"Fat Trimmings" Vol 5. (Patreon)

“Fall of the King and Queen”

They were king and queen of the world - or, at least, the prom. But look at them now. God, they’re so fucking fat.

They were the hotties with great bodies, lean legs and abs that they loved to show off, a jock and his cheerleader. They were perfect and they knew it, and they wielded every ounce of power they had in a way to make people they saw as inferior as miserable as possible. That included fat people.

Making fun of fatties was their specialty. It was more than just a game they played, it was a well practiced art, practically down to a science. They were cruel geniuses when it came to mocking the weights and waistlines of others. Their words were perfect barbs of poison to pop the balloons of others’ self esteem.

Now look at them, a couple of fatties themselves. Those sexy abs have long been replaced with big paunchy pot bellies. Any definition they get is when they’re bloated to the point of being rock hard from stuffing themselves with too many hot dogs, or too much cake, or tons of salty Chinese food. They’ve gone from super fit to big fat pigs, toned to tubby.

The couch is already starting to get pretty crowded. It’s rapidly filling with folds of fat grown from stuffing down handful after handful of candy and chugging down liters of soda. This is what you get from Netflix and chill out with bowl after bowl of caramel coated popcorn and a prodigious amount of pizza pies. They keep up this binging and those love handles will be oozing out from undershirts, sweatily pressed against each other and spilling over the arms of the couch.

And they need the couch. A few years ago they were all about activities. Swimming, track, basketball, cheerleading, dance, you name it they did it all. Now the only activity they do is sitting their flabby asses down in front of the television and stuffing junk food into their piggish faces. Choice of sports to try has been replaced by a choice of snacks to demolish. And the only exercise they get is walking to and from the bathroom or to the bedroom for a quick bout of bloated well sex and a snore filled evening.

Of course that’s if they can even manage to peel those fat sweaty bodies off the couch. Plenty of evenings see them planted there with sticky hands resting on bloated crumb covered pot bellies after passing out in a complete food coma.

Binge eating piggies, that’s what they’ve become. Fill up their trough they can’t get enough. They go ham at the buffet and it shows with every single wobbling pound. They’ve gone hardbodied to hog.

And it took less than five years to get this swollen, this incredibly fat. They’ve gone from pretty to porky, hotties to hogs.

Christ, and they don’t even have kids to blame it on. Just two thin arrogant fools who thought their metabolisms would last them forever. They got too comfortable with each other and turned from slim to slobs. Can’t get out now. They disgust themselves. They disgust each other. But this is what they’ve got and they’re not going to risk being alone. All those years of making fun of fat people have ingrained in their minds that nobody loves a fatty.

And they are some FAT fatties.

How’d they get this way?

It started with college parties like so many things do. Drinking too much beer equals growing big beer bellies. And they never turned down a beer. So the freshman fifteen came and went pretty quickly packed into paunches powered by Bud Lite.

Should’ve known light beer doesn’t work if you just drink more of it.

Partying gave way to stress eating during finals. Growing big led to stress about losing their precious figures which led to stress eating more comfort food to feed their hunger for actual comfort.

Look at her. She used to have such a tight body. She loved to flaunt it in front of everyone. She’d get guys and quite a few women all hot and bothered. And anyone she didn’t make horny she made jealous. She was a minx, a mean spirited fox who could crush anyone under her designer heels.

Now all she’d do is break those heels under her weight. Even her feet have fattened up to the point that they would have burst any of her old shoes. They’re like two swollen potatoes with pudgy toes sticking out. But they’re a lot less noticeable than the rest of her. She used to have the sweetest heart shaped ass that looked great in any pair of jeans, but jeans are long since a memory. She’s been shoving her elephantine caboose into nothing but sweats for the last year, and those sweats are looking mighty tight. They’re filled up not just with the titanic shelf of her cellulite covered ass but the tree trunk thunder thighs that wobble and rub together when she waddles to and from the fridge.

Then there’s her stomach. It used to be her pride and joy, her favorite thing to show off. Cheese grater abs she called them. Well now it’s just packed full of cheese- string cheese, gouda, spray cheese straight from the can. You name it, she’s eaten it. And all of that gorging has given her a great big double belly with a saggy lower roll that constantly sticks out of any shirts she tries to wear. It’s a big spare tire with love handles to match.

Up top has changed as well. Sure her breasts have gotten bigger, but they’re not the pert stunner that they were before. The mammoth, cumbersome globs of sagging flesh. And her face, once slim and angelic, now has a double chin growing a third and fat rosy red cheeks that make her eyes look beady and her upturned nose look positively piggish.

And he’s not looking any better, big former jock with a former jock bod and then some. He used to shove nerds in lockers and pants that fat kids. Now if someone came by and pants hungry hungry hippo boy here, they’d expose his blown out old tight-whites with his jumbo ass cheeks peeking through them. He can’t even bend slightly without exposing his plumber’s crack. He used to run and swim, and now porky gets winded just eating a bowl of ice cream too fast, and fast is the only way he likes to eat anything. All that strength he used to have is gone. The muscles wasted away and those brawny biceps became big hamhocks of flabby flesh that hang over his elbows.

And those tight pecs he once had? Forget about it. Free Willy here has a big honkin’ set of moobs that would’ve made those skinny girls he used to tease and reject jealous. They are quite the set of flabby funbags that rest on the shelf that is his ponderous gut, a bowl full of jelly like no other. That sack of fat can be seen well before the rest of him enters a room. The biggest problem for him is that it sometimes gets in the way as he’s trying to pile his arms full of snacks from the fridge. And he needs those snacks because he can’t go five minutes without stuffing something into his double chinned face.

Together they sit in food stain sweats with the couch creaking under their weight. Whenever the television is off they catch their reflections in the screen and it disgusts them. They still have pictures of their glory days framed. It’s hard to look at them, but they still keep them around because they still dream that they can get back to them. But they’re too far gone now, far too fat and far too greedy. There’s nothing they can do to change. This is who they are. They can dream about the past all they want, but they’re never losing weight. The glory days are gone. They’re fat forever.

That’s the king and the queen of the prom, now the king and the queen of the farm. But it’s time for these fat pigs to go to market, because it’s about to be their five year high school reunion. Every insult they’ve ever hurled is about to be thrown back at them. Every joke, every cruel name, they’re all about to land like grenades blowing up in their fat faces. It’s time for them to get what’s coming to them.

Revenge is here. The vultures are circling, and it’s time for the fatties to be a feast for others.

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

“Feasting By Fridgelight”

Straight from the fridge. That’s what she’s looking over. Her bingo wings are quivering as she throws open the door and looks for anything that she can shove directly into her waiting maw. The hunger is too intense. She doesn’t have time for cooking things. She goes right for the can of spray cheese and grabs it. Her eyes gleam as she pops the top of the can off with her thumb and lets it roll to the floor and under the stove. She knows she’s not going to need to put it back on. This can is never making it back into the fridge.

She swings her huge rhino butt and the massive shift in gravity spins her around and sends her crashing to the wooden floor with a large thud and a groan from the wood loud enough to surely wake her downstairs neighbor. The door to the fridge itself remains open, propped open by a pudgy foot as she sits sprawled out. She has to sit this way because her thunder thighs are too large to close tightly anymore, and leaving them wide enough like this actually leaves enough room for her hand to slide under her double belly and into her strained and already moist panties. The anticipation of spraying that cheese straight into her mouth is making her so horny. She fucking needs it.

What a dirty pig she is, such a naughty cow, a big fat fucking desperate hippo. She can’t even wait to cook anything anymore. She’s a fatty, a slob. Oink. Oink. Oink.

She snorts as she sprays the can of cheese into her open mouth. She slides her other hand into her sopping wet pussy and moans as the cheese runs down her tongue and into the back of her throat. She keeps three fingers inside her pulsing pussy and one finger pressed on the trigger of the spray can. The cheese swirls inside her mouth as her fat hips buck as much as her gelatinous body will allow. Artificially processed cheese piles up in her mouth and begins to spill down the sides, but she’s undaunted. She starts to gobble it all down because she’s a pro. Years of well practiced gorging have taught her how to relax her throat and take it all in. She barely tastes any of it anymore, but she knows it’s there. It’s the act of feeding that gets her off at this point. She’s going to cum to the meer thought of her fucking depraved she is.

The can of spray cheese begins to sputter and the remains spurt out wildly covering her cheeks and breasts. A stray bit of cheese nearly strikes her in the eye, causing her to blink wildly. She wipes up what she can with her sausage fingers and then brings them to her lips and sucks what remains of the cheese off of them. But it’s not enough dammit. She’s so close to cumming, but now the cheese has run out before she could be satisfied. How disappointing. Here she is on the edge of orgasm desperately rocking herself back and forth on the floor of her kitchen in front of her open fridge, but she needs more.

She needs more food.

She wobbles back and forth for several moments like a turtle on its back. Her breathing is heavy from all the lustful excitement combined with the effort of trying to get up. She’s too heavy and horny to actually get her bloated body back to its feet, but she manages to roll herself over onto a hefty hip, and her beady eyes scan the shelves of the fridge looking for something to eat. Her piggish nose sniffs its contents like some sort of obese bloodhound trying to find something she can use to sate her hunger and her lust.

She settles for a half empty jar of mayo and what’s left of a package of cold cuts. With her hand covered in her own juices, she rips off the top of the mayonnaise jar and tosses it aside. She slams the jar down between her legs and as her double belly surges forward the lower roll actually presses against the jar and shoves it several inches forward. She has to lean more and the belly pushes the jar again, teasing her. She manages to move her leg and hold the jar in place, but now the upper roll of her belly spills over the top of the jar.

Still, she grabs a coldcut, sloppily rolls it up and then presses past the fold of her stomach and jam her meaty hand into the mayonnaise jar. The mayo squelches and shakes as her hand enters it. She scoops up as much mayo as she can and it's slathered on her belly as the fat reclaims and recovers the top of the jar. Mayo drips onto her bouncing breasts, her buttery cheeks, her quivering chin, as she dangles the dripping piece of meat over her wide open mouth for a moment of anticipation. Creamy white mayo runs off of the coldcut and drips onto her hand before she shoves the whole thing into her mouth and sucks off the residue.

She moans and a stream of mayo runs from the corner of her mouth and down her chubby red cheek now flush with pleasure. The white bead of mayonnaise rolls downward like a tear and settles inside the crevice made by her double chin, finding a home in the fold of fat, as she bends over to shove another coldcut back into the jar. She crams this one into her mouth as well, and as her tongue wraps around the meat and licks off the mayo, her other hand brings her to a wild orgasm. She sucks down the may and swallows the coldcut as she writhes as much as her fat jiggling body will allow. The sea of flesh that is her body trembles in small waves that radiate outward into large tidal waves of pulsating fat rolls.

Her lust is satisfied, but her hunger is not. There are still several cold cuts in the package, and she’s going to go for orgasm number two as she eats every last one.

“What If” (Part 5)

What if she put on another five pounds? Ten? Should she stop? What’s the difference between putting on fifteen and putting on fifty? Should she at least try to stop? If she tried to stop would she actually be able to?

People are taking notice. There’s no hiding it now. Maybe she should wear a girdle? What if she did? What would that be like?

Could she get away with this big pot belly of hers suddenly going away overnight without everyone noticing? That seems impossible. Surely if she had a large spongy pot belly one day, and then she’d show up with a flat stomach the next people would be more than a bit suspicious. They’d probably figure out that she was wearing some kind of girdle, and if they knew she was relying on shapewear to hide her imperfections then that would just be another way to draw attention to those problems. And then she’d be made fun of for having a fat gut AND wearing a girdle.

At least, that’s what she’d do. If she knew a person who lost their abs and was trying to hide their gut under a girdle, she would have never let them live it down. She’d make fun of them something awful because skinny girls who turn themselves into piggies by being lazy and eating to much is deplorable enough. Skinny girls who don’t want to admit that they’re piggies and start trying to fool everyone with a girdle, a bold faced and unbelievable lie, they deserve the most derision.

She’s been too naughty. She snuck too many snacks, and now she’s stuck considering a girdle. She deserves to be made fun of. She knows it. She deserves to be the butt of jokes because of her big juicy butt, her big fat lazy cellulite covered butt- her flabby freaking huge lard ass.

She’s pathetic, and can she even get a hold of herself? Is there even a point at this point?

No. The girdle is right out. The only real question is-

What will she eat next?

Maybe it’s tacos. Maybe it's burgers. Maybe it's pizza with a side of mozzarella sticks and french fries. What a combination that would be- french fries for her thunder thighs. Yum.

She could go for cheese puffs and pretzels, yodels and rings dings, cake and pie. What kind? Doesn’t matter.

This is why she’s becoming a fat ass. She started letting herself go and now it’s hard to stop.

So now she’ll just have to get herself another pair of stretched out sweatpants because it doesn’t look like she’s going to stop outgrowing her clothes any time soon.

She walks over to spot on the floor where she has carelessly thrown her last fitting pair. (How long until she’s waddling?) Pulls them back on. (Slips. She thinks. She used to be able to describe the motion of putting on these pants as slipping into them. Now she's pulling them. Soon it’ll be tugging. Then they won’t do at all.)

With a pout it’s back to her desk to pour over a myriad of menus and decide.

What should she order next?

The thought of an array of flavors passing over her tongue and filling her growing belly, of feeling absolutely stuffed beyond comprehension, is enough to get her breathing heavily again as she contemplates her further descent into decadence and degradation.