BS Writer posts

Extended Teaser - "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 6

Here's the first full scene from Chapter 6 of "Model Made to Waddle". If you haven't read any of it yet, you can start with chapters 1-4 right HERE or if you just missed the latest chapter, chapter 5 is right HERE.

If you like this teaser and don't want to wait for more, there's almost 4,000 more words up already on Discord for Even More BS patrons.

For now...

Enjoy!

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

Ariel looked at the ice cream as she rubbed her belly.

It was just…. There, staring at her.

It was one of those hot summer nights, and the cool air coming off the freezer alone was refreshing enough, but that ice cream, a simple carton of vanilla, it was giving off some kind of syren song. Ariel hung by one arm on the freezer door as she stood slumped forward and letting her upper body twist to the rhythm set by the door as she contemplated her next move.

Suddenly she slammed the door shut and stood straight up.

Ice cream was a bad idea. She didn’t need ice cream. She was better than ice cream.

Slowly, Ariel’s hand tickled her tummy as she thought about all the food she had already eaten today, including two scoops of that very same ice cream. Sure, she had a rock solid metabolism, but even she had her limits. She didn’t need any more food today- period, let alone that ice cream… that delicious… cool… creamy….

No!

Ariel turned around. She shunned the fridge, matching the coldness of the ice cream with her cold shoulder. As if to double down on her scorn of dessert, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and made sure to let out an audible huff to show that ice cream who was boss. A stomp of her foot reinforced her resolve.

But…..

There was just this itch in the back of her mind, a nagging sensation that kept growing, protesting louder the more she tried to fight it back. It was this strong prevailing thought that demanded to be heard.

Ice cream’s just so good.

Plus, Ariel was having trouble sleeping. Why was that? The heat? Hunger? A combination of both? Ice cream would solve both problems with one scoop… or two. It would cool her down and fill her belly.

Her belly… it was still so bloated. She had eaten so much, been so full for so long, made an absolute pig of herself and now her stubborn stomach was making sure to remind her of that. She needed to slow down. She needed to stop. She needed to cool it- and not with ice cream!

Who was she to be having cravings like this anway? She wasn’t some fatty. She wasn’t like Kelly or Eleanor, or even like what Penelope was on her way to becoming, pudgy Penelope, pathetic Penelope, Penelope who was practically a pig. She was better than her, better than all of them. She owed herself some self-respect and a trip to bed to sleep off the rest of her bloating from already stuffing herself enough that day.

Ariel headed toward the staircase, and there was something about the way the first step creaked, that sudden sound that broke her rhythm, made her pause just enough for that itch in the back of her head to return. It pried at her, slowly starting to strip away the resolve and eat at her self-consciousness as it pushed her toward eating the icecream.

With one hand still on the banister, Ariel spun herself around dramatically, allowing herself to drape down toward the floor, supported only by her one hand on the banister and one foot braced against the bottom step. With her other hand and foot, the very flexible model reached out the refrigerator and let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

There was a longing in that sigh, a need, a burning desire that could only be cooled by the sweet taste of that forbidden vanilla ice cream.

She shouldn’t.

But she could.

That was the thought that began to bubble up in her brain as she allowed herself to fall gently onto the floor and then turned onto her stomach as a way to ignore its fullness while she stared up at the freezer with her head in her hands, propped up by her elbows against the floor as behind her she kicked her feet in contemplation.

She could have the ice cream. She could totally eat it. She could afford to.

Kelly couldn’t. Eleanor couldn’t. Penelope couldn’t.

If those three so much as looked at ice cream they would find another inch of fat spread round their thighs. If that ice cream passed their lips it would mean a lifetime on the hips. Those pathetic piggies couldn't afford to risk indulging in a dessert as decadent as a couple scoops of vanilla ice cream.

But Ariel?

She was better than them. She was superior in every way. She was slim and sexy and blessed with a perfect metabolism that one big beautiful bowl of ice cream wasn’t going to wreck. She would never see a pound placed on her perfect figure just from eating some ice cream, even if she smothered it in whipped cream… and drowned it in chocolate syrup.

Her stomach rumbled.

She was so hungry.

She was so bloated.

“So what?”

Ariel kicked the floor in defiance.

So what if she was bloated? She wouldn’t be bloated in the morning, once she actually had a good night’s sleep, even if she did have herself an ice cream sundae. Plus, today was already a wash in terms of diet. Yes. She had stuffed herself silly. So what did she really have to lose? This was a cheat day. It was okay to have ice cream as part of her cheat day. She could have anything her heart desired on her cheat day. She could certainly afford it.

Most importantly, Ariel wanted it.

She wanted that ice cream.

And nobody was going to tell Ariel that she couldn’t have something she wanted, not even herself. Once she had it in her mind that she wanted that ice cream, the matter was settled. Yes. Settled. She was having that ice cream.

After all, who was going to judge her? Who was going to call her a pig? Certainly not herself. And nobody else was around. That ice cream was her right. It was all hers, and she was going to eat it, and nobody else would be the wiser. She wouldn’t have reason to feel bad at all.

It was ice cream time.

Ariel pushed herself up off the floor, completely ignoring the groaning of her bloated stomach, and practically rand toward the fridge. As she neared it, her legs and her heart skipped.

She threw open the freezer, snatched up the ice cream and tore into it before she even realized she was without a spoon. It didn’t take long for Ariel to rummage through her kitchen draws and grab the biggest one she could find. Like a harpoon, she plunged that spoon into the carton of ice cream. She pulled out a heaping spoonful of vanilla ice cream and stuffed into into her mouth. It rolled down her tongue, and she slurped the remnants off the spoon before going back for a second spoonful, stuffing that into her barely empty mouth and then-

No. This had to stop. This was madness. This was savagery.

She needed a bowl.

Soon, that bowl was filled with three heaping scoops of ice cream, and true to her desires, Ariel had buried those scoops, absolutely smothered them in whipped cream and drowned them in chocolate syrup. She even found some sprinkles!

Ariel was a delighted little piggy as she stuffed herself with that sundae. The ice cream felt so good as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. It filled her stomach with its sinfully sweet sugar goodness, and the whole thing just felt so damn pleasant. It was like all her worries about eating and bloating too much disappeared- even though her belly was in fact even bigger thanks to all the sugary ice cream adding to her previous bloating.

She didn’t even care that she was making a mess. Syrup staining her cheeks was no concern to her. Globs of whipped cream plopping into her cleavage? She didn’t care. She just fished it out with her fingers and sucked those fingers dry.

She licked the spoon clean too, and when she was finished with that and looked at the dregs of her ice cream in the bowl she thought about running her tongue all along it and licking up every last drop. But she was no animal, no pig. Two fingers run along the side and sucked clean would do. That was satisfying.

Ariel looked at what she had done. More importantly, she felt it. She felt the weight in her bloated belly from all the ice cream. Her sticky fingers rubbed the swell of her stomach. She pressed down gently and an unladylike burp came out of her mouth.

She certainly had outdone herself today. She gave herself a lot of credit for that. Even she had to admit that the amount she was able to eat was prodigious and definitely excessive. Overdid it was an understatement. But, in a way, she was proud of herself, proud of what a pig she had been. She had given into her desires, reinforced the idea that she was good enough to have whatever she wanted, and she had gotten to show off in front of Kelly to boot. That was a big plus.

And so what if there was a little bloating? That would go away. She could afford this day. She deserved this day.

She would have more of these days if she wanted.

Ariel always got what she wanted.

And as she dwelled on that thought while pouting like a spoiled brat, she couldn’t help but feel that familiar itch in the back of her head. What she wanted…what she really wanted was….

Well, one or two more scoops of ice cream couldn’t hurt, right?

So she reached for the carton.

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

Want more? The full story will be here soon, but there's more teasers on Discord for Even More BS tier patrons. You can upgrade your membership HERE.

2025-05-31 16:31:36 +0000 UTC View Post

UPDATES: What's On Deck and a Teaser

There's a "Model Made to Waddle" Chapter 6 teaser at the end of this, but first.....

I've been busy. "Fame to Fat Fortune" has been released on Deviant Art. If you're able to support it with favorites and comments to keep it being boosted, that would be great. It's right HERE.

I also released "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes" along with the Patreon exclusive "A Not So Sweet Fortune" to Patreon which are HERE and HERE respectively, if you haven't read them already.

That also means that the "Fame to Fat Fortune" bundle has grown. For anyone looking for PDFs of my stories that you can downloaded, that bundle had all of the above stories plus more that were and are available extra exclusively to Even More BS tier patrons. That bundle is available right HERE.

But you're here to know what's coming up, and here's the rundown of my planned projects:

Chapter 6 of "Model Made to Waddle" is underway. Stay tuned for the teaser. We're almost there.

I'm going to be working on "The Book of Kelly's Belly" Chapters 3 and 4.

I am also looking to put on another volume of "Fat Trimmings" I really want to get back to this anthology. I'm going to write two more stories, one that I owe a patron here and that I've been promising them for a long time, and one Thick Burger story that is also a "Face It" story based that was suggested to me by a patron on Discord. Then I'll be putting those together with some of the other short stories I released (like "Two Sisters at the Gym" right HERE) recently in the next volume of "Fat Trimmings".

I'm also going to be working on "Nightmare Pigs 2" and have the next two chapters planned out.

And of course, there's going to be "A Carnival of Fortunes 2" which I've just been commissioned to do.

Speaking of.... I'm still offering a commissions sale where patrons who commission a piece over 1,000 words get and extra 10% to their word total. You can DM me on here or on Discord if you're interested. I'm keeping busy, but still available for this assuming people have patience. It's a good time to commission me now before I stack up even more projects.

It's gonna be a busy summer on the patreon!

There's no set timetable for these things, save for "Model Made to Waddle". My plan is to get chapter 6 done for this weekend so I can release Chapter 2 on Deviant Art on Monday.

And as a thank you for your patience, here's a teaser!

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

Ariel looked at the ice cream as she rubbed her belly.

It was just…. There, staring at her.

It was one of those hot summer nights, and the cool air coming off the freezer alone was refreshing enough, but that ice cream, a simple carton of vanilla, it was giving off some kind of syren song. Ariel hung by one arm on the freezer door as she stood slumped forward and letting her upper body twist to the rhythm set by the door as she contemplated her next move.

Suddenly she slammed the door shut and stood straight up.

Ice cream was a bad idea. She didn’t need ice cream. She was better than ice cream.

Slowly, Ariel’s hand tickled her tummy as she thought about all the food she had already eaten today, including two scoops of that very same ice cream. Sure, she had a rock solid metabolism, but even she had her limits. She didn’t need anymore food today period, let alone that ice cream… that delicious… cool… creamy….

No!

Ariel turned around. She shunned the fridge, matching the coldness of the ice cream with her cold shoulder. As if to double down on her scorn of dessert, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and made sure to let out an audible huff to show that ice cream who was boss. A stomp of her foot reinforced her resolve.

But…..

There was just this itch in the back of her mind, a nagging sensation that kept growing, protesting louder the more she tried to fight it back. It was this strong prevailing thought that demanded to be heard:

Ice cream’s just so good.

Plus, Ariel was having trouble sleeping. Why was that? The heat? Hunger? A combination of both? Ice cream would solve both problems with one scoop… or two. It would cool her down and fill her belly.

Her belly… it was still so bloated. She had eaten so much, been so full for so long, made an absolute pig of herself and now her stubborn stomach was making sure to remind her of that. She needed to slow down. She needed to stop. She needed to cool it- and not with ice cream!

Who was she to be having cravings like this anway? She wasn’t some fatty. She wasn’t like Kelly or Eleanor, or even like what Penelope was on her way to becoming, pudgy Penelope, pathetic Penelope, Penelope who was practically a pig. She was better than her, better than all of them. She owed herself some self-respect and a trip to bed to sleep off the rest of her bloating from already stuffing herself enough that day.

Ariel headed toward the staircase, and there was something about the way the first step creaked, that sudden sound that broke her rhythm, made her pause just enough for that itch in the back of her head to return. It pried at her, slowly starting to strip away the resolve and eat at her self-consciousness as it pushed her toward eating the ice cream.

With one hand still on the banister, Ariel spun herself around dramatically, allowing herself to drape down toward the floor, supported only by her one hand on the banister and one foot braced against the bottom step. With her other hand and foot, the very flexible model reached out the refrigerator and let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

There was a longing in that sigh, a need, a burning desire that could only be cooled by the sweet taste of that forbidden vanilla ice cream.

She shouldn’t.

But she could.

Would she?

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

Want more?

Like I said, the whole chapter should be coming out this weekend, but if you don't want to wait, there's another 1,000 words in an extended teaser on Discord, where I'll be routinely dropping updated teasers on the road to publishing. If you want to follow along, they're available to Even More BS patrons. You can upgrade your membership HERE.

Or... you could go to the "Fame to Fat Fortune" Bundle right HERE, upgrade there and get immediate access to a bunch more stories as well. See how I brought it all back around?

If you're a five dollar patron you get a lot more for just two dollars more.

And if you're a free patron? What there's just so much that you could be reading right now with even more coming down the pipe. Upgrade today.

2025-05-29 21:42:52 +0000 UTC View Post

PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "A Not So Sweet Fortune"

Here's a patreon exclusive BONUS FORTUNE from "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes".

It's a light read, weighing in at a little over 1,100 words. But it features some sweet fattening.

Enjoy!

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

“A Not So Sweet Fortune”

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

Angela never understood cotton candy. The idea of it just never appealed to her. Who would want to eat just straight sugar? That’s all it is, sugar spun into a great big stupid puff. What is the draw there? Just to eat nothing but sugar and get fat. Angela couldn’t abide that. Angela hated the idea of being fat. It was her worst nightmare

And Angela also hated fat people.

She found fat people to be, quite frankly, disgusting. In her mind, fat people were greedy and lazy, the exact kind of people that would stuff their faces with an endless amount of puffed sugar. Cotton candy was for chubby chumps, and it was a signature part of the carnival which was one of the reasons that she hated being here.

So why was she at the carnival?

Mostly because she was bored. It was a thing to do, and she was supposed to meet a friend here, her friend Dana who had just blown her off. This left Angela on her own to do some people watching, judging and hanging around being miserable. She was ready to call it a night and go home when she saw Madame Zara’s tent.

A fortune teller? It was kinda lame, but maybe she could get at least one small thrill before going home.

Things would end up far bigger than she planned.

When she entered Madame Zara’s tent, the seer could sense Angela’s arrogance immediately and twisted her fate accordingly.

“You’re about to experience a new spin on life as your ego turns to fluff and you learn to embrace the sweetness.”

Angela cocked an eyebrow.

“Are you… are you telling me to eat more chocolate or something? What a stupid fortune.”

“The cards are what they are, my dear.”

“And you’re stupid.”

And with that, Angela stormed out of the tent and stomped back across the carnival. It was the last straw. She was over it. She was through. She was going to go right home.

Then she saw the cotton candy stand.

And her stomach lept.

Something about that stand called to her in a way that cotton candy or any other confection had called to her before.

She needed it.

So she went over and bought one. Without think the tore off a piece and shoved it into her mouth. Then a second. Then a third. She was absolutely ravenous for cotton candy. It was the best thing she had ever tasted.

How had she denied herself this for so long?

She needed more.

MORE!

Before she knew it, Angela’s cheeks were covered in sugar, and she was tearing into a second piece of sweet and fluffy cotton candy.

Angela’s body suddenly began to expand from the middle outward. It was like the fat was spiraling up and down her body, feeling her and stretching her out, making her larger.

Her tiny waist ballooned. It blew outward with thick spongy love handles. And her flat stomach surged outward into a growing pot belly. She gained a fluffy stomach that flopped over the waistband of her pants, popping its button, and jiggled generously as it continued to grow.

But Angela couldn’t stop herself from eating more cotton candy.

She held her growing stomach with one hand, weighing its increasingly heavier weight as it grew fatter and fatter and started to overwhelm her fingers. And with the other she kept tearing off pieces of cotton candy and stuffing them into her face.

What was she holding the cotton candy with?

She wasn’t.

The cotton candy was just floating in front of her now, hovering there, tempting her, taunting her.

And she kept giving in every time.

More and more cotton candy entered Angela’s mouth, and as it did so, her stomach grew bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter. There wasn’t an ounce of firmness left, just flab piled upon flab.

And the fat didn’t stop there.

As Angela ate the cotton candy, the fat spun down into her thighs. Those thighs quickly thickened, growing wide with fat and turning from sculpted and athletic limbs to fantastically flabby ones. Her thunder thighs soon shook and slapped together. They quaked as the fat filled them. And that fat spun further downward until it spun her slender calves and ankles into big fat cankles and filled her feet, including her now chubby toes, with fat. She would soon be set to waddling like a penguin instead of strutting like a peacock.

Angela’s ass grew bigger as well. Her cheeks grew chunky, swelling up into soft orbs of supple and sagging flesh. Her muscle tone was replaced by pure squish, and her smooth skin became marred by cellulite. Even with the generous size of her butt, now much bigger than before, the softness and the sag, along with the cellulite, made the whole thing look like a lumpy lard filled mess.

Her arms got soft and fat too. She grew wobbly bingo wings that grew far fatter than her wrists- which were still pretty thick. The effect of this kind of fattening was that her arms looked reminiscent of cotton candy in shape with her bloated biceps dominating her wrists which comparatively looked like sticks. Her bingo wings were filled with pillowy fat that stretched out as far as gravity would allow such soft sacks of fat to grow, and then they drooped down over Angela’s elbows as if they were trying to reach down toward her chubby hands and thick clumsy fingers.

Angela’s breasts got bigger, but they didn’t grow as much as the rest of her, certainly not as big as her blubbery belly on which they rested. What took more of a hit was her face which became quite round with fat complete with jowls and a thick doughy double chin that wobbled as she continued to greedily munch on the cotton candy.

By the time the weight finally stopped piling on, Angela was a real fat lady. She was a whole lotta woman, a real tub of lard. And even more than just that, her skin had become a light bright shade of pink almost like she had a perpetual sunburn. She looked like a pig, a roast ham or… a piece of cotton candy.

And that’s how Angela would spend the rest of her life, a fluffy fat girl with an intense and unstoppable sweet tooth. She was destined to get fatter and fatter and forever face the same kind of judgments and humiliations she once forced on other people.

The lesson in humility was one that Angela would learn over and over again as she continued to grow fatter.

As for Madame Zara? She would continue to enjoy punishing the vain, fattening others.

She was already eager for the next time the carnival came to town.

2025-05-29 14:46:39 +0000 UTC View Post

"A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes"

Here is the latest commission piece of written. (If you'd like to commission a piece, feel free to DM me here or on Discord.)

This piece totals over 9,000 words long. And it features the fortunes of Madame Zara whose fortunes mostly feature in the exclusive Extra Slices collection for Even More BS patrons.

Enjoy!

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

Madame Zara loved fattening others. She loved twisting the fate of the vain to ensure they received the kind of comeuppance that they deserved. And she especially enjoyed dispensing fortunes and twisting fate at carnivals.

Carnivals were special places for Madame Zara with their ties to the old days of faerie. Their inherent magical qualities combined with the fact that they were so often called to open up along magical ley lines meant that Madame Zara’s powers were at their peak. She was able to push boundaries, make more things happen and, more importantly, make things happen far more immediately than usual.

Usually, Madame Zara was forced to work her magic much more subtly. Her fortunes would fill themselves, and her victims, out over time and make everything seem mostly natural. But when she tapped into the full power of the carnival she was able to shape reality in far more extravagant ways.

That’s why carnivals always made Madame Zara feel the most at home.

This particular day started with a trio of privileged brats, college dropouts unemployed and living on their family’s money, and their own beauty to get by. Their names were Sierra, Gianna, and Danica, and they were a like in so many ways. They were equally gorgeous. They were equally catty. Their lives were all headed in the same direction. They all had equally bright futures based solely on the families that they were born into.

And they all made the mistake of visiting Madame Zara’s tent together.

They were of course rude, callously calling her old woman and urging her to “get on with it”. And so Madame Zara had to work to contain her glee as she dealt them the cards and read the fortune that would change their fates for the fatter.

“The three of you will find yourselves growing in different ways and finding gainful employment.”

And as soon as the future was read, the fortune that otherwise would have taken weeks to months to come to full effect began to work its magic right away.

All three of them grew plumper, losing their fit figures and growing decidedly fat ones. Each of the ladies grew large enough to be past the point of being called chubby. They turned into exactly the kind of fat women they enjoyed making fun of. But they also each grew fatter in different ways.

Sierra sat in a seat that began to creak under her weight as her butt grew bigger. Her chunky ass cheeks grew so wide that they began to overwhelm the seat completely. Her bloated bum grew outward until the fat spilled over the edges of the seat, and her flabby butt cheeks filled with so much fat that they began to rise like dough and push Sierra further up in her seat. While the rest of her had grown fat as well she was undoubtedly pear shaped with her most prominent feature being her plump and juicy rear end with two saggy orbs of fleshy fat.

To go along with her wide load of a butt, Sierra also grew thick thunder thighs that pressed together and spilled over the sides of the chair just like her enormous ass cheeks.

Gianna grew the biggest gut of the three. Her stomach quickly became extra spongy and then started to sag heavily and then spill out onto her fat lap. Her gut was turgid and heavy, and blubbery belly that billowed forward and jiggled like Jello as she continued to grow fatter and fatter. When she ended up standing, her belly sagged downward like a loose apron of fat and completely obscured the front of her pants, hiding the button that was now completely useless. Her gut was soft and squishy and quivered at the slightest movement, a far cry from the proud set of abs that she used to have.

Prior to her plumping, Gianna would have loved to poke and pinch the tubby tummies of other out of shape people. Now she was the one ripe for judgment and destined to have her doughy middle pinched and jiggled. It was the gluttonous gut of a truly plump piggy.

And Danica grew to be the fattest of the three. She was doughy all over, but she also found that her curves fell in a way that granted her an exaggerated hourglass figure. Her hips widened and her ass grew bigger, not as big as Sierra’s but it was still plump and juicy. Danica’s breasts exploded in size. They became massive and stretched out her shirt to showcase her canyon of cleavage. She was a portly individual but she was also stacked. And her big breasts quivered with every breath that she took. Her face grew suitably fat as well with big plump lips to match the rest of her plush, luscious body.

After their transformations finished, the three ladies took to their brand new jobs working at the carnival.

Sierra donned an apron and a pair of slacks that squeezed her thick thunder thighs like sausage casings and showcased her fat ass. She went to work selling very fattening fried dough.

Gianna became clad in a striped shirt that rode up and highlighted the girth of her gut. It made her fat stomach look stretched out and even bigger, and she went off to run the hall of mirrors.

And Danica dawned something of a slutty ring master’s outfit with short shorts and a corset that showcased her hourglass figure as she went off to host the carnival’s freak show.

All three large ladies, now full of lard and far from the slim and sexy vixens they used to be, waddled off to take on their new duties and experience what it was like to have actual responsibilities for the first time in their previously privileged lives.

Madame Zara looked at the fattened state of the carnival’s newest workers, and she was very pleased with what she had accomplished.

She was even more pleased to note that she would definitely be reading at least three more fattening fortunes that day.

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

“From Dainty to Doughball”

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

Michelle was a prissy privileged bitch and the leader of a whole group, a giggling gaggle of college aged girls who followed her around and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. There were four of them, five with Michelle, and they were well known for their cattiness and cruelty toward others. They were all slim and sexy vixens, and they were all absolute ice queens when they weren’t actively giggling about something, or more often someone that they found funny.

And Michelle was the worst of them all.

She was a curvy goddess who had always been that way with a sculpted hourglass figure whose best features included six pack abs and a perfect heart shaped ass to go along with her perfect perky breasts. She had a confident strut because she knew just how good looking she was. And this combination of gorgeous looks and grand confidence gave her total control.

Michelle was further aided by the fact that she had a lot of money, and while her looks had earned her her friends’ admiration, her money, or really her family’s money, had earned her their unbroken loyalty.

The carnival was just another thing for Michelle and her minions to make fun of, to enjoy by gawking at others who enjoyed it sincerely, and their trip to Madame Zara’s tent was meant to be done in irony and jest.

Madame Zara of course saw things very differently.

And so the cards were dealt quickly.

“Your delight in dough will make you the largest of your friends. You will learn to lead them in largesse.”

Of course the ladies just laughed at the seemingly nonsensical reading, threw a few insults Madame Zara’s way with some crumpled up dollar bills as a “tip” and headed outside.

That’s when Michelle and her crew were suddenly hungry.

And when they spotted the fried dough stand just across from Madame Zara’s tent, and a fried dough stand that they didn’t remember seeing there before.

At the stand, Sierra saw Michelle and her cronies approach, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she was now about to play a major hand in the twisting of fates. Her big bloated rear end was currently concealed from Michelle’s view, and she couldn’t help but reach back and give her doughy cheeks a big squeeze with her chubby hands.

As Michelle approached, Sierra saw in her everything she used to be just a short while ago, and she wanted her to turn away, to avoid the fattening fate that was coming.

Michelle was quick to get an order of fried dough served in a little paper container.

“Hey, Fatty. Let’s make it quick with the fried dough. Or did you go ahead and eat it all like the pig you are?”

And with those words, Sierra no longer felt a shred of sympathy and handed the fried dough over with a smile on her fat face.

Michelle greedily snatched the serving of fried dough out of Sierra’s chubby hands and took a long greedy whiff of it, inhaling its delicious scent.

She tasted the fried dough and in an instant it was like time stopped all around her. It was like the world consisted of nothing but her and the doughy bit of deliciousness that she held in her hand. She had never before tasted something so incredible and in that moment it was like she had wasted years of her life on silly things like diet and control, and all she wanted to do was go back in time and relive every moment where she could have chosen to eat something fried but passed on it because that’s what she was supposed to do. She wanted to live a life truly savoring everything the world had to offer.

And as she took a second bite of the delectable ball of dough, she didn’t realize that her trim tummy was starting to cause the waistband of her jeans to tighten as it started to swell outward. Slowly but surely it started to rise just like dough, and with each new bite Michelle took, the process got faster as more fat filled her body.

The crop top she was wearing gave a clear view of just how much tubbier her tummy was getting. Her belly began to balloon as fat filled it. The tight stomach muscles she had been showing off melted away and quickly became replaced by doughy rolls of delicious fat that surged forward and rolled over the waistband of her pants. Eventually the strain that they caused became too much for the button on Michelle’s pants to take and it popped right off. The zipper also exploded open which allowed the fat of Michelle’s newly blubbery belly to ooze through the gap like biscuit dough from a freshly opened can. It was the kind of fat that just looked like it was exceptionally soft and squishy and it pressed outward and sagged down.

Michelle’s middle didn’t stop growing there. She also developed meaty love handles. Slabs of fat stuck out from her sides and slumped down the waistband of her jeans as they removed any sign that Michelle had once had a rather trim waistline.

Even her back grew fatter. The fat formed into multiple rolls. One roll formed just under her bra strap and spilled out from the bottom of her crop top which was looking smaller and smaller as more inches were added to Michelle’s fattening figure with each new pound that was packed on. Above that the fat seemed to grow in lumps, segmented by the straps of her bra and contained by the fabric of her shirt. If they were allowed to be free, it would be clear that Michelle was decidedly developing back boobs. The largest roll of back fat though was at the bottom, and it circled around the merge with Michelle’s meaty love handles. Her back fat, along with her love handles and globular gut all combined to give Michelle a massive muffin top.

Her gut developed more sag as it grew in size. Soon her stomach was a great big blubbery belly that served as a saggy apron of fat. It was stodgy fat that jiggled at the slightest movement, including each new bite of fried dough that Michelle enjoyed.

But of course the fat was not just limited to her middle.

Soon enough the fat spread from her stomach and slid down her legs. Her thighs began to swell up and stretch the fabric of her jeans. She was obviously to the tightness of pants legs as the fat kept filling them. She was far to busy devouring fresh hot balls of fried dough to notice just how fast the hot legs that she had been so proud of were losing their tone. She was too busy pressing another whole dough ball into her greedy mouth in one bite to notice that her thigh gap was completely gone and those thunder thighs were now starting to press together.

Michelle’s thighs kept thickening. The fat that filled them spread downward, and her thick thighs began to touch all the way down to her knees which soon also became swallowed up by dimply fat. They continued to expand, and that expansion caused Michelle to have to widen her stance even while she was just standing there eating. It became quite clear thanks to the girth of her tree trunk like thunder thighs that should she not be standing there eating she would be waddling about instead of walking.

Eventually, the seams on the sides of her jeans split and plush thighs fat spilled out. As the fat oozed out, the pressure grew and the seams split further allowing more of her flabby saddlebags to slip through. Her pasty thigh fat was covered in cellulite and quivered as it continued to burst its way out of her jeans.

The fattening of Michelle’s legs was not limited to her thunder thighs. It trickled downward and her calves and ankles filled with fat as well until they fused together to form thick cankles. And her feet swelled up and stretched out her shoes with toes that were thick like mini-sausages.

Michelle’s perfect ass grew pudgy as well, and then well passed pudgy. Her posterior grew big and bloated as each of her butt cheeks ballooned with chunky fat that started to sag and slap down onto the backs of her thick thunder thighs. Her ass cheeks exploded with fat and grew extremely large, large enough to blow out the backseat of her pants with their incredible girth. Each butt cheek became bulbous and the heart shape that Michelle had prided herself on was lost completely. In fact, any kind of shape was basically lost. The only shape that anyone could possibly call Michelle’s ass was fat. Perhaps the word lumpy would also come to mind given the intense amount of cellulite that covered it, cellulite that was clearly visible thanks to the ass meat that was hanging out of the back of her broken pants. Her underwear was nowhere to be seen either as it was completely swallowed up by her chunky cellulite covered cheeks.

Her breasts had grown fatter as well. They were big balls of dough that sagged downward and looked like unfried globs that were waiting to be dropped into oil and fried up. For now they were big and pale and stretch marked, and they sagged like fat pancakes onto the shelf that was her bulbous blubber belly. They still had enough heft to them to surge out and stretch her shirt, giving a good view of cleavage, but they were dwarfed by her gelatinous gut which had come to completely dominate her immensely obese body.

Michelle’s arms had grown fatter as well, and with each new bite her bingo wings billowed out just a little more. The pillowly fat quivered anew with each ball of fried dough that she brought to her plump lips. Her fat arms shook furiously as she ate more dough balls, each with more ferocity.

And of course, Michelle’s once model quality face was now a greasy, bloated mess. She looked quite piggish with her doughy double chin and the jowls that jiggled as she ate. Her high cheekbones were gone, replaced by chubby cheeks. Even her nose somehow seemed plumper. She looked like someone who was used to eating, someone who was used to greedily stuffing her fat face. She looked like a fat pig.

She ate like one too. By the time Michelle’s fattening transformation was complete, she was still eating. Now clad in grease stained gray shorts that fully showcased her tree trunk like thunder thighs and the cellulite that covered them, she was practically oinking as she ate, scarfing down the last of her dough balls while her eyes- now quite beady thanks to the overwhelming chubbiness of her cheeks- darted around looking for the next thing to eat. Her gluttonous gut was on full display because her blubber belly was completely exposed by the same crop top that she had been wearing before her transformation began just a few sizes bigger than it had been.

When the tray of dough balls was completely eaten, Michelle smacked her lips and looked around her at her friends.

They were all far heftier too. While nowhere near as obese as Michelle, they were all chubby chicks now with big bellies that sprang forth out of their clothes in doughy muffin tops. The formerly fit ladies were all sporting big fat asses and thighs that threatened to make them waddle, and they all had the kind of piggish habits they would have made fun of others for prior to their transformation. It was a whole fat lady crew, and just as Madame Zara had predicted, Michelle was the lead of them all. After all, she was the biggest, the fattest by far.

Michelle had gone from head bitch in charge to head pig in charge.

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

“Fattening Funhouse Mirror Madness”

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

Yasmine was a show off, the kind of show off who had a ridiculously hot body and wanted to flaunt it so badly that she was frequently overdress of occasions. For instance, most people were likely to wear something akin to jeans and a simple dress to a carnival.

But Yasmine wore a designer dress.

She wore a fancy short cut designer dress that hugged her curves and designer shoes to go with it. Somehow she had resisted the urge to wear stiletto heels to the carnival, but her flats were still very shiny and very new and contributed to the confident strut that she had as she walked about the carnival.

Why dress like this? Why even come to the carnival in the first place? It was simple. Yasmine enjoyed feeling better than everyone else. She loved the way that people looked at her with jealous. She loved the act of looking down on others, and so she enjoyed deliberately creating more of this disparity between hot self and her “lessers” by coming to an event like the carnival where she knew less hot people would be dressed like slobs while she was dressed to the nines.

It gave her a thrill. It gave her power.

That power was about to be taken away from her as she entered Madame Zara’s tent.

Madame Zara could sense Yasmine’s vanity, and she could certainly see it just by how Yasmine carried herself. She carried herself with the air of superiority that Madame Zara so enjoyed destroying.

She knew the perfect punishment for one as vain as Yasmine, and she was eager to hand out another fattening fortune as she dealt the cards that would change Yasmine’s life forever.

“Your view of reality is badly distorted, and the future will soon reflect the truth. You have big things on the horizon, but nobody will ever look at you the same way again.”

Yasmine laughed the whole thing off, thoroughly confused by what the old woman could have possibly met. She exchanged a few curt words, mostly about how this whole thing had been a waste of her time, and left without paying a tip.

After stepping out of Madame Zara’s tent and looking around at the rest of the carnival, Yasmine realized that she was tired of looking at other, lesser people. These fat slobs had grown boring. When she saw the advertisement for the Hall of Funhouse Mirrors, she decided that she would much more enjoy looking at herself for a while.

When Yasmine stepped up to the Hall of Funhouse Mirrors, Gianna was waiting there. She could sense what was about to happen to Yasmine and gripped her own spongy gut in nervous anticipation. As she rolled the fat of her blubbery belly between her chubby fingers, Gianna thought about giving Yasmine a warning, of convincing her to turn away.

But the way that Yasmine looked at her, up and down with scornful judgment in her eyes, changed Gianna’s mind. And she took Yasmine’s ticket with a grin on her face and watched the slim and sexy vixen step inside all the while knowing that a big fat pig was going to come waddling out.

Once inside, Yasmine looked at herself in the first mirror and almost stopped there. She was so gorgeous that Yasmine wanted to reach out and touch her perfect reflection. The tight dress that she was wearing perfectly hugged her tight and toned curves. It showed off her long and muscular thighs, and the perfect amount of thickness that they possessed. And it hugged her heart shaped ass. While the fabric of the dress did obscure the six pack abs that she had worked hard to earn and maintain, it did cling closely to her trim waist and did an excellent job of drawing out the silhouette of her hourglass figure. It laid perfectly flat against her flat stomach and then bowed outward to make room up top for her hefty but perfectly perfect bosom.

She blew herself a kiss as she admired her reflection, and even tossed her beautiful brunette hair over her shoulders in dramatic fashion as she laughed to herself. After that, she turned and got a really great view of her butt, and blew another kiss. Then she faced forward again, pressed her hands to her knees and used her toned arms to push up her buxom bosom and blew a third kiss.

Once she was done flirting with herself, Yasmine moved on to the next mirror.

This was pretty straight forward and stretched out her proportions until she looked tall and skinny. She kind of looked like a pin, extra long and narrow on the bottom but wider on top. Yasmine noted with a smile that even in this mirror that gave her stretched out chicken legs and narrow hips, she still had her bountiful rack.

That was not the case in the next mirror which suddenly stretched her body into a pear shape while warping her top to be much smaller. She looked shorter and stouter and her breasts her greatly diminished in this particular reflection. Meanwhile, her hips were made to be extremely wide and her thighs were warped until they touched together and stretched to the sides. When Yasmine turned her butt to face the mirror, the whole thing shimmered and her butt looked absolutely massive as if it was stretching the dress to its absolute limits and was ready to plop out from underneath the dress and slap onto her fat thighs. Those thighs really did look like big meaty drumsticks the more she looked at them, and Yasmine soon decided that she did not wish to do that any longer. She much preferred, if anything, the mirror that made her look taller and thinner and not like some squat bloated troll with an ass far more suited for staying on the couch.

When Yasmine moved on from the mirror, she didn’t realize that as she moved her butt had a bit more wobble than she was used to, and her dress was just a bit tighter, stretched out across larger hips. She didn’t realize that her thighs were losing their tone and that the new fat that had filled them up and threatened to rob her of her thigh gap was now sloshing about and starting to gently slap together as she took her steps further until the hall of mirrors.

Deeper into the hall of mirrors are where the changing really started to happen. Multiple mirrors reflected her in a variety of ways from different angles. In some her head was huge, in others she was incredibly petite. Some she was once again extremely thin, but more and more often she started seeing herself as extremely fat.

Mirror after mirror she passed and her body kept looking like some kind of obese pig. She’d have huge hips in one, a massive belly in another. Even in one where her boobs we’re outrageously huge she had to admit that we’re entirely too massive. They made it look like she was lugging around boulders, and Yasmine found herself turning away from the mirrors in disgust.

As she went through the hall though she noticed that more and more of the mirrors seemed to lean toward making her look heavier, like she was some kind of twisted glutton, a horrible ham beast. She hated these mirrors and found herself turning away faster and faster, especially once it became clear that there were no more slimming mirrors to be found at all.

But what Yasmine didn’t realize was that as she turned away, a bit of the fat that she was seeing came with her. Shreds of her reflection were peeled from the mirror, slid across the floor and filled her body with fat, starting with her dainty little toes.

Those toes began to plump up and stretch out the fancy shoes they were in. The fabric groaned as her toes turned into mini-sausages and her feet grew fatter. They stretched, wider, longer, swollen with fat as she staggered about from mirror to mirror, her staggering a result of both a growing sense of fear and the fact that she was unused to her growing weight.

That weight didn’t stop at her feet. It kept working its way upward. Fat filled her ankles and calves, fattening them to the point of using them together, and then the fat kept working its way upward into her thighs proper. Her thighs swelled in all directions. The dress she was wearing did little to contain them, especially as it slid up over her saddlebags. Her thighs, which had always been thick and juicy, lost any sign of once being toned as the blubber filled them and they billowed outward. Now with every step she made her thigh fat slapped together with a wet smacking sound. It was like her fat thighs were clapping and applauding her down fall.

Soon, as the swelling continued, Yasmine wasn’t walking anymore. She was waddling from mirror to mirror, staggering about like a fat, drunken penguin. She had absolutely huge quivering thunder thighs covered in cellulite and mostly uncovered by the dress that had ridden up even further thanks to their tremendous girth. And the mirrors weren’t anywhere near done with her.

Just like the rest of her, Yasmine’s ass began to explode with fat. Her previously perky cheeks started to sag softly with fat. They became squishy like chewed up bubblegum, and then like two pieces of bubble come they began to swell outward, ballooning with fat while still sagging downward as well. Her cheeks began to pop out of the bottom of her dress, their large size no longer able to be contained by the fabric. They bounced and jiggled as they slapped against the backs of her thick thunder thighs. Her bloated butt cheeks were similar in size to her thunder thighs not just in expanding girth but also in the cellulite that now covered her soft, squishy flesh. Her flab kept pouring out, and it wasn’t until Yasmine felt the air on her chunky cheeks that she finally realized something was going horribly wrong.

Suddenly her hands flew back toward her bloated, blubbery butt cheeks, and her fingers- already starting to grow plumper- sunk into the flab of her plush posterior. She could feel the fat filling her ass, making her butt growing bigger. She could feel the way fat oozed between her finger tips, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Yasmine looked into the next mirror and found that it wasn’t just showing her figure stretched out. She was watching herself still growing.

Her belly began to burble up. Before this moment her trim tummy had only become slightly tubby. Most of the fat had stuck to filling her lower half. It had come rolling up from her feet as if the fat was toothpaste and her body was the tube. It was being squeezed upward and when it got to her once slender midsection exploded outward. Her gut grew big and flabby. Like toothpaste bursting from the tube it suddenly swelled upward and then spilled forward. It surged and sagged, straining the fabric of the dress which then gave way and allowed her spongy stomach to droop downward like a loose ball of uncooked dough.

It wasn’t just that her stomach surged forward. Her sides expanded as well, springing outward as thick, juicy, very pinchable love handles. Had she been wearing pants, Yasmine would have developed a very noticeable muffin top. As it was, the fabric of her dress instead tucked under the sides of her gut and love handles and clung to them in a way that made her middle look like it was wrapped in a saran wrapped package that was busted and letting the lowest portion of her belly slip out.

Yasmine’s fingers, now quite chubby, moved from her bloated butt cheeks to her billowing blubber belly. Though they now largely gripped at fabric instead of flesh, the sensation was largely the same. Her stomach was soft. It was squishy. She tried to push the fat back into her body, but it was no use. It just oozed between her fingers, even with the fabric between them. Things got even worse. Eventually, Yasmine’s exploring hands worked their way downward and she soon found herself tickling the soft supple flesh of her under belly which was threatening to become completely exposed as it sagged lower and lower and her big belly turned into an absolute apron of fat.

The fingers that frantically gripped her belly blubber were continually getting chubbier as well as the fat filled her arms. Just like her toes, Yasmine’s fingers became thick like sausages, and the gaps that fat was able to ooze through grew smaller as her fingers grew thicker. Her hands overall got fatter, and that fat swelled her wrists and went all the way up into her biceps. Once the fat reached her biceps it started to droop downward again as the tone in her arms gave way to flabby flesh. Her muscular biceps became big flabby bingo wings with fat that shook and sagged downward as it rolled over her fat elbows. Her arms used to be muscular and now they looked weak thanks to all the pillowy fat that made her arms look like melting marshmallows. The fat that filled them and made up her bingo wings now quivered at the slightest bit of movement just like the rest of her body.

Yasmine’s breasts grew bigger as well. They swelled up to outrageous proportions and threatened to spill out completely from the top of her dress. They were huge mounds of quivering flesh adorned by bright stretch marks. She could fell their weight as they surged forward and sagged downward. Though they were barely contained by her bra and cushioned by the shelf-like upper part of her blubbery belly, she could still feel the strain they were putting on her back, which was also getting fatter by the moment. She could feel the juicy roll of fat developing in her lower back and joining with her muffin top. She could also feel the fat growing around her shoulders, pressing against her bra and forming back boobs as her mammoth breasts continued to swell up front.

Finally, Yasmine’s face began to fatten. Just like the rest of her, it swelled up and her previously defined features disappeared under the fat that now filled her cheeks and caused her chin to droop down into a second one. She once looked like an angel and now she looked like a pig with a nose that twisted and swelled up. It was like her features were further distorted by the mirrors. She felt the fat on her forehead thicken and her cheeks become jiggly jowls that also swelled upward in a way that made her eyes look beady. She looked fat and dumb. And her nose gained a more prominent upturned look as it grew out and swelled with fat which gave it an almost snout-like quality. Her swollen nose also made breathing a bit more difficult and in her panic she was forced to resort to a series of snorts that sounded an awful lot like the sound of a pig oinking.

Eventually, Yasmine staggered out of the house of mirrors, having not had any fun at all. She was an obese blob of a woman, the kind she would have readily labeled a pig or cow back when she was thinner. But those days of being slim and sexy were long lost, forever behind that fat ass of hers. And as she waddled about the fair, her mind began to cloud and adjust to the kind of woman she was now, a fatty who still dressed like she was far thinner than she was, someone who wanted to showcase their body and drew the judgment of those around her.

To many, Yasmine would still be considered attractive. But karma would not bring those people to her. Her past vanity and misdeeds would ensure that her life was nothing more than humiliation that would grow over time, just like her already fat body. She was here, she was fat, and that’s all there was to that.

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

“The Carnival’s New Fat Lady”

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

Natalia was a performer at heart. In fact, she was a performer in her daily life as well. She was a dancer, renowned for her skilled movement. She was lithe in body and light on her feet. She was capable of leaping through the air and turning on a dime. And audiences loved her grace, skill and beauty.

And Natalia loved the audience for loving her. She also loved her body, perhaps a bit too much. She viewed herself as the peak of physical perfection, and therefore she looked down at everyone else. She had a special distaste for fat people. After all, in her eyes fat people were lazy and nowhere near as capable of graceful movement like her. They were clumsy slobs who could barely move, and Natlia valued her ability to move gracefully even more than her physical looks.

Her looks were quite gorgeous. She was petite and toned with a shapely butt, her favorite feature and slim legs that were strong enough to let her spring about while being thin enough to maintain a thigh gap. When she wasn’t dancing, Natalia loved to show off her body in an array of outfits. In that way she was always performing.

Madame Zara did not care for her performance as a preening Natalia came strutting into her tent.

Natalia greeted the fortune teller with a pretentious twirl before delicately taking her seat. But the sneer on her face belied her disdainful personality, and Madame Zara dealt her fattening fortune accordingly.

“Your vanity and desire to perform will make you the biggest star here.”

A part of Natalia was sincerely flattered, but she was also creeped out by the tone and purposeful vagary of Madame Zara, so she quickly paid the woman and skipped out of the tent.

In fact, she was ready to leave the carnival completely and was almost out when she happened to turn to her right.

That’s when she saw the Freak Show.

And fat ass Danica dressed up in her ill fitting ring master’s gear. The long tails on her coat did nothing to distract from the fact that her fishnet clad thighs were redundantly thick, and her blubbery ass was hanging out of the shorts she was wearing. Even her corset could not contain her big belly, not to mention her massive boobs.

Natalia felt a compulsive need to make fun of her. It had nothing to do with the fortune. She just wanted to do it all on her own.

“Hey, fat ass! You look ridiculous in that outfit. And what is this? A freak show? In this day and age.”

Danica just smiled at Natalia. She could sense what would soon be happening and was eager to do her job.

“Of course! Come on in. For you? Completely free. Step right up and see the finest performers in this carnival, or anywhere else.”

“Fine performers? I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Judge not, lest ye be judged,” said Danica with a chuckle.

All that got was a roll of Natalia’s eyes.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

She could have walked in at that moment, but after looking the fat Danica up and down with judgment one more time, she just felt like she had to say something.

“Seriously, you really need to diet, Piggy, unless being fat is the only thing you’re good at.”

And then she went inside.

Danica just shook her head and smiled. It was time to get ready for the show.

As soon as Natalia entered the freak show tent, she felt extremely dizzy and her world went black. For a moment she thought she was passing out, but out in front of her she could see a light as if it was illuminating whatever was supposed to be the next room.

And so, with hesitant feet, Natalia moved toward that light. As she did so though, she kept having this unnerving feeling that something was pulling her back, tugging her down. It was like there was a sudden weight that she was carrying, but it wasn’t like a backpack or anything like that. As she focused on the strange sensation she realized that it was coming from… lower.

Suddenly, as the dawning horror of what was weighing her down came to her, Natalia’s hands flew back to touch her butt.

Her perfect butt, her pride and joy, the classically toned and heart shaped ass that she had always prided herself on, was squishy to the touch. With nobody around, Natalia lifted up her skirt and felt the flesh as it pulsed against her slender fingers. She felt the muscle tone that was still there suddenly shift as it gave way to soft, spongy flab. She searched for that tone. She poked and prodded and massaged her beautiful butt cheeks, but all she kept finding was more and more blubber. The fat began to pile on faster than ever. It started to ooze through the gaps in her fingers. Natalia tried to cup her chunky cheeks, but the fat was too much for her hands to handle. The new blubber kept billowing outward, forcing her hands further apart and spilling over her palms. Her ass was becoming enormous, and there was no way to shove all that fat back into her body as much as Natalia wanted to.

She was stuck with two growing ass cheeks that just kept getting fatter and fatter. She couldn’t bring herself to move her hands which were now metaphorically glued to her growing glutes. It was like she needed to keep kneading all of the fat that kept filling her fat ass. The blubber kept bubbling forth, and Natalia felt like her butt cheeks were ballooning, but her bum did not grow upward. Though it continued to surge out, it also sagged down. Her hands could only do so much to hold back the tide of fat now that the dam had burst. Her ass was flooded with fat. The flab was overwhelming and despite her hands of protest, her plump posterior soon outgrew the length of her skirt which was now riding on top of her chunky cellulite covered ass cheeks as if it were a doily on a broken down table. It was no longer a covering and merely just a decoration now, and one that seemed smaller and smaller as Natalia’s already enormous ass grew larger and larger, fatter and fatter.

Of course, the fat didn’t just stick to Natalia’s ass- though there was already plenty sticking there and the sticky fat continued to sag downward.

Those blubbery buns soon found themselves sagging onto the backs of fat thighs that rose up to meet them. Natalia’s thighs shivered and slapped together as they grew fatter. She went from having slender legs that gave her a model’s strut to having thick thunder thighs with sagging saddlebags that quivered with every panicked move that she made. Her thigh fat slapped together until it started to just continuously rub together, and then her legs were forced to part pushed away from each other by the continual flow of fat that was filling them just like her hands had been forced apart by her billowing butt fat. The difference here was that while her legs were being pushed apart, the fat kept sticking together. The thigh gap that Natalia had once had, and had once been extremely proud of, was now completely gone, obscured forever by wave after wave of flab.

Her thunder thighs grew out and around like thick tree trunks of fat. And that fat was soft, squishy, and covered in stretch marks and cottage cheese like cellulite. None of it was remotely hidden by her skirt which continued to rise upward as her hips widened further to accommodate the growth to her ass and thighs. The thigh meat was plentiful, and that fat that filled those thighs soon worked its way downward and plumped up her calves and ankles until, just like so many who have met this same fattening fate, they were combined into bright red swollen cankles. Even further down, Natalia’s dainty dancer’s feet also grew big and fat. She developed big fat clumsy clodhoppers, far too big and fat for normal ballet shoes and complete with bloated sausage toes.

Natalia’s hands flew to her face to wipe at the tears that were staining her cheeks.

And then she felt those cheeks getting softer too.

Natalia had always been proud of her delicate and defined facial features, from her clear cheekbones to her cute button nose, and it filled her with horror to feel that definition melting away as her face grew bloated with fat just like her butt. Her cheeks inflated until her bone structure was buried under fat and she developed jowls that would have been jiggling if Natalia’s fingers weren’t currently propping them up.

What Natalia’s fingers did not prop up was the doughy double chin that dropped down from her once delicate face, drooped toward her chest and wobbled about while the rest of her face plumped up further. Even her nose seemed to get fatter, more bloated, which gave her previously cute button nose a rather piggish quality. Her whole face looked dull and piggish, not that she could currently see it because of the lighting situation. But Natalia could feel her face getting fatter, and she would have continued to feel her face getting fatter if she didn’t suddenly feel her stomach surging against the waistband of her skirt.

By the time Natalia’s hands flew to her stomach and found another burst of fat to fruitlessly fight against, that fat was already well on its way to rolling over the waistband of her skirt. Her trim tummy had grown tubby with turgid fat that surged forward, once again despite the best efforts of her hands to keep it back, and now her once flat stomach was a stodgy pot belly that was getting bigger by the moment. Her abdominal muscles disappeared, buried by fat just like every other muscle in her body. Natalia couldn’t help but feel how soft and squishy her new gut was. She couldn’t help but pinch and knead the rolls of fat that were now filling her hands.

Her growing stomach showed no signs of stopping. It grew further outward and all around. Suddenly, Natalia felt like she was carrying a big bag of blubber, a swollen sack of fat that was incredibly overwhelming. Her blubber belly grew so big that it began to segment, and as Natalia knead the juicy lower roll of fat between her thumbs and index finger- even though the roll of fat was getting so thick that even that was starting to become trouble- she felt the upper half of her double belly surge forward and roll over the backs of her thumbs, threatening to swallow her hands completely with fat.

Natalia had to let go at that point, and when she did, her great big apron of belly fat slapped against her fat thunder thighs with a loud wet slapping sound. That apron of blubbery belly fat was joined at the sides by two thick meaty love handles that connected to the swollen roll of fat that circled around her back. She had a truly massive muffin top, and her shirt was completely useless when it came to containing anything. It had rolled up and looked like little more than a sports bra.

And her own bra wasn’t doing that great against Natalia’s swelling breasts.

Her breasts ballooned outward as they filled with blubber. They quivered as they overwhelmed her bra cups and sagged downward onto the big bloat shelf of her blubbery double belly. They were massive mammaries criss crossed with stretch marks and straining her fat back something fierce with their mighty weight. Were the bra and shirt combo not somehow still holding them up, they would have swung around like pendulums, pancakes of fat given some shape simply because of the sheer volume of fat that filled them. Her perfectly petite breasts were long gone, replaced by these bloated cow udders.

It was funny. At one point in her life, Natalia probably would have said that if she could have changed one thing about her body, it would have been to have bigger breasts. Well, now that she had that in spades, she wanted nothing more than to go back to the days when she dared to consider herself flat chested. She wanted to be thin again. She wanted to be slim and sexy again, perfectly petite like her dancer’s body had once been. But it was not to be.

She just kept getting fatter.

Natalia felt her arms quiver. Until that moment she had been very aware that her entire body had been quivering with fear. But this was a new kind of quiver. It was the quiver that came with growing fleshy, and the fat that had filled the rest of her once slender body was now reaching her arms. Her lithe arms grew heavy with fat. It stretched them out with blubbery flab, and her once tiny biceps were lost completely to the sea of fat that washed over her body, and they were turned into flabby bingo wings.

Even Natalia’s hands, the last vestiges of her slender body, the tools with which she had prodded, pinched, and otherwise explored all of her other explosive changes gave way to the fattening. She held up her hands in front of her fat face and in the dim light she watched as they grew fatter. She watched her palms grow fat and sweaty. She watched her slender, delicate fingers become fatty sausages, thick and clumsy. She had big fatty mitts now, hands that lacked the dexterity they once had. Truly they were fat and clumsy now to perfectly match her swollen feet.

“How would she ever perform now?” Natalia thought as her body continued to fatten. She had hoped that once her hands gave in to the fatness that that would be the end of it. But her entire body continued to expand in all directions.

She was beginning to get dizzy.

The fat kept coming, crashing onto her body in waves. And as she waddled about with more and more pounds piling on, it got harder for Natalia to stay standing. It was like her enormous ass was begging her to sit down. Her titanic tush was telling her what she needed to do, but Natalia didn’t want to listen.

She was too afraid that if she sat down she would never get up again.

Eventually, she had no choice.

Her ass has gotten too fat, and as much as she had her belly to act as a counterweight, it just wasn’t enough. One wrong step, one clumsy move with her fat feet in the dim light, was too much for her fat body to handle. Her fat useless thunder thighs were no help with balance, and though she flailed her fat arms wildly, there was nothing to hold on to, her weak and flabby bingo wings and fat hands with their clumsy sausage fingers would have been useless in supporting her even if there was.

Natalia fell backward.

And into a seat.

The seat itself was strangely comfortable, though most of that was to do with the natural cushion that her big blubbery butt had provided. The more supposing thing was that the chair fit her extra wide body at all.

But it did.

It fit her all too perfectly.

As if it was made for her.

Next to Natalia was a stool, and on that stool sat a family sized bucket of fried chicken.

She knew she shouldn’t eat it. But as the sinfully delicious scent of the fried chicken after over to her and snaked its way into her fat nose, her nostrils flared and she couldn’t help but snort, oink really, in excitement.

And as she oinked, her big blubbery belly rumbled in hunger.

She didn’t want the fried chicken.

She needed it.

Of course, it was just her luck that the bucket of fried chicken was just out of reach. Her fat arms flailed in its direction, but her chubby fingers could not grasp it. She was going to have to work for it, really work for her greasy meal.

It was not easy thanks to the big blubbery gut that blocked her way. Her flabby fat and swollen to the point of practically filling up the entirety of her very fat lap, and she had to work to rock herself forward, fighting against the belly fat to reach the food that would fill it and inevitably make her even fatter.

Her hands desperately pressed against the fat of her belly in an attempt to push it down or over enough for her to bend herself over to get to the bucket of fried chicken. She pawed at her fat like a desperate animal, pressed her fat fingers deep into her flabby flesh.

That’s when she realized that she was no longer wearing her shirt, or her skirt for that matter. Instead she was clad only in a massive brassiere that barely covered her buxom bosom and a tutu that could barely be seen. Most of the tule was completely covered, swallowed up by the underside of her gelatinous gut, and only just enough stuck out from her sides that she could tell what it was.

It helped that the fabric was bright pink.

Natalia’s new clothing was only a fleeting concern for her, one quickly drowned out by her desire for food. She fought her fat some more and eventually managed to rock herself up from her seat just enough to grasp the bucket of fried chicken, and in the back of her mind she realized that that was all she was going to be able to do. Her body was far too fat to gets itself up to a standing position.

That’s when she felt the lights really turn on her.

And she heard the laughter of the crowd.

And the joy in Danica’s voice.

“That’s right everybody. Come one. Come all. Step right up and see Big Fat Nat the Pig Girl! I guarantee that she’s the fattest woman any one of you has ever laid eyes on!”

For a moment, Natalia tried to shield herself from the crowd with one of her fat arms while still using the other to grab a greasy drumstick. But her hunger out weighed her shame, and she began to grab the fried chicken with both hands, tearing into its greasy meat with her teeth and stuffing her fat face as the gawking crowd gazed at her.

Her multitude of chins wobbled. Her whole body jiggled.

And the laughter of the crowd continued to grow.

“That’s right everybody!” barked Danica.

“Check this pig out! She’s too fat to move, so watch as she feasts for your entertainment. She’s going to eat, eat, eat like the pig she is because that’s all she’s good for! She’s pigging out and performing for your amusement.”

Natalia felt Danica’s chubby hand sink into her massive belly and give it a big jiggle which successfully pushed a big belch out of her and made room for more fried chicken.

“You’re such a good piggy, aren’t you?”

Natalia looked at Danica with wide eyes, then to the crowd, then to the bucket of fried chicken as she reached her fat arm and grabbed another piece to tear into.

Well, at least she was still performing.

“Oink. Oink.”

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

Enjoy this story and want more of Madame Zara? You can read "Fame to Fat Fortune" and a bunch of other exclusive stories right HERE in this bundle if you haven't already. Or, you can read just "Fame to Fat Fortune" right HERE.

You can read more Madame Zara and other extra exclusive stories in the Extra Slices collection right HERE if you're an Even More BS patron.

And if you'd like to commission me to write a story, you can do so. For roughly the next week (until the 6th), I'll be having a sale on commissions. Any commissions over a thousand words will get 10% extra. That's 10% more words. Commission 2,000 words? Get an extra 200 (That's on top of your normal patron discount.) Once again, you can DM me here or if you're a Talking BS or Even More BS patron you can DM me on Discord.

2025-05-27 22:42:56 +0000 UTC View Post

TEASERS: "A Carnival of Fortunes"

The first two full stories from "A Carnival of Fortunes" are done and posted in conveniently downloadable PDF format on Discord for 7 dollar Even More BS patrons, and once I'm done with story number three, they will all be coming to patreon for all paid patrons to read.

For right now, here are some teasers for the first two stories: "From Dainty to Doughball" and "Fattening Funhouse Mirror Madness".