“The Fat Making Notebook Goes Out to the Ball Game” Part 3

Now that part 2 is approved for posting again and can be read right HERE, I’m finally able to post part 3 which has been up for a long time now on the Discord for Even More BS members. Part 4 which features Katie’s grand finale transformation is already on the Discord for Even More BS members.

Here’s part 3.

Enjoy!

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Asami licked her lips as she watched gorgeous, athletic Taylor taking her practice swings in the on-deck circle. The blonde vixen just looked so damn sexy every time she moved. Her beautiful breasts had just the right amount of bounce to them, and her body’s tone was clear even under her uniform. Asami had thought about transforming Taylor right away, but she had decided to wait until the bottom of the inning to make Taylor’s bottom bigger because she figured this would give her the best view of the athletic beauty bloating up into a full blown fatty. She could have done it while Taylor was standing out there in the field, but there was just something about mighty Taylor being up at bat that filled Asami with inspiration for how to fill Taylor the blonde softball babe with soft buttery fat.

She could see the confidence in Taylor’s eyes, even from all the way in her seat. There was just something about that sexy blonde bitch that got on Asami’s nerves, especially when she kept watching Taylor turn her head toward the other team’s starting pitcher.

The pitcher looked like an absolute blob on the mound. Every time she went into her rotation, her entire body quivered. All of the fat that Asami had put on her previously built but entirely athletic frame made her look unsteady as the fat kept radically shifting around, flopping up and down, surging forward. Her fat moved in waves, and when she was done moving it kept rippling, jiggling. Her movements were hypnotic as her fat swayed with every pitch, with every step. Her stomach especially stood out as it surged and swayed about. Her big fat gut should have gotten in the way, but in the end she seemed to use it as an intimidation factor. She looked like she was built to eat an entire tray packed high with hot dogs between innings.

But she threw like Babe Ruth in his prime.

It was like that belly put all of her extra weight behind her pitches, and she had a lot of fat to throw around. Asami had thought making the pitcher fat as hell would have been a hindrance, but if anything it seemed to give her even more of an edge. Perhaps the batters were too distracted by her undulating fat. Maybe they had underestimated her because of her sheer size and extremely blubbery appearance. Whatever it was, two had gone up and two had gone down in order by the time Taylor strutted up to the plate like a combination of a confident softball player and experienced runway model. She didn’t have fear in her eyes. She didn’t even just have confidence.

She had disdain.

The fat on the pitcher’s body filled Taylor with disgust. She wasn’t going to strike out to anyone, let alone a complete lard ass. To Taylor, this wasn’t just another high pressure at bat down two outs. This wasn’t just about setting the pace for the game. This was about defending her own personal philosophy, that slim and fit was better than fat, that this gluttonous slob, this blob of blubber jiggling - big and round on the pitcher’s mound- had no chance against her. Taylor was better than her. Taylor was better than any fatty.

So she strutted up to first base and dug her heels in.

And Asami opened up her notebook.

“Taylor is going to gain weight until she reaches base and gain no less than one hundred pounds. Her clothes will stretch to barely contain her blubber, and everyone will treat this as completely normal like she had just been naturally packing on the pounds since the end of last season and is now just really fat and out of shape.”

Once the words were written down, the spell began to work its magic.

With the clock ticking, Taylor put her bat up and stared down the fat pitcher without even noticing the tightening of her own belt as her belly began to soften.

As Taylor grit her teeth, her gut grew just a little bigger, softer. The abdominal muscles that she had put so much pride in relaxed into flab as she developed a portly little pooch, a nice spongy bit of fat that pushed out her shirt and strained against her belt. When she dug her heel in there was just a bit of jiggle. Though impercitable to those around her, Taylor herself might have noticed if she wasn’t so concentrated on the plump, plus-sized pitcher.

That concentration didn’t help her much.

The first pitch was a beautiful heater that painted a picture perfectly right in the upper inside corner of the strike zone. Taylor saw it coming, knew she had to swing at it, but the bullet just roared past her.

As she swung, her new belly fat jostled, but that wasn’t the only place the pretty blonde jiggled. Her toned thighs shook with her swing. The fat they had gained quivered even as it stretched out the fabric of her uniform pants. Even her ass had grown a little bit of extra softness that now bounced as she stomped her foot into the dirt and got herself ready for the second pitch.

Taylor looked up at the fat pitcher, and watched the fatty’s doughy double chin expand as she grinned back at her. Taylor’s unface also slightly softened, and her high cheek bones started to disappear, but she hadn’t noticed that part.

The next pitch was another heater high and inside, but it wasn’t going to catch the corner perfectly, and Taylor wasn’t going to be fooled. She tilted her head back, and the umpire called a ball to even the count and one and one. As she nodded her head in approval, Taylor’s softer face began to form her own double chin.

She readied herself again and gripped the bat tightly with fingers that were slowly starting to thicken, but their fattening pace was far slower than that growth of her gut. By the time the third pitch came, a slider with had a surprising amount of speed on it that got her chasing outside and missing, Taylor’s gut had gained a considerable amount of gut, and it visibly shook underneath the uniform shirt that was now just starting to strain at the buttons thanks to the combination of her growing gut and her lumpy new love handles.

Her thighs were growing thicker as well which made the legs of her pants start to look like strained sausage casings. That swing had also revealed just how much flabbier her arms had grown. She now had bingo wings that kept jiggling even as she brought her bat back up to her shoulder and readied herself for the next pitch. Her ass too no longer stood up with its usual perkiness. It had grown fatter and far saggier. Her chunky cheeks threatened to sag onto her thunder thighs as she once again took up her batting stance.

That stance was getting wider just like the rest of her.

Taylor was starting to feel the sweat breaking on her brow. She thought this was purely because of the stress from being behind in the count one and two, but the truth was that she was starting to sweat mostly from all the new blubber that was finding its way onto her body, softening her athletic frame, fattening her up and making her plumper, wider, rounder.

Ahead in the count, and getting a little cocky, the fat pitcher decided to change Taylor’s eye level and mix up the speed with a change up high and outside, but it drifted a bit too far and Taylor didn’t bite.

Of course, her fattening body made her look like she had plenty of appetite.

Her boobs were growing very much, but they did get softer and began to sag considerably. In contrast, her belly grew very quickly and while it also sagged in front of her, the upper part of her blubbery belly rose, and her softer, sagging breasts rested on it like a shelf. Those already flabby arms of hers grew fatter as well, shaking even more as she fouled off the next pitch. As her body filled with fat all around her, and her uniform stretched to mostly accommodate it, it gave the illusion that Taylor’s puppy fat filled breasts, though actually bigger, were smaller than they used to be.

Taylor fouled off another pitch. And another. With only one strike left to go, she was determined not to let anything get by her and had to keep swinging at anything close. The more she fouled off though, the long her at bat lasted, and the longer her at bat lasted the more weight she gained.

She was getting really fat. There was a lot more junk in her trunk, two big bulbous butt cheeks that quaked and slapped together as she stepped out to take a few more practice swings before stepping back into the box. The timeout kept the fat pitcher frustrated and didn’t let her get into a rhythm, but it also meant that the at bat was extended further which extended her waistline as well. Her thighs slapped together as she stepped back into the batter’s box. They were full of thunder, and Taylor was still completely unaware of how much her thick thunder thighs were now forcing her to widen her stance further and further. She could only focus on the fat pitcher, and she squinted at her as the sweat continued to break on her thicker brow. That sweat ran down her chubby cheeks until it ran into the crease of her double chin which was now permanent.

As Taylor and the fat pitcher stared each other down, it was clear to Asami that they were now the same weight. And with every extra second that ticked by, Taylor added on a few more pounds and was now becoming the fatter of the two. How much fatter she was going to get was the only question left to be answered. And with the way Taylor was attacking this at bat (despite her growing size), it could go for quite a while yet.

Foul ball. Foul ball.

Asami had to give it to her, Taylor had skill. She had grit. She also had girth.

And that girth was growing.

The next pitch was a change up inside, and Taylor let it go with a check swing. Earlier in the at bat, the bitch would have been a sure fire strike and the at bat would have been over. But Taylor’s burgeoning figure had grown so fat and wide that she was starting to really crowd the batter’s box. The pitch practically grazed her gut with now almost hung over the plate.

Ball three.

Much arguing ensued after that. The fat pitcher was furious. Her blubbery body bounced with excitement and she barked and bellowed about Taylor crowding the plate. Taylor, not being one to back down, barked back which caused her own big belly to bounce. The umpire eventually warned both sides, the fight died down, and the bat got to continue.

But the whole thing had taken up more time which meant Taylor gained more poundage.

And then Taylor took another timeout.

One chubby hand pressed against her fat knee, and the heel of her palm dug into the doughy fat of her tremendously thick thunder thigh. She didn’t notice the way the fat was molding itself around her hand or the way her belly fat pressed on the buttons on her shirt enough to create great big gaps that allowed her blubber to peek through. She didn’t feel the way that even her feet which had grown fat- complete with sausage toes- now made her cleats feel very tight. Taylor could only focus on her breathing because it was getting harder and harder to catch her breath.

Her sagging breasts heaved and swung about as she huffed and puffed. All the weight that had piled onto her once slim, and toned body was starting to really take its toll. The at bat had gone on a long time and been taxing enough, but the added blubber was starting to get to the point that even just standing for a long time was taxing. She could feel the pain starting to shoot through her fat lower back. But Taylor knew she had to push through it. She had already come this far.

Another practice swing showed just how much her fat arms had grown. The fat billowed out from under her sleeves, straining the cuffs, and her bingo wings shook furiously and for a long time after she stopped her swinging motion. Her whole body was covered in loose quivering fat and kept growing fatter as she stepped back into the batter’s box, which she was now easily spilling over no matter how far off the plate she stood.

Foul ball. Foul ball. Foul ball.

It was a battle of wills, two fatties struggling against each other and the weight of their own bodies.

Foul ball. Foul ball.

Of course, only one of them was still actively getting fatter.

Blubber kept coming as the at bat continued. Taylor’s breasts grew bigger but they were still dwarfed by the rest of her fattening form. Her belly grew the biggest. It stuck out like a shelf and made her belt disappear as it rolled over and hung down toward her massive tree-trunk like thunder thighs. By this point, Taylor was far fatter than anyone she had ever made fun of and still going.

Then came the heater.

Inside. Tight to the batter’s box. In the beginning it would have been a perfectly painted strike. Just a few pitches ago it would have been ball four. But now…

The ball struck Taylor’s blubbery belly like it was hitting the broadside of a barn. Her gut hung out so far over home plate that there was no way around it. She got plunked in the pudge, and her entire body quiver. The fat undulated outward from the point of impact and continued to jiggle as she doubled over in pain momentarily. Then, once Taylor realized what this meant- that she would get to take first base and had effectively won her duel with the fat pitcher- her blubbery body bounced a lot more as she jumped in victory.

Her jumping was not very high since the woman who once could have been a rather springy cheerleader was now incredibly obese. Her heavy weight truly kept her from making it very far, and her fat feet barely got off the ground. Still, she jumped enough for her belly breasts and bloated ass cheeks to all bounce in rhythm. That rhythm was lost as soon as she hit the ground and her body fat quivered in all directions. She was a bloated sweaty mess celebrating the fact that her body was so fat that she had gotten her pudge plunked by the pitch, but getting on base was getting on base, and it was a big deal especially with their clean up hitter, Katie, set to come up next.

Of course, Taylor still had to get to first base.

Asami smiled to herself as she looked down and peaked back at what she had written in her notebook.

Taylor is going to gain weight until she reaches base and gain no less than one hundred pounds. Her clothes will stretch to barely contain her blubber, and everyone will treat this as completely normal like she had just been naturally packing on the pounds since the end of last season and is now just really fat and out of shape.

Well, Taylor had already gained well past one hundred pounds of pure blubber, and her clothes were indeed struggling to contain all that fat. She looked absolutely ridiculous with the way her uniform stretched and fat found ways to poke out wherever it possibly could. Each small bit of movement seemed to cause to flesh to peak out from somewhere. And Taylor still needed to make it all the way to first base for the weight gain to stop.

First base might as well have been a mile away given how fat she was and how slowly she moved.

Being hit by a pitch doesn’t go down in the records as a walk even though on normal occasions that pitch would have been ball four. It was still very fitting though because what Taylor did after getting hit by that pitch wouldn’t truly be able to be called walking. She waddled down the first base line. Her massive thighs rubbed together and pushed her legs outward into an awkward shuffle. Her fat feet heavily plodded along as she continued her slow ponderous waddle to the bag, gaining more fat with every step until she finally reached it and the changes stopped.

By the time Taylor took her place at first base she looked like someone who had absolutely no business being on a ball field. She looked like someone who could barely get off a couch. The woman who once could have been a model was now the perfect model of extreme obesity.She was a tremendous blob of blubber from her fat head to her plump sausage toes.

Those sausage toes were part of two very fat feet which now filled her cleats to their absolute fullest. Above her feet were a pair of incredibly swollen cankles. Her previously slim calves and ankles had gotten far too fat and fused together into the cleverly named cankles that were now swollen not just from the fat that filled them, but from the exertion of having to move Taylor’s big fat body. And above those blown up cankles were some truly tremendous thunder thighs. The slabs of fat were covered in cellulite and were so thick that they stretched the fabric of her uniform pants so thin that the cottage cheese pattern was clear even from a distance.

Her ass cheeks had bloated into two massive orbs of fat that struggled to be contained by her pants and had a tendency to pop out the top as she moved around. This meant she was constantly having to tug up the back of her pants, something that was not easy to do given the size of her arms and girth of her fat back. Taylor once had such a tight toned ass that she loved to show off. It earned her a lot of admiration, and now she had a doughy dumper that earned a lot of humiliation. Her bloated butt cheeks were also covered in cellulite just like the thunder thighs that they sagged down onto.

Taylor’s belly was by far the biggest part of her. Her blubber gut hung over the waistband of her pants, spilled out from under her uniform shirt and rolled down toward her fat knees. Her globular gut pressed the shirt so much that the gaps between incredibly strained buttons (which were only holding on thanks to the parameters of what Asami had written in the notebook) were so large that her flabby flesh was clearly visible as it oozed through the holes. Her big belly was also paired with massive meaty love handles that gave her a mighty muffin top, and quite the sweaty one at that given the exertion it had taken to lug her fat ass all the way to first base. Her breasts had grown bigger, but they still looked small when compared to the rest of her, especially her girthy gut. It was divided into multiple sizable rolls of buttery fat, and her turgid tummy really completed the lazy girl look that her fat body was going for.

She had flabby arms and a big fat face too. Taylor’s once slender features were completely obscured by fat and she now sported chubby cheeks with jiggly jowls and a multitude of chins. Her piggish face was flush as she huffed and puffed and snorted while trying to catch her breath. It wasn’t easy being a big girl and having to struggle with moving while also putting up with plenty of jeers from the stands from people who couldn’t help but make fun of her.

Fatty felt like a slob too. Her energy was zapped but her hunger was cranked. As she stood on first base, she could catch the faint smell of hotdogs in the stand, and her mouth was watering. Her greedy gut grumbled with hunger, and Taylor wanted to beg to be taken off the field so she could stuff her fat face with food. But she had at least some shred of dignity left and kept herself in the game, at least physically. Keeping her head in the game was a different story as it kept wanting to drift toward her next meal. She wanted to stuff herself with greasy food so badly, no matter how fattening it was. And Taylor knew that she was already fat enough.

There was no denying it. Pig wasn’t a big enough word to describe the formerly trim Taylor.

Although she still couldn’t make the sound for it, she was a great wide whale of a woman.

People in the stands were not afraid to let her know how fat she was too. Although a chorus of whale sounds was a bit tough to achieve, the visiting section (and even plenty of supporters from the home team) had been eager to oink and moo in her direction. And they were working hard to come up with demeaning chants that they could shout her way while she idled on first. Because, sure, the pitcher had a big butt, but it wasn’t nearly as fat as Taylor’s massive mounds. Those blubbery butt cheeks were working hard to weigh her down like twin anchors and keep her stuck at first base.

And as Taylor stared down the line to second base, it was like a cartoon with the base seeming to get farther and farther away. The winded fat woman sighed heavily, jowls (and the rest of her body) jiggling at the notion of having to run with any kind of speed. Her thighs were already chafing, and her feet were already so sore. Taylor was clearly no longer the athlete she once was and was stuck dreading having to do anything other than sit on her big fat ass. Even standing on the base was beginning to feel like a terrible chore. Her massively obese body was not built for this kind of thing. And while she rubbed her flabby gut and stood on first base, she knew she didn’t want to run. She just wanted to be at home eating. Softball was decidedly no longer for her.

Taylor squeezed the lower most roll of her belly, a brand new nervous habit, as she pondered what she was going to have to do next. She prayed for a pinch runner, but nobody was coming. Instead she was going to be left to plod her way to second (there was no way she had any hope of going past there if she had to do anything other than a leisurely stroll). Maybe she would get lucky and the last out would be made before she had to do anything.

But Katie was up next to bat, and Taylor knew the likelihood of having to run in her future was very very high. Katie was more than just gorgeous and cold. She was the best on the team by far, and the fat pitcher, who was now much thinner than Taylor, was also almost as tired as her after that excruciatingly long at bat. Katie was very likely to make contact, and if Taylor didn’t manage to move her fat ass, she was going to hear it from Katie later. That was Katie’s leadership style after all, to be a real bitch.

Meanwhile, up in the stands, Asami sat with her notebook open, ready to seal Katie’s fattening fate.