which made her depression worse which meant she ate more and got even fatter. Rachelle would eat while looking in the mirror, grabbing her gut and oinking at herself, calling herself a naughty piglet, a fat lazy piggy, a sad saggy sow.

And she was.

Rachelle couldn’t be bothered to work out, and even if she did all of her sitting around and growing her blubber but meant her once stellar muscles were long gone so her days as an athlete were far behind her big behind and her days as a permanent couch potato filled her future. She was a bloated, blubbery, blubbering mess, and there was nothing she could do about it. Rachelle new that she had stuffed her face and eaten herself into obesity. And an obese hog was who she was now. The big o word was constantly in her head. She had gotten obese. She was obese. She was going to get more obese. And she was always going to be obese. Rachelle was due for a future of nothing more than pigging out and growing fatter while her wallet grew thinner, a hopeless descent into obesity and poverty at the same time.

And then the call came in.

People wanted a sequel, maybe even a series, and all she would have to do is be willing to continue getting fatter and humiliating herself. Well, Rachelle figured she was doomed to do both anyway, so she had no choice but to jump at the chance to at least make some money while doing it. So Rachelle answered the call in the specific way that the director wanted to hear her answer.

“Oink. Oink. I’m your piggy.”

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

“Swim Star”

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

Veronica was a swimming star, all through high school and college. In the water she was graceful and fast. It’s like she was made to do it, and her body bared that out. Her body was long and lean, lithe, just the right amount of tight wiry muscles in all the right places, honed by hours and hours of practice. It was a body that looked perfect in any kind of swimsuit and could easily put on a show in any number of glamorous outfits.

Her success, coupled with her beauty, made her very popular around campus and beyond. Veronica was frequently invited to parties. She hung on the arms of the most attractive people and held up her nose to everyone else. Her success and popularity had culminated in an extreme amount of arrogance, and the pretty privilege that she felt was very real. People cowered before her, especially those she considered to be out of shape, which, thanks to her extremely trim and athletic people, was most people.

Veronica loathed fat people especially, people who she deemed lazy and irresponsible, people to be alternately pitied and humiliated. She had little time for fat people except to sneer or make fun of them.

Her success as a swimmer was great, but it had its ceiling. Unfortunately, Olympic hopeful doesn’t always translate to Olympic athlete. In fact, most great swimmers don’t even come close. And the money for professional swimmers is an even slimmer prospect. So after college, and one last real try at the Olympics, Veronica had to realize that making a career out of the sport she had dedicated so much of her life wasn’t going to happen, and so she would need to pivot.

So, banking on her athletic figure and her popularity, Veronica became a fitness influencer and a swimsuit model. She got off to a promising start, even though some people thought she definitely came off as rude and arrogant sometimes. Thanks to her good looks, even though she wasn’t making friends, she was making some money.

There was just one problem. And it would become a big problem, a big FAT problem.

And in season female swimmer in college may consume anywhere between 4,000 and 5,000 calories a day. Veronica was one of the best and was consistently training year round which meant she was consistently consuming an insane amount of calories daily. Her body craved food, and because she was burning it all off, she didn’t care what source she got those calories from. As such, Veronica was used to constant snacking and eating a ton of junk. She was secretly a junk food junkie, and she especially loved fast food. She was a glutton for big greasy burgers loaded with toppings. It’s why she loved eating at Thick Burger so much.

Thick Burger had plenty of calorie bomb items that were more than just burgers. But they were known for their insane burgers loaded with different numbers of patties and an incredible array of toppings. If their other items were calorie bombs, their burgers were nuclear warheads.

And Veronica loved them. She couldn’t get enough of them. She ate at Thick Burger at least three to five nights a week. It was her heaven.

But Veronica couldn’t keep up her incredible appetite without maintaining her intense training regime and expect to keep the same results. Even though she did cut back somewhat, her appetite persisted, and her penchant for snacking, and most importantly, her obsessive love for Thick Burger remained. Without spending more time in the gym and pool, Veronica’s metabolism hit a wall and the pounds began to pile on.

Veronica was too vain to notice the weight gain at first. And when some of the first couple of pounds actually found their way to her breasts, the one part of her otherwise curvy body that was tiny, she was actually happy. But the positive part didn’t last long. In fact, after the initial growth, Veronica’s breasts didn’t change much accept to sag a little more as she grew more out of shape.

The truth was, Veronica was destined to be a bottom heavy girl. All those burgers made her butt blow up and out. She developed a real dump truck ass, a big wobbly dumper filled with lard and devoid of muscularity and filled with cottage cheese fat.

To outside observers, it was amazing just how flabby Veronica’s derriere became in such a short amount of time, flabby and bulbous. She was quickly becoming what her catty friends would call a wide load. Behind her bloated back, Veronica’s butt was the butt of many jokes. People knew that as it continued to thicken, Veronica’s burgeoning career as a fitness influencer was doomed to fail, and she didn’t have the attitude to convincingly pivot to the body positivity front. As the pudge packed onto her body, it was clear to the people eager to become Veronica’s former friends that she was doomed.

Her former teammates tried to get Veronica back on track at first. They were the only ones Veronica knew that were even interested in doing that. They tried to warn Veronica about what was happening. They tried to give her health and fitness advice, and most of all they tried to get her to stop going to Thick Burger. First they tried to guide her with kind words, then tough but fair words, and then teasing. They hoped that the negative reinforcement would finally push Veronica to give up Thick Burger and find here way back from fatness to fitness. But once it was clear that Veronica’s fat ass was too far gone, the teasing became too much fun to stop. Veronica’s teammates fell on the bandwagon with everyone else who loved taunting and humiliating her.

It was a fun bit of schadenfreude to watch Veronica’s perfect life go pear shaped.

And pear shaped was exactly what was happening to her body as well.

The weight widened Veronica’s hips consistently, and her once athletic swimmer’s legs developed saggy saddle bags as her muscles melted into thick, flabby, wobbling thunder thighs. One would never guess by looking at the poor shape of her fat and flabby legs, especially when combined with her chunky rear end that Veronica had ever been a near Olympic level athlete. And those thunder thighs were not the end of her growth spurt.

After her legs went soft, so did her core. Her core had been the key to her strength, it was a hard earned prized, and her abs eventually gave way and melted into pure belly butter. She grew a big jiggly pot belly, a gut with matching love handles to make the recipe for a delicious muffin top. The pot belly is what really doomed her. The other stuff she could hide with more angles, but a fitness model can’t get by from the chest up, not for long anyway. And the sight of her unseemly gut, and the knowledge of just how much and what kind of junk she was eating, doomed her career before it could even truly take off.

Sponsorships collapsed. The only people that still followed her were the ones who wanted ot see how fat she would get so they could leave all manner of brutal comments.

“She’s gotten chunky AF #FitnessPig #FittoFat #Fit2Fat #FAT”

“She really let herself go. It’s #sad and #gross #Piggy #PorkedUp”

“She used to be an athlete? She’s a fat slob! #SwimNoMore #SwimmertoSwine #SwimPig #Fatso #FatSlob #SwimSlob”

“She’s got a gut and a blubber butt! #SwimmerIsAWhale #Shamu #BlubberButt #PotBellyPig #SwimmerGut #WeightGain #Fatty”

“I want to write a story about her fat downfall! #WG #RoleReversal #Pig #AssExpansion #Belly #Pot_Belly_Girl #Jiggle #Wiggle #Wobble #Gut #Stuffed #PearShaped #PearShapedPig #Cow”

“Grossssss. #ChunkyCottageCheese #FitToChubbyToFatToOBESE #Obesity #ObeseSlob #ObeseLoser”

“How the mighty have fallen. #SwimmersGotABigButt”

“BigButt #PigGut”

The final nail in the coffin of Veronica’s influencer career was when her face inevitably bloated up. Now with a double chin and chubby cheeks, she couldn’t even do well with even higher angle shots. Plus, all that fast food had really done a number on her skin which left her looking like, as her online tormentors loved to point out, a #GreasyPig.

Her social collapse began a cycle of comfort binge eating. Thick Burger was her comfort zone and she sort it more and more often which meant that the pude packed on. The pounds piled up, and Veronica’s already bloated form blew up like a balloon. It was an endless cycle of stress seeking comfort eating and more weight gain until Veronica was settled into a life of obesity. She was unrecognizable as her former athletic self which meant that she was able to fall into relative obscurity from everyone butt her harsher critics who loved to keep her fat life miserable.

Remember the part where Veronica was bad at making friends? That came back to bit her in the big fat ass, and as her funds dried up she found her job prospects were few and far between as well. She had been thoroughly blackballed first because of her arrogance and then because of her obvious downward spiral which left many to question her ability to be a productive human being and not just a sloppy couch potato. It was like all of her drive was gone, but her needs to money remained.

This left her with only one humiliating option, and her comfort zone became her new home. She put on her ill fitting Thick Burger uniform and waddled off to work. It was a life filled with daily humiliations from all angles. Her weight never could settle down, and her fall from grace was a constant source of fodder for the people she had spent so long pissing off. She hated her new job and the humiliation and continued weight gain that inevitably came with it.

But, hey, at least the food was free.

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

“Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed”

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

God, I love fatties.

Love them. Love to see them rolling their fat guts and big butts on in here and stuffing their faces full of grease because they just can’t help but make absolute pigs of themselves. It’s a glorious thing to see. Being here at lunch or dinner time, it’s like a hog call. The piggies just come waddling in to get their fill, and with some of our customers it takes a lot for them to get their fill. But that’s what we’re here for, or at least what I’m here for. For other people, working at Thick Burger might just be another job, a way to get by, to make rent with maybe a little left over for spending money. But not me. Thick Burger is my passion.

Fatties are my passion. Specifically, making fatties fatter is my passion.

No. No. I can get even more specific than that. Set me up again. Kristin, what’s your passion? It’s simple. It’s watching people become fatties. The hotter they are at first, the hotter it is. I love watching people who never thought they could get fat go from hotties to piggies. That’s the best part of working here. I enjoy being a fat enabler, an unknown feeder to the masses, the one to secretly add mass to those who think themselves thin and better for it. I take that thinness from them, and I love every moment of that happening.

Sure, I love blubber any which way I can get it. But when you watch somebody who has never been fat, give in to temptation, gorge themselves into obesity- we’re talking going from fit to fat and beyond- that’s something really special. And the fitter the are- the more stereotypically hot they are- it makes the fall that much more delicious. I love skinny bitches getting fat. I mean not just the ladies either. I’m happy to watch a guy go from hunk to chunk. We get plenty of those in here. Big beefy arrogant guys who think they’re all that, and then their metabolism puts them in their place and sits them down on a nice fat ass.

But it’s the arrogant ladies who are definitely my favorite. You know who they are, the ones with the pretty privilege who aren’t used to people telling them no. They get what they want, when they want it and treat the rest of us like peasants. The world is their oyster, and we’re just all supposed to be lucky to live in it as we worship the ground they walk on. They’re the cheerleaders, the sorority sisters, the homecoming and prom queens turned big business bitches, but not in just the “if I were a man, you’d call me bold” kind of way- no the “I’m a bitch and I love being a bitch and get power from demeaning others, other women especially.” I hate those kind of entitled bitches. They think they deserve everything on a silver platter because they’re so pretty and glamorous.

And then I give them their burgers on a platter and it comes with a big fat reality check with a side of pot bellies and thunder thighs. It’s so much fun to watch their worlds collapse as they lose their precious figures and come here seeking their favorite comfort food. It’s a viscous cycle and I love it. You should see how their double chins tremble as they cry into their second milkshakes or shove a third burger into their fat faces.

I love watching them be the ones to go from the one making the fat jokes to the ones being on the receiving end. Sometimes I even slip a quiet little oink oink as I hand them their food. They always look at me in a panic, but I’m never looking directly back at them. I look past them or to the side, just going about my business. It’s cute to watch them get all paranoid. Was I making fun of them? Did I seriously just oink at them? Maybe I did. But by now all this fat, all the jokes they’ve been the butt of have shot their confidence through. They have too much anxiety to make a thing of it. Besides, maybe I didn’t oink at them. Maybe it was all in their head. Maybe it was their conscious telling them what they already know.

They’re a big fat piggy. Oink. Fucking. Oink.

They’ve turned THEMSELVES into a big fat piggy. Their greed, their laziness. It’s why they’re not hot any more. It’s why they’ll never get their slim and sexy body back. They did this too themselves and the oinking is a consequence of their actions whether from themselves or from others. They know they deserve it. This is big fat karma. This is what being fat is like. They loathe it, and I love it. I love watching those who made others suffer suffer in return as they blubber about with all their blubber.

Take my latest favorite plaything, my new co-worker, Veronica. Before she was my co-worker, Veronica. She was my regular. Veronica always loved stuffing her face here at Thick Burger. I would see her all the time. I think she used to be a swimmer or something, but not anymore. Now she’s just another desperate fatty. A greedy glutton who can’t get enough of the grease. She’s a pear shaped piggy with a big jiggly belly. She looks ridiculous in her uniform. It makes her look so incredibly hippie and hugs her thunder thighs like they’re sausages. It doesn’t do her boobs any favors either since her belly sticks out so much more the top just kind of stretches out over it. Poor thing.

I love it!

She always used to order with such a snooty attitude, and now she’s the one taking orders from others. I love the mean glances she gets from her former friends, who - and I’ve seen this- seem to just keep coming here and not being very careful with their own waistlines. They should watch out. Revenge can be very fattening. And if they aren’t careful, they’ll end up chubby as well.

And they’re never careful. This slop is so delicious and addicting that once you start coming here regularly, you just don’t stop. That’s why I’ve seen so many cheerleaders chub up, so many sorority sisters turning into sows.

And it’s why my own waistband is getting tight.

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

“What If” (Part 11)

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

What if she can’t eat them all?

That’s what she wonders as she stares down at the box full of a half dozen doughnuts and a thick milkshake, that’s what she needs to be able to eat tonight on her first live stream. She figured that six doughnuts was a nice number to advertise for her first feeding session, an ambitious but doable number. She figured she could even advertise her goal of working herself up to eating a full dozen in one night. That would hopefully get some excited feeders as long term subscribers who would pay extra to fund her “training” sessions.

The milkshake is  from one of those kinds of subscribers. She was supposed to make it just a glass of whole milk, but then someone paid her one hundred dollars to turn it into a milkshake, and she made another twenty-seven bucks off of people who paid to vote in a poll to choose the flavor. That’s also why the milkshake is chocolate.

The first doughnut goes down easily. She’s a hungry girl who has prepared for this moment, and she decides to open her show with an adorable nibble, almost as if she’s an adorable little mouse. One nibble. Two nibbles. And then she practically unhinges her jaw like a snake to shove the entirety of the doughnut into her mouth. Its white powder covers her lips and smears her cheeks. She thinks for a brief moment that this might have been too much, but then she settles into her chewing motion, and the rest of the doughnut begins to go down smoothly. She even shows off a little by talking with her mouthful. This causes a smattering of crumbs and power to come sputtering from her mouth.

Before she moves on to the second doubt, she drinks a good portion of her milkshake. The creamy texture is perfect after the dryness of the powdered doughnuts. It lubricates her throat as she gets ready to eat her second doughnut.

This one she devours in much the same way as the first. The key difference is that this one is jelly filled, and when she crams it into her mouth, a burst of jelly comes out and strategically runs down her chin and splatters onto her cleavage. She finishes the doughnut and then makes a big show of wiping her chin clean and then using her hands to clean the jelly off her jiggling cleavage before licking it off of her fingers.

More milkshake follows. Its chocolatey nature plays well with the jelly.

The third doughnut is a little tougher. It’s a chocolate frosted that she makes sure to smear her lips and cheeks with so that she can make a further show of licking her lips clean after being a naughty little piglet. But the amount of fried dough that she has already consumed means she is beginning to slow down.

The milkshake doesn’t really help matters at all. She’s beginning to feel its heaviness now as it settles in her stomach which is rapidly growing heavier.

The fourth doughnut is a toasted coconut, chosen to give more stuff to strategically drop into her cleavage as she bites into it. It also encourages her to take smaller bites to give more time for coconut flakes to fall off of the doughnut and onto her breasts. But now she’s stuck wondering if eating slowly is the best idea or if it’s just giving her bloated stomach more time to feel full, maybe she should just power through and cram these in.

That’s what she does with the fifth doughnut, a second chocolate frosted. It’s much easier to cram into her mouth, fluffier than the more dense coconut doughnut. She nearly chokes on it with her enthusiasm, but she manage to get the whole thing down which leaves her with one doughnut and a sizeable amount of milkshake left to go.

It’s back to the milkshake. She’s a little off her rhythm now because she skipped the last round of milkshake in her eagerness to stuff a whole other doughnut in her mouth. Now she has to drink more of the milkshake to catch up. The milkshake is really beginning to weigh down her fat stomach. It lurches forward and sags heavily onto her lap. It is a turgid mass full of dough and dairy. The milkshake is fighting her. It doesn’t want to go down, but she’s determined. She’s not going to fail this first most important live stream. Everything hinges on this.

So she gets the milkshake down to one last gulp and then saves it. It’s time for a stare down with the last doughnut. As she stared at it, she thought about how far she had come, how thin she used to be, and how far she still had to go, how large and fat she was destined to become. As full as she was she was eager to shove this last doughnut into her mouth because she knew all those calories would bring her closer to her goal of being a truly tremendous cow.

The last doughnut is a Boston cream and it has been specifically chosen for this moment, the grand finale of her show. She dangles the doughnut above her head and then begins to strategically squeeze it with both hands, working its cream out until that cream oozes out of the doughnut and plops into her mouth. She sucks it all down and then squeezes the doughnut into the tightest ball she can and pushes the whole thing into her mouth. She chews. And chews. And chews. And swallows. She’s taken the whole thing in like a champ.

Then she picks up the milkshake, kills the last of it in one big gulp, and turns it over like a shot glass in a drinking competition.

She is victorious.

And then she blows a kiss to her subscribers and leaves them wanting more.

The Scales of Time Discussion

The contest is almost upon us! Chapter 6 will be going live on Friday. (Expect a preview to drop Wednesday Night)

Until then, to build the hype, here's a poll question:

What are you looking forward to more? Is it Julie hopefully getting her victory? Or are you more interested in watching Vivian hopefully fail?

For discussion in the comments: What do you think it going to happen in the contest? How will this challenge between Julie and Vivian go? Speculate away! Tell me what you hope to see!

The Scales of Time: Chapter 5

Originally, I was going to entitle this section something like "Vivian's Interlude" since it centers entirely on her whereas the rest of the main story is so centered around Julie. But then I came to the conclusion that this part of the story feels too crucial to understanding the events that are going to happen to call it anything other than Chapter 5. It's also about a thousand words longer than I honestly thought it was going to be.

Enjoy!

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

“Look at the pig shoveling slop. Oink. Oink, Piggy.”

Vivian laughed as she glared at Eloise with a wide grin pasted on her face. Eloise tried to look down to avoid any further abuse, but Vivian was having none of it.

“That was a command, Porker. Let’s hear you oink.”

Eloise, eager for this interaction to end, just did as she was told.

“Oink. Oink.”

“Good job, fatty. Now give me a moo for good measure.”

Eloise let out a heavy, defeated sigh before-

“Mooooooo.”

“Louder!”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Well done, Fatso. I think I’m done with you for now.”

“Powerless people are pathetic,” thought Vivian as she walked away.

And so are fat people. And powerless fat people- well that just takes the cake, cake that those pathetic fatties would love to eat.

It was a joy but also a duty to Vivian to keep those beneath her in their place. That was her right, as the top witch in her class, and she enjoyed every minute of it. All around her, all she could see was weakness, weakness meant to be dominated, controlled, crushed under her heel.

As she neared the doors of the dining hall, Vivian spotted another perfect victim, that cow Julie’s fat ass aunt, Cassiopeia.

“Hey, Fat Ass Cass!”

Cassy was just trying to go about her janitorial duties, and had long given up the idea of bothering to respond to people like Vivian, but Vivian put her foot down on the front of Cassy’s cart which left her with nowhere to go and nothing to do but put up with another one of her bullying barrages.

“How you doing, Cass the Cow? My sister’s doing great, by the way. You look like you’ve seen better days and that those days are long behind you. Hahaha. Bet you can’t even see them over your fat ass!”

Vivian gave Cassy’s big blubber butt and spank. Cassy tried to use this as an opportunity to get away, but Vivian was far more spry and able to get her foot right back to the front of the cart with little effort.

“Where you off to? I’m not done with your big butt yet. It must be so humiliating, knowing you’re the biggest loser in your family, what a crushing disappointment you are. At least the incredible hambeast that is Julie still has powers… for now.”

She put one hand on Cassy’s meaty shoulder.

“If it’s any consolation to you, you won’t be the biggest loser in your family for much longer. Julie’s already fatter than you so once I take her powers… well just imagine how immense she will be. And then you’ll have another fatty for your work crew. Won’t that be something? Family fatty work time. I don’t know how much Julie will be able to do given how fat she’s going to end up. But hey, maybe she’ll be the cart. She can hold open the garbage bag while she scooters herself around campus. That sounds pretty good to me.”

That would have been enough. Even the thought of Julie ending up in a position like this was enough to make Cassiopeia cry. But Vivian had to twist that knife one step further.

“You know, she wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place if you hadn’t failed, if you could have been there to train her properly like you were supposed to. Not that she would have beaten me of course, but with your training she might not be in the position to have to fight me in the first place. So in a very real way, this is all your fault.”

She tweaked Cassy’s chubby cheek.

“And I hope that keeps you up at night as I get ready to mop the floor with your fat niece.”

Cassy could do nothing but take Vivian’s harsh words and turn them into tears. She collapsed against her cart and was a big blubbering mess. Vivian responded with one final whack to the rump and a hearty laugh before sauntering off and going about her day.

That day led her back to the mall as she felt in the mood for a stroll and some light window shopping. There were several high end jewelry boutiques that Vivian was particularly interested in visiting so she could scout potential victory presents for her mother and sister to buy her once she joined their ranks as a full coven member and completed their rise to ultimate power. Nothing says ultimate power like a diamond necklace with a matching set of earrings.

Vivian’s wandering through the mall took her past a certain antique shop that she would not have noticed were it not for the shop’s owner personally taking an interest in the raven haired beauty just as she was passing by.

“Hello, Vivian.”

Vivian immediately spun on a dime and whipped her head around with the speed and grace of a well trained ballerina so she could quickly size up the person whose voice was unfamiliar and yet somehow knew her name. And the size of that person was absolutely enormous.

Sabrina leaned heavily on the door frame of her shop which was easy for her to do because her body took up so much of it.

“Won’t you come inside, dear? I’d love a visitor.”

Vivian took one look at the size of Sabrina’s gargantuan gut, and it took all of her considerable power to not throw up in her mouth. She had never imagined seeing a woman this incredibly fat, someone who could actually dwarf Julie in size.

“No. Gah-eww-no. I have no desire to visit whatever dump of a shop you have, you overripe blueberry, especially since you decided to open with your little ‘Surprise, I know your name,’ stranger danger power play.”

Sabrina let out an annoyed grunt that caused her thick double chin to bounce in disapproval.

“You are a very rude girl, a spoiled, stuck up, just extremely rude girl, not just because of your pathetic insults but because you have refused a formal invitation from someone like me.”

The frosted windows cleared themselves enough for Vivian to see into the antique shop and spot the full length mirror covered by a dropcloth.

“A mirror witch? Well now I’m extra glad I said no to your fat cow ass.”

Sabrina’s fat face suddenly grew very stern.

“I am a full witch, head of my own coven, and I have graciously offered you a seat at my table. And you refuse me?”

“Fuck yeah I do, you fat bitch.”

“Arrogant girl. You think you're untouchable.”

“Cause I fucking am.”

Sabrina let out a deep belly wobbling laugh that sent a shiver up Vivian’s spine.

“You have your challenge coming up. Are you sure you’re truly ready for the contest?”

Now it was Vivian’s turn to cackle. The question posed to her practically had her doubling over in laughter.

“Are you serious? Against Julie? Lady, you haven’t seen my competition, but trust me. She is no competition.”

“I wouldn’t be so full of yourself girl, lest you end up becoming very full indeed.”

Vivian’s hands instinctively flew to her rock hard abs and assured her that they were still as firm as ever. She stood up even straighter to overcorrect for the puncture that remark had done to her confidence and pride.

“Are- are you kidding me right now? Fuck you, Fatso.”

Sabrina responded with a soft, curt laugh and a shake of her head.

“I know you, girl. I see you better than you see yourself. And I just don’t think you have the drive to overcome a real challenge. You’ve just heard yes your whole life. Believe me, at the first sign of adversity, you will crumble. And once you crumble, you will-”

A flash filled Vivian’s mind and for a moment everything went white.

When she looked down she saw her entire body was inflating like a balloon. She could see her hands held out in front of her as they bloated into chubby mitts with sausage fingers. She could feel her skin stretching as it filled with lard. Her toned arms became weak, fat limbs with wobbling bingo wings. Her legs grew thick with flab. They became flabby thunder thighs covered in cellulite.

She felt her ass balloon outward and sage downward like a broken shelf of fat. She soon possessed two heavy sacks of fat, each flabby butt cheek tremendously fat and heavy and wobbling with a mind of its own.

Her abs were gone in the same flashed, replaced by a paunch the ballooned into a full spare tired sagging forward and over the waistband of her pants, doubling up and over and filled with lard. It was a horrible sight as it raced past her sagging breasts and obscured the sight of her fat feet. She cradled the sack of fat in her chubby hands and shook it furiously.

As she shook her head in unison, she could feel her facial muscles loosening, her jaw going slack and growing a thick double chin. She saw her reflection in the shop window and looked positively piggish!

Flash.

She was back to herself again with nothing more to show of her vision than a cold sheen of sweat that coated her forehead. Vivian dusted herself off as if she had fallen.

“You’re indeed powerful, mirror bitch. But when I win my challenge, which I will, my family and I will be coming back here to finish things with you.”

Vivian’s threat bounced off of Sabrina’s thick skin with all the impact of a broken feather.

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t see that happening.”

Sabrina’s massive form slinked back from the door and disappeared into the shadows of her store.

Hours later, the vision that the fat mirror witch had cursed her with was still swimming around Vivian’s head as she clutched the armrests of one of the high back chairs in the parlor of her family’s mansion. She found herself sitting near and staring into a magically lit fire that was completely cool and served no purpose other than to add to the drama of the room.

And the background to Vivian’s brooding was brimming with business that Vivian was only half listening to.

The other people in the spacious parlor included Vivian’s mother and sister as well as Ms. Gulch and her daughter Darla, and Mrs. Aguilar with her daughter Reyna. Darla and Reyna were, technically speaking, Vivian’s friends but, more accurately speaking, her stooges. And their parents shared a similar relationship with Vivian’s mother.

Mrs. Hargrove was there as well. Although, of course the elephantine Eloise was no longer welcome at these kinds of meetings. Vivian was just happy that Mrs. Hargrove hadn’t brought along her other, chubby, daughter, Sadie- or something.

Currently, Mrs. Hargrove and Mrs. Aguilar were taking up the room’s time rehashing what Mrs. Hargrove always wanted to fret about, what happened to her fat failure of a daughter.

“It’s just not right. It wasn’t supposed to happen. The plan-”

“The plan. The plan,” parroted Mrs. Aguilar.

“Listen. It’s not my fault. I trained my girl the worst that I could without giving up the ghost. Blame your daughter for her failure.”

“Now, I-”

“She’s right Vanessa,” chimed in Mrs. Gulch though, as usual, nobody had asked for her opinion.

“We all know Bernila scheduled the girl’s training sessions for after her usual three martini lunches, so she couldn’t have gotten any worthwhile training. It’s not her fault if the girl is gifted.”

“And with a needle a thread too. Just look at the cut of this magnificent dress,” replied Mrs. Aguilar, gesturing to the slit in her black cocktail dress and deflecting Ms. Gulch’s jab about her cocktail consumption.

“Besides, I’ve set my girl to work for you, and she’s already found the thing you need.”

“Yes?” inquired Mrs. Hargrove with a pitched tenor of hope in her voice.

“A mirror witch in the mall.”

“A mirror witch in the mall without us knowing about her? Impossible. She’d have to be incredibly powerful to escape our collective notice.”

“Well, she didn’t escape the notice of my girl, so she can’t be that powerful.”

“You’re a liar.”

“No she’s not,” interjected Vivian from her seat with her back still to the rest of the room and her eyes still reflecting the fire.

She had had enough of this whole damn conversation, the same trite, repeating thing. “It’s not fair. Poor Eloise. Poor fat, useless Eloise.” “My girl this. My girl that.” Ms. Gulch and the others were constantly calling her trainee girl in one form or another. She was some waifish, willowy blonde chick with glasses, a girl so mousy and extraordinarily ordinary that Vivian- and seemingly everyone else- couldn’t be bothered to remember her name. It was the same kind of useless conversation that these petty women were always having, but at least this time Vivian had information that could move it in a useful direction and away from her ears.

“She’s real. I’ve met her.”

Mrs. Aguilar and the rest of the room looked shocked at the calmness of Vivian’s declaration- not that Vivian was looking at any of them to notice.

“You’ve met with a mir-”

“Enough.” Vivian’s mother finally rose from her seat with one hand raised to cut Mrs. Aguilar off.

“This is done. Vanessa, you and your husband can go and see this mirror witch. Tonya’s girl will make the arrangements. But you’ll do it after tomorrow. I want no distractions and everyone on hand for Vivian’s challenge.”

“No.”

Now it was Vivian’s turn to rise and meet her mother.

“I don’t like this mirror witch. She insulted me. Let her get this done with tomorrow so that as soon as my challenge is won we can deal with the mirror witch.”

Vivian’s mother walked over and wrapped her hand around the back of her neck.

“Child, you would do well to listen. We are on the precipice of the biggest power shift in our coven’s history. It is the culmination of a plan seven years in the making, and if we miss our shot by even a little bit, it would be a coven civil war.”

Vivian raised her hand up and gave her mother a gentle pat on the cheek.

“Mamah, trust me. I will win my challenge tomorrow and make you, me, and Lizzy an intra covina. Then, with the Hargroves bringing Eloise back into the fold, we’ll have them in reserve. No one will see things coming. And we’ll finish everything and everyone by tomorrow.”

Vivian’s mother smiled back at her daughter in turn and grasped her firmly by both shoulders.

“That’s my girl, my perfect girl, brilliant and confident like her mother and sister. Wonderful.”

Without letting go of Vivian, she turned her head tilted her head toward the others.

“You heard her, Tanya. Have your girl make the arrangements tonight.”

She pulled Vivian into a warm embrace as the fire roared behind them.

“Tomorrow, we settle things once and for all.”

Fattest Tuesday Week is Here! Schedule and Teasers

Fattest Tuesday Week is Here!

It has finally arrived, the week of Fattest Tuesday, and, therefore, a week of posting every day! Content all the time! Get excited because this week I’ll be dropping more content than ever.

Coming up this week will be: “The Scales of Time” Chapters 5 and 6! Two volumes of “Fat Trimmings”, a new volume of “Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts” (Couples Edition), the start of a brand new longer term story “Bad Influence” as voted on by patreon patrons! “Nightmare Pigs” Chapter 3 is coming. And, I’ll be dropping a new commissioned piece entitled “Best of Intentions, Worst of Results”

So much content!

You want more? How about an exact schedule for the week and teasers for each day? Let’s do that!

Monday (2/12):

Tomorrow I will be dropping Chapter 5 of “The Scales of Time”. It is a Vivian focused chapter where we learn more about what is going on in her head and her family’s machinations. She also has a run in with another character that we met in Chapter 4.

_____

Sabrina let out a deep belly wobbling laugh that sent a shiver up Vivian’s spine.

“You have your challenge coming up. Are you sure you’re truly ready for the contest?”

Now it was Vivian’s turn to cackle. The question posed to her practically had her doubling over in laughter.

“Are you serious? Against Julie? Lady, you haven’t seen my competition, but trust me. She is no competition.”

“I wouldn’t be so full of yourself girl, lest you end up becoming very full indeed.”

Vivian’s hands instinctively flew to her rock hard abs and assured her that they were still as firm as ever. She stood up even straighter to overcorrect for the puncture that remark had done to her confidence and pride.

“Are- are you kidding me right now? Fuck you, Fatso.”

Sabrina responded with a soft, curt laugh and a shake of her head.

“I know you, girl. I see you better than you see yourself. And I just don’t think you have the drive to overcome a real challenge. You’ve just heard yes your whole life. Believe me, at the first sign of adversity, you will crumble. And once you crumble, you will-”

A flash filled Vivian’s mind and for a moment everything went white.

When she looked down she saw her entire body was inflating like a balloon. She could see her hands held out in front of her as they bloated into chubby mitts with sausage fingers. She could feel her skin stretching as it filled with lard. Her toned arms became weak, fat limbs with wobbling bingo wings. Her legs grew thick with flab. They became flabby thunder thighs covered in cellulite.

Vivian began to panic. What was happening to her perfect body?

_____

Tuesday (2/13):

It’s Fattest Tuesday proper! Huzzah!

Two celebrate, I’ll be dropping Volume 11 of “Fat Trimmings” in the morning and Volume 12 of “Fat Trimmings” in the afternoon.

Last week, I already shared teasers from most of the stories in Volume 11, so here’s what I’ve got coming up in Volume 12.

_____

“Immobile”

You fat pig. Look at you. Just looking at a piece of food is enough to add the pounds onto your pudgy frame.

It’s disgusting. You’re disgusting and you should feel…. Disgusted.

Do you, Piggy? Do you feel how fucking fat you are, with your gigantic doughy belly? It must be so fat that it’s hard to breathe. It just surges out in front of you, this tremendous spare tire, this globular hanging gut over any pants that you try to wear. It always needs to make an appearance. There is no top in the world that will be containing your muffin top. How pitiful it is to have such a huge jiggly pot belly. How embarrassing it must be to be you.

“Teacher Butt”

She’s got that teacher butt, that big fat teacher butt, the kind of butt that happens when you spend too much of your time sitting behind the desk.

Sit behind your desk and get a big behind. That’s the curse of the teacher butt. Gott keep on standing up if you don’t want to get that big fat teacher butt. And she’s gotten too lazy. She used to be so slim, athletic. She was the kind of girl who used to have a figure and a metabolism that she always figured she could count on.

She counted wrong.

Too many class parties. Too many cupcakes. Not enough gym time. Not enough movement period. So now that tight body is going to pot.

“Getting Fat at Thick Burger”

God, I’m getting so fat. I used to be such a slim hottie. And now…. Now look at this gut! Just look at it. It’s so freaking big and soft. I can feel it whenever I move around. It’s such a heavy, saggy, weight. Whenever I move, it swings itself around, a big jiggling mess announcing its presence. I can’t stop feeling it, squeezing it, prodding it, jiggling it. It’s just so damn pliable and so far from what it used to be.

Look at how fat it’s gotten! How fat I’ve gotten! And you know I wasn’t always this way? Let me tell you about it.

“From Author to Subject”

“That’s right. Get on all fours for me, Piggy and eat that cake,” Carl barked at his pet with a voice that was filled with both lust and dominance.

Alana did as she was told. She was his now, his pet, his piggy.  She was a far cry from the stuck up- confident skinny bitch of a woman that she was when they first met. Back then she had rejected him for being too fat. Now she dwarfed him in size and would do anything to please him, including getting on all fours and eating an entire sheet cake with just her face like the pig that she had become. She enthusiastically shoved her face into the cake, oinking like she knew her master would want.

“That’s right. From hard body to hog. It’s quite the sight. Prom Queen to pig. You deserve this, don’t you?”

…..

“Yeah. They should like that,” Annie thought as she stopped typing and closed her laptop.

“Is it good writing? Who fucking cares? These people will pay me for anything if I put the word piggy in it enough times.”

…..

Annie took to writing weight gain stories with a fervor. And to separate herself a bit more, she didn’t just write any weight gain stories. Her specialty was in degradation, the hot girl turned pig type of genre. She loved to get mean. It was easy to start, she’d just take the names of some of the prettier and more popular girls from her high school and college days and enjoy the idea of these pretty, petty bitches getting super fat and having them get aroused by being called pigs.

At first, Annie had a clear rule. Like any good drug dealer, she didn’t get high off her own supply. She simply wrote stories about abs turning to flab, and tight asses becoming blubber butts. She published some quick e-books. She started picking up commission work, and she used that commission work to fill her patreon with content to attract more patrons. It was a pretty steady cycle with hopeful monetary growth.

But as her work output grew, and the money she was making grew, so did her own desires. She couldn’t help but be turned on by what it was she was writing, and by all of the other stuff that she was reading in the name of research. She had always been a rather trim woman, someone who had been trained her whole life to consider fat people as weak, lazy, ugly, people to be looked down upon. And she admitted to having said her fair share of unkind words. But she began to wonder… what would it be like to live life like one of her characters? To just let it all go and do whatever she wanted? Eat whatever she wanted?

What if she just did it?

____

Both volumes of “Fat Trimmings” will also feature parts of my continuing feature “What If?”

_______

Wednesday (2/14)

Happy Valentine’s Day! In keeping with the holiday, I’ll be releasing a couple of pieces. That’s right! Two days in a row of two posts a day! I’m like a Batman villain!

Anyway, exclamation points aside, here’s what’s coming on Wednesday: In the morning I’ll be releasing the first chapter of “Bad Influence”, a story about a vain social media influencer who has fallen on some hard times and needs to rely on an unlikely partnership for health. This will have weighty consequences.

“Bad Influence” originally featured as an exclusive Patreon only story in “Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts” Volume 4, and my patrons voted to turn it into a full length story.

Speaking of “Exclusive Cuts”, I’ll be dropping a Valentine’s Days edition (Volume 5) in the afternoon. This will feature three stories: “Heartbreak Makes a Hog”, “A Couple of Couples Pounds” and “Making the Dough”.

Here are the teasers for everything coming on Wednesday:

“Bad Influence”

“Seriously? Look at me, I’m gorgeous.”

Claudia wasn’t lying. She had a stereotypically hot body, a slim hourglass figure complete with a trim waist and flat tummy. Any curves that she had were curves in all the right places including a cute heart shaped ass that had people’s jaws dropping to the floor whenever she walked by. She had long lean legs that contributed to her model quality strut. She was all confidence and ego, a tremendous brat with a great body, a cunning brain, and a bad attitude.

“You think that someone as slim, and sexy as me would ever go to prom with a fat loser like you. I’m going to be Prom Queen. I can’t possibly be with a big fat slob like you.”

Claudia was looking down at Reggie, the stereotypical fat nerd of her school, a guy known for wearing nothing but jerseys, partly because they represented the sports teams he was into but mostly because they did a decent job accommodating his large size. He was well known around school for being a total simp for Claudia, following her around like a trained puppy, doing her homework and what not. Currently, the poor guy was caught at the losing end of one of those stupidly elaborate promposals.

“I’m perfect, the kind of girl that makes friends and influences people, who gets whatever she wants.”

And with a crowd now gathered around the two eighteen year olds, Claudia was dead set on doing what she did best, which was putting on a show. She bent over and put her hand on Reggie’s shoulder while he was still down on one knee and then shook her tight ass for the other bystanders to see and enjoy.

“I mean, seriously Reggie, look at you. You’re a big fat lazy pig. For somebody who claims to like sports so much, you’re certainly not athletic. You’re just a big fat sack of crap, a lazy wide load loser. You’re nothing like me. I actually care about my body. I work hard at it. That’s why I’m pretty and popular, and you’re a desperate pervy loser who does my homework whenever I ask. It’s just so easy for hot girls like me to have fat losers like you tied around my skinny little finger.”

___________

From “Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts” Volume 5:

“Heartbreak Makes a Hog”

Richard had always been the fat one in their relationship. His now ex-wife, Penelope had always been the glamorous one, the slim and sexy one, the more put together of the pair. Theirs was a marriage that Richard had hoped had love in it but, he had to eventually admit, was more about show.

Richard had known Penelope since high school. He had always been the fat loser, and she had always been the skinny popular bitch. So once Richard got out of college and became filthy rich through a tech startup he had gotten started in his dorm room as well as a few other tremendously shrewd investments and along with several incredibly high paying crazy long parlays on several sports betting sites, he didn’t think twice when a woman as smoking hot as Penelope came a calling. He knew she was a filthy gold digger, and he also figured she would make an excellent trophy wife at least until they could learn the best of each other and form a true, loving relationship.

Then, Penelope left Richard for her tennis instructor, Chad in what was the most cliche turn of events that Richard could think of. So now he could think of only one other thing, revenge. And he knew exactly what his revenge was going to be.

He was going to make Penelope and Chad into fat, broke, slobs. He’d turn them into big, broke, pigs.

“A Couple of Couples Pounds”

Darla and Susanne loved each other very much. They were a perfect couple in many ways. They were madly in love from high school on and had shared interest in so many things. They loved cooking and biking and hiking and watching cheesy romantic comedies and sci-fi action flicks together. They were swimmers, and theatre lovers. They enjoyed weekly date nights where they tried new places to eat. Life was perfect for them.

The only hiccup came once they got out of college and had to find actual jobs and pay actual bills instead of coasting on their parents' money. And they did. They were hard working individuals. It’s just that all of the work left them extremely tired which meant a lot of their more active hobbies began to fall by the wayside replaced by long nights of cuddling and movie watching and snacking.

They still made sure to keep the weekly date night thing going, and they loved to try new foods together, something that would have a predictable effect.

“Making the Dough”

Ali loved her husband, David, and he loved her. They were the kind of couple that talked things out and supported each other. They were the envy of all of their friends, a slim and attractive couple that seemed to have it all.

But David had a dream. He wanted to own a bakery. It was a dream of his since childhood, and before settling down and working on starting their own family, Ali and David decided that this was their best time to follow David’s dream. So David quit his marketing job, and Ali scaled back her hours at work as an accountant so that she could help David with his books. And she also took on a second job.

She became David’s official taste tester.

Thursday (2/15):

Thursday sees the return of Scarlet and chapter 3 of “Nightmare Pigs”. It’s the prim and proper Bethany Richardson’s turn to get what’s coming to her.

Bethany reached a tentative hand out and placed it down on the blanket. She could sense the heavy breathing of someone underneath it, but just one… large someone. Both of Bethany’s hands pressed against the crumb covered blanket, feeling the softest of the comforter but also of something else. It felt like she was pawing at a giant sponge as if there was one person underneath here, one incredibly fat person.

…

The woman started to snort, and her fat face jiggled. She was a jowly pig of a woman, but for a moment she opened her eyes and Bethany could see.

“Cy-Cynthia?”

The eyes that looked back at her were Cynthia’s now beady and partly hidden behind her overly chunky cheeks. And in those eyes there was a moment of helplessness and fear that drifted into a sinister sneer and then a docile calm before slipping back to sleep. Bethany could see it all.

What she didn’t see was the deep purple smoke billowing out from underneath her own bed.

Friday (2/16)

“The Scales of Time” Chapter 6 drops on Friday! The contest between Julie and Vivian finally begins!

Want a teaser for it? You’ll have to wait until later this week when I drop it for patrons only.

Saturday (2/17)

Fattest Tuesday week concludes with a complete one shot story commissioned by one of my patreon patrons (Who get special discounts on commissions.)

This story is called “Best of Intentions, Worst of Results”

Hollie was a hot bitch.

She was, beyond doubt, an incredible smoke show with a tall hourglass figure that made people fall head over heels for her. She was a svelte yet curvy goddess with a trim waist, generous breasts, and a heart-shaped ass that had people drooling over it. Beneath her power suits were powerful arms paired with long athletic legs and a set of six pack abs. She was undeniably hot.

Hollie was also undeniably a bitch. She ruled the office with an iron fist, barking orders at her subordinates and making known to everyone how inferior they were to her. She especially loved making fun of the office fat girls, especially the secretaries that she deemed were pigs, hogs really, or cows. She would tauntingly oink and moo at them, but her confidence and power shook those poor fat women to their core and made them afraid to say anything to anyone else which of course kept Hollie in power, and allowed her to remain confident in maintaining her bullying ways.

Lara was the exact opposite, not in looks, but in demeanor. In the look department, Lara was conventionally attractive in her own right even if she didn’t have the exact supermodel athlete body as Hollie did, but she was a trim woman with an abundance of style, and if she was in the room with pretty much anyone other than Hollie, she was probably the most attractive person in that room.

And she was also a far nicer person, kind to everyone she met and always a shoulder for others to cry on. And carrying that constant burden led Lara to one conclusion.

Hollie had to be stopped.

And Lara was going to do it.

_________

That’s everything for Fattest Tuesday Week. In total, I’ll be dropping a grand total of 8 new pieces over the course of 6 days. That’s a hell of a lot of content. Plus I’ll probably be dropping a few surprises along the way.

I hope you will enjoy it all! I know I’m enjoying it already.

BS

Suggest A Couple of Couples Stories and I'll Write Them

Hello,

I am looking for story suggestions once again. Wednesday of Fattest Tuesday week is also Valentine's Day, and so I would like to create an edition of "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" based on the idea of couples in some way. 

However, I'm so busy cooking up everything else for Fattest Tuesday Week, that I'm in need of your ideas of quick hit couple stories to write about. Suggest any ideas that you have and it's a very strong likelihood that I will write them up this weekend.

I actually initially put out this quite a while, but I think it got lost in all the story previews which I get. I hope people will share their ideas now.

Thank you, as always, for your time and support. I look forward to writing your ideas.

Bonus Patreon Exclusive!: Eloise's Interlude (Slob Cut)

Hello Loyal Patrons,

As an extra thank you for your support, I have written this additional cut of Eloise's Interlude from The Scales of Time. This cut will remain exclusive to this Patreon. I will not be releasing it anywhere else.

It is the same story as the original cut I dropped this morning. However, it has over 750 additional words of slob content for those who are into that sort of thing and want to watch Eloise' life get extra miserable. For those of you who are not into that, I understand. I won't be insulted by you not reading this one and hope you enjoyed the original cut.

If there seems to be demand for it based on reactions, likes and comments, to this post, I may do additional bonus cuts of stuff I write in the future. Let me know what you think.

The Scales of Time: Eloise's Interlude

Eloise used to spring out of bed in the morning. Her lithe body would leap into action, ready to take on the day, full of life and energy.

Now as her alarm blared, her chubby hand groped desperately for the source of the headache currently pounding in her fat head. The fat on her arm wobbled helplessly as she patted around for her phone currently lost amongst her bed sheets along with several candy wrappers.

Eloise hadn’t always been a serial snacker, in fact up until a few days ago, she had abhorred the idea of ingesting excess sugar. Her body was a temple, but now…

Now it was a gluttonous mess.

And Eloise couldn’t stop herself from eating chocolate even if she wanted to. It was like the fat that had piled onto her body came with a compulsion, a need to stuff itself regularly with junk food, and as she did so, the girl who had once been so slim and sexy and glamorous had quickly settled into her new role as a sedentary sow, a greedy little piglet, a fat girl who had no care for quality of food she stuffed her fat face with or the mess she left behind.

It was quite a fall that Eloise had taken, going from being a pretty popular cheerleader, a powerful witch in her own right, a glamor girl who others cowered in front of to being a bloated, powerless porker who was weary at just the idea of having to move in the morning. Just a few days ago she had felt like a princess. Now she felt like a pig, the biggest, fattest loser she knew.

As Eloise struggled to find her phone, she dreaded the things that she knew were in front of her for the day: Having to shower, forced to feel her fat flabby body as cleaned herself before struggling to get dressed and then struggling once again with her newly enormous appetite, her pretty, jerk of a sister, her lousy job as a cafeteria worker, the cruel jabs of her former friends and the petty laughter of people she once used to look down upon. Eloise remembered all of the joy and promise that her life used to have as her thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling of her greedy pot belly signaling its desire to be filled with a big, greasy, calorie bomb breakfast. She wished she could just stuff her face in bed and not have to face the rest of the day.

Eventually the big lazy pig fumbled around long enough to find her phone and turn off her alarm. Then, with an annoyed grunt, Eloise realized it was time to begin the arduous process of getting her fat body out of bed.

It used to be so easy, the kind of thing Eloise did without thinking. Core strength used to be something she prided herself in, but now that pride was buried below layers of pudge. To call her stomach a paunch at this point would be an understatement. She wouldn’t even call it a pot belly at this point, not since her unfortunate run in with Julie. Now she had a big sloshing spare tire. It was a tremendous inconvenience in a lot of ways, making so many tasks she had never even thought about doing before into a total nightmare, including getting out of bed.

Her gut pressed against her tremendous thighs as she tried to sit up. She was straining against the size of her own flabby middle, the weight of her gut holding her back, the lack of muscles leaving her a weak sweating mess pathetically struggling like a turtle on her fat back.

Eloise fruitlessly swung her flabby arms like a big fat baby throwing a tantrum. This had been the same story each morning since her transformation, it was an awkward dance that reminded her that she was a weak, pathetic, fat, loser.

Eventually, Eloise managed to roll herself over into her side by swinging fat pasty thigh around. She was already breathing heavily. Her chunky cheeks flapped together as her spare tire kept her momentum going and made her roll off the bed. She nearly fell to the floor but luckily she managed to get a fat foot on the floor first and steady her wobbly self. Already exhausted from her exertion, Eloise waddled off to the bathroom to shower.

As Eloise waddled off toward the bathroom, she was painfully aware of every move her fat body was making. She felt her pasty thighs rubbing together as she swung them awkwardly to move her massive bulk across the room. She felt the bouncing of her blubber butt and the swaying of her sloshing spare tire.

Once she got to the bathroom, she caught the reflection of her face in the mirror above the sink and barely recognized what she saw. Her cheeks were bloated, puffy messes. She had a jowly look complete with a thick double chin. It even looked like her nose as wider, fatter, more piggish. But her eyes were still hers. They had dulled considerably, devoid of the same verve she had back when she was a princess and not a pig, but she could still tell they were hers, and they served as the reminder that this was indeed real and not just a nightmare. They told her to her face that she was a fatty.

Eloise spun her fat body away as fast as she could and quickly used a chubby hand to crank up the hot water in the shower, eager for the steam to cover the mirror so she wouldn’t have to look at herself.

The warmth of the water felt good against Eloise’s soft body, but showering was still yet another thing that made Eloise feel like a gross pig. Her bingo wings wobbled as she reached for the soap.

Showering was not an easy task for Eloise for a number of reasons, the biggest of which was her big belly. Her fat gut made bending over difficult and took extra time to clean it specifically because of how large it was. Eloise used to love washing her abs. Her gut disgusted her, the feeling of the turgid fat rolling between her fingers repulsed her and she was horrified by the idea that she now had fat rolls and folds that she had to clean between. She had to physically lift her belly with one hand so that she could clean the underside of her gut with the other. Few things make her feel like a bigger fatso than cleaning her underbelly, except of course for the fact that cleaning parts of her legs are now quite literally impossible.

As Eloise slid her hand between her thick thighs to soap them up, she bemoaned the fact that any gap she had was long vanished. Her fat enveloped her hand on both sides as she slid it up and down. Eloise tried to wash her thighs as quickly as she could because the feeling of touch all that pale, squishy, fat makes her sick to her big fat stomach. And that same big fat stomach is something that she once again has to squish and move around just to bend over as much as possible. Her days of being able to bend down and touch her toes is over. She can’t even see her feet without pressing down on her fat gut. This means that her cankles are only cleaned by the soap that washes down her legs since she can’t easily scrub those at all.

And then comes her wide, round, blubbery behind.

Her big fat spongy ass is a monster in its own right to clean. She goes to work dutifully cleaning her lard ass, rubbing her chubby hands all over, under and between her big fat cheeks. This was to Eloise the most disgusting part of her whole shower. She can’t believe that this is her own fat flabby ass, but the palmfuls of chunky cheeks makes it clear that all of this lard is hers.

“Lard ass,” she mutters to herself.

“Fat ass. Piggy. Oink Oink. Piggy. Oink. Oink”

Eloise began to spank her own fat ass, sending her flab wiggling and jiggling as she continued to disparage herself.

“You’re a disgusting land whale now, Fatso. And absolute cow.”

She begins to sob, her tears covered by the streaming hot water from the shower.

“I used to be so hot, and now I’m a fat fucking loser.”

Eloise pounds her fat fist against the shower wall and shakes her fat, saggy gut with her other hand in anger. But eventually she pulls herself together because there is still more of her fat body to clean.

That brought her to her breasts, fat lumps that she used to prize but her now dwarfed by the rest of her fat body. They were soft and saggy as she held them and bemoaned their former perkiness. Now they were just deflated sandbags of fat, flabby tits that were nothing compared to what they used to be even if they were technically slightly bigger.

Finally, Eloise cleaned her fat face. She used to have an incredibly intricate skincare routine, even when she had magic. It was more of taking the time and making a point of pride out of taking the time to take care of herself. Now there is no care, she cleans her fat face as quickly as possible because she can stand the feeling of the fat that covered her previously angelic face.

Once she is finally done, Eloise shuts off the water, struggles to get her fat form out of the shower and goes about drying her obese body, rubbing each roll and fold with the towel. It pains her to bounce her big belly up and down as she dries it and pains her even more to squeeze the redundant softness of her once pert and now lard filled ass.

Getting dressed was another humiliating ordeal. Eloise started with her panties. Previously she always wore dainty, sexy underwear, slim cut, and often thongs. Eloise loved the feeling of knowing that even under the most mundane of outfits she was wearing sexy underwear that perfectly fit her perfect ass. But now she had a drawer full of bland, gray, sad, granny panties, panties that when held looked like tents, and yet they were still tight when she got them over her bloated rear end, a task that took quite a while. Once again, her big belly and her thunder thighs fought each other as she struggled to get her granny panties up. There was a lot of grunting and whining before she finally managed to get them up over her shelf of a bed and felt the unfortunate tightness against her flabby butt cheeks.

After that came her work slacks which meant more struggling to pull them up over her thick quivering thighs and fighting her bulbous belly to button the slacks. Once she finally got them buttoned, her belly bounced and hung over the waistband, a useless flabby mess good for nothing but causing her trouble. And it began to rumble signaling that her greedy gut needed to be fed. Eloise sighed, knowing that she was powerless to resist her hunger.

So she did up her shirt, feeling the buttons strain against her belly, sighed, which inflated her double chin, and then waddled off so she could lumber down the stairs and stuff her face.

Waffles, smothered in butter and syrup, oatmeal made with full fat milk-nothing less, scrambled eggs and bacon, lots and lots of fatty, greasy bacon. This was the feast that Eloise cooked up for herself. Eloise can’t help herself. It is a compulsion to cook. Her greedy gut demands it, and she gives in. Inside she is screaming. There is a piece of her that wants to just have a bit of fruit and a nice cup of tea. But then she drowns that thought out with a big cup of coffee that is mostly heavy cream.

Eloise eats like the pig she has become, stuffing her face, slurping down her oatmeal, dripping it down her chin. She has gone from a dainty, glamorous woman, prim and proper, to being an absolute animal when it comes to destroying her food, feasting on fattening delights with reckless abandon.

At some point, her mother comes down the stairs, sees what her pig of a daughter is doing, catches a whiff of Eloise’s noxious gas and simply runs out of the room crying.

“You’re really something, Piggy.”

The laughter came from behind Eloise and was her younger sister.

“Poor mom. She must be so disappointed to watch her daughter become an absolute cow. Moo.”

“Shut up, Maddie.”

Eloise’s sister, Madison was chubby. She had always been chubby, and up until Eloise blew up like a balloon. Eloise had always considered her nothing more than a chubby little piglet. But now that Eloise truly knew what it meant to be a big fat pig, she had to admit that Madison was indeed rather pretty.

Madison wore her weight well and knew how to dress her curves to make herself look more than just presentable. While she wasn’t as stunning as Eloise had been, Eloise now wished she could be as thin and put together as her chubby sister.

Eloise had spent years making fun of her chubby sister, making it known how inferior she thought she was, chastising her constantly because of her weight while flaunting her own tight, fit, gorgeous body. And now Madison was making up for lost time when it came to taking her revenge.

“I do so love seeing you like this, Fatso. Seeing you physically turn into the greedy pig you always were inside is such perfect karma. I love pinching me an inch,” laughs Maddie as she squeezes one of Eloise’s thick love handles.

“Hey look, I got you a present.”

Madison has a devious smile on her as she produced a white box full of six cupcakes with pig faces on them. Eloise recoiled at the sight even as her mouth began to water.

“I-I’m full.”

Maddie just smiled some more and patted Eloise’s doughy belly.

“Oh, Piggy. We both know that fat greedy gut of yours still has more room.”

She picks up the first of the cupcakes and holds it up to Eloise’s fat face.

“You used to make my life a living hell, so now you owe me this, Blubber Butt. Now that you’re the pathetic fatty you always told me I was, I’m going to make you even fatter the old fashioned way. And if you don’t eat what I tell you, I’ll just use magic to blow you up like a parade balloon. You’ll need a scooter to get around, do you want that?”

Eloise didn’t know if Maddie was bluffing or not. She had to believe that she was, but she also knew she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t risk that Maddie wasn’t telling the truth.

So she just shook her fat head, sending her double chin wobbling.

“Then open wide, my not so little piglet.”

Eloise dutifully did as she was told and opened wide which allowed Maddie to shove the cupcake into her mouth with no care to the way the crumbs and icing smattered against her cheeks.

“That’s right, Oinker. One down, five more to go.”

With no other choice, Eloise allowed her sister to stuff her with the rest of the cupcakes, dutifully chewing and swallowing like a good little pet piggy. That’s what she felt like, a bloated pet piggy, a lazy sow being fed by her younger, prettier, more powerful sister. She was a helpless hog, a pitiful porker.

And before she knew it, she was done. She had eaten all of the cupcakes without even giving it another thought. If anything, Eloise was disappointed to realize she still wanted more.

“There you go, Fatso. You’ve been such a good piggy. Now, you enjoy the rest of your fat miserable day, Chunk.”

After that, Eloise waddled off to her coven assigned job as a fat cafeteria lady in the dining hall where she once held court. She used to strut around there regularly drawing admiring stares and giving sneers and unkind words to the unwashed masses. Now she was the one on the end of the sneers and jeers and could do nothing about it but hang her head and waddle back behind her station.

That’s when she saw her yet again, her best friend turned biggest tormentor, Vivian Blake. All Eloise could do was cower and hope Vivian was somehow too busy or didn’t notice her.

But she knew better. Vivian was a shark who smelt blood, and Eloise was a big fat meal she couldn’t ignore.

Eloise’s only choice was to brace herself for more punishment to come.

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 10 (XL Edition)

In celebration of this being Volume 10, enjoy over 4,000 words of fatty fun.

“Fat with a Zap”

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

Once the ray hit her, there went her abs. A lifetime of work, of diet and exercise, went down the toilet as the muscles  began to quiver and atrophy and spill outward in a thick roll of flab. Her sexy washboard abs had been her prized possession, her go to weapon when flaunting her body in front of others. And it was all going to waste, turning into a turgid pot belly, a big blubbery gut.

The idea of going from the peak of physical fitness to a pig sent her into a panic.

It was rather funny to watch her scream and try to push the fat back in. Her hands gripped at the roll of fat and pinched, punched and squeezed to try and make it so that none of this was happening, but of course it was. She was doomed. She just didn’t want to admit it yet.

As she squished her belly fat, she screamed again when she noticed that the hands that were pushing against the fat were now fat themselves. She held her hands up to her face and examined the sausage-like fingers. Then her attention shot downward.

That’s the moment she realized that her thighs were now touching. It was undeniable. Pale, pasty pudge was pressing together.

It took some work to fully assess the damage down there. She had to push her new belly out of the way a bit, but her legs were now safely what one would call thunder thighs, and they were quickly filling with fat and cellulite and bordering on being called tree trunk. They were graced with saddlebags and a matching set of cankles. Even her feet were swollen with fat. She would have stayed fixated on them if it weren’t for the ripping sound.

She felt the back of her shorts tear as her ass ballooned outward, two jumbo jiggling cheeks. Her hands flew right to them and she felt the soft, pliable flab ooze between her fingers. She tried with her ass to squeeze it all back in just like she tried to do with her big fat pot belly, but this too was an obvious failure. The bulging blubber kept pushing forward as her thick muffin top grew fatter and fatter blooming outward and over her overtaxed pants.

As she heard the laughter around her, she felt like a big bloated pig at a fair, a fat hog being weighed and measured and presented to others as a show to gawk at. She felt like in an instant she had gone from popular princess to a piggish loser- because she had. She knew in an instant she had lost everything she prized most, her slim and sexy body replaced with that of a fat girl. She was a fat girl now. A lard ass, a pig, a cow, a big fat fatty.

Oink oink. Call her Fatso.

The only thing the ray left her with was her beautiful face. Once perfectly angular, it was only slightly softened. When she hung her head in shame, a small double chin would form, but other than that she stayed completely recognizable so everyone who knew her would be able to tell that the fat woman in front of them was indeed the one they had known as a skinny bitch. It was an incredible curse to make sure that everyone knew exactly who it was they were making fun of.

To ensure that she would never lose any weight, the fat ray also was sure to readjust her appetite. Her body was now craving fatty foods, grease and sugar. An overwhelming sense of hunger had overcome her, and without thinking about it, she eagerly plowed into the stack of burgers that was set in front of her. Midway through she realized what she was doing and tried to stop, but it only took a few seconds and a few tears in her eyes to realize that that was impossible. She couldn’t fight the hunger. She went right back to stuffing her face with full knowledge that this was her future. Her thoughts were clear and she had to acknowledge that her destiny was to consume and grow fatter as the ray not only grew her fat cells and increased her appetite, but it also slowed her metabolism. Yes. She was destined to be huge.

She wants to begin again. She wishes all of this fat would just melt off of her, but the only thing that’s melting is the impressive amount of butter that she cakes her food in. She tries to fight her appetite but can’t help but gorge herself on greasy food, consistently adding more junk to her trunk.

She hates it all. She hates looking at her body, feeling her body, squeezing her blubbery flab in her hands or even just feeling the weight of her body as the fat swishes about and she waddles through the house. She used to be an athlete, a runner and a cheerleader, so the feeling of her thighs rubbing together and the helplessness of knowing that the thick fat has forced them apart and taken her ability to run away from her is exceptionally distressing. She misses being able to move freely and feels imprisoned by lard.

She especially hates how her face is still fatter but recognizable, how everyone can see from her face that she used to be skinny. She loathes how everyone she ever used to make fun of can revel in her downfall, call her names and taunt her with every mean thing she has ever said. And she hates how her former friends seem to take special glee in her misfortunes and watching her wallow in fat and misery.

But what she hates the most is that she knows there’s no going back. No matter what she does now, she is going to continue to be a big fat piggy forever.

Hopefully she’s learned her lesson and knows better than to make fun of the fat nerdy guys.

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

“Runway No More”

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

She used to strut. Now she waddles.

Good. She deserves it.

She was always one of those women who had a naturally “hot” body. She didn’t have to work to have confidence and it took even less to get modeling work. People fell all over her without her even having to try. It always came easy to her, and with no need to work on her body, she didn’t really feel a need to work on her personality either.

So she was a cruel bitch, always putting others down. Always without a kind word to say. Her mouth was full of mean names for people, like piggy, cow, or sow.

But nowadays the words that come out of her mouth are few and far between. That’s mostly because her mouth is so often filled with food. She disgusts herself with how much she eats, with how much tighter her already large clothes are still getting. She hates the way her belly sags and her thighs rub together. She feels like a complete slob who can’t get their life together.

And she can’t.

Wouldn’t you like to know what life is like now for this hottie turned fatty?

Without her beauty she is lost. Without her confidence she doesn’t know what to do and so it’s like she’s waddling around in a stupor hoping to find her answers in chocolate bars and ice cream cones.

She could have been a plus sized model, you know. Her body still had the look for it once she started gaining weight. She was thick in all the right places at first. But her fat hatred was so internalized that she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She didn’t want to be seen by others. The scorn of her friends and their sneaky social media posts didn’t help.

“She used to be so svelte and now she’s a pig! #Fit2Fat #Hot2Not”

“She’s a #Piggy #Fatso #LardAss”

“Look at that flabby body! She used to have model hard abs. Not anymore! #BlubberButt #PotBelly #Whale”

That was enough derision to already confirm her anti-fat bias.

Even today she could be at least a fetish model. She could make good money shaking her ass and belly for some strangers. Plenty of people would pay plenty of money to watch her eat. She could live fat and happy if she allowed herself to.

But she won’t. So instead she’ll take the quietest job she can think of, something out of the way where people won't notice the big fat girl or at least won’t take the time to give her a second glance. She takes a job where she feels she will be invisible because people like that were always invisible to her.

And that’s how she’s gone from a supermodel to a maid.

Every day she crams herself into her maid’s uniform. Her belly surges outward and strains the straps of her apron. She is quite the sight with her once pert butt practically hanging out as her flabby ass cheeks sag downward and peek out from underneath her too tight skirt.

She’s a wide woman waddling about, wearing a tight uniform that barely contains her bulbous curves, scrubbing toilets, washing floors and throwing out garbage. Hers is a life of laundry and loathing.

She used to turn heads. Now nobody looks at her. Or, if they happen to catch a glance it’s often with a look of disgust followed by some kind of cutting remark.

She used to be the one with unkind words. Now she is the one who is demean, called piggy, cow, or sow. Occasionally, her former friends will check up on her. They’re the ones who revel in her descent the most. They love that she’s become a fat flabby loser, a subservient sow. They find the schadenfreude to be delicious, and when those catty bitches are around, they always drive her to stuff her face even more. They love to point out that she’ll never be thin again. She’s a lard ass forever, a perfectly plump piggy with no future prospects. They love to remind her about the simple truth of how far she has fallen.

She used to be a model. Now she’s a maid.

This is her life, and she is fat and miserable.

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

“Car Trouble”

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

Getting out of the car is an issue for her nowadays. So is getting into the car. Hell, so is the simple act of sitting in the car, especially if she’s trying to drive. Her stomach is so large that even with the seat pushed all the way back it still almost brushes against the steering wheel. And she eats so much that she’s going to get to touching it eventually. It’s only a matter of time before that gut is fully pressed against the wheel and she’s not going to be able to move that wheel as it’s enveloped in fat. Her driving days are limited.

Which is probably for the best since her incredibly bulk makes moving in and out of it as difficult as it does. With all that thick quivering flesh that shudders in waves at the slightest movement, getting around at all is going to be limited. As the number on the scale keeps going up, the number of days she has being able to get around on her own goes down.

Just look at her.

She is an absolutely ham beast of a fat woman, a great lumbering mass of blubber with tremendous thighs twice the size of some people’s waists. They are dripping with cellulite rich fat that droop and roll over her knees. Her whole body is composed of  shelves of fat sloppily organized into gigantic rolls that fight the eye for attention. Every part of her sticks out far enough to make traversing exceedingly difficult, not just because carrying that much bulk makes her incredibly tired after just a few steps, but because the sheer width of her body made bumping into things more than a habit.

Her double belly lurches forward as if it’s always looking for food. It bounces with each wobbling step eager to fill itself with a new feast. Everything one could think of ends up in that gut. But mostly it is filled with greasy fast food meals and sugary snacks. It doesn’t really matter though. The calories that are consumed are so countless that it doesn’t make sense to track the kinds of food either. It’s just a nonstop cycle of food to fat. She is seldom seen not eating, and that’s why she has such a thick spare tire wrapped around her waist and paired with meaty love handles and thick rolls of back fat.

Her belly even outpaces her breasts which is impressive because her breasts are two massive udders that sage with stretchmarked fat. T. Above them is her fat face with multiple drooping chins. She is a truly obese hog of a woman complete with weak bingo winged arms.

In the opposite direction of her tits and belly, her fat ass justs outward and sags downward, two giant bags of squishy lard. They are overful pillows of fat, huge wobbling cushions that sway every which way whenever she waddles about. Of course, her waddling is limited these days because it tires her so, and that ass plays a big role in tiring her out, that and all the other rolls on her body.

Even eating makes her winded, and she eats a lot. Yes. There’s not much she can do other than eat.

And that’s why her days driving her car are so limited. She’s still gaining weight with no sign of stopping. So soon she’ll stop driving. And eventually she’ll stop walking too. The day is close.

Soon she’ll sit down on the couch and just stay there forever.

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

“Tiny Tina Gets Tubby”

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

Tina won’t be making fun of fat girls anymore.

That used to be one of her favorite things to do. She loved to show off her body, flaunt her abs, literally run circles around people with her long lean legs. She used to love to show off her metabolism and eat large meals, stuff her face with junk food in front of the fat girls, taunt with the food they wanted to eat and the fact that she could do it without gaining a pound.

“I bet you’re gaining weight just from looking at this. Aren’t you, fatty?” She would tease.

“You fat slobs wish you could eat like me. You wish you had my body, Fatsos. Just look at this abs. Look at my perfect butt. I’m everything you fat piggies will never be.”

Trim Tina, Tiny Tina, Tight Body Tina, that’s what she was known as. Her abs were visible, her legs were tight and toned. Tina’s ass was a perfect heart shape. Even her feet and fingers were dainty. Tina was an incredibly petite person and she rocked it. The only tiny part of Tina that she didn’t like were her breasts, but she made up for that by largely pointing out the faults in others.

She loved to think about mean things to say to people, names to call them, jokes to make. Women she disliked were: Piggy, Lard Ass, Wide Load, Blubber Butt, Cow, Whale, Porker, Oinker, Piggy Piggy Oink Oink. The list could go on. If anything, Tina’s favorite word for people was piglet. She just loved the way that rolled off the tongue.

“Hey there, piglet. What are you stuffing your face with today?”

“You’re a naughty little piglet, aren’t you?”

“Sneaking snacks, aye, piglet?”

“Oink oink, little piglet. This is why you’re so fat.”

And when the words weren’t enough, Tina loved the idea that she could freeze a fat girl with a look and shut them down with a sneer. She loved the power she had to make fat women feel inferior to her.

Tina was on top of the world.

And then Tina fell, both metaphorically and in a very literal sense.

One day, while out jogging, Tina tripped on an unfortunately raised piece of concrete and ended up both tearing her ACL and shattering her knee when she hit the ground. It was a large amount of damage which meant a large amount of being in bed and a large loss of physical activity. Unfortunately for Tina, this did not coincide with a large change to her diet which meant that Tina Tina ended up getting quite large.

You see, Tina ended up suing over her fall and won herself a pretty sizable settlement, and all of the pain from the accident and boredom that came with her sizable amount of downtime meant that Tina spent a sizable amount of her settlement indulging in an incredible amount of food. Tina’s already sizable appetite, combined with a sizable increase in her snacking, meant that Tina’s waistline saw sizable growth, and it was not surprising that she was having to upsize her clothing so often.

Designer jeans and skirts soon became sweatpants, and even those started to be outgrown.

Tiny Tina became Tubby Tina, and she wasn’t just tubby either. She really flabbed out, flubbed up, packed on the pounds.

She got downright fat.

Tubby Tina got some thick thunder thighs, fleshy, flabby thighs long devoid of any of the muscle they used to know, big tree trunks that rubbed together and gave the girl who used to love to run a pronounced waddle. Even her feet got fat, swollen from lack of activity.

Those thighs got pair with a big fat, blubbery butt, an ass that wobbled with each step. Covered in cellulite, her chunky caboose devolved from a pert, heart shape into a shapeless mass of flubber. It was the kind of ass that turned heads and then turned them away in laughter.

Tina’s arms also lost all definition and became flabby limbs with jiggly bingo wings that wobbled whenever she moved her arms. They were hypnotically jiggly. And even her hands grew chubby. Her fingers matched her toes once again as they all became thick like sausages.

Tina’s abs melted into a big piggy pot belly, a mass of jiggling fat that hung over the waistband of any pants that she wore and spilled out from under any of her shirts. It was embarrassingly large and flabby, a real spare tire that threatened to, over time, turn itself into a true double belly if Tina wasn’t careful. Her gut stretched out and came with thick love handles and back rolls to form a large muffin top that wrapped itself completely around her lost waistline. Her pudgy paunch liked to bounce with every movement. It liked to burst buttons and lurch itself forward out past her breasts.

Unfortunately for Tubby Tina, her breasts were the only part of her that remained tiny. In comparison to the rest of her, any growth that they had was greatly outpaced by her burgeoning belly and the rest of her fat body. Therefore, Tubby Tina’s tits stayed tiny and mere became soft and saggy disappointments. Now a fat girl on the itty bitty titty committee, Tina was an easy target for ridicule.

In fact, Tubby Tina had become a big fat target for ridicule now that she was a “greedy little piglet” as people loved to call her.

“Look who got fat. It’s Tubby Tina.”

“Hey, Tubby Tina, you’re a naughty piglet. Aren’t you? Bet you can’t stop sneaking snacks, you greedy girl.”

“You used to be so hot. Now you’re a fat flabby pig. Such a shame, Tubby.”

“Who’s the fat girl now, lard ass? I’m thinner than you, and I love it. No more lording your abs over me. You’ve grown quite the gut, piggy. Tubby Tina with the tubby gut!”

Tina found people she used to make fun of now taking great joy in poking her tubby tummy, pinching her, poking her, shaking her fat.

Her confidence shattered, Tubby Tina felt like a fat loser because that’s what she had become, and the people she used to make fun of were not going to let her forget it.

“Welcome to the world of the porkers, piglet. Why don’t you oink for us, Fatso.”

“Yeah, Piggy Piggy Oink Oink. Oink like the oinker you are, Tubby Tina.”

And sometimes Tubby Tina would give in and oink just to get people to leave her alone.

Tubby Tina knew deep down that this is what she deserved for all her years of tormenting others, and she knew that with her leg and her appetite she was already too far gone. Soon she would be Two Hundred Pound Tina, then more. There was no going back for her.

She was Tubby Tina forevermore.

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

What If? (Part 10)

What if they don’t like her?

That’s the thought that’s running through her head as she stares at her computer, looking right down the barrel of her webcam while her finger hovers over her mouse. She’s moments from starting a livestream and her fat body is wiggling in fear. She can feel the cold sweat of nerves, and as her nervous hand trembles over her mouse, hesitant to click on the button to start her stream, that one movement makes her whole soft, flabby arm wobble.

What if they don’t like her? That question keeps echoing in her mind.

She’s used to not being liked. So many of her friends have turned their back on her by now. She’s grown accustomed to the stares that she gets, the jokes at her expense, and the cruel comments that people leave about her on social media. She is painfully aware of how fat she is and how much people love to remind her of how hot she used to be, what a shame it is that she’s put on so much weight.

She’s used to the hate. It’s the same kind of cruelty she used to subject others too until she began to embrace who she truly is.

But this. This is supposed to be different. This is supposed to be the kind of people who will love her body, drool over her fat belly and thick thighs, call her a piggy but in the best of ways. This is supposed to be her crowd. Forget about being worshiped (like she used to be when she was slim and sexy), what if these people don’t even like her. What if she’s not fat enough for them? What if they reject her? Can she handle that?

She has to. Money is running out and she needs more food to stuff her greedy belly with.

So she presses the button.

And she goes live.

And after a timid introduction, as the first few fans trickle in, she’s happy that the picture of her looking extra bloated in her pink bikini was enough of a preview to land at least a few people right away, she got into the main part of her performance.

She begins to dance for her new fans.

She rubs her chubby hands across her thick thighs, sinking her fingers into the soft flesh as she ran them up her chunky legs. Teasingly, she touches her belly, runs her fingers just along the underside of her pot belly as it hung over her bikini bottoms. Then she gives her belly pudge a little flip but didn’t linger for long. She wants to draw the belly play out and save some for later.

Instead her hands slide back to her hips and then around as she begins to gyrate her hips and dance around in a circle.

It’s clear she used to be a cheerleader, and a dancer from the way she still knows how to move her body. Her chunky body with its jiggling fat makes it clear that her days of being a cheerleader are long gone and unlikely to ever return.

The fat around her hips forms folds as she gyrates around. Her stomach bounces and jiggles as she slides her chubby thumbs between her chunky love handles and the waistband of her panties. She spins around and bounces her big ass cheeks up and down. She teases flashing the full thing but leaves just the tempting tops of her luscious cheeks showing.

Then she turns around again and leans forward to give a full view of the tops of her bountiful breasts with her pot belly surging forward and leaning out past her breasts. She uses her chubby arms to squeeze everything together and gives a little shake.

Her chubby hands slide down her chests and to her piggy little gut. She rolls the fat in her hands, gives her belly a shake and slap and smiles as she watches the viewer and subscriber counts go up. Her viewers are putty in her hands just like her pliable pudge.

She looks over at a white box at her side and slowly reaches for it. The fat on her arm wobbles. She opens the box and looks down at its still hidden contents. Her double chin inflates as she looks down and smiles. Then she turns the box toward her audience and they can see the sinful treats she has.

Six deliciously fattening doughnuts.

Can she eat them all in one sitting?

Will she?

Not just yet.

She’s going to make them all wait just a little longer.

Big Fat Teasers: Get Ready for Fattest Tuesday and More!

Here are previews of some of the stories I’ll be releasing in the next couple weeks.

On Tuesday, 2/6, I’ll be releasing on my Patreon Volume 10 of my “Fat Trimmings” flash fiction series. To celebrate the 10th volume, it’ll be an extra large edition featuring five stories and over 4,000 words of weight gain related goodness. Here are teasers for all of those stories.

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

“Tiny Tina Gets Tubby”

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

Tina won’t be making fun of fat girls anymore.

That used to be one of her favorite things to do. She loved to show off her body, flaunt her abs, literally run circles around people with her long lean legs. She used to love to show off her metabolism and eat large meals, stuff her face with junk food in front of the fat girls, taunt with the food they wanted to eat and the fact that she could do it without gaining a pound.

“I bet you’re gaining weight just from looking at this. Aren’t you, fatty?” She would tease.

“You fat slobs wish you could eat like me. You wish you had my body, Fatsos. Just look at this abs. Look at my perfect butt. I’m everything you fat piggies will never be.”

Trim Tina, Tiny Tina, Tight Body Tina, that’s what she was known as. Her abs were visible, her legs were tight and toned. Tina’s ass was a perfect heart shape. Even her feet and fingers were dainty. Tina was an incredibly petite person and she rocked it. The only tiny part of Tina that she didn’t like were her breasts, but she made up for that by largely pointing out the faults in others.

She loved to think about mean things to say to people, names to call them, jokes to make. Women she disliked were: Piggy, Lard Ass, Wide Load, Blubber Butt, Cow, Whale, Porker, Oinker, Piggy Piggy Oink Oink. The list could go on. If anything, Tina’s favorite word for people was piglet. She just loved the way that rolled off the tongue.

“Hey there, piglet. What are you stuffing your face with today?”

“You’re a naughty little piglet, aren’t you?”

“Sneaking snacks, aye, piglet?”

“Oink oink, little piglet. This is why you’re so fat.”

And when the words weren’t enough, Tina loved the idea that she could freeze a fat girl with a look and shut them down with a sneer. She loved the power she had to make fat women feel inferior to her.

Tina was on top of the world.

And then Tina fell, both metaphorically and in a very literal sense.

“Fat with a Zap”

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

Once the ray hit her, there went her abs. A lifetime of work, of diet and exercise, went down the toilet as the muscles  began to quiver and atrophy and spill outward in a thick roll of flab. Her sexy washboard abs had been her prized possession, her go to weapon when flaunting her body in front of others. And it was all going to waste, turning into a turgid pot belly, a big blubbery gut.

The idea of going from the peak of physical fitness to a pig sent her into a panic.

It was rather funny to watch her scream and try to push the fat back in. Her hands gripped at the roll of fat and pinched, punched and squeezed to try and make it so that none of this was happening, but of course it was. She was doomed. She just didn’t want to admit it yet.

As she squished her belly fat, she screamed again when she noticed that the hands that were pushing against the fat were now fat themselves. She held her hands up to her face and examined the sausage-like fingers. Then her attention shot downward.

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

“Runway No More”

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

She used to strut. Now she waddles.

Good. She deserves it.

She was always one of those women who had a naturally “hot” body. She didn’t have to work to have confidence and it took even less to get modeling work. People fell all over her without her even having to try. It always came easy to her, and with no need to work on her body, she didn’t really feel a need to work on her personality either.

So she was a cruel bitch, always putting others down. Always without a kind word to say. Her mouth was full of mean names for people, like piggy, cow, or sow.

But nowadays the words that come out of her mouth are few and far between. That’s mostly because her mouth is so often filled with food. She disgusts herself with how much she eats, with how much tighter her already large clothes are still getting. She hates the way her belly sags and her thighs rub together. She feels like a complete slob who can’t get their life together.

And she can’t.

Wouldn’t you like to know what life is like now for this hottie turned fatty?

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

“Car Trouble”

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

Getting out of the car is an issue for her nowadays. So is getting into the car. Hell, so is the simple act of sitting in the car, especially if she’s trying to drive. Her stomach is so large that even with the seat pushed all the way back it still almost brushes against the steering wheel. And she eats so much that she’s going to get to touching it eventually. It’s only a matter of time before that gut is fully pressed against the wheel and she’s not going to be able to move that wheel as it’s enveloped in fat. Her driving days are limited.

Which is probably for the best since her incredibly bulk makes moving in and out of it as difficult as it does. With all that thick quivering flesh that shudders in waves at the slightest movement, getting around at all is going to be limited. As the number on the scale keeps going up, the number of days she has being able to get around on her own goes down.

Just look at her.

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

What If? (Part 10)

What if they don’t like her?

That’s the thought that’s running through her head as she stares at her computer, looking right down the barrel of her webcam while her finger hovers over her mouse. She’s moments from starting a livestream and her fat body is wiggling in fear. She can feel the cold sweat of nerves, and as her nervous hand trembles over her mouse, hesitant to click on the button to start her stream, that one movement makes her whole soft, flabby arm wobble.

What if they don’t like her? That question keeps echoing in her mind.

She’s used to not being liked. So many of her friends have turned their back on her by now. She’s grown accustomed to the stares that she gets, the jokes at her expense, and the cruel comments that people leave about her on social media. She is painfully aware of how fat she is and how much people love to remind her of how hot she used to be, what a shame it is that she’s put on so much weight.

She’s used to the hate. It’s the same kind of cruelty she used to subject others too until she began to embrace who she truly is.

But this. This is supposed to be different. This is supposed to be the kind of people who will love her body, drool over her fat belly and thick thighs, call her a piggy but in the best of ways. This is supposed to be her crowd. Forget about being worshiped (like she used to be when she was slim and sexy), what if these people don’t even like her. What if she’s not fat enough for them? What if they reject her? Can she handle that?

She has to. Money is running out and she needs more food to stuff her greedy belly with.

So she presses the button.

And she goes live.

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

Next week, in celebration of Mardi Gras aka Fat Tuesday on my Patreon we’ll be celebrating Fattest Tuesday all week! On Fattest Tuesday proper (2/13), I’ll be dropping not one- but two!- volumes of Fat Trimmings. Fat Trimmings: Volume 11 will also be an extra large edition with five stories and over 5,000 words. Here are some teasers for four of those stories. (You’ll just have to wait for “What If?” Part 11)

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

“Beignet and Bust”

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

Another beignet, dear?

Of course you want it. You can’t get enough of these sweet treats can you, my little piggy?

I love watching you eat. I could spend all day stuffing your face- and you could too, couldn’t you, piggy? Yes. I’d love nothing more than to lounge around with you and watch the pounds like on.

Sometimes when I’m dreaming I like to play your transformation back in my head, and it’s like a time lapsed photo. There you are standing in your pink bikini with your hands rubbing along you rock hard abs as you turn just enough to show me how proud you are of your pert ass. You look like such a stereotypical hot girl, the kind that knows how hot she is and loves to show it off.

But it doesn’t last for long.

I know how much you secretly love to eat, and know just how to tempt you. It’s so easy it’s almost like you wanted to be fat. But I know you didn’t you hated the idea. Fat people were lazy. They were pigs. I watched the way you sneered at others, shamed them. I heard your cruel, cruel words, and I looked forward to making you eat those words.

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

“Getting Into Character”

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

It was supposed to be her big break, and all that she had to do was get big.

Rachelle was a fairly successful supermodel with a smoking hot body. She had generous curves, pert breasts with a matching perky ass and a trim hourglass waist that feature delicious abs. She was a statuesque beauty that turned heads wherever she went. She had people eating out of her hands and got whatever she wanted.

It was a sense of power that Rachelle reveled in. She loved to throw her body and her money around and in people’s faces. She loved to taunt others and make them feel in inferior, especially if she was fat. Rachelle hated fat girls. She found them to be lazy and greedy piggies. She enjoyed reminding them of that and was absolutely savage when give the chance.

But Rachelle really wanted to do was act, and while she got roles in a few raunchy comedies and some cheap horror flicks, she had never gotten a chance to get into a movie that would make people think of her as a serious actress.

And then her fat hating antics got the better of her. Rachelle had gone on one fat girl hating rant too many and found herself on the wrong end of being canceled. Sponsors were leaving. Jobs were drying up. Rachelle needed a big gig to turn it all around.

And then, like a miracle, it seemingly came.

A serious movie role that would also help rehab her into a kinder, softer image- emphasis on the softer. The part was Oscar bait, Rachelle would play a young woman, whose life had taken a turn for the worse and managed to turn it back around. The only problem was that she had to gain a sizeable amount of weight to play the down on her luck part. Rachelle absolutely hated the idea of saying goodbye to her perfect figure, even temporarily. She certainly didn’t want to turn herself into a weak, soft, lazy fat ass, but she didn’t see much of a choice. She would lose the weight later and her career would be even better. She could shoot a fitness video to boot!

So on came the doughnuts.

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

“Swim Star”

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

Veronica was a swimming star, all through high school and college. In the water she was graceful and fast. It’s like she was made to do it, and her body bared that out. Her body was long and lean, lithe, just the right amount of tight wiry muscles in all the right places, honed by hours and hours of practice. It was a body that looked perfect in any kind of swimsuit and could easily put on a show in any number of glamorous outfits.

Her success, coupled with her beauty, made her very popular around campus and beyond. Veronica was frequently invited to parties. She hung on the arms of the most attractive people and held up her nose to everyone else. Her success and popularity had culminated in an extreme amount of arrogance, and the pretty privilege that she felt was very real. People cowered before her, especially those she considered to be out of shape, which, thanks to her extremely trim and athletic people, was most people.

Veronica loathed fat people especially, people who she deemed lazy and irresponsible, people to be alternately pitied and humiliated. She had little time for fat people except to sneer or make fun of them.

Her success as a swimmer was great, but it had its ceiling. Unfortunately, Olympic hopeful doesn’t always translate to Olympic athlete. In fact, most great swimmers don’t even come close. And the money for professional swimmers is an even slimmer prospect. So after college, and one last real try at the Olympics, Veronica had to realize that making a career out of the sport she had dedicated so much of her life wasn’t going to happen, and so she would need to pivot.

So, banking on her athletic figure and her popularity, Veronica became a fitness influencer and a swimsuit model. She got off to a promising start, even though some people thought she definitely came off as rude and arrogant sometimes. Thanks to her good looks, even though she wasn’t making friends, she was making some money.

There was just one problem. And it would become a big problem, a big FAT problem.

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

“Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed”

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

God, I love fatties.

Love them. Love to see them rolling their fat guts and big butts on in here and stuffing their faces full of grease because they just can’t help but make absolute pigs of themselves. It’s a glorious thing to see. Being here at lunch or dinner time, it’s like a hog call. The piggies just come waddling in to get their fill, and with some of our customers it takes a lot for them to get their fill. But that’s what we’re here for, or at least what I’m here for. For other people, working at Thick Burger might just be another job, a way to get by, to make rent with maybe a little left over for spending money. But not me. Thick Burger is my passion.

Fatties are my passion. Specifically, making fatties fatter is my passion.

No. No. I can get even more specific than that. Set me up again. Kristin, what’s your passion? It’s simple. It’s watching people become fatties. The hotter they are at first, the hotter it is. I love watching people who never thought they could get fat go from hotties to piggies. That’s the best part of working here.

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

What about Fat Trimmings: Volume 12?

Here’s some of what you can expect.

“Immobile”: A feeder examines their immobile feedee (First person perspective)

“Teacher Butt”: A hot teacher spends too much time sitting down on the job and faces the consequences

“Getting Fat at Thick Burger”: A fast food addict examines the changes to her formerly slim figure.

“From Author to Subject”: An erotic fiction writer who writes about BBWs finds herself living what she writes about.

What else is coming out during Fattest Tuesday Week?

I’ll be releasing another volume of Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts only on my Patreon which will be based around weight gaining couples. I’ll be releasing Chapter 3 of “Nightmare Pigs”, two chapters of “The Scales of Time” and a new commissioned story entitled “Best of Intentions, Worst of Results” as well as the start of a new longer running story entitled “Bad Influence” which was voted on by my patrons.

Finally, I’ll leave you with one last teaser. On February 8th I’ll be releasing to my patreon a new chapter of “The Scales of Time” entitled Eloise’s Interlude. This chapter will focus on the character of Eloise and I will in fact be releasing two versions of it, one of which will have bonus content and remain exclusive to me Patreon.

Here’s a teaser for it (Warning: This teaser continues huge spoilers for Chapter 4 of “The Scales of Time”. You may wish to read that chapter, currently only available on my patreon, first):

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

Eloise used to spring out of bed in the morning. Her lithe body would leap into action, ready to take on the day, full of life and energy.

Now as her alarm blared, her chubby hand groped desperately for the source of the headache currently pounding in her fat head. The fat on her arm wobbled helplessly as she patted around for her phone currently lost amongst her bed sheets along with several candy wrappers.

Eloise hadn’t always been a serial snacker, in fact up until a few days ago, she had abhorred the idea of ingesting excess sugar. Her body was a temple, but now…

Now it was a gluttonous mess.

And Eloise couldn’t stop herself from eating chocolate even if she wanted to. It was like the fat that had piled onto her body came with a compulsion, a need to stuff itself regularly with junk food, and as she did so, the girl who had once been so slim and sexy and glamorous had quickly settled into her new role as a sedentary sow, a greedy little piglet, a fat girl who had no care for quality of food she stuffed her fat face with or the mess she left behind.

It was quite a fall that Eloise had taken, going from being a pretty popular cheerleader, a powerful witch in her own right, a glamor girl who others cowered in front of to being a bloated, powerless porker who was weary at just the idea of having to move in the morning. Just a few days ago she had felt like a princess. Now she felt like a pig, the biggest, fattest loser she knew.

As Eloise struggled to find her phone, she dreaded the things that she knew were in front of her for the day: Having to shower, forced to feel her fat flabby body as cleaned herself before struggling to get dressed and then struggling once again with her newly enormous appetite, her pretty, jerk of a sister, her lousy job as a cafeteria worker, the cruel jabs of her former friends and the petty laughter of people she once used to look down upon. Eloise remembered all of the joy and promise that her life used to have as her thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling of her greedy pot belly signaling its desire to be filled with a big, greasy, calorie bomb breakfast. She wished she could just stuff her face in bed and not have to face the rest of the day.

Eventually the big lazy pig fumbled around long enough to find her phone and turn off her alarm. Then, with an annoyed grunt, Eloise realized it was time to begin the arduous process of getting her fat body out of bed.

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

That’s it for now. I hope you’ve enjoyed these teasers, and I hope you will enjoy the stories to come.

Story Previews and Another Call for Suggestions

Another Update? But it's not Sunday. 

I know! I'm saving Sunday for a larger update focusing on Fattest Tuesday Week to celebrate Mardi Gras aka Fattest Tuesday (2/13)

On this Fat Tuesday, I'll be releasing an extra large addition of "Fat Trimmings" to help celebrate reaching 10 Volumes of "Fat Trimmings". This will volume will have 5 stories and total over 4,000 words. Here they are:

"Fat With a Zap": Science fiction shenanigans! A slim woman gets hit with a fat ray. That'll teach her to make fun of fat nerdy guys.

"Runway No More": A supermodel gains weight and goes well past plus sized and ends up a maid.

"Car Trouble": A woman is quickly growing too fat for her car.

"Tiny Tina Gets Tubby": A petite woman named Tina gets... Well I think the title speaks for itself (though "tubby" is an understatement)

"What If" (Part 10): In this continuing feature, our protagonist takes has her first stream as a camgirl.

Call for suggestions: Here it is. For the next volume of "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" (Open only to Patrons) I'm going to be doing couples weight gain since it will release on Valentine's Day. Submit your story ideas below and you might see me write them!

"Nightmare Pigs" Chapter 2

“Fucking fat ass.”

“You’re pathetic, piggy.”

“Look at that gut.”

“Look at that lard ass.”

“What a complete and total fat, flabby loser.”

“You’re disgusting, you gluttonous pig.”

Marjorie Smith had heard it all before, and she knew she would hear it again and again. This was her existence. She had hoped that she had escaped it once she graduated high school. She thought that college would be a new beginning, a respite from her bullies, but there was no escaping the simple fact-

Marjorie was fat.

Large Marge as the others liked to call her was a big ball of spongy fat, a ponderously pudgy girl with a protruding pot belly and a matching posterior. Her thighs were thick and pasty, large wobbling beams of softness that pressed themselves together and forced her into a slow, lumbering waddle. Her chest was comparatively small which, along with the constant teasing about her body in general, helped contribute to her incredible sense of inadequacy and overall lack of confidence.

Marjorie strived to be a nice girl. She tried hard to be friendly toward others, always donated to charity, volunteered her time, the things that you’re supposed to do. She worked hard on her studies, loved her mother. She would have been perfectly at home in a Tom Petty song.

But all the years of bullying had left Large Marge a tired, turgid, mostly depressed mess. Even on days when she was feeling good about herself, actually feeling happy for once, she could count on those moments being absolutely ruined whenever the campus mean girls found her.

They were a group of five, and they made Marjorie’s life a nightmare.

Cynthia Sinclair was sunshine incarnate. Everything about her was sunkissed and bright, from her tan skin to her blonde hair, to the outfits that she wore. She was known to all as a bright and bubbly person. At least, that’s how she looked.

“You shouldn’t be smiling. You don’t deserve to be happy.”

Cynthia’s attitude was an entirely different story. She was as volatile as a summer storm, and when she was looking to rain on someone’s parade, Marjorie was her favorite target.

“Seriously, Piggy. Someone has fat as you should be miserable. How are you not disgusted with yourself? The rest of us are. You’re a fat slob.”

Cynthia loved calling Majorie a fat slob. She loved calling most people with even the slightest of weight issues fat slobs, and she loved to show off her own remarkably toned body in comparison.

“Check out this ass, Fatso,” said Cynthia as she waved her perky butt clad in a bright white, tight and short skirt right in front of Marjorie.

“Tight, and toned, but curvy. It turns heads. This is what an ass is supposed to look like, not a fat shapeless dumper like yours, you cow.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight you’d actually be able to wear some halfway decent clothes that fit you right so that you don’t look like such a hot fucking mess.” chimed in Bethany Richardson, Cynthia’s best friend and roommate.

“I mean. You just look like you smell.”

Bethany Richardson was as uptight as her outfits. Always perfectly coiffed and manicured and impeccably dressed like Elle Woods in court, pink power suits a plenty, she strutted around with a judgmental gaze that could cut people down with a look, and anyone who didn’t cower to that was sure to shrink at her sharp, cold tongue. Bethany was the queen of cutting words with a mind that perfectly matched her junior law partner look. She was the master of the technicality and of twisting her words before or after to the greatest effect possible. Be it making an insult sound like a complement, or getting herself out of trouble after the fact, Bethany was teflon.

Of course, with Marjorie she didn’t even bother pretending to be nice. Nobody did.

“You fat, lazy loser. I bet you just laze about on the couch all day on your fat flabby ass. That’s why you’re a pig who will never be slim and sexy like us. You’re just a fat, lazy, good for nothing, slob.”

Bethany’s own body was a temple and as tight as her preppy outfits. She was a sporty girl with six pack abs and long lean legs that drove people wild. Her short skirts perfectly accentuated the toned curves of her ass, and her tailored jackets always tapered with her waist.

“Your fat butt personally disgusts me.”

Bethany leaned down to inspect Majorie’s face and poked at her double chin.

“And are those some hairs growing on your double chinny-chin chin, piggy? Gross!”

She tweaked Marjorie’s extra chin and laughed, being sure to flick Marge’s fat arm while she was at it.

“Heh,” laughed the normally dreary Diana Pendelton.

Diana was a mousy girl, never very popular in high school, not particularly popular now. She was one of those types that could be quite attractive if she gave more thought to the particulars of their clothing or the maintenance of their hair. But since Diana did not she appeared to have a rather plain appearance and was indeed almost entirely forgettable. 

Her body didn’t particularly lack curves nor did it have an abundance of them. Diana had a decent if somewhat soft butt along with modest breasts. If anything, her one point of self-consciousness was a belly that was a little too padded for her liking. To take care of that, Diana made excellent use of a control panty girdle, her little secret.

Diana did not particularly care for parties or making friends, but she was smart. She cherished and lorded her intellect over anyone, and while that might have ended up making her an ostracized nerd, Diana’s brains turned to cunning in college, and while she didn’t care about the social scene, she was smart enough to start networking right away. As such, she had singled out Bethany Richardson as the perfect person to hitch her wagon to.

While Diana was thoroughly lacking in charisma and only average in looks, she was excellent at being a leech, and knew how to make herself useful enough to have Bethany keep her around which kept her floating around the popular circle without feeling any of their sting. It was Diana’s hope that these connections would set her up for much more in the future, and if keeping these connections meant helping Bethany and the others stomp down on a few lesser mortals, then so be it. 

Hanging with the popular girls was making Diana feel powerful in her own right, and Bethany and Cynthia truly seemed to have it all.

But they all paled in comparison to the Queen, Jennifer Russel.

The blonde bitch in high heeled boots crossed campus with a strut that felt like it should have a guitar sting accompanying it. When she burst through the doors, all eyes were immediately to her, and rooms would go so quiet that pins were afraid to drop.

And she truly was the Queen. Homecoming, Prom, Spring Fling, she won them all. Her home featured her collection of crowns as part of a shrine to her perfection. She was head cheerleader and student body president, the undeniable most likely to succeed. Jennifer had ruled over her high school and was already doing the same in college.

How could she not?

Jennifer’s body was a magnet that drew stares. She was the embodiment of society’s idea of perfection, a complete smoke show with curves that were generous but tight, an ass that was full but pert, breasts that were large yet perky, thighs that were thick and toned, and impossible abs in the middle of her perfect hourglass figure.

She made everything look effortless because everything was easy. Whatever she wanted? It all came to her easily. Any guy she wanted? Hers. Any grade she wanted? When she cared, if it didn’t come easily enough to her there were always plenty of people available to make sure she easily got it. Food? She could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a single pound because her miraculous metabolism burnt calories like a furnace and gave her the energy to make exercise effortless and fun. So she loved to indulge and rub her indulgences in the face of others.

“You wish you could eat like me and never gain a pound. Don’t you, Piggy?” she would constantly tease Marge as she poked Marge’s doughy belly.

“But you’ll never be like me, wide load. You’re stuck as a fat ass getting fatter, destined to be a loser while I’m a hottie with a body destined for success.”

It was true too, not just the part about her smoking hot body which she regularly loved to show off in tight, skin baring outfits, but also the destined for success part. Jennifer’s parents were loaded, absolutely filthy rich, and if Jennifer didn’t want to settle down and spend her life partying as a trophy wife, she could have any number of lucrative jobs set up for her at her daddy’s company where she would barely have to do anything. She liked the idea of having one of those jobs where she could pawn everything off on her assistant and taking all the credit for it. Maybe she could poach Diana from Bethany and fit her for that role.

But right now, Jennifer had her own personal project that she was working on, and that project was Marjorie’s former best friend and Jennifer’s current roommate, Mildred Miller.

Mildred and Marjorie used to be thick as thieves in high school, M&M as they styled themselves. Even when times were at their toughest, Marjorie knew that Mildred would always be there. And then Mildred decided to dorm at the local college they all went to, while Marjorie’s mother kept her baby at home. 

At first Mildred and Majorie both thought this would be great. Mildred would get a roommate, Majorie would come over all the time, and their friend group would grow by one. But then a freak of the housing lottery landed Mildred with Jennifer Russel. Instead of just being cruel to her new roommate until she quit college entirely and allowed Jennifer to get a new socially acceptable one (which was her first instinct), Jennifer instead decided that she would take the poor creature under her wing and go full on Pygmalion.

Mildred benefitted from one of those late nineties early two thousands “just take off your glasses” movie type of makeover. She was also told what to wear, what to eat, and, most importantly, who to hangout with.

Rechristened Em, Mildred dropped Marjorie like a bad habit and had in fact been the one to begin really pushing the Large Marge nickname. Em now looked every bit the part of the stereotypical popular mean girl, with tight outfits hugging her curves, and she had the attitude to match.

“Seriously, Large Marge, you’re just pathetic. You’d think a fat nerd like you would learn to take care of herself by now. But no, you just keeping blowing up. It’s like you’re fatter and fatter by the day.” 

As Em tore into her former best friend, Jennifer watched with a shark like grin and a nod of approval. She couldn’t have been prouded of her handiwork.

It was good to let one’s lessers know their place in the world lest they get ideas of being better than they are. It keeps the servant class in line, and it’s just so damn fun.

“That’s right, loser,” sneered Jennifer.

“Don’t forget your fat ass can’t hold a candle to us. All your blubber would burn up!”

She wasn’t sure that metaphor landed the way she wanted it to so-

“FATTY!” She threw in at the end for good measure.

That day, when Marjorie got home from school, she came through the door in a huff and waddled up the stairs as fast as her thunder thighs would allow (which wasn’t very fast at all). 

“Honey?” called out Marjorie’s mom, Scarlet, as she watched her fat daughter trample through the house.

Marjorie gave no response, which put Scarlet on high alert. Scarlet liked to think of herself as a rather empathetic person who was used to her sweet daughter being easily upset. It was something to hate to think about, her poor baby suffering. It’s why she kept her so close, possibly coddled her a bit much- certainly why she kept her home and commuting to college instead of boarding there. It was just that Marjorie had such few friends and… Well Scarlet didn’t like to consider her possible role in that. She just wanted to know-

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” exclaimed Marjorie with a slam of her bedroom door.

That night, Marjorie dreamed of better, and as she tossed and turned, her mother stood over her thoughtfully with her hand just above Marjorie’s sweaty head. 

Scarlet relieved Marjorie’s memories of the day, and as she did, a single tear ran down her cheek. Her eyes turned yellow and her hair pulsed with a purple manevolence.

And she swore she would make things right.

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

Cynthia Sinclair cowered as Scarlet finished her story. Her now fattened body shook with fear.

“Please. Please change me back. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be nice to your daughter. Please.”

“No can do, Piggy. This is all very permanent.”

Tears ran down Cynthia’s pale chunky cheeks as her chubby hands ran down her fat sides, pinched her love handles, and then cradled her pudgy pot belly, letting the thick flab ooze through her sausage fingers.

“Y-you mean I’m stuck like this?”

“Yes you are, Fatso. You’re stuck with that gut and your stinky but forever.”

PFFFFRRRPPPPPTT! Trumpeted Cynthia’s bloated rear end right on cue.

“Enjoy that big fat dumper of yours, Lard Ass.”

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is. Look.”

The ground seamed to part beneath Cynthia’s fat feet, and it was like she was looking down through a window into her dorm room. There she was, her corpulent body fast asleep, snoring loudly and occasionally passing gas as she slept. Cynthia watched her heavy chest heave up and down in her slumber. She was wearing a barely fitting black night gown that did appear to have popped one of its seams allowing a pale love handle to peak on through.

The bed had several discarded candy wrappers in it, and Cynthia’s side of the room was littered with dirty dishes and empty fast food containers. It was a perfect mirror of Bethany’s pristine side as the still preppy blonde slept peacefully unaware that anything was even wrong.

“When you wake up, you won’t remember anything about who you used to be. You’ll just go about your life as fat goth slob. And the only time you’ll know the truth… is in your nightmares.”

Cynthia’s multiple chins quivered as she sobbed.

PFFFFFFFFPPPPPHHHRRRRTT!!!

The mocking sound of her own flatulence pair with the smell made Cynthia sob even louder.

“Enough of that now, tubs. I have a lot of work to get to tonight.”

With a snap of Scarlet’s fingers, Cynthia’s mind grew cloudy and a coldness filled her eyes as Cynthia disappeared into Syn once more.

Scarlet looked through the window in Cynthia’s dream at the preppy girl still soundly sleeping.

“And I think I’ll start with your friend Bethany.”

Syn watched Scarlet slip through the window as it began to close.

“Ooooo. That thin preppy bitch is gonna get it.”

Speed Poll: First Person or Third Person

Which do you prefer? Stories in first person or third person?

Personally, I prefer third person. But I specifically need help figuring out to do with this one story that is going to feature into Fat Trimmings Volume 11 (Releasing on Fattest Tuesday, February 13th). 

The story is going to be called "Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed" based off of the suggestion by Patreon patron, Searcher. (Thanks!) It is a small piece about a fast food worker who loves her job watching thin people get fat overtime. My question is, should this story be first person or third? Part of me is really leaning more heavily toward doing first person (even as I write this), but I wanted to poll people.

So which do you prefer? Even if I end up going with first person, the results of this poll will let me know which kind of narrative structures I should use more of going forward.  Please feel free to discuss in the comments.

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 9

“Most Likely to Succeed”

Everyone always thought she was going to be rich. That was what she was destined for. Everyone knew that with a body like hers, she was going to hit it big.

She was never most likely to succeed, no. Those ones go to the brainy kids, or the spoiled already rich kids with such a hefty leg up on everyone else that their success was guaranteed. But she was certainly most likely to be a rich gold digging trophy wife, maybe even a legitimate model before settling down before days spend by the pool relaxing and working on an endlessly perfect tan. That was supposed to be her life, days full of lounging around a palatial mansion and nights fueled with excess.

Well, she did the excess right, for a little while at least. Partying always came easy and when everyone wants to buy you drinks, the drinks are easy to come by. Of course, when one has a taste for both sugary cocktails and beer that can have a lot of consequences. Calories upon calories begin to pile on, and while dancing the night away can help for a little while, eventually it all starts to catch up with a person.

And that’s what happened to her. It was slow at first, hardly noticeable. Then it became nothing a pair of spanx couldn’t hide, or a full on girdle. And the partying kept going because the partying had to keep going. She never could get a job, first because she didn’t want to because it was beneath her, then because she was lacking the qualifications. See, while all her friends and inferiors went to college and made something of themselves, all that partying and all that booze did not exactly make for someone cutout for 8:00am classes, and, while she was very popular amongst the student body on campus, she was not very popular amongst the faculty- at least the more scrupulous members.

So she crashed and burned and then every job she’d try to get was quickly a wash because nobody likes someone whose going to show up consistently hungover. She thought she would at least be able to coast by in one of those salesgirl jobs at the stores at the mall that practically required girls to be models to work for them, and she hoped to in fact get some jobs modeling, but all of those opportunities kept drying up as her party body grew and grew.

Plus size models are one thing, but ones whose biggest asset are their sloppy beer belly aren’t exactly in demand.

The partying had to keep happening because the people she would meet at these parties became the people she would count on, fiding sugary cocktails and sugar daddies to pay her rent and buy her clothes, something she was needing in a higher frequency.

As the dire straights of her financial situation became clearer to her, even through the alcohol induced fog, her downward spiral continued to speed up. This was inevitable because the stress led to stress eating. And sugar daddies got harder to find as she kept drinking sugary cocktails and started scarfing down sugary doughnuts to boot.

Junk food was never a vice of hers before. She used to make fun of those who ate it regularly. She used to rail against its negative effects. But as the attention and affection began to dry up thanks to all her poor life choices adding up, food became the only source of comfort for her.

So her waistline widened. Her abs which had long ago been buried by booze became further covered in a shelf of flab and her thighs blubbered outward until they rubbed together as she walked. Her prized tight ass that she loved to brag about became covered in quivering cellulite thanks. Of course, all of this weight gain meant needing to replace even more clothes at an even faster rate, and thanks to her prospects becoming less and less, the kinds of clothes she could afford became cheaper, less stylish, bargain bin and thrift store kind of finds.

Third rate clothes meant she lost even more of her confidence which meant she lost even more of her attractiveness to certain people. And the cheapness of her clothing and the sloppiness of the way the weight began to settle on her body, meant that she was no longer allowed in the kind of establishments where the men who could afford to keep her deteriorating lifestyle going would be. Even the fat chasing sugar daddies were out of her reach.

She used to be a bitch because she was pretty and popular and entitled, but as she grew fatter her bitchiness increased with her bitterness as she felt everything she always thought she was supposed to have slipped through her fingers. With every additional pound, every new jiggle, she grew angrier and meaner and pushed anybody who could have helped, who could have supported her away. People tried to get her the help she needed, but in the end her attitude drove them all away. She tried to plead for some of them to come back eventually, but they never did.

But bills don’t care about how mean you get. Bills keep coming. And that’s how she ended up where she is.

Scrubbing toilets is not a pretty job. Even if you did it in a five star hotel while wearing a designer dress with the killer heels to match, there’s nothing glamorous about cleaning the place where other people relieve themselves. But that’s what she finds herself doing.

And it’s not even at one of those five star hotels. No, her attitude, fueled by all the alcohol makes getting a job at any kind of decent place an impossibility. She’s stuck at a flea bitten motel right next to the dive bar she’ll go to once her shift is over to suck down a greasy plate of buffalo wings and a few pints of beer. It’s the kind of place where lowlifes like her come to stay, and lowlifes are not exactly the most careful and courteous when it comes to using the bathroom in cheap scumholes like this. It’s dirty and disgusting work and a complete one eighty for the woman who was once so prim and proper and certain that she would be the one getting waited on.

Her body is also far from what she would recognize as her prime.

Her feet have grown wide and far too fat for the designer heels she used to prize so much. Bella’s sausage-like toes find themselves stuffed into nothing but sensible flats nowadays, cheap flats she still has to replace frequently because their quality makes them prone to falling apart in the weather, it’s certainly not from walking great distances in them.

Above her fat feet are a matching pair of cankles. Her ankles were never something Bella had considered as slim before. They were, of course, like the rest of her body, both slim and toned. But they were such an inconsequential thing when held up against the rest of her athletic form that she never really paid them a second thought. They were just a part of her gorgeous legs.

But now that her cankles, already swollen with fat, find themselves regularly double swollen at end of days filled with menial but grueling labor for her bloated body- labor that makes her well aware of their painful existence. And they were a part of legs that were now each easily the size of what her waist used to be which meant that getting herself around on them was extremely taxing.

Her legs quiver with each step she takes and each step she takes is part of a slow and ponderous waddle. She used to have a model’s strut and a thigh gap which she loved to brag about. But those days are long gone as she struggles to get around. She used to love wearing either tight jeans or cute dresses that barely went below her pert ass cheeks and showed of her limber legs, but now all of her clothes are tight and much less flattering and finding dresses that show off her legs would be showing off a sea of stretchmarks and cellulite.

Currently her thoroughly unflattering uniform, which is quickly on its way to once again being outgrown, includes a pair of stained dark gray pants. The back of these pants are stretched to near bursting over the mammoth globes of Bella’s burgeoning behind, twin ass cheeks that move with a mind of their own. The front is currently pushed out by her gelatinous double belly the lower half of which fills the front of her pants while the upper half spills over them and swallows up the waistband while simultaneously pushing apart and stressing the buttons on her coffee and ketchup stained shirt, remnants of a meal from yesterday.

Those stains serve as a symbol for how she has ruined her life and how it is now stuck this way. Just like she'll never get that stain out, she'll never be slim and sexy again. She is stuck as a fat, menial laborer, a sorry slob forever. 

What a loser.

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

“She’ll Become What She Hates”

She’s going to become what she hates. That’s the thought that consumes me as I watch her munching on her second doughnut and chasing it with a large iced mochaccino piled high with whipped cream. She is on her way to consuming almost a thousand calories this morning alone, and she seems to be purposefully oblivious to it, just like she seems oblivious to the little sliver of fat that’s poking out from underneath her Underarmor shirt.

She loves to run. Well, she used to love to run a lot more, but now she likes to run just enough to stop here at this wonderful bakery. Her order started out as a black coffee. Then a scone and a black coffee. This became a coffee with cream…. cream and sugar… cream two sugars- three - four. Two doughnuts and a mochaccino right now just like it’s been all week. This is her morning breakfast routine before work.

All those carbs and sugar is going to make for a major crash which will require more sugar with lunch and then a second crash that will make her far too tired to go to the gym like she used to. And soon the scone will be back a part of her breakfast routine as well. Eventually, it’ll big a dozen doughnuts to go so she can bring them to the office for everyone to share.

But everyone would much rather watch her obliviously chow down on each and every one of them.

She’s been a bitch to them all. She’s the kind of high powered good looking type-A, gets what they want even when they don’t deserve it kind of bitch her whole life. She’s done nothing but look down on people and now… well now she’s getting fat.

And soon she’ll be exactly what she’s always hated, an obese slob, a complete pig as she likes to call them, an oinker. I can see it already. By the time she realizes what is happening to her, it’ll already be too late. Then, the only thing to comfort her when her self esteem is shattered is food.

She’ll be waddling in here and double fisting doughnuts as she works her way through and entire box, dropping crumbs down her massive cleavage. She’ll get so fat, her wide load ass isn’t going to be able to handle a stool anymore. That will make her sad which in turn will make her eat even more. She’ll be a whopper of a woman, a double wide emotional overeater who can’t control herself, fatter than anyone she’s ever had the nerve to look down upon.

She’ll become what she hates and hate what she’s become. And there'll be nothing she can do about it.

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

“What If?” (Part 9)

What if she runs out of money?

Food costs a lot of money, and she eats a lot of food.

She looks at her belly in the mirror. It used to be gorgeous, tan, six pack abs. Those abs were at one point her prized possession, something that she love to show off, to lord over others.

Now it’s a gut.

That’s the best word for it. Not a paunch. Not a pot belly. A paunch would be too small. A pot belly might be mistaken for being cute. She has a GUT, a big, pale, squishy, spongy gut. A fat, turgid gut, a sloshy, stretch marked, heavy, saggy gut. It’s a big swinging thing far from her sexy abs. It’s a big heavy sack of fat that hangs heavily, and even when she lifts it, rolls that fat in her her hands, she can still feel her gut’s weight carried by her whole body.

It’s a glorious gut, made more glorious by the fact that she had done this to herself, changed herself so much. She grew this gut likes a farmer grows a prized pumpkin. This is her pumpkin, her blue ribbon gut. It is the masterwork derived from all that she has done.

She knows that she’s not ordinary fat.

Ordinary fat people don’t think about getting fat. They eat more for any number of reasons; it’s what’s available; it’s a craving; it’s genetic. She made herself this way. She knew what she was doing when she fought with herself and chose to stuff her face like a pig, to eat like a glutton to grow her gut. She fought her mind and her metabolism and won.

Her gut is her prize. And it comes with a thick side of thunder thighs.

Thick meaty thunder thighs, and a big blubbery butt. She has fought her and earned being called a fat girl.

And her former friends do so love calling her a fat girl, and fatso, fat ass, porker, piggy. She is a greedy, naughty little piglet, and people let her know it. And they love to let her know it. She has been poked, and prodded and have her belly- no- her gut shaken more times than she cares to remember.

It’s this strange thrill to be such a naughty piglet, to have knowingly ruined oneself. There’s a guilt there that comes with letting go, getting fat, feeling the work of one’s own gluttony, their weighty gut in their hands. And there’s a feeling of tremendous accomplishment too, the perverse tinge of delight that comes with doing what everyone says is wrong, a rush of intense pleasure every time she crams another doughnut in her mouth while rubbing her gut, shaking her gut, fondling her gut.

Everything about her is bigger, her gut, her thighs, her ass, her breasts, even her pretty face is starting to chub out. What if it gets so fat that she doesn’t recognize herself when she looks in the mirror? Is that even possible? Would that be good or bad?

As she thinks about that, her gut begins to grumble, loudly calling to be stuffed with more food which brings her back to her previous question. What if she runs out of money? Her food budget is considerably larger now which means a new revenue stream might be needed to keep herself well fed, especially if her gut and therefore her appetite are going to keep growing. If only there was a way for her to make money while eating….

She looks over to her computer and stares at its webcam as her stomach rumbles

… What if?

Story Suggestions Request: Tell Me What You Want Me To Write

Hello!

I am once again giving you, my patrons, the opportunity to suggest what I should write.

Fattest Tuesday is coming up, and I'm going to be working overtime to create not one but two volumes of Fat Trimmings to release on that day.

To do that I need ideas, and I find I get most of my ideas going with Fat Trimmings by thinking about titles. So that's where you come in.

Pitch me titles, you can pitch as many as you like. The most evocative ones will be used in the volumes of Fat Trimmings.

You can feel free to pitch fuller ideas too, just keep in mind that Fat Trimmings stories are designed to be quick hits between 500 and 1,000 words long.

Thanks for your continued support, and I look forward to reading, and writing, your ideas.

Latest Updates: What's On Deck

Hello Everyone,

I hope everyone is enjoying the surprise posting of Chapters 3 and 4 of The Scales of Time. It's not something I expected on getting done this week, but, as you can see, I was especially productive and sometimes inspiration just hits.

This week will be another edition of "Fat Trimmings" and the second chapter of "Nightmare Pigs". "Fat Trimmings" will, as always, release on Fat Tuesday. "Nightmare Pigs" is slated for either a Thursday or Friday release.

Fattest Tuesday aka Mardi Gras is getting closer and therefore, I'd like to reveal my plans for celebrating Fattest Tuesday Week.

My possibly overly ambitious plan is to debut two volumes of "Fat Trimmings", a new chapter of "The Scales of Time", a new chapter of "Nightmare Pigs", a volume of "Fat Trimmings Exclusive Cuts", a new commissioned piece called "Best of Intentions, Worst of Results" and the start of another longer piece to be released over time.... well, that last one is up you. It's the story based on Exclusive Cuts Volume 4. The poll for my patrons to decide which one I write is still going. Currently "Bad Influence" is in the lead, but "Snobs to Slobs" is right behind and all the other stories still have a shot. I will leave the poll open until Wednesday. 

"The Scales of Time" Update: During Fattest Tuesday Week, I plan to release the first chapter of Julie's challenge against Vivian. In between now and then, my plan is to write two smaller interlude chapter, one centered on Eloise, and one centered on Vivian.

Full Disclosure: This is an extremely ambitious amount of writing I've planned for myself on a whim. I'm telling you all because you're more likely to achieve goals if you say them t others. (Yay positive peer pressure) Your continued support, including likes and comments are huge motivating factors for me, and I thank you all so much.

The Scales of Time Chapters 3 and 4

Surprise! Here's over 7,000 words of content! Fattening! Lore! Everything you want! (Hopefully) This was originally going to be one chapter, and then things just kept expanding (pun intended). I'm calling this Chapters 3 and 4 because elsewhere I'll publish them separately, but I'm presenting them here together because I think, structurally, reading them together is the more satisfying experience, and that's what you pay for. I'll send more updates about this story tomorrow.

Enjoy!

________________________________

Chapter 3:

________________________________

The fattening was coming.

Vivian fell to one knee in the clearing in the wood and stared up at the gleeful face of her victorious foe.

“Please. Have mercy.”

“Mercy?” laughed Julie.

“You don’t deserve mercy. You don’t deserve your power. You don’t deserve the perfect body that you’ve lorded over others.”

Julie bent down and twisted the sobbing Vivian’s ear as she began to drag her back up to her feet.

“You deserve to be… a BIG. FAT. LOSER.”

With Vivian on her feet and quaking with fear, Julie pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

“And I want everything you have. It’s time for you to be the pathetic piggy instead.”

Julie shoved Vivian away and turned to await her mom’s pronounce mean with chins held high knowing that two would soon be down to one, and that Vivian would be taking the extra one instead.

“It is concluded, and the council now declares that the winner of this challenge is Julianna.”

Julie’s mother was doing her best to remain stoic as ever, but Julie could hear the tremor of pride in her voice.

“Vivian, as per the by-laws of our coven, you are to be stripped of your powers and they are to be given to Elizabeth so that she may join in our power as a full member.  And you will be forced to leave as a big fat fatty, a big, fat gluttonous pig, showing the world the inner greed that has always been inside you. You will be a large lumbering lard ass doomed to waddle about as all those you have tormented get to make fun of you because you were always such a bitch and totally deserve this. Fat shall fall upon you in waves, in rolls. You will become everything you hurt and learn what it’s like to be bullied by the people you used to bully because that’s karma, bitch. It’s what your soon to be fat ass deserves.

You’re going to get like so fucking fat it’s not even funny- except that it will be funny to everyone but you- and probably also your family who will very likely cry for a long time. Your obese form will become a testament to your failure and your family’s shame. You will then be given suitable work so that the coven may keep its eyes on you to ensure you share not knowledge of our secrets with the outside world once you are powerless. Meanwhile, Julie will get to live the happy life she deserves with all of your glamor while your fat ass has to do whatever she says because she’s better than you. I now call forth with my sisters for this transformation to commence.”

Julie basked in the silvery light that shot forth at the conclusion of her mother’s lengthy pronouncement. The light warmed and filled her, and yet even as she felt the sensation of growing more full she didn’t feel any heavier. If anything she felt lighter, like the light was lifting her up. For a moment, she was afraid that this sensation meant that she would be blowing up like a balloon, but soon the heat of the light began to radiate and pulse, and then she felt like it was draining out of her, from her head down, it felt like she was melting, and in a way she was.

The fat was melting off of Julie, not in a grotesque manner, but, as the heat from the light drained through her she could feel parts of herself getting smaller, slimmer, her skin getting firmer as the flab that had followed her throughout her life turned to muscle that she never thought she would have.

Her face thinned out and took on an angelic quality as her frizzy red hair tamed itself into glorious wavy curls. It was amazing how much more movement Julie felt like she had without her two extra chins hanging off her previously fat face. Even her neck felt thinner!

Julie’s arms slimmed down and toned up. Her breasts, though slightly shrinking in size, grew tremendously in gravity defying perkiness, and the stretch marks that had plagued them had vanished.

The blubbery belly that Julie had possessed shrank along with the meaty love handles that had plagued her. As her midsection slimmed down she was gifted with an actual waistline, a rather trim one that came nicely paired with six well defined abdominal muscles.

Julie’s jumbo ass cheeks began to quiver. Long plagued by the tremendous weight of her ponderous posterior, Julie felt her lightest as her rotund rear end reshaped itself, toned up and went from being a pathetically plush and saggy mess to a perfectly healthy heart shape. She had a curvy ass that would turn heads and drive people mad with lust and jealousy. It was a far cry from the lumpy lard filled mess she had previously eaten herself into. Julie would not miss the way her wide hips and blubber butt would bump up against doorways, spill over chairs, and knock things off of tables. Now her fine ass was her favorite feature.  It was still plump in the best of ways and muscular enough to bounce a quarter off of it.

Julie’s thunder thighs trimmed down too. The previously massive meaty tree trunks of cellulite covered adipose became toned. They went from being a quivering mass of pale flesh that pushed against each other and forced Julie into an awkward waddle to toned and tanned- athletic legs that made Julie feel like she could run a marathon on them even with her now dainty feet.

She was a tall, tan goddess with fiery red hair and a perfect smile shaped into a wide grin at the thought of what was about to happen to the trembling Vivian.

As the last of the fat drained from Julie, the ground around her began to tremble until it looked like the consistency of bubbling quicksand. The ground swelled and moved toward Vivian who tried to run, but the quick sand moved faster, and as the trembling ground caught up to Vivian and held her feet fast, those feet began to swell with fat.

Vivian tried to move but was stuck and was helpless to do anything but watch her hot body be transformed into her worst nightmare all while Julie and the rest of the coven watched on with glee as karma took its course and caused the skinny bitch to begin to balloon. She looked down at her feet, whose delicate nature she had always taken for granted and never realized she would miss until she watched them swell up like waterlogged potatoes with tubby toes and broken nails, her precious pedicure stripped away. Her pale feet became bright red from all the swelling, and that swelling soon found itself spreading up her leg, fusing her calves and ankles together with fat. They were round cankles as big as her thigh, at least they were until the fat continued to fill her, worming its way up into her athletic thighs as well.

Any trace of Vivian being athletic was soon gone as her thighs thickened and her muscles melted into flab. Vivian felt heavier and heavier as her new saddlebags weighed her down. Her legs continued to grow fatter until the pale flesh pressed against itself just like it used to do when the fat had once filled Julie. Vivian had once been capable of running marathons, but she and Julie both knew that these thickening thunder thighs, quickly becoming tree trunk like in size, would forever be limiting her to nothing more than waddling about for a few minutes before she inevitably grew winded. Her flabby thighs began to roll over her fat knees, muscles buried in blubber that had the consistency of jello and the look of cottage cheese.

The next part of Vivian’s body that fell victim to the preposterous amount of fat that was plaguing her was probably her best part, her previously perfect ass. The two firm and flawless cheeks soon flabbed out, spreading wide and sagging low as they swelled to the size of bean bag chairs. They became soft cushions filled with lard, and the cellulite from her thighs worked its way up and made itself at home on her big fat flabby buttocks as well. Her perky posterior was now a point of shame, and it just didn’t seem like it would ever stop growing. Vivian and Julie both knew it was now the kind of saggy shelf ass that would make waddling around without bumping into things, sitting on chairs, or even getting through doorways far more difficult than it had ever been before.

This part of the transformation was Julie’s favorite, and she felt like she could watch it over and over again. It was a moan inducing thrill to watch Vivian have to carry what had been the bane of Julie’s existence for such a long time. Now it was Vivian, not Julie, who was the pathetic lard ass, the pathetic pig of a girl with an ass large enough to have its own gravitational pull.

Vivian’s ass, prior to being overloaded with junk in the trunk and turned into a huge mushy mess, may have been the part of her body most people would have once considered her best, but Vivian’s abs were her personal favorite part, and she had just a moment to look down and say goodbye to them before the fat claimed them. It bubbled up and bubbled out into a soft paunch, and then a bloated pot belly. Vivian cried and tried to stop it, gripping her flabby middle in her hands, clutching her fat in fear and trying to force it back, but the oncoming tide of flab would not be stopped.

That pudgy pot belly exploded outward into a lard filled spare tire with matching love handles to make for a massive muffin top that reached all the way around and formed multiple thick rolls of back fat. Vivian, who once had her middle divided by six hard earned abdominal muscles now had a gelatinous gut that split itself into two juicy rolls. Vivian’s tremendous double belly shook like jelly at the slightest hint of panicked movement.

And still the fat was not done.

The fat filled Vivian’s perky breasts and stretched them out. As a result the sagging balloons now lurched forward, covered in stretch marks and drooped all the way down to the top of her double belly. She could already feel the pain in her back from the force of gravity pulling on her massive mammaries.

Vivian’s arms got thick and flabby. They were great wobbly things that grew to the size of her former legs but with fat that rolled over her elbows. Her fat arms came with chubby hands and sausage fingers that replaced her previously slender ones.

The last thing to change was Vivian’s face. As her raven hair grew frizzy, her face grew fat. Vivian’s high cheek bones disappeared as her cheeks bloomed outward until she looked like a greedy chipmunk. Her chin drooped downward into a second and then a third. Vivian’s nose grew wider and fatter and looked more like a pig snout. The size of her nose, and the fat filling her cheeks made Vivian’s eyes look dull and beady. She developed jiggling jowls and was truly piggish in appearance.

Vivian used to look like an athlete who could have been a model. Without her powers and without her looks, Vivian instead looked like a fat slob who had spent her life as a couch potato. This brought a great deal of joy to the now statuesque Julie.

“This. This is what you deserve, Piggy. You deserve that lard ass you’re carrying around.”

Julie stalked over to her prey and grabbed the thick roll of Vivian’s lower belly and gave it a good shake.

“My, this is hefty, isn’t it, Heifer?”

Vivian could do nothing but begin to sob.

And as those sobs grew louder they transformed into the wail of Julie’s alarm clock.

Julie let out a yawn and her fat arm wobbled as she smashed her phone with her sausage fingers to silence the alarm. The dream had been a delightful one, but in the cold reality of day, as she struggled to sit up in bed and felt her heavy gut spill forward and fill her fat lap, Julie knew the truth.

She would still need some kind of miracle to have a chance to beat Vivian and all that dream did was give her the most dangerous thing, the faintest glimmer of hope.

_____________________________________

Chapter 4:

_____________________________________

Fattening up Vivian was still fresh in Julie’s mind as she waddled up to the bus to take her to the local mall.

Julie hated taking the bus because of all the uncomfortable stares her wide body got from people. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to sit next to the morbidly obese girl as if her fat was contagious. It didn’t matter much to Julie because her big butt needed to fill up most rows of bus seats by itself. And when those weren’t available, Julie often found herself trying to stand for the entire time because she couldn’t bring herself to deal with the embarrassment of asking a person to move so that she could sit in TWO seats. And if the bus was too crowded for her to stand without being surrounded by stares, Julie would wait for the next one. This meant that Julie was often late to off campus events as she had to let multiple buses pass her by. The rain and two missed buses was why Julie eventually gave up on her original plan to go to the mall yesterday.

She desperately wanted a car of her own, but her lack of a license even at twenty-five was yet another thing others in her coven, like Vivian could lord over her. And that’s why Julie was left relying on public transit as she trudged her way to the mall on a dreary afternoon.

The mall near campus wasn’t exactly Julie’s favorite hangout spot, even though she knew of its importance to her coven and others. The building itself had been constructed on a connection point of magical ley lines which meant that it was ideal for an array of magical rituals and shenanigans. As such it had become a centerpiece of magical culture, and the non-magical stores that had set up shop there benefitted as well. The draw of the magic helped to ensure that the mall itself kept busy even as society as a whole shifted heavily toward online shopping.

It also had a swell food court!

And that is, of course, where Julie found herself in her time of greatest stress. As the time ticked toward Julie’s challenge, and what she felt certain was her impending doom at the hands of Vivian, Julie had finally taken her mother's advice and sought her familiar refuge. (She had spent the rest of the day before simply binging her way through whatever snacks she still had at home.) Now her stomach grumbled with both nerves and hunger.

Throughout history, malls have been known as a gathering place for all people, but especially for rambunctious and rebellious teens looking for a combination of fun and trouble. This was no different from younger wizards and witches eager to mess around with unsuspecting individuals and hone their skills.

In the food court, Julie observed several of these snarky young witches who looked to be around 18 or 19 years old, casually working small cantrips on non-magic users walking by. They would make people trip, flip a few skirts, make some pants rip. Sometimes they would guide people into walking in each other, and the bold ones even tried a few minor transformation spells; a blonde’s hair was suddenly mousy brown and greasy; a slim guy developed a slight paunch; a couple making out would suddenly find that they both had horrible breath. They were little things that wouldn’t get too noticed and risk the casters getting caught operating outside of coven approval at such a young age. Technically, they shouldn’t be doing it, but everyone knew that people needed to practice, so if a few ladies suddenly found their pants getting tight and blamed it on an unusual amount of water retention or a week of unchecked snacking, people were willing to let it slide.

Julie sighed heavily as she watched a pair of catty blondes with suddenly smaller boobs and bigger bellies walk by. If only she had been a bit more social and taken a few more risks practicing early on, maybe she would have picked up better habits and skills and had a decent chance of not embarrassing herself against Vivian.

It turns out, if you sometimes just think of the devil, she appears. In this case, Vivian came strutting by, flanked by Eloise and two other cronies.

“Come to pig out, Piggy? The cafeteria wasn’t good enough for you?” laughed Vivian.

“That gelatinous gut has no off-switch. I bet you they finally chased her fat ass out of there, so she came waddling here to keep stuffing her piggish face,” added Eloise.

Vivian and the others kept laughing as Eloise, took center stage and grabbed Julie’s lower belly roll.

“I mean, look at this thing. That’s some grade A whale blubber.”

“And it still somehow pales in comparison to her big fat lard ass! It’s pathetic!” cackled Vivian.

Julie tried to get up and run away, but Eloise kept her shoulder pinned down so she was forced to stay sitting on a chair that she was well aware did not completely fit her mammoth ass. Vivian looked long and gave a disapproving click of her tongue.

“I mean look at that thing. Both of her fat cheeks are just hanging over the chair.”

“She’s lucky it’s metal or she’d be breaking it,” added Eloise.

Julie finally managed to use her chubby hands to smack Eloise away.

“What are you even doing here? Just leave me alone.”

Vivian put an approving arm around Eloise.

“Eloise has her challenge tonight. We’re window shopping to pick out what we’re going to buy to celebrate tomorrow.”

“And getting to make fun of your piggy ass is a fun bonus,” laughed Eloise as she swiped Julie’s tray of food off the table and sent it crashing to the floor.

“Why don’t you go ahead and eat that right off the floor like the pig you are. You know you want to.”

“Oooo, Eloise. You are so delightfully mean.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Let’s leave this pig to her feast. We’ve got better things to do.”

Vivian kicked a cupcake that Julie had bought at her before turning around and walking away with the rest of her crew in tow, save for Eloise who stayed behind just long enough to stick out her tongue and deliver one last party shot.

“You’re never getting out of the chub club, Tubs. With your killer appetite, you’re just going to spend your days stuffing your fat face and getting fatter. So MOOOOOOO, you cow!”

Eloise let loose another victorious moo that trailed off into loud laughter as she sauntered off after Vivian and the others and left Julie on the floor scraping together whatever parts of her meal could still somehow be salvaged.

Later on, Julie waddled through the mall with her head still weighed down by defeat. As she did she suddenly felt something, an itch, like something was pulling at her hair, and as she turned her head to scratch it, she caught sight of a small little antique shop that she had never realized was here before. She suddenly felt a desire to check it out.

“Nah,” muttered Julie as she started to walk away.

But then… it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She might as well do a little exploring. So she waddled on in.

As Julie waddled into the store, she failed to notice the waifish blonde watching her from a safe distance and smiling.

Inside, the store was a collection of curious in crowded and organized chaos. There were figurines of glass and porcelain, old, well worn books, a dusty and dulled pocket watch devoid of luster as it sat on a display perch, and what Julie could tell was like a rather ornate full length mirror that was covered in a dropcloth.

“Hello, dear,” called a voice from the back, unseen by Julie.

“Hello!” Julie called back.

She heard the whirring sound of a mobility scooter working overtime as the shopkeeper came out from the back room.

The woman was the single largest, roundest woman that Julie had ever seen, absolutely circus fat lady kind of fat. Even on the double wide scooter that was moving herself along on, her tremendous body, led by an extraordinarily wide ass. She was dressed in a blue tracksuit that looked impossibly stretched and yet not worn at all. And as fat as she was, it didn’t seem like any of that was particularly saggy. Even sitting down her entire body had a strangely taut appearance.

Given the woman’s unique appearance and the feeling that Julie got when she first walked into the store, Julie could only draw one conclusion:

“You’re a witch.”

The rotund woman gave a soft slow clap with her well padded hands.

“Very good, dear. I was a little worried you wouldn’t piece it. Now I can stop with the pretense.”

With that the woman hefted herself off of her scooter, and Julie could really get a full sense of just how immense she was. Julie had never seen anyone with such an incredibly prominent belly, one that surged forward looking like one half of a giant sphere. On anyone else this big ball belly would have been the dominant feature, but this woman’s immense amount of fat was almost equally distributed in all directions. Her thighs were ludicrously large, and while she still clearly had cankles, her thighs were so much fatter that her legs made a funnel shape that gave her the appearance of being a bad photoshop job. She had extra thick ham hock arms and tremendous gravity defying tits. Every part of her was so perfectly stretched out that her velour tracksuit gave her the appearance of an overripe blueberry.

As she moved toward Julie, her thighs were so large that she moved less like a human being waddling and more like a floating parade balloon. Her ass was so huge that Julie could see the sides of it swaying even as she was staring at the woman head on.

“Oops,” went the fat lady as one of her huge hips knocked a display stand over and sent an antique pocket watch falling to the floor.

“Oh,” Julie practically tripped over herself as she hurriedly bent over to pick up the pocket watch.

“Here you go.”

The woman had a bemused smile on her face as she took the watch.

“That’s very sweet of you, Julianna.”

Then she turned her hand over with the watch in her open palm, wiggled the fat fingers of her other hand, and the pocket watch gently flew from her palm and hovered back onto its display.

“I didn’t- how did you know my name?”

“Divination is something of a specialty of mine. Though I didn’t expect you coming into my shop today, which is… interesting.”

A stingy ball of ice formed in the pit of Julie’s stomach, and without turning her head, her thoughts moved back toward the covered full length mirror she had seen earlier. As the blob of a woman smiled at Julie, her extra chins inflating, Julie tried her best not to show her fear even though she knew the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead was likely betraying her. The divination skills, the cozy antique shop, Julie was coming to a growing understanding of what she was dealing with.

This woman was a mirror witch.

Julie’s mother had warned her about mirror witches.

Mirror witches are amongst the most powerful of witches. Gifted in divination, mirror witches live life in four dimensions, capable of seeing past and future. Most witches use totems, focuses, and rituals to shape magic in the moment; they know the specific thing they want to do and they do it- for example, making someone fat. But beyond that initial point of contact, the magic ripples outward with a mind of its own. How far do things go? How the world changes around the target, the responses, the way reality shifts and minds change to make the magic make sense, like deja-vu, these are usually out of the hands of caster. They are the things that the magic concerns itself with, and while magic may work by certain rules and be fairly predictable to the most practiced, it is ultimately out of the control of most.

But not mirror witches.

Mirror witches can see everything, magic reflected and refracted through time; they can see all manner of realities and weave them together using their mirrors to weave strands of magic together and alter reality as they see fit.

“Not just mirrors, dear. We use ponds, founts, crystal balls. Though, I find the last one to be a bit ostentatious.”

Julie looked back at the covered mirror that was between her and the door. Opening one’s mind to the minds of others as well as an untold number of realities meant that many mirror witches inevitably fell victim to madness, and Julie was not eager to stick around to find out.

“It’s fine, dear. Really. I’m not even insulted.”

Julie turned back around and saw that the fat woman was now standing right next to her, so close that their stomachs were almost touching, which, with the size of their stomachs meant that their fat faces were still a decent distance away from each other.

“Where’s my manners? I’m Sabrina.”

Sabrina held out a fat arm. Her breath smelled strongly of maple syrup. As the two fat women shook chubby hands, Julie was grateful for her earlier act of kindness with the pocket watch.

“You… ummm.. You can just call me Julie. Pretty much everyone calls me Julie except for my mom.”

“Yes. I know your mother.”

“You do?”

“Quite well.”

There was a long, heavy pause between the two, and Julie could tell in that moment that Sabrina was thoroughly sizing her up and hoped that she was not found wanting.

“What brings you to my shop, dear?” asked Sabrina.

“I… don’t know. Just had a feeling.”

“That’s interesting,” Sabrina mused as she stroked her triple chin.

“May I?”

Sabrina reached her chubby hand toward Julie’s forehead, and Julie simply nodded in response. Sabrina then pressed her sausage fingers against Julie’s forehead and took a long moment before nodding.

“Hmmm… I see. And your mother didn’t send you?”

Julie shook her head which made for a rather comical sight as Sabrina’s hand followed along, still touching her forehead.

“Your challenge is coming soon, and quite the challenge indeed. Oh, this… yes. I know her mother too. Vivian… she certainly could use a good humbling. If she were here…. I could- but no…. No. Although….”

The idea of potentially getting help from a mirror witch to best Vivian made Julie’s breath catch in her throat.

“H-how do you know my mom?”

Sabrina removed her hand from Julie’s forehead and smiled.

“Years back, before you were born, I nearly succumbed to the madness. Your mother helped me out. She was able to cure me and contain the changes to- well- this,” state Sabrina matter-of-factly as she gestured to her globular form.

“I owe her a favor.”

“So you’ll help me?” asked Julie, her eyes beacons of hope.

Sabrina just shook her head, sending her triple chins wobbling.

“No, dear. My favor is to your mother, not to you… Although…”

Sabrina twirled her fingers and the pocket watch flew from its display and hovered in front of her.

“You were helpful, and I suppose a small favor deserves one in kind. Plus, we’ve already established that I'm interested.”

The watch flew into the waiting hands of Julie who held it like it was a precious glass figurine catching the light and reflecting back hope. And the light did indeed bounce off of the pocket watch’s gold exterior, but in her hands it took on a glow all its own.

“What does it do?”

“At the least, it is a good deal more powerful focus than your wand. The rest… well that’s up to you to figure out. But, if you’re as clever as I think you might be- and you’re cunning… I think you’ll be able to make great use of it.”

Julie turned it over in her hands, hardly able to comprehend or believe just what she now had in her possession.

“Th-thank you! Thank you so much! I’ll make the most of it. I promise! This is- this is just…”

Sabrina reached out and put a steadying hand on Julie’s shoulder.

“Time for you to be going now, dear. And do tell your mother that I hope she’ll stop by and claim her favor soon.”

“S-sure. Thanks again!”

Julie waddled off lost in a haze of unbridled hope spilling over into unchecked joy.

As she waddled away, Sabrina leaned out the doorway and then took the time to inspect the frame. Her eagle eyes soon caught the thin but tell-tale sign of exactly what she had suspected, the remnants of a minor conjuring spell, a magical lure, still fresh. She bent down and ran her finger along the thin red line before touching her finger to her lips to determine what kind of blood was used to complete the ritual.

“Beet juice. Very interesting.”

--------

When Julie walked into the cafeteria for lunch the next day, she was clutching the pocket watch and staring at it so intently, trying to figure out how best to use it, that she almost ran into two people on her way to the food stations, and in fact she would have ran into trouble if her ear had not become so tuned to Vivian’s pompous, taunting, tone.

“You’re disgusting, Fat Ass.”

In a panic, Julie shoved the pocket watch into her pocket and looked up hoping that Vivian hadn’t noticed it. Luckily, Vivian hadn’t seen her yet, and her cruel comment was actually pointed at the newest cafeteria worker, a rather hefty girl with frizzy hair.

“It’s not my fault!”

Wait- that voice. Julie knew that voice. And the moment she actually took the time to look at the fat girl’s face, it was clear as day.

It was Eloise!

And judging by the way she looked, Julie could tell the way Eloise’s challenge had gone. The formerly slim and sexy girl was now a full fledged fatty, not just chubby, not even just fat, but morbidly obese!

“Yes it is. You lost, and now you’re a fat loser. That’s how it works, Blubber Butt.”

“That waify blonde bitch cheated!”

“Cut the excuses. We’re tired of your whining, Wide Load. You’re weak and that’s why you’re nothing but a powerless, porked up, loser- A fatty- a chunkster, a pot bellied pig with a fat flabby ass to match.”

Vivian kept digging her accusatory finger into Eloise’s bulbous belly.

“You’re a cow, a heifer, a dork, a certified oinker. You’re not hot anymore. You’re not even pretty. You’re pitiable and fat, so freaking fat.”

Eloise was, in a word, dumpy. And that dumpiness was greatly affected by the large dumper that she now possessed. As Vivian and her cronies circled around Eliose like a flock of vultures, poking and prodding and pinching folds and rolls of fat, Eloise found herself spinning around in a fruitless form of defense. Her fat body shook in protest, and as she turned, this gave Julie the clearest view of just how fat Eloise’s new lard ass was.

The former princess had become quite the bottom heavy porker. Her flabby ass, clad in the most unflattering and tight uniform slacks possible looked ready to burst through them. The dark gray slacks were so tight against Eloise’ round rump, that Julie could see the impressions of the cellulite that now littered her once perfect posterior. Eloise’ ass was now ponderously large and each cheek seemed to move on its own, only moving in uniform as they clapped together while Eloise tried to avoid more predatory prodding from Vivian’s cruel inspection of her bloated figure. Her big all butt looked wide enough to spill over any chair she might sit on, if she didn’t break it first. Those cheeks were thick, but not in the tight and luscious way that they used to be. Instead they were flabby and sagged pathetically down onto the backs of Eloise’s thunder thighs.

Those thighs were also beyond thick. They were more like tree trunks trapped in the tight slacks like they were overstuffed sausages waiting to burst forth. Julie could tell that there was an immense amount of strain, between Eloise’ thunder thighs and her big fat ass, that the uniform pants were not long for this world. It was a cruelty that Julie knew all too well, and she couldn’t help but long to see Eloise experience it.

Eloise’s thighs, along with pushing out the seams of her pants as far as they could, also pressed against each other and forced her into an awkwardly wide stance. Julie watched Eloise clumsily shuffle about trying to avoid Vivian’s prying hands, and she knew that, if she were able to watch Eloise walk away from this, that Eloise’s formerly modelesque strut would be reduced to a ponderous waddle. Julie knew from experience the chaffing that Eloise must be feeling, the heavy burden of having to walk around with such hefty limbs, the humiliation that comes with the jiggling sensation of even the smallest step and movement. It warmed her heart, and she felt joy at the thought of the panicked inner monologue that Eloise must have been going through. Julie knew that Eloise’s plump, pasty thighs were too fat to fully separate themselves no matter how wide she tried to stand. They would always be a reminder to the once slim Eloise of how fat and out of shape she had become, a constant tormentor just like Julie’s thunder thighs were to her.

Julie couldn’t help but chuckle to herself as she listened to the fabric of Eloise’s cheap pants swish against itself as she turned around and greeted Julie once again with a full frontal view of her belly.

That belly was a far cry from the slim waist that Eloise used to flaunt. She was the kind of girl who loved to lift her shirt to flash her midsection (and tease further up), and she loved to run her hand up and down her abs. And now Vivian was sinking her hand into soft squeezable adipose, and shaking that flabby upside down. Eloise had been cursed with a generous spare tire, a porky pot belly that pressed against her dirty apron and came paired with a matching set of thick pinchable love handles. It was easy to pinch an inch on either side and even easier to grab whole handfuls of belly blubber.

Eloise used to be very athletic, and now she was humiliatingly soft. This was evident in her spongy belly. Even disguised by an ill-fitting button down work shirt and an apron, one could tell that her gut was a flabby mess, the kind of paunch that lazily rolled over the waistband of her pants and drooped downward. Julie could see Eloise's side belly peeking out from underneath her shirt with the front only obscured because of the apron she was forced to wear as part of her lunch lady uniform. It was obvious that if Eloise was not wearing these clothes her thick, turgid belly would be seen for the pale wobbly mess it was.

The fact that her apron was pushed out as far as it was was a testament, not to any kind of musculature, but to the sheer volume of fat that filled up and stretched out her spare tire and now sloshed about with every move she made.The thick matching love handles wrapped themselves around what used to be Eloise’s waistline and joined rolls of back fat that pushed out the apron strings and taxed the tenuous knot that tied them together. From every angle, Eloise was a flabby girl fit for bursting out of her clothes-

Except for perhaps up top.

Eloise’ pert and perfect breasts, generous in both their size and gravity defying nature were no more. While the rest of Eloise’s model quality figure had blown up and flabbed out, her breasts had only taken on the flabby part. While they were now filled out with saggy fat, if anything they were smaller than they had been. They no longer had the ability to draw the eye as they sagged pathetically, swallowed up by her uniform and grossly outpaced by her pot belly. They were pathetic deflated things that Julie was sure still likely had stretch marks from their sagginess. Elosie’s days of flaunting her chest and using her boobs to get what she wanted were long over now that her double ds were deflated pudding cups. The only parts of her that people would pay attention to were now fat and saggy ones.

Even Eloise’s arms had grown, although the muscles she once had had shrunk. They were now jiggly bingo wings that ended in chubby hands with thick sausage fingers. Her shoulders slacked from the complete lack of confidence that came with having everything that she had taken away from her and having all of the mean comments she had ever said about others thrown back in her face.

To Eloise’s great shame and Julie’s tremendous delight, the part of Eloise that had changed the least was her face. It was still chubbier with the slight but permanent double chin that ballooned outward whenever she tilted her head, and there were definitely stress lines that were further framed by her frizzy hair, but Eloise was still utterly recognizable, and Julie knew that reality for others would have naturally reshaped itself to make them believe that Eloise was the stereotypical hot girl who let themselves go and was now a full fledged fatty.

“You really are pathetic, Fatso.” laughed Vivian as she seemingly began to grow bored of toying with her prey for now. Instead she decided that it was time to go in for the kill.

Julie watched as Vivian grabbed two big handfuls of Eloise’s gluttonous gut fat and squeezed and shook.

“This is all you, Piggy. This is you forever now. You’re not one of us anymore. You will never be one of us again. You are a fat, pathetic loser, a servant, a docile cow who exists to serve us food and amusement. You’re a porker for life. Understand that, you sloppy sow?”

Tears rolled down Eloise’s chubby cheeks as she nodded causing her small double chin to wobble in defeat.

“Prove it. Oink for me, Piggy.”

Eloise’s eyes went wide with pleading.

“Vivian, please.”

But Vivian stared back with icy cold eyes.

“I said oink, Fatso. You got that, Lard Ass? When I tell you to do something, you do it or I’ll blow your blubber butt up even more. You’re a porker now, so oink like the pig you are.”

Eloise sighed and began to oink just loud enough for Julie, who was straining to listen, to hear.

“oink. oink.”

“Louder, Piggy.”

“Oink. Oink.”

“I said louder, Piggy! Oink for me! Oink, you pig!”

“OINK! OINK! OINK!”

Eloise began to sob, and Vivian rewarded her oinking with another belly shake.

“Good job, porky. You might as well embrace your new identity as an oinker. A big pig is all you’ll ever be.”

Vivian gave Eloise’s big broad booty and smack, squeezed it hard enough to make Eloise squeal and then walked away with a laugh and her cackling cronies following closely behind.

Defeated, Eloise hung her head in shame and waddled back behind her sloppy joe station. It was such a sad sight, that Julie felt compelled to go over and offer an olive branch. Maybe this would be a turning point for Eloise, fences could be mended. A new friend could be made.

“Ummm… Eloise. I just wanted to say….”

Eloise looked up with her eyes red from the tears that were still running down her chubby cheeks. As she noticed that it was Julie who was showing her pity, Eloise could no longer stand the indignity. She wiped away her tears, glared at Julie and shaped her mouth into a menacing scowl.

“What do you want, fat ass? Come to laugh? I may have gained some weight, but I’m nowhere near as fat as you, you cow- you - you WHALE! Your lard ass has its own zip code!”

Eloise’s cruel words bounced off of Julie as she simply trampled with anger. Then, as she fished the watch back out of her pocket, a devilish grin stretched across Julie’s chubby face. She held the watch with one hand, focused her power and waved one hand over the tray of sloppy joe slop.

A nervous Eloise looked down at the bubbling mixture just in time for it to explode right in her face. The surprise of the sudden explosion of slop caused Eloise to stumble and fall on her lard filled, well cushioned ass. The button pinged off the front of her pants, and Julie could hear the tell-tale ripping sound of Eloise’s big bloated butt blowing out the back of her pants.

Julie stepped forward and stood over her fat fallen foe with her hands resting proudly on her massive hips.

“I may be fatter than you, but I still have my powers and you don’t. And don’t you ever forget it, Piggy.”

Julie extended a finger toward Eloise, unaware of the gentle ticking of the watch still clutched in her other hand.

“Feels shitty doesn’t it, Fatso? Welcome to the chub club, Tubs. The cafeteria tables have turned and you’re on the other side, Lardo,” Julie spoke with an excited tremor in her voice overcome with a mix of anger and joy and fear at her own words.

“You’re the cow now. And I bet you’ve got a killer appetite don’t you? You’re going to spend your days stuffing your fat face and growing fatter. So. Much. Fatter. You’ll be looking back at today wishing you could be this thin.”

The second hand on the clock ticked forward, and Eloise’s stomach surged in response. Several buttons on her blouse began to burst off as the overtaxed knot of her apron finally gave way under the pressure of her expanding back fat. Several more seams split along Eloise’s saddledbags.

The second hand stopped ticking.

And Julie blinked, taking in the unexpected sight of her handiwork.

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Eloise was too busy shaking and sobbing, her entire massively obese body trembling with fear, to register Julie’s surprise.

“Please. No more. No more! I’m sorry! Have mercy!” she begged.

Julie stuffed the watch back into her pocket and turned her back on Eloise. She stormed out of the cafeteria with as much speed and purpose as her fat legs could manage.

She couldn't believe she did it. She could do it.

“I will do it,” she told herself.

Seeing what had happened to Eloise had reminded Julie of both what there was to be won and how far she still had yet to fall if she lost. And she left the blubbering butterball more determined than ever to see her dream come true, and watch Vivian fall. 

Which Exclusive Cut story should get extended?

I had such a fun time writing the weight gain and slob stories from Exclusive Cuts volume 4 that I would like to take one of them and blow it up into a full length story and premiere it during our celebration of Fattest Tuesday. 

And I want you, my loyal patrons, to choose which one is going to get that treatment.

Please comment with your reasoning and your ideas. I'd love to see them.

"Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" Volume 4 (Super Stuffed Slob Edition!)

Enjoy over 8,000 words spread across five different short stories featuring weight gain, revenge, riches to rags, and of course slob, lots and lots of sloppy stuff (which might not be your thing, and that's okay.)

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

“Prim and Proper to Pig”

Katherine was a prim and proper lady, the kind of woman who was always impeccably dressed, wearing the finest perfumes and maintaining what she considered the most important of social graces, cleanliness and good manners- well good manners except to those she held her nose up to which was quite a lot of- if not most- people.

See, Katherine had a lot of money and with wealth privilege and pretty privilege put together, it made for a pretty dangerous Katherine felt were beneath her. She had long gotten away with being the pretty little rich girl orphan coasting on sympathy until people realized what a horrible person she actually was, and by then it was often too late to do anything about it. Katherine had weaved a powerful web and used it to climb the social ladder. She had money, looks and power.

But it’s funny how quickly life can change sometimes.

In Katherine’s case it was brought about by an uncanny ability for making bad investments while trusting the wrong people. Those bad investments cost her money, and those wrong people took most of what was left before she even realized anything was wrong.

So that’s how Katherine lost her money.

And once the glimmer of Katherine’s coin was gone, peoples’ eyes seemed to clear, and they truly realized what a horrible person Katherine had always been, so vain and arrogant and mean. That’s when the knives really came out because rather than helping Katherine out, the many enemies she had made over the years made a point of hastening her downfall determined the bury her and humiliate her on her way out of high society.

Which is how Katherine lost her power.

That left one thing, the thing that Katherine prized more than anything in this world: Her looks.

Time is a cruel thing, and time when one lacks money is even worse. It is a pressure cooker and the only answer when you’re high on stress and low on funds is to eat, and the only food available is fast. So that’s what Katherine reluctantly turned herself toward. The former Queen Bee who had grown up delicately dining on gourmet was reduced to chowing down on greasy burgers and fries, to desperately trying to stretch out pizza orders and sustaining herself with boxes upon boxes of macaroni and cheese. And while the food was not healthy, the stress made her eat a lot of it.

So as her wallet got thinner, her waistline got bigger. Abs became flab as the first pounds settled right around her waist. As Katherine examined herself on a daily basis in the dingy full length mirror she bought from a thrift store, she would poke and pinch her burgeoning belly, trying to wish it away right before tucking into another greasy, gut busting meal. Then she would cradle her food baby and burp before proceeding to cry into her ice cream, drowning her sorrows in the stereotypical whipped cream and chocolate syrup. And she had a lot of sorrows which made for a lot of ice cream. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, whatever flavors were on sale she bought by the gallon and ate very quickly.

Katherine also sunk to the level of snacking incessantly, mostly on salty crunchy things like potato chips and pretzels. She had gone her entire life without ever trying a pork rind, thinking of them as beneath her and sneering with disgust at the sound of their name. But once she finally caved in and bought herself a bag desperate for a salty treat, she became incredibly addicted. Bags and bags of pork rinds littered her tiny, dirty apartment. She would positively pig out on them. She didn’t care about sustenance or the mess she was making of herself and her apartment; she just craved more so she ate more.

Her crash junk food diet crashed her digestive system and led to Katherine developing serial flatulence. Even when her body was still thin, only just starting to give way to the weight of her dietary choices, her insides began to rebel against her and expel noxious gas at the most inopportune times. The still relatively slim and sexy Katherine would be attempting to network with high class individuals, former friends, and she would suddenly let loose with embarrassing farts, loud trumpeting affairs that would announce her humiliation to an entire room as well as quiet deceptive ones that would linger until the fetid stench polluted the nostrils of those around her and eventually led to even deeper humiliation.

Her flatulence would lead to further rejection and further stress which led to further binge eating which meant further unwanted pounds and even more unwanted flatulence. It wasn’t long before the prim and proper Katherine was a fat, room clearing gas bag.

Katherine’s metabolism broke fairly quickly from her constant junk food binges, and once the pounds really started to pile on, it wasn’t just her pot belly that grew. Her permanent food baby grew into a large spare tire perpetually round and bloated with gas and mirror down below by a fat and flabby ass composed of two generous jiggling cheeks that wobbled and slapped together as she waddled around her pigsty of any apartment. That waddling was courtesy of the thunder thighs that came with rich saddle bags that grew upward into wide hips and downward into swollen cankles.

She wanted to turn back, but even if she could have afforded healthier options, Katherine was powerless to fight her cravings. Even as she bemoaned her expanding waistline, and the money it cost her to buy more clothes, she continued to stuff her face with junk. It was not uncommon for Katherine to spend time looking in the mirror with pictures of how sexy she used to look wedged into the frame. She would jiggle her soft pot belly with one hand and cry about how disgusting she had become while using her other hand to cram more fried food into her greedy maw and drowning out the sound of her tears with the sounds of her flatulence.

Yes. Katherine had lost her looks. The rolls and folds of fat weren’t even the major deal breaker. Her stress and diet just left her looking tired and lazy. She had perpetual bags under her eyes that puffed up and sagged like her doughy double chin. She was a jowly girl who looked not like someone who had been a classy socialite but like a poor woman who had been a trailer trash couch potato her entire life. She was a fat, sweaty, greasy flatulent mess far from the glamourous girl she used to be.

And she was swiftly running out of money.

Even buying the cheapest junk food possible and renting the smallest, dirtiest, cheapest apartment she could find, was causing her to run dry because she had trouble getting work since she had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth and no real skills.

Unluckily for her, Katherine did find one person who was willing to employ her. One of her old friends, Sonia, was delighted to see how far Katherine had fallen and how fat and desperate she had become. So she offered her a job, knowing that Katherine would have no choice but to accept. Katherine would serve her as a part time maid, used mostly for cleaning and serving her during parties so all of Katherine’s former friends could see the sad slovenly state she was in. But since Katherine’s slobbish behavior, especially her flatulence, meant she was only good for the occasional show, Sonia instead set Katherine up with a studio and forced her to make demeaning videos of herself to earn the rest of her rent and food money.

Sonia and all of her friends reveled in their triumph as Isabella wallowed in defeat. They would force her to play with her fat in front of them, to eat whatever things they wanted her to eat (including making her eat directly out of a trough), and they would order her to fart on command, enraptured by what a tremendous slob Katherine had turned herself into. Without sufficient money to pay for the food she craved, Katherine had no choice but to continue to play their sick games and serve the people she once stood among as equals while her videos were broadcast and laughed at by all those she once looked down upon.

And that’s what fat Katherine is doing to this day, living her life as a complete slob and performing as a piggy.

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

“Isabella and the Elixir”

Once upon a time in a bustling city like New York or LA but also not those, there lived a stunningly gorgeous and viciously cruel woman named Isabella Sharpe. Isabella was the epitome of vanity and arrogance, her life centered around flaunting her slim figure and mocking those she deemed beneath her, so pretty much everyone. She had quite the figure to flaunt, perfect hourglass. She fit the stereotype of a gorgeous supermodel perfectly with her large but perky breasts, impossibly slim waist with rock hard abs, and curvy but not overly curvy hips that led to a full but pert ass and long, lean, athletic legs.  Little did she know, her world was about to take a drastic turn.

The problem with Isabella is that no matter what she had, it was never enough. And even though she spent so much of her time lording her glamorous lifestyle and gorgeous body over others, Isabella was also aware that time was her enemy. She greatly feared that age would inevitably rob her hard earned looks from her, and so she sort out whatever means she could to prevent this, even if this meant dark magic.

Of course, as we all know, dark magic often has a way of backfiring.

One day, Isabella received an invitation to an exclusive event promising eternal beauty, guaranteeing her a life of glamor and the adoration of others forever. Unable to resist the allure of eternal perfection, she eagerly attended. It was a small event with several gorgeous women that Isabella did not know as well as several rather plain individuals. At least a few of these women Isabella did know, if not by name, then by the vague similarity that they were all people she had looked down upon. She had no idea what they would be doing here as they had no real beauty of their own to bother maintaining. In fact, the idea of them thinking themselves beautiful made Isabella question the legitimacy of this whole thing, and she was about to leave until another gorgeous looking and mysterious woman appeared. To her delight, the mysterious woman chastised the ugly ones for being here and then offered her a special elixir that, she claimed, would maintain one’s beauty forever to only Isabella and the most stunning amongst them.

Isabella, blinded by her own vanity, gulped down the elixir without a second thought. Seeing this, the three other vain beauties joined her. Little did they know that this seemingly miraculous potion was a curse in disguise.

A hot flash ran through Isabella’s body, and she could feel herself breaking out into a sweat as her gorgeous hair suddenly fell limp and greasy across her sweaty forehead. Almost immediately she could pick up on an unpleasant odor and had to take a minute to lift her arm and realize that that odor was somehow coming from her. Isabella had always prided herself on her cleanliness, but she now smelt like it had been days since her last shower, and her skin took on a greasy sheen. She felt incredibly gross, and yet, it was only the beginning.

The weight gain started with her feet.

Delicate digits became tubby toes as he feet filled with fat. They bloated outward until the size of her fatty feet caused the slinky straps of her fancy high heels to burst. The heels would collapse soon after under her weight as the fat spread upward, causing her to stumble forward and wobble about. As the weight spread, her ankles swelled and merged with her calves, and her thighs lost all their muscles, replaced by flab and cellulite. Then her athletic thighs gave way to the swelling of adipose. Muscles melted and saddlebags filled with fat until her inner thighs also swelled so much that they began to press together.

Behind her, Isabella could feel her ass swelling, the two round cheeks losing their pertness even as they stretched the designer gown she was wearing to its limits. They filled like balloons, and when they finally burst the back seam of her dress, her flabby ass cheeks announced themselves with a loud trumpeting

PPHHHHHRRRRRRBBBBBBTTTTT!!!!!

The fart ripped through the air and Isabella looked around at the other stunning women who were undergoing similar transformations and now found themselves joined together in a symphony of flatulence.

But that flatulence, while ongoing, served only as a momentary distraction from the speaking weight gain. Isabella’s stomach filled first with gas and then with fat as she lost her precious abs forever and found her hands full of a large pot belly. And that pot belly continued to surge outward, joined by a thick set of love handles that continued to tear the seams of her now impossibly tight fitting dress. With every burst of flatulence and every bursting seam, Isabella’s horror grew.

And so did the rest of her body.

Her arms swelled. Her breasts sagged. Her angelic face grew jiggly jowls and a matching double chin. Her upturned nose swelled and made her look every bit like a pig. Even her back grew rolls of fat, and eventually all of this growth made her gown rip away from her completely leaving her jiggling in just her ill fitting underwear. That underwear was stretched impossibly tight and the seams were starting to fray. Isabella was dangerously close to having her panties explode off of her body, so close that one exceptionally large fart might just blow them off.

As she looked in the full length mirror that was cruelly presented to her, horror and disbelief gripped her. Isabella had been transformed into a sweaty, overweight, flatulent version of her former self. The once-toned physique was replaced by flabby rolls, and the alluring curves had given way to a turgid, round figure. It was beyond just pudgy or even simply fat. She was thoroughly obese. Her wide body could barely fit in the mirror’s frame. Shocked and dismayed, Isabella tried to comprehend the cruel irony of her fate. After all, it was her vanity and greed that had led her to fall for this horrible trick. If she had just been content with what she had, she would have kept it instead of losing it all. Ultimately, she knew she had done this too herself.

That thought came with a resigned PFFFFFFFFFRRRFFFFT.

Isabella looked around and saw that the other once slender women had suffered the same fate, turned into fat, flatulent pigs. The women that Isabella had looked down upon when she entered the room were now taking her picture. It was the same for all of the women who could only do so much to hide their flab and could do nothing to hide their flatulence. Soon, they were all presented with clothing more befitting their present and future, ill-fitting sweat suits. As Isabella bent down to pull up her pants….

PPPHHHRRRRPPPPPPPBBBBBBBBBBBT!!!!!!!

The underwear blew out the back, and as she stood back up in surprise, her jumbo belly lifted and allowed the panties to slingshot forward. Stunned to the point of no longer knowing what to do, Isabella simply reached down to pull up her sweatpants and go full commando. Isabella eventually got her sweatsuit on, and, almost immediately her body began to produce noticeable sweat patches.

The mysterious woman declared her work done and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Nobody could tell if the sulfuric smell the caught a whiff of was from her disappearance or from the formerly gorgeous glamor girls.

Word spread like wildfire about Isabella's transformation. Former admirers turned into ruthless gossipmongers, relishing the downfall of the once-vain queen. To them, her downfall was delicious. Isabella's social standing crumbled as people pointed and laughed at the woman who had once treated them with disdain. Those who Isabella had always felt were beneath her took extra joy in her degraded state.

Her favorite high end boutiques now refused to serve her, and her designer wardrobe turned into a distant memory. Her sense of style disappeared as she adorned herself in the outfits of those who no longer cared, greasy food stained sweats. Isabella, who had taken pride in her appearance, found herself struggling to perform even the simplest physical tasks thanks to the large ponderous body that she now possessed. The elegant and graceful woman was now reduced to a clumsy, flatulent spectacle.

Isabella tried to navigate this new life and lose weight, but the elixir had made her appetite outrageous and her eating habits thoroughly uncouth. Instead, she became a recluse spending her tremendous trust fund stuffing her face and living like a complete slob in a spacious pigsty of an apartment. Occasionally she would have servants stop by to clean up and they would be sure to sneak plenty of pictures of her to share with the outside world.

Her arrogance had turned into complete humiliation as Isabella spent her days trapped in a body she hated, enveloped in the sounds and smells of her own flatulence and body odor. She removed herself from the world as much as she could, but she couldn’t bring herself to hide from her own reflection, and would spend hours staring at it, playing with her fat while staring at old pictures and yearning for what used to be.

Most of her critics were far removed from Isabella’s sight, but she couldn’t escape her harshest one, herself, and in the end her mind would always be filled with the every present laughter of her former self.

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

“Just a Thought”

Carmen had always been a stuck up bitch, the kind of woman who worked hard for her body and liked to flaunt it. She loved to show off, and was a complete social butterfly. Her flawless figure enraptured others, and the attention she received made her feel glorious. She was like a queen. And the only downside of it all was that once she got to the top she had no choice but to dedicate her time to staying there, eating the right foods, partying with the right people, doing a million little things to take care of herself so that she was always photo ready in peak condition.

And then one day, slim and sultry Carmen got a little idea stuck in her head- just a thought…

What if she just let it all go?

She could stop exercising and relax, eat whatever she wanted, and just stop caring about what she looked like or how she acted or what other people thought of her. She could live without expectation, and it would be bliss.

So she decided to try it.

It started with some chocolate. Carmen had always loved chocolate, frequently craved it even, but she had always denied herself her guilty pleasure. But no more. There would be no more guilt and only pleasure from now on, so if she wanted chocolate she had it. And once she started having it, it was like she couldn’t get enough of it.

And Carmen’s constant indulgence led to snacking on all sorts of other things. Pretzels, chips, cookies of all types, salty or sweet did not matter, if it was within reach she would at least try it, and if she liked it, Carmen was determined to get as much of it as possible. And there were seldom any snacks that Carmen didn’t like.

Carmen would often sneak her snacks at first. Feeling like a naughty little piglet, she would binge in secret until she realized how stupid that was and decided that- disapproving looks of others be damned- she was going to snack as she pleased. And yes, those disapproving looks sometimes became disapproving words, but she kept on munching and crunching no matter what.

Of course, snacking was just a gateway drug to the hard stuff-

Fast. Food.

Greasy burgers soon graced her lips on a near daily basis. Pizza by the slice and eventually by the pie were frequent. A drawer in her fridge which was previously designed and used for vegetables was rechristened the pizza drawer and held any leftover slices in ziploc bags, perfect for a midnight snack, or a second breakfast, or a pre-dinner appetizer. When pizza’s in its own drawer, you can have pizza anytime as long as you don’t mind it being cold.

Carmen loved cold pizza, hot pizza, pizza with extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, anything. She loved vegetable pizza and meat lovers. She would even eat pineapple on pizza if it was in front of her. It’s not like she was trying to make a political statement or something, but she truly felt all pizzas were beautiful- and delicious.

And it wasn’t just pizza but pasta as well that she adored, be it cavatelli or rigatoni, linguine or pappardelle. She loved stuffed shells, and lasagna, fettuccine Alfredo and pasta carbonara. She loved to eat creamy, saucy pasta dishes, and the more she ate them, the less she cared about the damage that sauce would do to her clothes.

It didn’t take long for Carmen’s slim and sexy body to soften.

It started with her abdominals, something Carmen had always loved to show off but also the part of her body that was the hardest to maintain. Having six pack abs like she did required an incredibly strict diet and exercise routine, so Carmen was happy to let that go and embrace the pudgy little paunch she was getting. It was soft and squishy and liked to peak out from underneath her shirts forming an adorable little muffin top with her matching love handles. It made her pants tough to button. It fought her with flab as she tried desperately to close the gap in her pants, and the adipose squished through most initial attempts to zipper up. Of course, her jeans were getting tight for another reason as well.

Just like her rock hard abs were turning into a generous and jiggly pot belly, her pert butt was filling up her jeans and threatening to become a total lard ass. Thanks to the lack of exercise and increase in sitting while stuffing her face full of greasy food, Carmen’s but quickly lost all definition and made her look like quite the couch potato with her wobbling ass cheeks covered in dimply cellulite. Her cheeks had gone from heart shaped and perfect to a lumpy, chunky caboose. It was an ass that used to turn heads but now Carmen continued to for an entirely new and negative reason.

The problem wasn’t really Carmen’s fattening ass. Plenty of people were distinctly into that. They wanted to run their hands over those fleshy orbs and let the soft fat squeeze through their fingertips and they played with her pillowy cheeks. They wanted to give them a shake and have their way with her, but her new diet had come with an unexpected and unwanted change. The sudden switch to an entirely junk food diet loaded with fat and sugar had led to a massive change in Carmen’s digestive system which meant that Carmen’s fat ass was also dealing with a bad case of flatulence.

Carmen was left exasperated by the gas that she was passing. The embarrassment that came with the sounds and smells of her new habit was more than Carmen initially planned for when she imagined letting herself go. So she tried her best to get a hold of herself, at least in public. When it came to being home she allowed herself to be a full on fart machine, especially after indulging in things like beefy bean burritos and chili cheese dogs, but she wanted to retain some semblance of decorum in public. Of course, her desire to binge on junk was too great by this point, and as her stomach continued to bloat with fat it also bloated with gas which meant that any chance of maintaining her dignity and not farting in front of others was an impossibility.

This combination of flatulence and fattening reached a humiliating crescendo when she was out with friends at a bar. Full of beer and hot wings, the bloated Carmen dropped a mozzarella stick. As she bent down to pick it up, fully intent on eating it still, the back of her pants blew out, and the resulting surprise led to a sudden trumpeting outburst which in turn led to an even louder outburst of laughter from her friends. They had enjoyed Carmen’s descent into the token fat friend, and this further turn of slobbishness was a delicious feast of schadenfreude for them.

After that, tight pants were out and sweatpants were permanently in. And once that happened, it was the beginning of the end for Carmen’s once perfect figure. It was soon to become lost forever in a sea of flab and flatulence. Carmen doubled down on her messy eating, stuffing her face with whatever she could find. She began to not just eat whatever she wanted, but she purposefully pushed herself to eat as much as possible on any occasion, not happy unless she was putting on a gluttonous display for all to see. She wanted them to bare witness as she pushed herself to the limit. And of course, now that she was fatter than ever she no longer cared about her flatulence and cut wind at the slightest provocation. In fact, if anything it became a game to her to see how loud and long she could let one go.

And so Carmen continued to balloon. Her thighs grew thick and gave her a ponderous waddle. Her ass cheeks, freerer in sweats, bounced around as they pleased, accompanied by her generous double belly that still spilled out from whatever food stained shirt she was wearing and over her greasy sweatpants. Carmen was a true fat slob in every sense of the word and, while she was certainly the target of whispers and cruel words behind her back and directly to her fat face. Carmen secretly reveled in it because she had achieved exactly what she wanted.

She had let herself go. And she couldn’t be happier.

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

“From Snobs to Slobs”

Patricia and her mother Renee were miserable people. Not emotionally mind you. No. Emotionally they were on top of the world. They were blessed with good looks and lots of money thanks to Patricia’s father, Franklin’s very successful business, doing… something- but nothing that concerned Patricia and Renee. They simply enjoyed the benefits that came with being rich and good looking, a glamorous life full of lavish parties and lots of sycophants for Patricia and Renee to use and look down upon.

Yes. Patricia and Renee were perfectly content with themselves and perfectly miserable to other people. They were known for their incredible arrogance and vanity and the cruel way they treated their servants and the catty way they treated their so-called friends. They were backbiting bitches with wicked tongues and a borderline obsession with pointing out and tearing apart the many flaws they perceived in others. It kept their sycophants feeling weak and left them feeling smug and  in control.

But life has a fine way of wrenching control from us.

In this case, this came in the form of Franklin’s business going belly up. Perhaps that’s the wrong term. One might not be inclined to refer to an illegal ponzi scheme as any sort of business, and when that ponzi scheme was coupled with absolutely massive amounts of tax evasion… well one would best describe the water that Franklin was drowning in as boiling. The courts came a calling and the bills came due. These mounting financial issues were further exacerbated by the exorbitant fees spent on lawyers who fruitlessly fought against the inevitable.

Jail time.

Once Franklin was sent to the big house, Patricia and Renee were kicked out of theirs. With no sincere friends to cling to, it was easy for the fake ones Patricia and Renee had made to turn their back on them. In fact, many of the sycophants who had previously glomped onto them lost money in the ponzi scheme which made them all to happy to go out of their way to exact further justice and seek to thoroughly ruin their lives in whatever way possible.

Stripped of their fortune, and kicked out of high society, Patricia and Renee’s pert butts landed in the kind of place they had always turned their nose up to, affordable public housing. And without jobs or skills they were forced to rely on another dirty word.

Welfare.

Reduced to using food stamps, Patricia and Renee found themselves living in a nightmare they had helped create when they realized they had voted to make sure their EBT cards could not be used on finer, more expensive, and healthier options. They also learned the hard way what food deserts as they found that the grocery stores around the projects where they lived had very limited healthy options, especially when it came to fresh fruits and vegetables. To their horror they also found that they had spent so much of their lives relying on chauffeurs that they did not know how to drive (not that they could afford a car), and they lived in a neighborhood without reliable public transportation.

Needless exposition aside, this is to say that Patricia and Renee were stuck eating garbage junk food. With cheaper greasy food as their only real option for sustenance, and no fancy gym membership or personal trainers to help them work off the calories, the pounds began to pile on. Their waistlines began to stretch as their svelte figures started to swell with fat.

Patricia and Renee tried to count calories, especially as they felt how tight their pants and wallets were, but stress can make junk food even more addicting, and they quickly succumbed to this addiction. The pounds piled on and Patricia and Renee plumped up as they stuffed themselves silly. It was a terrible cycle they found themselves in. Because they were stressed, they snacked. Because they couldn’t afford to go anywhere and enjoy any real entertainment, their lives became a boring mess of binge eating. And that sedentary lifestyle meant that fat had no way to burn off so the pudge kept packing on, and as their bodies grew fatter and fatter, their sadness and stress levels increased which meant more and more eating.

The figures they loved the flaunt were rapidly inflating, but that wasn’t the only thing the junk food was doing to them. While all of the greasy garbage they were consuming added to the junk in their trunks, those trunks started to stank. Those double wide cabooses became cannons for gas.

Their flatulence and fattening was fodder for the other residents of the projects. They loved seeing these two vain skinny bitches crashing down to other and blowing up like balloons. As the formerly glamorous girls grew into gassy gluttonous slobs, they earned the ridicule of their neighbors and revived new nicknames. They soon became known almost exclusively as Fatty Patty and Big Bertha (not because Bertha was in any way a natural nickname for Renee but because the residents found it suitably insulting.)

Fatty Patty and Big Bertha grew big rolling bellies that spilled out over their sweatpants. They had large rolling spare tires that laid in their laps. Big sweaty guts with deep belly buttons perfect for catching crumbs. They would fall into deep bouts of laziness in front of the tv, frequently scratching their potbellies and farting incessantly as they stuffed an endless stream of greasy snacks into their mouths. The oil from their binges ended up smeared on their couch and their sweatpants alike.

Their thighs grew thick to fill those sweatpants, and their hips grew wide. Thick love handles joined their jumbo bellies to raise their shirts and form big thick muffin tops crowned with stretchmarks. The two flatulent woman began to crowd their dirty, crumb covered couch with their fat sweaty bodies pressed together causing it to creek and leaving great big permanent indentations in the cushions. The proximity caused Fatty Patty and Big Bertha to sweat even more developing dank armpits and fat swampy asses.

Each served as a constant reminder of her far they had fallen. They each disgusted each other because they were a perfect mirror of their own misery. They hated everything about themselves but were powerless to change. The downward spiral they had been on had progressed too far, and now the slope to climb back up was too steep for their fat, flabby, lazy bodies to handle. They no longer resembled their previous vain and glamorous selves. They looked like the kind of people that had always been lazy, fat and flatulent couch potatoes.

Eventually it came time for the formerly glamorous society snobs turned fat piggish slobs to get off their fat asses and go out into the world to get jobs. They were eating their way through the food stamps and wanting more. They needed to find some way to actually support themselves. Unfortunately the only job they could at first was in the fast food industry, and that’s how the people who were used to having servants ended up serving others at McDonald’s. It seemed like they had finally reached rock bottom.

But things can always get worse.

And for Fatty Patty and Big Bertha the worst was still to come. Continuing the trend of ham-fisted irony at the level of a badly written heavy-handed Twilight Zone episode, the two fat ladies realized that they lived in an area where the minimum wage did not afford them enough money to sustain themselves, and so they had to get second humiliating jobs. Unluckily for them, the opportunity that they had no choice but to take advantage of was jobs as cleaning ladies for their former society friends now serving the same people who were their former sycophants and working beneath the people they used to look down upon.

They were subjected to weekly humiliations as their blubber butts lumbered about cleaning floors and scrubbing toilets. Their bulging bellies were regularly poked and prodded and jiggled, and they were the frequent targets of karmically well deserved verbal jabs. Everyone enjoyed piling on the two spoiled princesses who now smelt like spoiled eggs just like they used to dump on everyone else. This was their pitiable lives, stuck in a cycle of poverty and flatulence with no means to escape.

Oh, and Fatty Patty’s father Frank got fat in jail too. But the story of how Franklin went from hunk to chunk, from a suave con-man to a plump prisoner is a story for another time.

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

“Bad Influence”

Claudia was on top of the world as a fairly well known, up and coming beauty influencer. She was a gorgeous, glamorous girl with a body to die for, one that had made her the most popular girl in high school and college, and was proving to be a key to her success as a social media star. Claudia had it all, a growing fanbase, a steady income, great clothes and beauty projects from the brands that sponsored her. She had recently landed a sweet tequila brand sponsorship.

And that’s where the problems started.

One fateful live stream and several tequila shots led to Claudia getting canceled. Apparently, while going on a drunken tirade live via Instagram, Claudia had said some rather unkind things and was being accused of “fat shaming” and “using racially charged language” while “promoting horrible stereotypes and dangerous conspiracy theories”. It all seemed incredibly unfair to the petite blonde who didn’t understand why her free speech was being trampled like this. But the inescapable fact was that her viewership and her wallet was getting hit hard. She was losing followers and sponsors which meant that she was hemorrhaging money and found herself growing desperate for a rebrand.

And help came from the most unexpected of places, an old acquaintance named Reggie.

Reggie was a fat loser in high school who Claudia used to regularly reject and humiliate. And as far as Claudia was concerned when he reached out to her with the suggestion of creating some collaborative content together, he was still a big fat loser. Claudia did a thorough search of his socials, and Reggie was fatter than ever. He was clearly a slob who was both sports obsessed and a huge gaming nerd. She was ready to write him off, complete with a humiliating live stream takedown for having the nerve to think that a hot chick like herself would stoop to working with a fat, sloppy loser like him.

But then Claudia realized that Reggie’s klout score was actually higher than hers had ever been.

Maybe collaborating with Reggie wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. Sure he was fat and uncouth and most of his content centered around sports, gaming, and eating, things that Claudia didn’t particularly have an interest in. But now was a good time to try and broaden her audience.

Claudia didn’t realize that her audience wouldn’t be the only thing she was broadening.

Reggie had built himself a burgeoning multi-platform empire. He had a team of guys that worked with him and regularly talked sports and streamed video games and other random things like eating challenges and just random hangouts. Claudia’s job was clear. She was supposed to be the token hot girl, something Claudia excelled at as she was naturally gorgeous. And she looked even more so when she was around Reggie and his crew.

To Claudia’s disgust, they were all sweaty fat guys. They are burly, bloated men who seemed to enjoy stuffing their faces, drinking beer, and passing gas just as much as they enjoyed watching sports and playing video games. Claudia’s job was mostly to pose, bring them food, and sit around them pretending to be their friend and enjoying what they were doing. She hated when she had to sit between them while wearing a bikini, she would sit on the couch between two sweaty fat guys, putting up with their stench and feeling their fat bodies pressed against her. She would sit with a fake smile pasted on her face and count the dollars she was making as she willingly subjected herself to all this.

Their bodies and actions disgusted Claudia, but the money was good so she kept at it, and then eventually… well they weren’t so bad to talk to. They were nice at least? And as she watched what they were doing even though she didn’t really get it at first she found their enthusiasm understandably infectious. And she made a point of doing her homework so she wouldn’t look stupid on stream. So as time went she began to engage more and more, and as her energy and engagement grew, the crew began to use her in more things.

This included their eating videos.

The guys loved to engage in a variety of eating videos. A lot of times this involved cooking some kind of insanely large monster meal, like a fifteen pound burrito, and then digging in as a group, and at other times they would engage in any number of eating competitions from hot dogs to buffalo wings. They even engaged in friendly cooking competitions like chili cook offs. And it turns out that “hot girl eats” made for very popular content. So this became what Claudia was used for the most.

And Reggie always knew how to get the most out of this content. He made use of plenty of angles that showed Claudia’s bloating stomach and her messy face. He would zoom in whenever she sloppily ate something that would drip onto her generous bosom. Claudia, the formerly prim and proper influencer making a total pig of herself quickly became a high point for viewership. And it was the most fun for all the guys as well. Reggie always made sure that Claudia was stuffing herself to her absolute limit and eating with as much gusto and as little grace as possible. He encouraged her to eat like a gluttonous slob, and Claudia, at first reluctant, eventually agreed when she saw the additional ad revenue her eating videos were earning.

The first time Claudia farted on stream was a moment of great celebration. The guys immediately called attention to it and goaded her into doing it again. A red faced Claudia had never felt this kind of humiliation in her life, but knew she had to take advantage of the moment, and so she lifted a cheek and “proudly” let another even louder one rip. “Hot Girl Farts” became one of their most viewed videos, and when the guys decided to do a follow up video that week just focusing on Claudia’s flatulence, “Hot Girl Fart Party” sent subscriptions through the roof.

The success of Claudia’s eating videos meant that the team produced more Claudia eating videos. And as time went by, Claudia began to walk away from these videos feeling progressively more bloated and sluggish which meant she stopped heading to the gym as regularly as she used to. And with that extra time sitting around bored, Claudia would find herself growing hungry again since her eating capacity was being pushed by the stuffing videos she was doing, so she began to snack more and more. Instead of getting in training sessions at the gym, it seemed like Claudia was training to eat. And all of this eating pair with the lack of activity began to lead to obvious results.

As Claudia sat around eating more, her tight ass lost is musculature and quickly became mushy, filled with flab and had the visual consistency of cottage cheese. Claudia would often finish her stuffing videos by lifting her cheek and letting rip a triumphant trumpeting fart, and astute viewers could watch that flabby cheek vibrate as she did so.

But her butt was far from the only thing growing. Claudia’s food baby became a permanent addition to her once slender frame, replacing the sick pack abs that she used to hold so dear. Her thighs thickened and the plush flesh spread out whenever she sat down and pressed together. Claudia’s breasts grew softer and saggier, and even her arms got fat, losing all definition and wobbling like mad whenever she brought food to her mouth. The part of her that softened the least was Claudia’s face.

Her cheeks got a little chubbier, and there was the clear hint of a double chin that showed up whenever she looked down or opened her mouth to shove more food into it, but for the most part, Claudia’s face stayed on brand and kept the growing glutton very recognizable. Of course, the junk food did have quite an effect on Claudia’s skin which developed a distinctly greasy sheen and the acne to go with it. This was especially clear on what Reggie deemed “Makeup Free Mondays” so that he could really showcase Claudia’s transformation. She was a far cry from the perfect pretty girl who endorsed petite outfits and various skincare products.

As Claudia continued to gain weight, she had no choice but to reluctantly admit that she was turning into what she had always hated and made fun of, a fat slob. She was developing into a true fatty who could go toe to toe with any of the guy whether it be eating contests or farting contests. She hated to admit it, but she was becoming a piggy and she couldn’t think of a way to stop herself. As she got farther and farther away from the slim and sexy form that she used to have it became harder to see a way out.

And so Claudia had no choice but to turn into the skid.

If viewers wanted her to become a slob, she was going to have to be the fattest slob she could be. Videos that Claudia featured in were created to solo focus on her weight gain. They showed pictures of what she used to look like, clad in glamorous outfits and juxtaposed them with Claudia stuffing her fat body into greasy sweatpants and stuffing her face with junk food. She would film herself sniffing her armpits and farting. Reggie enjoyed filming videos where he would feed and taunt Claudia while she oinked like a pig and begged for me.

It was all going according to Reggie’s plan.

Reggie had always resented Claudia, the head cheerleader, prom queen, and his biggest tormentor in high school who had gone on to become a glamorous influencer, and once he saw his opportunity to turn the tables and turn the perfect princess into a proper porker, he jumped at it. He scooped up Claudia at her lowest determined to drive her to rock bottom. He made sure he fattened her up, turned her into a flatulent, gluttonous pig, and made it so that she was too fat and reliant on these videos to go back. He filmed it all so that he and everyone else Claudia had ever looked down upon could enjoy their revenge.

Claudia’s pot belly became a grease and gas filled spare tire. Her thighs became cellulite covered tree trunks, and her lard filled ass had two big bean bag cheeks. It was also an absolute swamp. Claudia was a sweaty, flatulent, hog of a woman with stretchmark covered watermelon tits and meaty hamhock arms. Her face eventually gave in and grew the thick double chin out full time, but there was still this twisted sense of recognition in her eyes. Anyone who saw the obese slob was shocked at what they saw, and, while they couldn’t rationalize how she could let this happen, they could recognize that the pig that they saw was once the prom queen they knew. It added to the schadenfreude of a great many people.

And no matter how many nasty comments she received, no matter how many dirty looks were thrown in her direction, no matter how many times people turned their heads or covered their noses, Claudia couldn’t change. She was stuffing her face even when she wasn’t on camera, so there’s no way her weight was going anywhere but up.

And it was glorious to watch Claudia helplessly grow into an obese glutton, a total lard ass, the kind of person who looked like she had been a flabby couch potato her entire life instead of the active and athletic woman she used to be. Now, just like she used to call Reggie, Claudia had become the fat loser.

Only she wasn’t as defeated as Reggie thought.

As Claudia’s waistline grew so did her cunning, and, while Claudia couldn’t think of a way out, she did think of a way through. And that way was Reggie.

Now, she decidedly did not find Reggie physically attractive. He was a fat pig, but then again she wasn’t a slim hottie smelling like roses either. What he was was smart, and charismatic. She found him funny and had become much more into the things he was into. And most importantly, she was eager both for physical attention and to make money. Knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to do any better than Reggie, she threw herself at him and soon enough those old high school fantasies came back to his mind, enhanced by wild and debauched new ones, and soon enough she had him tied around her fat finger.

Claudia used her growing body and the charms that she had left to worm her way into a position of greater influence. She earned herself greater control of the business and in the bedroom she was happy to play the role of Reggie’s submissive pet piggy.

And it was in the bedroom, fat pressed against fat, that Claudia whispered her new creative plans. The crew would need another hot girl in a bikini, and Claudia wanted to be the one to find her.

New Teases for Exclusive Cuts Releasing Thursday!

Enjoying Fat Tuesday? Well guess what, we're getting a Fat Thursday this week, and it's coming overstuffed with an extra large edition of "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts".

Exclusive Cuts are only ever available to patrons, and this volume was voted on by and features stories suggested by patrons. If you're not already a patron you're going to want to become one.

Want proof? Here teasers for the five short stories that are releasing on Thursday: "Prim and Proper to Pig", "Isabella and the Elixir", "Just a Thought", "From Snobs to Slobs" and "Bad Influence".

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

“Prim and Proper to Pig”

Katherine was a prim and proper lady, the kind of woman who was always impeccably dressed, wearing the finest perfumes and maintaining what she considered the most important of social graces, cleanliness and good manners- well good manners except to those she held her nose up to which was quite a lot of- if not most- people.

See, Katherine had a lot of money and with wealth privilege and pretty privilege put together, it made for a pretty dangerous Katherine felt were beneath her. She had long gotten away with being the pretty little rich girl orphan coasting on sympathy until people realized what a horrible person she actually was, and by then it was often too late to do anything about it. Katherine had weaved a powerful web and used it to climb the social ladder. She had money, looks and power.

But it’s funny how quickly life can change sometimes.

In Katherine’s case it was brought about by an uncanny ability for making bad investments while trusting the wrong people. Those bad investments cost her money, and those wrong people took most of what was left before she even realized anything was wrong.

So that’s how Katherine lost her money.

And once the glimmer of Katherine’s coin was gone, peoples’ eyes seemed to clear, and they truly realized what a horrible person Katherine had always been, so vain and arrogant and mean. That’s when the knives really came out because rather than helping Katherine out, the many enemies she had made over the years made a point of hastening her downfall determined the bury her and humiliate her on her way out of high society.

Which is how Katherine lost her power.

That left one thing, the thing that Katherine prized more than anything in this world: Her looks.

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

“Isabella and the Elixir”

Once upon a time in a bustling city like New York or LA but also not those, there lived a stunningly gorgeous and viciously cruel woman named Isabella Sharpe. Isabella was the epitome of vanity and arrogance, her life centered around flaunting her slim figure and mocking those she deemed beneath her, so pretty much everyone. She had quite the figure to flaunt, perfect hourglass. She fit the stereotype of a gorgeous supermodel perfectly with her large but perky breasts, impossibly slim waist with rock hard abs, and curvy but not overly curvy hips that led to a full but pert ass and long, lean, athletic legs.  Little did she know, her world was about to take a drastic turn.

The problem with Isabella is that no matter what she had, it was never enough. And even though she spent so much of her time lording her glamorous lifestyle and gorgeous body over others, Isabella was also aware that time was her enemy. She greatly feared that age would inevitably rob her hard earned looks from her, and so she sort out whatever means she could to prevent this, even if this meant dark magic.

Of course, as we all know, dark magic often has a way of backfiring.

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

“Just a Thought”

Carmen had always been a stuck up bitch, the kind of woman who worked hard for her body and liked to flaunt it. She loved to show off, and was a complete social butterfly. Her flawless figure enraptured others, and the attention she received made her feel glorious. She was like a queen. And the only downside of it all was that once she got to the top she had no choice but to dedicate her time to staying there, eating the right foods, partying with the right people, doing a million little things to take care of herself so that she was always photo ready in peak condition.

And then one day, slim and sultry Carmen got a little idea stuck in her head- just a thought…

What if she just let it all go?

She could stop exercising and relax, eat whatever she wanted, and just stop caring about what she looked like or how she acted or what other people thought of her. She could live without expectation, and it would be bliss.

So she decided to try it.

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

“From Snobs to Slobs”

Patricia and her mother Renee were miserable people. Not emotionally mind you. No. Emotionally they were on top of the world. They were blessed with good looks and lots of money thanks to Patricia’s father, Franklin’s very successful business, doing… something- but nothing that concerned Patricia and Renee. They simply enjoyed the benefits that came with being rich and good looking, a glamorous life full of lavish parties and lots of sycophants for Patricia and Renee to use and look down upon.

Yes. Patricia and Renee were perfectly content with themselves and perfectly miserable to other people. They were known for their incredible arrogance and vanity and the cruel way they treated their servants and the catty way they treated their so-called friends. They were backbiting bitches with wicked tongues and a borderline obsession with pointing out and tearing apart the many flaws they perceived in others. It kept their sycophants feeling weak and left them feeling smug and  in control.

But life has a fine way of wrenching control from us.

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

“Bad Influence”

Claudia was on top of the world as a fairly well known, up and coming beauty influencer. She was a gorgeous, glamorous girl with a body to die for, one that had made her the most popular girl in high school and college, and was proving to be a key to her success as a social media star. Claudia had it all, a growing fanbase, a steady income, great clothes and beauty projects from the brands that sponsored her. She had recently landed a sweet tequila brand sponsorship.

And that’s where the problems started.

One fateful live stream and several tequila shots led to Claudia getting canceled. Apparently, while going on a drunken tirade live via Instagram, Claudia had said some rather unkind things and was being accused of “fat shaming” and “using racially charged language” while “promoting horrible stereotypes and dangerous conspiracy theories”. It all seemed incredibly unfair to the petite blonde who didn’t understand why her free speech was being trampled like this. But the inescapable fact was that her viewership and her wallet was getting hit hard. She was losing followers and sponsors which meant that she was hemorrhaging money and found herself growing desperate for a rebrand.

And help came from the most unexpected of places, an old acquaintance named Reggie.

Reggie was a fat loser in high school who Claudia used to regularly reject and humiliate. And as far as Claudia was concerned when he reached out to her with the suggestion of creating some collaborative content together, he was still a big fat loser. Claudia did a thorough search of his socials, and Reggie was fatter than ever. He was clearly a slob who was both sports obsessed and a huge gaming nerd. She was ready to write him off, complete with a humiliating live stream takedown for having the nerve to think that a hot chick like herself would stoop to working with a fat, sloppy loser like him.

But then Claudia realized that Reggie’s klout score was actually higher than hers had ever been.

Maybe collaborating with Reggie wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. Sure he was fat and uncouth and most of his content centered around sports, gaming, and eating, things that Claudia didn’t particularly have an interest in. But now was a good time to try and broaden her audience.

Claudia didn’t realize that her audience wouldn’t be the only thing she was broadening.

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

Reminder, "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" are only available to my patrons. They are not going to be released anywhere else. If you're not a patron and want to see these stories, sign up now and you can already read the first three volumes of Exclusive Cuts along with a bunch of other content while you wait for their release on Thursday.

If you're already a patron, get hyped. I'm pretty excited about these shorts, and I hope you will enjoy them as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Thank you for your continued support!

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 8

“You Know You Want It”

Come on, big mama. Let me see you reach for it. Reach for that slice of cake. You can do it, can’t you?

I know you want it. I can see the droll mixing with the chocolate sauce around your mouth. Fatty NEEDS more cake. What’s wrong? It’s right here. Can’t you get it? Or is your big ol’ belly in the way?

Yes it is. Look at the big soft double belly. It’s just folding over and then pushing back. You’ve got a big sack of fat weighing you down and holding you in that chair. Come on. Rock. Rock for it. Get that jello moving forward and back. Make that blubber work for you. Spread you fat wobbly thighs and let that stomach hang forward. Get your momentum going and swing yourself up.

You might just tip right over as soon as you get up. We both know how incredibly heavy your belly and breasts are, and gravity can be cruel. But hey, at least if you fall over, once you’re out of the chair, you can just roll yourself the rest of the way here. Roll yourself right on up to this cake and shove your fat face right into it. You know you want to. Forget forks. You don’t even want to bother with your hands. You’ve got a mouth, so get over here and fill it.

That's a girl. Waddle on over here. Swing those thunder thighs. One foot in front of the other and soon you’ll have this delicious cake all to yourself. You can finally sate that hunger of yours. God your belly is big, isn’t it. Look a that quivering sack of jello. There isn’t a shirt made that can keep it contained. It practically moves like it has a mind of its own, and it’s damn near hypnotic.

Swing it for me. I want to see you grab that belly and give it a shake. Lift it up and down, that’s the best workout you’ll get all day. It’s heavy isn’t it? Must be tiring lugging your own fat around all day. That’s why all you want to do is lay down here and eat this cake. You’re so close.

Get on your knees. That’s right. Crawl the rest of the way like the pig you are. Your belly i s practically dragging on the ground. Go ahead now and shove your face into that cake. It’s good isn’t it? Nice and sweet and moist. You’re barely pausing to breathe as you eat it. You’d choke on it if you weren’t so well practiced.

I love watching you from behind as that giant ass of yours shakes back and forth in the air as you eat. You just need the springy little piggy tail, and the picture would be complete. Get you some fatass.

There’s plenty more cake where that comes from. You know there’s always more because you always need more. It’s never good enough for you, is it? Good. You’re my helpless piggy, and that’s just the way I like it.

_________________________________________

“From Eating Like a Bird to Eating Like a Pig”

She used to eat like a bird, you know. She peck at something here and there, here a little fruit, there a little salad. People felt like they barely saw her eat at all. It was no wonder then that she always stayed so thin. She was a skinny one indeed.

Was.

You know where this is going. You know what comes next. It’s the same thing that happens in all of these stories, and that’s what you’re here for. She gets fat. She gets really fat. But the outcome, in this case isn’t as important as the journey, quick though that journey may be.

It started with a few comments, talk about how little she actually ate. Then, talk about how she ate like a bird became talk about how she looked like a bird- but not a particularly pretty one. She was narrow, angular, unpleasant. And all that talk of her lack of eating began to eat away at her.

So she started eating more. She was purposeful at first, methodical. She made a show of ordering large meals, and eating those greater portions in front of people. Of course, the reason she was so thin wasn’t because of a magically gifted metabolism like some people. So as the portions increased, so did the inches on her waistline.

It was barely noticeable at first. She was used to wearing clothes that hung off her skinny frame. So the first couple pounds settled almost invisibly on her body. But slowly the gap between her thighs began to disappear. The waistbands of her pants began to bow outward. When she bent over, the back of her pants began to stretch more and more.

She still liked to peck at foods. More often than not it just happened to be off of other people’s plates. She traded grapes for french fries and bits of salad for forkfuls of mac and cheese. It’s an annoying habit to be sure, but her friends don’t mind it. The more she eats off of their plates, the less they do, built in portion control.

She’s a greedy girl now. A single ice cream scoop is now two. Taking seconds has become shoveling down thirds. And she doesn’t just sample people’s plates. She samples everything at a buffet now that she’s gone from eating like a bird to eating like a pig. And she’s got the body to show for it. She’s a true fat food, a globular gourmand.

Her ass is fat and loose like two huge scoops of ice cream starting to melt. She’s got thighs like ham hocks and a belly like a busted sack of flour. She’s gone from flat chest to bra busting, and her face has gone from angular to cherubic. When her double chin bounces as she chews, she looks downright piggish.

And that’s how it’ll always be from now on. Her appetite shows no signs of ceasing. Dieting is certainly an impossibility. She’ll just be fat and happy forever.

____________________________________________

“The Eating Machine”

They should just get her a trough already. Why even bother with plates?

It’s not like she actually cares about the flavor of what she’s eating anymore. She switches between mashed potatoes to make and cheese to chicken casserole so damn fast, there’s no way for her to keep track of which is which. I once gave her a bowl of mayonnaise and told her it was vanilla ice cream. She didn’t bat an eye.

It’s something to watch those jowls quiver as she moves from treat to treat shoveling down slop, filling her greedy maw like there’s no tomorrow. I used to think of her as a woman, a couple hundred pounds ago.. It was easy then to think of how hot she was and how much even the smallest pounds meant something. That was always the sweetest part of her transformation.

She’s more like an animal now, a pig with nothing more than simple base desires of eating and being pleasured. I watch her quivering cellulite covered ass cheeks smack themselves together as she leans forward on her fat covered elbows (It’s hard to tell she even has elbows because of the way the fat from her ham hock arms drips over them) and slams her face into another bowl of unidentifiable easy to swallow slop that will soon find its way down to filling her gelatinous thunder thighs with even more blubber. The last place the fat will find is her bloated tits, but even then, after all these pounds, they dangle down to the floor with her nipples dragging against plates of scraps and getting covered in gravy or ice cream, or tomato sauce, all in the same sitting. Every part of her will continue to balloon. That’s all she is now, a big fat producing machine.

And it takes so much longer to see the gains now, not because she isn’t gaining constantly, but because the sheer amount of poundage that she’s already packed on makes it nearly impossible to keep track of from day to day.

I’ve taken to a form of measuring with a simple band that sits nicely in the crease of her double belly. It’s a little band of elastic that’s easy to hide there because these days she doesn’t really wear much of anything else. And, on the day it snaps, that’s when I know she’s hit a significant milestone. So we celebrate with an extra special feast. It features an extra expensive chocolate cake that I get flaked with gold foil. She can’t tell the difference and it’s all wasted on her because the flavor of the food is no longer of importance to her. She’s fueled merely by the sensation of filling her mouth and her stomach and knowing that she’s never truly full.

The cake is for me, a little bit of extravagance to watch her eat something just a little fancier, just to break the monotony of it all. Otherwise the game just isn’t much fun anymore. I guess the old adage is true:

Sometimes you really can have too much of a good thing.

______________________________________________

What If? (Part 8)

What if she can’t stop eating?

Forget about exercise. There’s no way she can shed all of this blubber if she can’t stop cramming cake in her mouth.

But this cake is just so delicious, rich and chocolaty and filled with cream that melts on her tongue when it doesn’t end up on her chubby cheeks as she shoves it into her greedy mouth. She wipes that cream off with her hand and admires it for a moment on her sausage fingers before licking them clean and moaning as the cream slides down her throat.

She’s become such a greedy little piggy. She used to be so prim and proper and put together. But the slim and sexy head cheerleader is officially gone, and in her place is a proper porker, a full fledged oinker.

As she uses her chubby hand to scoop up and shovel more cake into her mouth, her double chin jiggles with delight.

The words that she hears from her former friends are cruel: “Piggy.” “Fatso.” “Lardo.”

And the girls whom she used to make fun of now enjoy calling her “Fat ass”, “Porky”, and Jumbo.”

But the food makes it all better. The food makes her forget the pain. So what if she never stops eating? Maybe she’ll just get fatter and fatter.

Her belly is going to start to double over and split into multiple folds of flab. Her thighs are growing thicker and and going to quiver with cellulite covered fat as they press themselves together and outward forcing her to waddle everywhere she goes. Her ass cheeks are going to wobble and rip through her pants, tearing through tight fabric and leaving her with sweatpants as her only options. She is truly on the verge now of ballooning.

She was thin. Then she got chubby, chunky, then fat, and now she if she keeps eating she’s going to reach obesity.

Obese.

An obese pig.

An obese slob.

An obese hog.

That’s what she pictures herself as, not just a pig anymore, a hog- a huge and hungry, hungry, hog. She can’t help herself.

The thought of being obese, of people calling her a hog, of knowing that she has fully succumbed to her urges and her piggish appetite leaves her moaning in between bouts of oinking and shoving more cake into her mouth faster and faster.

People will be so cruel. They’re mean now, but they will be absolutely merciless once they realize she has eaten herself from a skinny cheerleader and could have been supermodel into an obese hog of a woman, a flabby mess of rolls and jowls desperate for her next meal and constantly cramming her chubby cheeks full of food like a fat and lazy chipmunk ready to burst.

They’ll want to squeeze her blubbery fat rolls, poke and pinch and shake her fat gut up and down and every which way. They’ll make a game out of making her drop things and watching her try to band down and pick them up with her fat thighs and blubber belly getting in the way. They’ll tease her mercilessly and spank her fat flabby ass. The lard will quiver as they laugh.

And the thought of it all makes her moan and oink some more. With one hand she feeds herself more cake, and with the other hand she rubs between her legs as she considers the delight question…

What if she doesn’t stop eating?

What's Coming This Week (And Beyond)

Hello Everyone,

As always, thank you for your continued support. I saw a nice pump in patrons this week, and would like to thank all of you who have joined, just joined, or will join! Your support allows me to keep doing this.

On deck this week: 

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 8 will release on Fat Tuesday as usual. The stories in this post will center mostly around eating and are called: "You Know You Want It", "From Eating Like a Bird to Eating Like a Pig", "The Eating Machine", and "What If" (Part 8)

The next volume of "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" which, as always, will only ever be available only to patrons will release on Thursday or Friday and will feature slob and clothes ripping along with the usual weight gain.

Here is a teaser from one of the stories that I'm writing for that piece called "Just a Thought"

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

“Just a Thought”

Carmen had always been a stuck up bitch, the kind of woman who worked hard for her body and liked to flaunt it. She loved to show off, and was a complete social butterfly. Her flawless figure enraptured others, and the attention she received made her feel glorious. She was like a queen. And the only downside of it all was that once she got to the top she had no choice but to dedicate her time to staying there, eating the right foods, partying with the right people, doing a million little things to take care of herself so that she was always photo ready in peak condition.

And then one day, slim and sultry Carmen got a little idea stuck in her head- just a thought…

What if she just let it all go?

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

I'm still accepting story submission ideas for this volume of Exclusive Cuts. What I don't use here may end up being used elsewhere

Next Week:

You can expect "Fat Trimmings" Volume 9, a new chapter of "Nightmare Pigs" and hopefully a new chapter of "The Scales of Time".

Upcoming:

We're still gearing up for a megadrop on and around 4/13 to celebrate Mardi Gras with Fattest Tuesday!

Finally, as a reminder my commission flash sale is still ongoing until tomorrow night. It's half off shorter commissions 1,000-2,000 words and patrons get an additional 350 words added to their commissions for free! DM me here or email me at bswriterstories@gmail.com if you're interested.

Thank you for your time and enjoy the stories!

Looking for Weight Gain and Slob Story Ideas

Hello Patrons,

Turns out I've painted myself into an unexpected corner. I'm looking for some ideas for stories that will go into the next Exclusive Cuts and that feature slob elements. 

For those of you that voted for slob in the poll, now is a great chance to pitch flash fiction story ideas including character names, specific slob elements, etc. And I'll work my favorites into the next Exclusive Cuts which I aim to release next week.

You can either put your ideas in the comments or DM me here.

Commission Sale: Flash Fiction Flash Sale

Half Off Commissions!

That's right! Because I'm looking to 1. Make a quick hit of cash and 2. Clear enough PayPal transactions to get my money sooner, I'm holding a limited time commission flash sale. 

Commissions that I end up publishing run 3 cents a word, so a 1,000 word commission normally costs 30 dollars. But for a limited time, I'm going to offer small commissions at half price. That means a 1,000 word commission will be 15 dollars and a 2,000 word commission will be 30 dollars instead of 60.

And if you're one of my Patreon patrons, it's an even better deal! Patrons get 350 words (an over 10 dollar value!) added to their commissions. So patrons who commission work will get a 1,350 word commission for just 15 dollars or a 2,350 word commission for 30 dollars.

This is a limited offer. I'm only having this sale open for this weekend or until I fill 6 slots, whichever comes first. This is to ensure that I can take commissions and not slow down the output for the two longer term pieces I'm already working on, "The Scales of Time" and "Nightmare Pigs".

If you're interested you can DM me here or email bswriterstories@gmail.com

UPDATE: Only 4 slots left! But I'm also going to extend this sale to include Monday.

"Nightmare Pigs" Chapter 1

A mysterious entity forever changes the lives of five pretty, petty, popular bitches. Revenge is swift and heavy. (This story features, slob elements including the usual magical weight gain stuff.)

This is the first chapter in in a longer commissioned piece by a Patreon patron. As a reminder, patrons get an extra 350 words (an over 10 dollars value) whenever they commission work from me (no matter the size. If you commission a 1,000 word story, you'll get at least 1,350 words. (Probably a good deal more because 1. I'm not handing you an incomplete piece and I don't bother to actually meticulously count as I write and  2. I hate things that involve the number 13.) You can DM me here or email me at bswriterstories@gmail.com to commission your own piece.

Anyway, enough of the ad read. Enjoy the story!

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

“Nightmare Pigs” by BS Writer

“Witches come in many forms dear.”

Cynthia’s scream caught in her throat as an elongated finger reached toward her. A pointed purple finger nailed danced along her jugular and lifted up her chin.

“How unfortunate that you ran into me.”

Cynthia saw a flash and in that moment there was a vision standing in front of her, one that was her and yet couldn’t be her.

She was fat.

Not only was she fat. She was gloriously obese, a true hog of a woman whose bulbous belly extended so far down that as she was on all fours, it dragged against the floor.

All fours.

Like a pig.

Cynthia looked at the vision that was but couldn’t be her. The woman in front of her was an obese hog, stark naked and with her ass waving in the air.

That ass was the largest, fattest, softest looking ass that Cynthia had ever scene, and the way its two naked cellulite covered cheeks rippled and wiggled from side to side so contently as she shoved her face into what looked to be a metal trough full of pig slop was enough to make Cynthia want to vomit.

It was a cold burning sensation that filled her stomach as she looked at this monstrous version of herself, with her stomach pressed against the floor with love handles that cartoonishly pressed outward. She was so fat that she couldn’t believe the geometry of what she was actually seeing. Folds after folds rolls upon rolls of fat seemed to make up her piggish body.

She tried to scream but not sound came from her mouth, and instead she could swear she heard this obese women oink in time to her attempted scream. Cynthia tried to run but felt held in place as if invisible hands were grasping onto her shoulders. As she held her gaze on this fantastically fattened version of herself, it felt like nails were digging into her own flesh, the pain keeping her eyes wide open no matter how much she wished to look away.

Instead she was stuck staring at this things gigantic thunder thighs, huge pillars of fat so loos the the fat by her knees folded over and while she was on all fours that flab also kissed the floor.

Cynthia tried everything she could to deny that this was her. She almost had herself believing that until this thing lifted its head and slowly turned around. Her huge pendulous breasts swung from side to side as she crawled in a clumsy attempt to turn herself. The stretchmarked mammaries were losing the battle of gravity just like the rest of their fatty form as from the front it seemed like most of her fat body was slowly trying its best to melt into the floor. This couldn’t be her.

But then the piggish woman lifted up her head, and Cynthia could see the fear in the eyes that matched her own. And even with jowly cheeks that pressed those fearful eyes into beady spheres, Cynthia knew it was her.

That was when the vision of this monstrously obese version of herself disappeared and, in another blink, a woman was standing there.

She was a tall woman with a true height that was unknowable. As Cynthia looked at the woman she thought she could have been six feet tall or eight feet tall. Her entire body looked like most humans but with features that were unnaturally extended. She was a stacked woman who did not so much seem to walk as glide toward Cynthia.

“Cynthia Sinclair. You have been a naughty naughty girl.”

“Wh-what are you?”

Cynthia watched as the woman’s mass of deep purple hair reached out like individual tentacles and tickled her chin.

“I already told you, dear. I’m a kind of witch. There are many kinds, the religious ones, the naturalists, totemic witches. I suppose I’m a bit more fantastic than those. There are some who call my kind dream eaters, nightmare weavers. You could call me a night hag if you felt so crude, but I don’t much care for the term.”

“”Wh-what do you want from me?”

Her lips parted to reveal shark-like teeth.

“What do I want? It’s simple.”

“I want you to get tremendously fat.”

“I want you to know what it feels like to lose control, to feel powerless. I want to watch those abs you’re so proud of melt into a big fat pot belly that you’re stuck holding in your fat hands.”

“I want to savor the look of fear in your eyes as you watch your body change and beg me to change you back, and deep down I want you to know that there is no going back.”

“I’m going to turn you into the pig that you deserve to be.”

“Please! Please don’t do this. Just leave me alone and I can give you whatever you want.”

The witch let loose a cackle that started low and deep in the pit of her stomach and tore through her throat high and shrill before being cut off without and echo as the witch looked Cynthia dead in the eyes.

“Oh, darling. Nothing you could do can stop me, even in your dreams.”

She leaned forward a small kiss on the forehead that made Cynthia’s stomach churn and then gave Cynthia a patronizing pat on the head.

“Now let’s get started, shall we?”

Suddenly, Cynthia’s clothes were gone and she was left naked which gave a fan view of her tan and toned body.

The witch circled her and then slap her tight butt.

“Quite the cute butt you’ve got there. Pert. I would say. I bet you a lot of people like to look at it. Am I right?”

Cynthia nodded.

“Of course I am. Let’s do something about that.”

The witch pinched Cynthia’s butt and suddenly it felt like it was willing like water balloons, filling outward and first and then sagging downward. Instinctively, Cynthia’s hands flew to her rear, and she felt the muscles give way as the fat pressed against her fingers. The weight felt alien, and with a morbid sense of curiosity, she shook the flab and felt the weight on each hand, moving them up and down as if they were scales or she was choosing between two juicy but overly soft melons. Her fingers explored the flesh that continued to stretch and soften until she could pinch sections of it just by lazily moving her fingers like scissors.

“This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, but it is. That big booty is all yours now. Heavy isn’t it?”

The weight of all the lard still filling her now rapidly dimpling behind made the hairs on the back of Cynthia’s neck stand up as her heart raced.

“Not very flattering. You’ve got a lot of meat, but it's all very fatty. Soft.”

The witch tapped her long purple fingernail against her pursed lips.

“Still, some people might still like the look of it, and if we’re gonna have that fat ass of your turning heads, we want it to be for the wrong reasons, so…”

PHHHRRFFFFPPTT

Suddenly a long squeaky fart ripped out from between Cynthia’s vibrating ass cheeks. She could feel them tremble in her hand as that fart was quickly followed by a loud trumpeting one. The smell made Cynthia gag.

“Oh-oh God!”

“Yup. That’s an attention grabber, but it’s going to limit your friend options.”

“Please. *PFFRRRPPT* Stop this.”

“No. I don’t think I will. Instead, I’ll let you choose which part to plump up next. That tight tummy or those lean legs? Care to choose?”

Cynthia flushed with anger. It was enough to be subjected to this torture, but to be expected to be a willing participant? She wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Abs-”

“Abs it is!” The witch shouted with glee.

Her long nail ran across Cynthia’s abdominal muscles, right along the line of her belly button. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Cynthia felt like an overstuffed sausage whose casing had been split as her belly began pouring outward. In an instant her stomach muscles were gone, bloated into a pot belly and quickly burgeoning on spare tire territory. Where the witch’s fingernail had cut across, Cynthia’s stomach split into a massive double belly, two thick rolls that swelled out so fast, Cynthia could only hopelessly catch the lower roll as it drooped downward past her privates. The pulpy fat protruded outward so far and so fast, that Cynthia didn’t even have the opportunity to pretend that she might be able to shove it back in.

Instead she just held her flabby stomach in her hand and felt the massiveness of her gut as it continued to fill up with fat and then-

PFFRRRRRRRPPPPPPPHHHHTTT!!!!!!!

Gas.

“There we go,” said the witch.

“I want you to know what it feels like to feel bloated just all the time. Good luck trying to workout with that giant sack of fat weighing you down and getting in your way. That should ensure that you’re never able to lose any weight.”

At this point, Cynthia looked absolutely ridiculous because her outrageously fat body was outrageously fat in only two places with her fat ass and flabby stomach jutting outward in opposite directions like opposing magnets and forming two drooping shelves of fat. She looked like an unfinished fertility sculpture, missing clay in a few key places.

“Let’s fix that and even you out a bit.”

The witch did not kneel to reach Cynthia’s thighs. Instead, the witch seemed to sink through what Cynthia perceived as floor until she was eye level with Cynthia’s deep and drooping belly button with her purple hair sprawled out like a web behind her. Then she pinched Cynthia’s thighs, and Cynthia could instantly feel them filling with fat under her touch.

Years of hard earned muscles melted her way as her thighs, previously slim but wiry with muscle, met the same fate as her belly and ass. They began to blow up and out and grow heavier with fat, feeling like two heavy sandbags. She couldn’t see behind her, but Cynthia knew she was growing thick, thunderous, cottage cheese thighs, and she could hear them slap together as the flesh met and then pushed against itself forcing her to widen her stance.

“No more running for you. You’re going to be much more comfortable on a couch.”

“Please. No more. I’m fat enough. Whatever the lesson is, I’ve learned it.”

“Oh, my little piggy, there’s still so much more to do. I haven’t even finished with your legs!”

And with that, Cynthia could feel the fat work its way downward, giving her bloated cankles and fat feet with tubby toes.

“Those legs are made for waddling. And that’s just what they’ll do. Now I think it’s time we fatten up those lean arms too.”

Cynthia had never particularly worked hard on maintaining her arms. They had never been a part of her that she worried about getting fat. She had naturally slim arms after all- no fat girl arms, the kind of soft doughy arms that young women have when they’re slim that signal they’re primed for a blow up. But now, as the fat filled them up, Cynthia found herself with a bonafide set of wobbly bingo wings.

“What’s next? Breasts, I suppose? I don’t want to do too much with them. It would be a shame to gift you something you’d actually be happy with. No, I'm thinking we’ll just go with softer.”

While technically slightly filling with fat, it felt much more like Cynthia’s breasts were deflating as they lost any kind of firmness and the new fat dragged them down and made them look smaller than they were.

“There we go, some saggy puppy fat boobs. Heavy and uncomfortable, but not nearly as alluring. Some people might be interested but…”

PHRRRPPPPPFFFFFTT

“That will still keep them away.”

The witch glided around Cynthia as she looked her up and down and inspected her handiwork.

“And that leaves us with… ah yes! That pretty face.”

Cynthia felt the long, cold fingers of the witch as she wrapped them around her chin and tugged Cynthia so that she was staring at her reflection in a suddenly conjured mirror.

“So beautiful. Angelic really. Such high cheekbones and a dainty jawline. No wonder you were so popular. Say goodbye.”

Before Cynthia could say anything, the witch pulled down her fingers and dragged out a doughy double chin from Cynthia’s jawline. As that bit of fat dangled like a turkey’s wattle, Cynthia felt her skin inflate and stretch into two chubby chipmunk cheeks.

“There’s our jumbo jowly girl. No turning back. What do you think?”

Cynthia looked down at her naked body and shudder, which, of course, made her entire fat body tremble and sway and jiggle which made her sob, which made her breasts heave and sway, and it seemed to her no matter what she did, her entire body would insisted on being a jiggly mess, and all of that knowledge just made her sadder and angrier and-

Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted by another tremendous blast of gas escaping her rear which caught her by surprise and sent her into another cycle of sobbing and wobbling. Her fat ass seemed intent on joining in on as much of the fun as possible, and, as if to taunt her perfectly (beyond just being massive and having cheeks that swayed back and forth with the smallest of movements) it let out a perfectly timed whining fart that mimicked her own whining sobs perfectly.

This brought the witch a tremendous amount of amusement as she slapped Cynthia’s well rounded rump.

“Well done, Cynthia. You really are becoming quite the spectacle now. I don’t think we’re quite done here though. No. You might yet learn to live without yourself and become at peace. Time to change your whole outlook on life. After all…”

”You shouldn’t be smiling. You don’t deserve to be happy.”

With a snap of the witch’s fingers, the color from Cynthia’s skin ran out and left completely pale except for the spots that were marred by bright red stretch marks. Her bright and wavy natural blonde hair was cut short and straight and dyed jet black. Her fat face was adorned with a garish amount of black lipstick and eyeliner, and her breath smelled like a pack of cigarettes.

Her pale, fat, flabby body became encased by an ill-fitting black corset that let her lower belly roll blow out the bottom and a short black skirt that rode up and exposed the lower parts of her blubbery butt cheeks. Her thighs were wrapped in fishnet stockings that let the cellulite ridden fat of her thunder thighs squeeze through them. Even her fat feet were now adorned by chunky combat boots.

“How do you feel, Cynthia Sinclair?”

Cynthia blinked as her entire personality shifted, gone was the slim and sexy barbie girl replaced with a fat gothic slob.

“It’s Syn now,” she sneered.

The witch, well aware of the spelling of Cynthia’s new chosen nickname, cupped her chubby cheeks and pulled her fat face close.

“That’s so fucking stupid.”

Cynthia blinked and for a moment was herself again.

“No. No no no no. Please. Please.”

“That’s right. Beg for me, piggy.”

“Wh-who are you? Wh-why me?”

The witch’s face contorted into a cheshire cat grin.

“Would you really like to know?”

The Scales of Time: Chapter 2

In this chapter, we get to meet more of Julie's family, and the stakes of her upcoming challenge are raised. Enjoy!

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

— The Next Day —

It was a nervous habit that Julie had, snacking. Well, it was also a habit of hers when she was angry, and sad… and happy or surprised or really any strong or not particularly strong emotional reaction. Honestly, Julie liked to snack just all the time, but she especially liked to snack when she was nervous. And she was never so nervous as when she was outside of her mother’s office.

Like she was right now.

And that’s why she was chain eating bags of M&Ms.

Snacking in general was a tremendously bad habit for Julie (hence the 400 pounds of bouncing blubber she was sporting) and M&Ms was a particular weakness, as were Skittles, and Sour Patch Kids, and pretty much any variety of easily portable candy. With M&Ms, Julie never had to worry about getting chocolate on her hands because, as a dedicated chain snacker, she would simply rip the bag, tilt it upward, consume the M&Ms in two to three gos and then move right on to the next package.

Although she had only been standing in front of the doorway for five minutes, the floor near her feet was currently littered with three such bags as if she was going for her personal best. None of this came close to quelling the rumbling in her tummy, a mix of nerves and the fact that she was already two hours removed from having breakfast. She was working hard to tide herself over for another hour until she could enjoy her pre-lunch meal.

Julie knew these were the kinds of things Vivian never thought about. Vivian focused on power. Vivian was in control. Vivian didn’t think about how many snacks she would need to get to her next meal, and Julie resented her for it. She wished she could make Vivian more like her. If she could somehow beat her in the challenge- but no. That thought was impossible. But she could daydream a bit and….

Suddenly the door opened and Julie’s thoughts were interrupted by a waifish woman with willowy blonde hair rushing out and accidentally bumping into her. Julie was a wall of a woman, so she was fine. The blonde instead bounced off of blubber and fell to the floor. Undeterred, she picked up her glasses, delivered a proper quick but polite “I’m sorry” and made her down the hall and around the corner before Julie could even start to say something.

Her mouth being full of M&Ms may have also had something to do with her delayed response. In fact, Julie looked down and saw that brief contact had knocked one of her precious candies out of her mouth and onto the floor. She looked both ways and then began the arduous task of reaching down to pick it up.

Julie’s entire body jiggled as she spread her legs out  and bent forward to get the M&M. Her surging belly fought her knees as her big fat butt waved in the air serving as a key counter balance to keep Julie from falling on her fat face as she picked the M&M off the ground and plopped it into her mouth. Her happy double chin was jiggling until-

“Really, Julie?”

Julie’s fat ass was still stuck up in the air preventing her from seeing who was talking to her, but she knew the perpetually disappointed tone of her Aunt Calpurnia anywhere.

“You want to get your fat butt in here, or are you going to keep eating off the floor?”

Julie’s Aunt Cal was a woman who was stunning. She used to be blessed with the same tight body that most of the witches in the coven had, and had long ago won her challenge to earn it. However, the last seven years of hard drinking and hard snacking had changed all of that. Now she looked very much like a middle aged woman with big sagging breasts and a match pudgy pooch of a pot belly. That beer belly was currently peeking out of the bottom of her ill fitting blouse. This and her juicy love handles gave her a distinct muffin top. Her beer belly jiggled as Calpurnia sighed and placed a hand on her softened hip while waiting for Julie’s response.

“Sorry,” said Julie, almost out of breath from the effort of hoisting her fat body back into a standing position.

“I’m com-”

Calpurnia didn’t even wait before turning on her heel and stepping back into the office. Her once pert posterior bounced with each step.

Julie dutifully waddled after her with her extra wide hips brushing against the doorframe. Once the heavy door slammed shut behind her, Julie watched her mother rise and cross to meet her.

Julie’s mother was a tall woman with a body that failed to betray her true age. Her mom had followed in her grandmother’s footsteps, having her first daughter later in life. Though, unlike grandma, Julie’s mother didn’t seem keen on having any others. It’s not that Julie was a bad child. (She only seldom felt like she was crushing disappointment to her mother.) It’s just that Julie’s mom was much more focused on her career and on the direction of the coven.

“Hello, dear.”

After struggling to get her arms all the way around Julie’s fat form, and eliciting an eye roll from Calpurnia, Julie’s mother settled for putting her hands on Julie’s shoulders and then sliding them down and giving her fat arms a squeeze.

“How are you doing?”

“Well ummm…” Julie nervously pivoted on one foot causing her great big belly to jiggle in response. The act of nervously shuffling, while small to most people, quickly set Julie’s body into a sensational swaying of gobs of gluttonous fat, radiating outward in through rippling flab.

“My challenge is coming up.”

“Yes, dear. And we’re all very excited to see you perform.”

“Speak for yourself,” chided Aunt Cal.

“I umm… well, I was hoping I could get some help.”

“From?” asked Julie’s mother with her eyes narrowing into a glare that sent another shiver through Julie’s fat body.

“Well. From you.”

Julie’s mother gave a head shake that turned seamlessly into her silently turning on her and walking back to her desk. Julie tried to waddle as fast as she could after her, knowing that her desk was where Julie’s mother preferred to make pronouncements and wanting to postpone that possibility for as long as possible.

“Please, mom.”

Her waddling was cut off by her Aunt Cal stepping in front and nearly getting slammed by her fat belly for her troubles.

“Now? You come to ask for her help now? What have you been doing this entire time?” Her aunt laced in Julie, her breath still reeking of her late breakfast of bacon and bourbon.

“I’ve been training.”

“In what? Simple wand magic? You really think a few basic defense charms and cantrips are going to help you in your challenge? Against a Blake?”

Julie knew her aunt was speaking the truth. Wands were an interesting thing amongst witches. Most of the arcanists she knew barely bothered to carry wands anymore. They were essentially baby’s first arcane focus, good for learning how to wield one’s magic and particularly useful for shield spells and light dueling, but most witches and wizards worth their salt quickly moved on to more complicated rituals suited to their type or just relying purely on their will. Theoretically, in the hands of a supremely powerful arcane user could be used to produce something exceptionally special, but she had never seen anyone wield such power, and amongst arcanists that kind of thing was really more of a rumor or legend than a known fact.

None of this knowledge was helping in stopping her Aunt Cal from continuing to berate Julie.

“The contest is always about will, something you clearly lack. And your knowledge is-”

“Perhaps,” interrupted Julie’s mother from her high backed chair behind her desk.

“If you had taken the time and effort to take her on and train her properly instead of wallowing in booze and self-pity, Julianna would not find herself in this predicament.”

Calpurnia’s puffed up chest caved inward as the icy words hit her like a dagger, and as her shoulders slumped, her beer belly bounced. It was a thing seldom talked about but well known that Calpurnia’s last apprentice was her sister Cassiopeia, and it was that failing that sent her seeking absolution in alcohol.

Calpurnia’s deflation left Julie with a glimmer of help.

“So you help me then?”

“No.”

And that was punctured like a balloon.

“Why not!?” exclaimed both Julie and her aunt at the same time, now unexpected allies.

“You know what’s at stake!” shouted her aunt with an urgency that caught Julie off guard.

“I mean… yes… my powers…”

“Child, your lack of knowledge is as wide as your fat ass.”

“Calpurnia,” proclaimed Julie’s mom as she rose from her seat without raising her voice.

“Speak to my daughter like that again, and I will forget that you are my sister.”

“But she doesn’t know!”

“So explain it. She’s old enough now, and family. I think we can give her this one peek into our business.”

Calpurnia turned and grabbed her niece by both arms. Her long, well manicured nails, dug into Julie’s soft, spongy flesh.

“You think this challenge is just about you- about your powers and maybe about this whole dynamic that you have with Vivian Blake. And- yeah- sure it is. But it’s not just that. It’s not even just about what happened with Cassiopeia. It’s about the whole damn thing. If you lose your challenge, and Vivian ascends, the Blake’s will have three family witches, and we will be down to two. And your mother and I cannot stand against them by ourselves, especially since they’re already aligned with the Hargroves, the Gulches, and the Aguilars. Everyone is fucking coming for us, and and our control of the coven hinges on you.”

Julie’s head was suddenly spinning. In fact, all of this new and heavy information made it feel like the whole room was spinning, and Julie was afraid her heavy body was going to collapse to the floor. Her thick thighs, already wobbly with fat, felt distinctly like jelly, a roiling sense of fear gathered in the deep pit of her fat gut, and her bountiful bosomed heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. All of this sudden pressure made her want to drown herself in chocolate syrup.

Her Aun Cal was right. She didn’t know shit, and she was cursing herself for such blatant lack of knowledge of her own coven. Her aunt was dropping names and the only one she really recognized was Hargrove because that was Eloise’s last name. She had truly never felt stupider than this very moment and all she could muster was then-

“So… won’t you help me, mom?”

“No.”

“But why not?”

Julie’s mother stayed perfectly stoic behind her desk in a pose that granted her next words a large amount of gravitas.

“Because I am the Matriarch of this Coven, and while the contest is ongoing, I am bound by rule to not directly interfere on your behalf. I will not break with our code and tradition and risk a blatant showing of favoritism. No. No matter the risk, you must do this without my aid.”

“C-can’t you make an exception though? Just this once. It’s too much.”

Julie’s mother’s stern face softened as she came around her desk and gently put her hands on Julie’s chubby cheeks.

“Oh, darling. Perhaps I have coddled you too much, and that is why you are so soft. And maybe we have all failed you and we will all pay for that. But I believe in you, and you need to trust me when I say I know you can do this on your own.”

Her mother gave Julie a pat on the cheek and made her way back to her desk.

“Now, why don’t you go to the mall or something, and you can take your mind off of things for a bit. A spin around the food court will make you feel better.”

Julie’s stomach rumbled at the thought. That would indeed help, but it was odd of her mother to be so blatant in indulging Julie’s voracious appetite.

“And while you’re there,” chimed in her Aunt Cal.

“Think about how sweet it would be to not only save your family’s position, but turn the tables on Vivian Blake.”

Julie didn’t have to wait. She immediately began to imagine what turning the tables on Vivian would look like.

She wanted to watch Vivin’s tight abs balloon outward into a massive jiggly pot belly, a true spare tire that stuck out far past her boobs and then drooped down toward her knees, a fat turgid gut splitting itself into a wobbling double belly, pale save for the stretchmarks on her flabby overstretch rolls.

Julie imagined Vivian’s thighs growing so big that her pants ripped off, finished by her ballooning ass cheeks sending tatters to the floor and leaving Vivian’s modesty intact only because of the gigantic paunch drooping down in front of her.

She wanted to watch Vivian’s face scream in fear only to see that same face, once angular and angelic, turned into a multi chinned chubby cheeked, pig nosed mess.

She wanted to see Vivian turned into a morbidly obese hog, just like her, a bloated pig of a woman and a pariah on this campus. This, Julie was certain, would be the most fitting punishment possible.

“Time to go now dear,” decreed her mother, now firmly back behind her desk and ending Julie’s daydream.

“My next appointment is waiting.”

With a wave of her hand, the door opened and there was a man standing with his hand about to knock. He was a tall, rather attractive man, with black medium length hair and chiseled facial features detailed with a pointed goatee. In his other hand he held a paper bag filled with, what Julie could tell even from a distance were, freshly baked blueberry scones.

“What is this ab-”

Julie’s mother gave another motion of her hand, and without the use of magic, Julie knew that this meant to be quiet.

“Julianna, don’t ask me about my business. Go now.”

Julie gave an obedient nod and walked out the door, making sure to take a big sniff of the air to enjoy as much of those blueberry scones as she could.

Once outside the office, she turned back one more time to see the handsome stranger bowing his head and respectfully kissing her mother’s hand. Julie made eye contact with her aunt who looked at her ruefully while closing the door and leaving her shut outside of whatever this meeting was.

“I can practically hear the strings.”

Julie turned around to see a circus fat lady taking up multiple seats outside her mother’s office. The woman was dressed in a patterned mumu that did little to hide the vastness of her thighs which spread outward like a sea of cellulite. They were the kind of thick thighs that had fat rolls that threatened to engulf her knees even when sitting down, slabs of drooping fat that poured over the chairs she was sitting on. Her rolling belly seemed barely restrained by what was supposed to be flowing fabric and yet it seemed like a miracle that it still stuck out farther than the women’s massive breasts. It was rare that Julie ran into other women that made her feel thin, and yet, here she was. This woman was the epitome of corpulence, a temple of gluttony.

She was everything Julie wanted Vivian to be.

“I’m sorry?” Julie said to the woman, shaking her head as she broke herself off from yet another daydream.

“Nothing. Just referencing a movie I saw,” laughed the fat lady as she reached into her bag and pulled out four Hershey’s chocolate bars.

She offered one to Julie.

“It’s not easy, being on the outside.”

Julie, never one to turn down a snack, took the chocolate bar and the chance to commiserate.

“Tell me about it,” said Julie as she began to unwrap her chocolate bar. The residual sweat on her palms from the meeting with her mother made tearing the wrapping more difficult, so she couldn’t open it with her usual verve. But once she was done fumbling with the finicky wrapper, the bite of chocolate was a welcome respite.

She looked up from her struggles with the Hershey bar to see the fat lady still sitting there happily munching away and nodding at her. One of the wrappers was already on the floor and a second was resting on the small amount of lap space that her prodigious belly left available.

“Are you uh… waiting to go in?” asked Julie.

The fat lady’s jowls jiggled furiously as she shook her head. The actual movement of her head was quite small, but her chubby cheeks and wobbling triple chins rippled outward in an almost cartoonish exaggeration.

“No. That was my husband. He has business. Doesn’t tell me what most of the time. I’m just used to sitting around and watching things happen.”

“And that doesn’t get boring?”

“Honey, I get to be witness to the complete reshaping of reality at another person’s whims. How can that be boring?”

The fat lady took a thoughtful bite of her third chocolate bar before adding.

“Oh, you are one of them, right? Or at least adjacent? You’re not just a regular grad student are you?”

“N-no. I’m… at least adjacent.”

“Oh good, otherwise I think someone would have to scrub your memory… or something. Honestly, it’s been fifteen years, and I haven’t quite figured this whole thing out yet.”

“I don’t think it works like that… does it?”

“Shouldn’t you know better than me?”

“Yes…”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“Sorry. Where’s my manners? I’m Melanie.”

Melanie raised one fat arm to shake Julie’s hand, and Julie watched her hamhock of a flabby bicep wobble about like exceptionally loose jello.

“Julie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Julie.”

“Yeah. You too- but uh…. I guess I better be going.”

“Well you have a nice day.”

“Thanks. Oh- uh, you too.”

“Thanks.”

Awkward ending to an awkward meeting aside, it had provided Julie with an ample amount of ammunition for another daydream as she walked away.

Julie loved the idea of Vivian Blake going from slim and sexy smokeshow to an absolute fat lady, a hambest of epic proportions with an insatiable appetite that far exceeded her own impressive one. She practically purred at the idea of Vivian begging for food, begging to be fed, with her large double belly rumbling with hunger desperate for greasy, salty, fattening food. She wanted to watch the piggy princess gobble up goodies in a grotesque display of gluttony.

She pictured shoving handful after handful of decadent cake into Vivian’s waiting mouth and watching her jowly cheeks and triple chins jiggle about as she chewed and snorted the air like a pig. Julie wanted to feel the weight of Vivian’s massive fat rolls in her hands as she wobbled them up and down and told Vivian all about what a good piggy she had become.

She wanted to control Vivian, to be able to call her every name she could think of: Fatso, Lard Ass, Piggy, Cow, Whale, anything. She wanted to stuff a fat and bloated Vivian Blake silly and subject her to every kind of insult she had ever had forced upon her.

Julie’s breath caught in her throat as she imagined herself patting and pinching Vivian’s ginormous thighs, listening to Vivian beg for mercy and then not giving it to her.

Yes. She wanted more than anything to somehow not just win her challenge but to ensure that Vivian Blake was a blob of a woman always looked down upon, powerless in every way and stuck outside of every door with a body so wide that she would be lucky to even fit through the frames.

Her daydream was interrupted by her own stomach rumbling once again with hunger, and Julie decided that a trip to the food court was indeed a good idea.

Fattest Tuesday is Coming

Hello everyone,

If you're a patron (Thanks!), you know that "Fat Trimmings" Volume 7 dropped earlier today. But I wanted to take this time to make a big announcement.

Tuesday, February 13th is Mardi Gras aka Fat Tuesday. And since I have a series called "Fat Trimmings" and drop those stories on what I call Fat Tuesdays, it just makes sense to celebrate THE Fat Tuesday. As such on this patrons here will get to be a part of FATTEST TUESDAY. 

The plan as of now is to celebrate Fattest Tuesday by dropping two extra large volumes of "Fat Trimmings" which (if my math is correct) will be volumes 11 AND 12. I also expect to drop a volume of "Fat Trimmings Exclusive Cuts" (whichever one I am up to) on that day. This is on top of the other content I will be dropping that week.

I will be teasing what I'm working on and taking patron prompt suggestions as well as posting polls leading up to Fattest Tuesday, so if you're a patron, be on the lookout for those. 

And if you're not a patron, sign up! Fattest Tuesday is less than a month away, and if you sign up now you'll get all of the content I release up until then as well. This content will include my two ongoing commissioned stories "The Scales of Time" and "Nightmare Pigs" as well as, of course, more volumes of "Fat Trimmings". You're not going to want to miss this!

"Fat Trimmings" Volume 7

“Coconut Queen”

Isn’t she glorious all covered in coconut oil? That’s what keeps all those folds of fat stretch mark free and pillowy soft. She’s positively glistening under handfuls of coconut oil that cover her entire naked body. It takes a lot to keep a body this big well lubricated. A lot of coconut oil which means a lot of money and a lot of time. But the money is well worth it. And the time? Well, time is the best part of the whole thing.

Start with her cankles. They’re already bigger than some people’s thighs, and they need a lot of love. All that weight and so little exercise means these poor things don’t get quite as much circulation as they should and that can lead to dry cracked skin, so extra coconut oil is a must.  Slide those hands across mountain ridges of fat as you make your way up to the thighs.

It’s like a quivering sea full of a storm of thunderous cellulite. You shake and they tremble as the flesh squeezes and oozes out between your fingers. And try as you might you can’t contain all that meat in one hand. Trying to palm an ass cheek is like trying to palm a basketball if that ball was made entirely of playdough. You can sink you fingers into it and still watch her fat roll over your fingertips.

Sink your thumbs into some juicy love handles as you start to work what used to be the muscles in her lower back. Everything is thick with fat now, and you can squeeze her sides like a memory foam pillow that morphs right back into place. Watch as her back fat rolls out like dough under your palms, a fitting reminder of what all that pizza gorging has led to.

Slap that ass and watch her whole body quiver.

She whimpers. She moans. She’s longing for it now, longing for your touch- and for more food, always more food. She’s a good horny cow all lubed up and ready to go. Squeeze the fat around her hips, slap that bouncing belly as you ride her from behind. A squeal cuts through the air and is joined by the sound of pendulous breasts slapping together.

When she finally collapses in ecstasy, it takes all your strength to flip her over because you’re not quite done yet. Now that she’s fed her lust, it’s time for more cake.

____________________________

“Vacation Booty”

She’s packing those post vacation pounds. You can see it in her butt as it bounces around with every step that she takes. She’s got a “calories don’t count when you’re on a cruise” caboose. It’s not nearly as firm as it used to be. That’s a result of too much sitting around sunbathing while snacking. But her butt’s not the only thing bigger about her.

From the side it’s pretty clear that she’s got a buffet belly going on. Any bit of tone she prided herself on has been erased, and sexy sport clothes she wore on the trip now make her look a little funny with the fresh bit of pudge that is peaking out for all to see. It’s even got a nice bit of bounce to it, this open bar belly that pairs nicely with her late night desert derriere.

Her bra looks like it’s straining just a bit too. She’s lugging around a fresh pair of bottomless mimosa mammaries. All told she definitely looks like, as her catty friends will say, “she really enjoyed her vacation.”

She had promised herself she was going to workout on the cruise, to avoid this exact kind of thing. But I guess a few drinks made her less likely to swim some laps and far more likely to just snack while sunbathing by the pool. And the hangovers must have made those pulse pounding hiking excursions she planned for sound like nightmares. Of course, nothing beats a hangover like platefuls of greasy, fatty food.

There are definitely some well stained shirts that no amount of laundry detergent can save. It doesn’t matter though. She’ll be completely growing out of those soon anyway, just like she already did with the shorts that will no longer button. Soon it’ll be time to upgrade her whole wardrobe and fill her closet with fat girl clothes.

See. It’s not just the extra vacation pounds she’s picked up. It’s all those bad vacation habits that she’s gained as well. She’ll be snacking all the time now. And it’ll be easy to make sure she’s eating bigger meals now that developed more room for them. Sit ups get harder to do with that new paunch in the way. And once the exercise starts to be more difficult, she’s going to start slacking off even more.

Snacking and slacking is a dangerous combination.

Yup, she’s already close to getting chubby, and she’s going to grow into a real big girl soon. Next time she goes on a cruise, she’s going to be making a real pig of herself at the buffet.

Oink. Oink.

_______________________

“Fair Food”

“Get hypnotized.” they said. “It’ll be fun.” they said.

So yeah, she gave it a whirl. And what did she come away with? Nothing, not even a funny story about standing on her head or clucking like a chicken. Lousy county fair hypnotist. Wasted her time. With a disgruntled sigh she made her way over to the nearest fried food stall. There was only one thing she walked away from that hypnotist with-

A rumbling in her stomach.

She had always been a health nut, an early to rise for a run, fruit smoothies for breakfast, salads for lunch kind of girl. Her dietary habits were often more akin to rabbits then to the other people she occupied her time with, and her penchant for preaching about the benefits of eating “clean” had a real knack for rubbing her friends the wrong way. But this- this was turning out to be a very different kind of day and a very different kind of day.

One might call it a hankering.

It was a strong desire, one burning deep down in the pit of her stomach calling for deep fried food. Crispy, greasy food, that’s what she needed in her belly. And she started with an order of funnel cake smothered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce. She shoved it into her waiting maw not caring for how much of the delicious cream she smeared on her cheeks and fingers. Chocolate sauce dabbed her nose as she tore into the fried dough like an animal.

But that wasn’t enough. No- with her new found hunger- that wasn’t not nearly enough. Next she had to practically deep throat a corndog, tearing it clean off the stick with all the tenacity of a swarm of piranhas attacking a cow. And what’s better than one corndog? A second corndog devoured nearly as quickly.

It was a sight to behold, something that had to be seen to be believed, this slim woman suddenly making a pig of herself, stuffing herself full of greasy junk food like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and needed it to survive. Strangers might have been concerned, but her friends were full of amused giggles as they watched the former health food freak dig into an order of fried Oreos with a Nutella dipping sauce.

That’s who she is now, a junk food junkie, someone who can never say no to anything fried. And, of course, all that fried food always makes her feel heavy and tired which means those early morning runs are out. Any form of exercise has been cast aside except for the steady arm motions that come with stuffing her face with potato chips and pizza.

She’s getting to be a big girl now, with her runner's thighs now as thick as her waist used to be and a deep fried fed double belly that bubbles over her yoga pants (worn now because they’re the only things that come close to fitting not for any meaningful physical activity.) It’s all quite a disappointment to her, but she just can’t seem to help herself.

Her friends enjoy her a lot more this way.

__________________________________

“What If” (Part 7)

What if she tries stripes?

Stripes are slimming. Right?

But nothing is going to do much slimming for her now. She is rapidly outgrowing her clothes. The pants she bought as “fat pants” for her period days went from being loose, to snug, to stretched out, to busted. They’ve been totally replaced once and are in need of being replaced yet again. And her tops haven’t fared much better, especially the ones with buttons.

Any of her buttoned down blouses have since burst. Her big bulging belly has taken care of that. And looking at her now, it’s easy to tell that this next shirt is one big meal away from having some of its strained buttons just give up and go pinging around. They’d be lucky not to end up in anybody’s eye.

The eye damage is pretty avoidable nowadays because she does most of her eating at home, sitting on her couch, gorging herself on whatever kind of fast food strikes her fancy that day. Yes. The days of fancy restaurants seem well behind her, as do the days of salad or anything remotely healthy. The former queen of self control is a junk food junkie now, constantly needing a fix of salt and fat and frequently hopped up on sugary snacks. She’s a grease queen as she lounges about with her ponderous pot belly hanging out and lazily spilling onto her lap.

What can she eat next? That’s the question that constantly plagues her mind. Sometimes it is switched up with the variant: What SHOULD I eat next? That at least implies the idea that she might try to eat something not absolutely loaded with empty, fattening, calories.

What if she tried dieting? Could she do it? Could she go back to the days of fruits and vegetables that were baked into a pie or deep fried and dipped in ranch dressing? What if she could get a hold of herself? Could she be thin again?

When she looks in the mirror she knows that this is true. Even though she has a big rolling stomach that tumbles over the waistband of her ill-fitting yoga pants, button bursting breasts, and thick thunder thighs, she knows that she is not yet past the point of no return. She can still turn things around if she wants to.

But does she want to?

Does she really want to go back to being slim and admired by all? Or does she wish to continue this path of indulgence despite the fact that it has cost her so much socially?

What path will she follow? What will she choose?

And what will she eat next?

What's Coming This Week

Hello everyone,

Here's my usual weekly update: Weather and family health issues has slowed me slightly. I had to deal with power outages in our building which took away from writing time. That means the next chapter of "The Scales of Time" couldn't go up last week as planned.

That chapter will be released at some point this week. Also coming this week will be "Fat Trimmings" Volume 7 premiering on Fat Tuesday! (Speaking of I just realized that next month, on February 13th, it is Mardi Gras aka actual Fat Tuesday. I'm going to have to do something special that day. So stay tuned!)

Anyway, this week's "Fat Trimmings" will feature the following stories: "Coconut Queen", "Vacation Booty", "Fair Food" and "What If" (Part 7)

This week will also likely see the debut of the first chapter of "Nightmare Pigs". That is contingent on me being able to play a little bit of catch up.

The next "Fat Trimmings: Exclusive Cuts" will be posted next week. It will feature slob elements and some clothes ripping as voted on by patrons. I look forward to it.