"Fat Trimmings" Volume 13 (Patreon)

Here is the latest volume of my continuing fat flash fiction series.

Enjoy.

“Big Sister”

Cindy was a snobby sorority sister, the classic stereotype. She was a hard bodied hottie with a trim waist and pert bubble butt, toned legs and perky breasts. She was the kind of prim and proper princess who had come to college used to being the prettiest and most popular woman she knew. She had been head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and prom queen. She joined her sorority and wasted no time in angling her way into power.

She was also one of those southern California sorority girls who loved to flaunt her tight bikini body all year long. One of her favorite things to do was get people drooling as she pulled her lithe body out of the pool. Cindy loved to show off her perky, perfect butt in the tiniest of bikinis. She was a tanned and toned goddess, the envy and desire of all.

Well, some of Cindy’s littles began to find Cindy’s vanity and arrogance to be incredibly irritating, and they grew jealous of her ability to get the attention of anyone she wanted, so they decided to put an end to Cindy’s reign of dominance by putting an end to Cindy’s slim and sexy body.

And their plan started with feeding Cindy’s ego. There were lots of compliments, and an endless array of them. And there were plenty of remarks about how jealous they were of Cindy’s looks, her slim figure, and her ability to eat whatever she wanted without gaining a pound. They pushed Cindy’s popularity and kept her as the center point of as many parties as possible. And once the feeding of her ego went as far as they could take it, that’s when they took their plan to the next stage, feeding her stomach.

The parties became the perfect place to fill Cindy with heavy beer and cocktails, and once she was good and liquored up, it was easier to ply her with food. And when she was inevitably hungover the next day? Lots more food to make her feel better. Then, because people were just nice and Cindy was just so deserving of them, she was given gifts all the time, baskets and baskets of junk food to snack on, and because she was convinced that she could stuff her face as much as she wanted without gaining weight, stuffing her face was exactly what she did.

And all that eating eventually had the desired effect, not one that Cindy would have wanted of course, but it was exactly what her rivals wanted. Soon, Cindy was getting fat. The party pounds were piling on, and all that junk food was leading to some serious junk in Cindy’s trunk.

The first thing to cave on Cindy was her abs which became to cave outward into a soft and spongy pot belly. Her doughy gut jiggled with each step, and it would have made buttoning her jeans difficult if her sorority sisters didn’t keep strategically swapping them out for secretly larger sizes. And any that they didn’t get in time, well the wash had obviously shrunk them, worn out the bottoms enough to make the rip.

That was the next thing that grew big and fat, Cindy’s bottom. Her perky butt ballooned into a blubbery mess, covered in cellulite. It looked ridiculous in the string bikinis that Cindy still insisted on parading around in. Her chunky rear wobbled up and down and attracted equal parts stares and snickers. But everyone was careful not to insult Cindy to her face lest she catch wise to what was going on. They wanted to keep her fattening as much of a secret as possible until there would be nothing Cindy could do anymore.

So Cindy kept plumping up. Her clothes kept getting tighter and replaced. And people kept noticing but not saying anything. It was a dangerous cycle with devastating effects on Cindy’s waistline. Her beer belly became a full blown beer gut, a turgid mass of jiggly fat filled constantly with alcohol and snacks. It was a permanent bloated food baby that poured over the waistbands of all of her pants and spilled out from under all of her shirts. It made every t-shirt an unflattering crop top, and while her breasts also got bigger, her belly outpaced them by far and drew any attention away from her bigger but softer and saggier breasts.

Her belly would spill onto her fat lap when she sat down. This lap was so fat because of the thick, wobbling thunder thighs she grew from all of her partying, grazing, and gorging. Her thighs grew fat, and when she sat they spread out like big lumps of melting butter and pressed together. They were starting to press together even when she was standing, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Cindy would have to start waddling around.

Her chunky caboose followed suit, becoming even bigger lumps of fat that wobbled about with a mind of their own. Her flabby ass cheeks could barely be contained in anything that she wore, let alone her precious bikinis.

And it was one of those bikinis that led to Cindy’s ultimate downfall.

At a pool party, drunk Cindy went on one of her tirades about several of the girls that were there, and, silently but unanimously, everyone at that party that had been a part of fattening up Cindy decided that this was the time to bring the fat girl back down to reality. The comments flew! There was oinking! Mooing! Cindy the Cow became a very popular nickname. And there was so much pinching, and prodding, and poking.

Cindy couldn’t escape it. She was surrounded by humiliation. Every taunt she had ever thrown, every gesture, every cruel judgmental act she had ever engaged in, it was all paid back to her in that moment. And, as someone shoved a delicious piece of cake in Cindy’s mouth while oinking at her, Cindy stepped just the right way to get her bikini bottoms to burst and elicited another loud round of laughter that last for far longer than Cindy would have liked. She was detained from getting her fat ass inside until everyone who wanted to got a good look at what her formerly perfectly pert butt had turned into, a bloated, blubbery, cellulite covered mess.

Cindy didn’t wear bikinis after that. She didn’t wear much in the way of fashionable things. Once her sisters stopped swapping out her clothes, Cindy settled into a life of sweatpants. See, Cindy’s weight kept climbing as she became an emotional overeater. She became something of her sorority’s pet pig, a party trick people enjoyed pulling out the make fun of. As she became more of a recluse, her tan skin became pale, and she turned into a total fat loser.

That’s how she is nowadays, a big fat loser. She works a menial office job. Her once promising future is gone, and she’s just another stereotypical fat secretary, the butt of plenty of office humor because of her big flabby butt. And that’s all she’ll ever be, a big fat fatty forever.

A lot of the women in her office, women Cindy would have felt superior to and looked down upon in the past don’t even call her by her name. They just call her Fatso.

Cindy still looks at old pictures of herself, and she finds it hard to believe she was ever so smoking hot. As she cradles her pale, fat, gut in her hands, she misses the tan abs that used to be there, but she knows that the fat girl she is now is a result of her own mistakes, her greed, her laziness, and mostly her arrogance. She has been crushed by the weight of her own vanity and is stuck with her obese frame, Fatso forevermore.

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“Hunk to Chunk”

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Look at him. He used to be so hot, a real ladies man you know? He used to be a playboy, a player, a cheat. Well, now his options are far more limited. He used to have his pick of women, now it’s just his pick of wing sauces.

Look at that fat face, that stupid, doughy, double chinned face. He used to have a model quality face. His whole body used to be model quality. He looked like he was chiseled out of granite. Now he looks like he’s been molded out of Playdough. He was an arrogant jock, a hardbodied bully. And now he’s just a doughy fat boy, a chunky, chubby, lumpy, fatty, a fat boy through and through.

Look at fat boy eat. He really knows how to stuff his face. Back when he was an athlete he used to eat plenty, but back then his arrogant ass would work those calories off, but now that ass is just sitting down and getting fatter by the day. It’s good for nothing but splitting pants. Fat boy here has definitely ruined more than a few jeans from his chunky butt bursting out of them.

He really has gone from hunky to chunky, the guy everyone admired to the fat loser everyone makes fun of. It’s the perfect karma for a guy who used to love to flaunt his body and taunt others, even to the point of physically bullying them. He used to make so many people’s lives a living hell, and now what goes around comes around and makes him round, very very round. He is a real porker, an absolute pig who can’t stop stuffing his fat face. The fatter he gets, the more food he needs. His weight gain and the rejection he faces because of it makes him sad, and his sadness makes him eat, and it’s a vicious cycle that has turned him from an arrogant playboy to a fat pathetic loser.

His mighty muscles have gotten puny, replaced by layers and layers of fat. He used to be tight and trim. Now he is fat and flabby, a saggy collection of folds and rolls, a well-fed hog of a man, a full blown oinker. He is known by many nicknames: Piggy, Porker, Oinker, Fatso, Tubby, Fatty, Pumba, Fat Boy. And he’s more than earned them all.

He used to have abs, cheese grating abs, abs that he loved to flaunt in front of everyone. They were the kind of abs that he would arrogantly shoehorn into any conversation he could. Well, now he’s got a flabby gut, a big beer belly, a pot belly so large that it also likes to interject itself into conversations, either through loud rumbling to signal his piggish hunger or peeking out from under his shirts so that everybody can see the his stretch mark covered spare tire. His abs were his favorite feature. Now his gut is his greatest source of embarrassment.

But it’s not his only source of embarrassment. He used to have tight pectoral muscles, a well sculpted chest, and now look at him. He’s got big bitch tits, jiggly moobs. Thos big saggy moobies swell out and fill his shirts embarrassingly. He looks like he might need to consider a bra for his man boobs. They’re soft and saggy and sad just like the rest of him.

His thighs used to be athletic, but now he’s bloated with heavy tree trunk legs and a blubber butt with two plump cheeks that people love to tease him about. He is an embarrassingly flabby fatty.

His reign as king is over. He’s a fat loser from now on, and everyone else gets to revel in his downfall.

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“What If” Part 13

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What if she hits 300 pounds?

That’s quite the number, quite the LARGE number, an impossibly large number that she had never considered before. Before she went on her gaining journey, long before she accepted that that’s what she was doing, she was just one hundred and ten pounds, and hitting three hundred pounds would mean that she would be almost two hundred pounds heavier than when she was a slim and sexy hottie.

And if she can reach three hundred… what’s another ten pounds? Ten more pounds would make her a full two hundred pounds heavier. And then another ten pounds on top of that? She would be three hundred and twenty pounds, and if she reached three hundred and twenty pounds, she would officially be twice the woman that she used to be.

She wondered what that would look like, being so hugely obese that there would be enough of her to make two of her.

She would have a huge spare tire, a rumbling ever hungry gut. It would be so big that it wouldn’t even be a single rolling ball of fat. It would be a big, soft, jiggling double belly, a segmented fatty mush, a huge amount of turgid fat hanging over her pants and working its way down toward her knees. And she could see herself eventually growing a big fat sagging belly that does reach down to her knees, a sloshing mass of gelatinous fat. She used to have a sexy six pack, abs that made people jealous, and she’s been growing this belly fatter and fatter, and it’s a truly bulbous blubbery thing.

Speaking of blubbery things. Her ass cheeks have already grown from being tight and perky to being a full on blubber butt. They would be massive mounds of quivering flesh, pants straining- and bursting- ball of blubber. She can easily imagine her flabby butt cheeks spilling over chairs, breaking chairs. She can see herself eventually growing so large that her incredibly fat ass takes up an entire sofa.

At 300 pounds, her thighs would be touching down almost to her knees. She would have quivering thunder thighs, full of soft wobbling flesh that rolls over her knees. She would never be able to go anywhere without waddling about. She used to have a strut like a model. She used to be able to run marathons and do back handsprings as a cheerleader. Now she’s a fat waddling piggy who gets winded walking from the couch to the kitchen, and it’s only going to get worse.

She knows that she’s so far past the point of no return. She’s going to keep stuffing her face endlessly and outgrowing all of her clothes. Luckily, her streaming work is doing well enough, and she gets plenty of donations from her fans to pay for her immense food budget and her new clothes, and that’s why she knows that she’s doomed to get fatter. They’re enabling the inevitable.

Three hundred pounds?

It was a number that seemed to be impossible for so long. And now it seems like it’s just a new beginning. And it thrills her. It drives her to eat more, to see how much she can cram into her face. She wants to stuff herself more and more so she can grow more and more, faster and faster.

Four hundred pounds?

Five hundred?

How big will she get?

How big can she get?