"Fat Trimmings" Volume 42

Fat Tuesday Weeks starts off with "Fat Trimmings" Volume 42 which includes two stories, both sequels to stories I've written elsewhere. "The Fat Making Notebook Likes the Nightlife" is a continuation of the "Fat Making Notebook" series. And "Thick As a Whale" is a Thick Burger story that is a sequel to "Swim Star" from Volume 11 and "Mermaid or Manatee" from Volume 22.

Enjoy!

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“The Fat Making Notebook Likes the Nightlife”

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The night was young and ready for fattening. Asami wasn’t one to usually go clubbing, but with the fat making notebook in hand she felt far more confident than usual. And the darkened dance floor of a nightclub seemed like a great place to get into some mischief.

Plenty of the people that had made Asami’s life miserable were club goers. They were real woo-woo party girls who loved to wear short dresses and show off their hot bodies. They were vain vixens who didn’t pay for drinks. They loved to flirt with guys, get their reward, and leave the guys hanging. (Not that Asami cared much about the fate of men mind you. She just found the system of “be hotter and pay less” at the bar to be incredibly unfair. It was capitalism at its unchecked worse.) Tonight, Asami was feeling a bit like a socialist.

She was ready to redistribute the weight.

And that weight distribution started on her way to the club. Right there on the street, Asami saw two ladies, staggering in their heels clearly barely of legal drinking age and not quite ready to handle a night full of partying. They were so outrageously pretty even if they were embarrassingly drunk. Asami looked at these two pretty girls, made of privilege and dressed in their mini-dresses hugging tight to their toned bodies. She was insanely jealous of them, and yet, she couldn’t help but feel bad for them seeing them struggling like this, blindly wandering through these town in heels that were ready to break. Even as a duo, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

That’s when she realized she could solve her jealousy and help them out at the same time.

She pulled the notebook out of her purse.

“These two drunk girls have big butts, big bellies, and even bigger appetites. They’re going to head to the local pizza shop and split an entire pizza between the two of them along with a bunch of garlic knots. They’re going to stuff themselves until they sober up and then eat some more.”

Just like that the dresses got a lot tighter. But women grew butt made of big buttery buns of fat, blubbery masses that stretched the dresses out sideways and then forced them to ride up until the bottoms of their chunky cellulite covered ass cheeks. Their thighs thickened somewhat and the muscle tone loosened with fat, but they didn’t grow nearly as much as their blubber butts. Those became quite comically bulbous.

Their bellies grew quite sizable as well. Their taut middles gave way to guts that now stretched their dresses to their limit. The two women looked like quite the sight with their big blubbery bellies and equally big asses sticking out at opposite ends like perfect counterweights. Their bellies were clearly spongy and jiggled with every step, and their dresses wrapped tightly around them to showcase every new ounce of fat. It was like they were vacuum sealed in.

And those big bellies growled with hunger.

The hunger ripped through them, and, pulled by a power that was not their own, they made their way across the street to the local pizzeria to gorge themselves on a pepperoni pie and a bunch of garlic knots. As they moved, slowly and drunkenly, their flabby bellies shook in front of them and were so heavy that it caused them to sway off balance and gave them a kind of waddle that really made their blubbery butts bounce.

After that, Asami fattened up another random hot woman purely because she was about to be one more person standing in line in front of her, and Asami was feeling impatient. She gave this woman tremendous thighs and an appetite to go with them.

Her already curvy hips grew nice and wide, greatly straining the dress and the colorful leggings that she was wearing. Her thighs thickened with fat to match her widened hips. Any sign of tone was quickly lost as her thighs filled so quickly with fat that said thigh fat slapped together. Her thighs slapped together again and again and again with a pace that at first grew more rapid before stopping entirely like a quarter spinning on a table in its last gasps. Her thighs grew so thick that that fat stopped getting closer and closer together and just started rubbing together and then constantly pressing together before pushing her legs out nice and wide, forcing her to waddle.

And waddle she did, away from the club and right up to a hotdog cart instead. She quickly ordered a pair of hotdogs and a pair of chili cheese dogs. The first hotdog was gone before the first of the chili cheese dogs was ready. She had after all thought ahead and knew she would need something to tie her over until she got to the main event. The second hot dog went down in short order, and then she was onto the chili cheese dogs. She scarfed them down one right after another with no concern for the condition of which quickly became spattered with chili and cheese. Before she was even done with the first one, she was ordering two more.

In total two regular hotdogs and four chili cheese dogs were consumed by the woman with the large thunder thighs that now filled her leggings- fittingly enough- like overstuffed sausages. Speaking of, before waddling back to the line to get into the club, she ordered one big Italian sausage with the works so she could keep her energy up while waiting to be let into the club, something she still had all the confidence in the world would happen despite the strange looks she was getting from passers by who were gawking at the size of her almost cartoonishly large, flabby thunder thighs.

Asami meanwhile was now almost at the front of the line. She decided to add just a few pounds to women in front of her with the caveat that they would gain even more the more they danced. She figured that would give her some entertainment throughout the night. 

Then, when it was her turn, the bouncer looked Asami over, up and down. 

“No fat chicks,” he said brusquely. 

“What?” gasped Asami. 

“But it’s ladies’ night.”

“Not for you, fatty,” laughed the girl behind Asami as the bouncer nodded at her and let her pass. 

Well Asami was going to have none of that. 

“It’s BBW night here at the club and these fat and happy and ready to party while the one being let in in front of me is recently fat and extremely self-conscious about the outfit that she’s squeezed herself into.”

Bianca suddenly didn’t know why she was here. She couldn’t believe it. 

Clubs like this used to be her thing. She used to own the dance floor. She used to turn heads. She used to be so slim and sexy and confident. 

And then she got fat. 

Bianca couldn’t even remember how it has happened. It must have been a whirlwind of bad decisions and binge eating. But nowhere she was feeling like a bloated whale stuffed into a dress that was designed to be tight at least fifty pounds ago. Now she was practically spilling out of it. 

Her gut had gotten huge and the dress wrapped around it, highlight it as it clung to every inch of her flabby flesh. She had very clear very meaty love handles that the dress also tucked around and under. Folds of fat swallowed up the fabric of the dress and pulled it further up her thick, flabby thunder thighs. 

Those thighs were now covered in cellulite just like her big fat ass. She had a blubber butt instead of a tight toned heart shaped one that used to turn heads. Now her cheeks were chunky and bounced along without rhythm. She didn’t want to think about what they would look like jiggling about on the dance floor. Every part of her was fatter. Every part was soft. Every part was jiggly. 

And yet here she was. 

She looked behind her and saw a bunch of fat and happy faces, eager fatties ready to shake their large bodies on the dance floor. It was BBW night and Bianca was here just like the other fat girls. Once she would have been making fun of them. And now she had no choice but to count herself among their weighty number. 

Bianca sighed and waddled on in, hoping she wouldn’t feel as self-conscious in the dark and with a few drinks in her. 

Asami, meanwhile, was quite content. 

She looked around at the jiggling bodies of fat women who were now eagerly waiting their turn to enter the club and get their jiggly groove on. Their fat arms wobbled as they clapped in excitement. 

All of them had big blubber bellies ready to bounce to the bea. Their glorious guts stretched out their dresses or oozed out from under their tube tops. Their formerly fit bodies were now temples to fatness with folds of flab bursting out everywhere. They were already sweating and were very ready to dance. 

Asami smiled as the rope dropped and they all start wobbling and waddled past her. 

Her own dress was quite a bit tighter as well, but she paid that no mind as she waddled into the club eager to see what other kinds of mischief she could get into. 

It was going to be a fun night. 

(To be continued)

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“Thick as a Whale”

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Veronica felt her blubber slosh to the side as she rolled over in her bed. It was a tumult of fat that pulled her with it. She would have likely gone rolling like a big fat ball over the bed if her big fat flabby ass didn’t act as such an effective counterweight. 

She opened her eyes and felt her double chin wobble as she tilted her head to look at the door to her bedroom.

There it was, mocking her.

It was the cursed costume, the overstretched mermaid tale dangling limply, like the fatty folds of her own body, on a hanger. It was practically taunting her, reminding her that it was what got her into this mess. She had been so attractive, so vain, back before she ever put on the mermaid costume. And how did she end up getting so fat?

That was a real whale of a tale.

Eating. Just so much eating. That’s what she did these days. Eating on camera and off. First it was just for the commercials, then Thick Burger realized it could make more money with… let’s just say more niche ads, live streams that really focused on Veronica making an absolute pig of herself.

No. Whale. She was definitely a whale. That’s the branding that people preferred to use. 

Either way, it was true. She had grown from a slim and sexy hottie with a rocking bikini body into a big blubbery mess, a great big ball of lard. And the biggest part of that ball was definitely her stomach. It lurched forward in front of her wherever she went. She would waddle about and her big blubbery belly would bounce up and down and side to side. It was a great big sloshy sack of sagging fat that could not possibly be contained in any kind of shirt she tried to wear, and it looked equally ridiculously stretching out any kind of dress all the way down to her thighs because that’s how big and saggy her spongy spare tire was. The good news for people who saw her, is that her gelatinous gut was so big, soft, and saggy that people never had to worry about accidentally thinking she was pregnant.

That didn’t stop people from regularly touching it though.

Veronica was so fat that she was a curiosity. People could help but want to press on, poke pinch, and generally jiggle her big blubber belly. This was doubly so for anyone who had actually known Veronica in real life. Veronica had spent so much of her life showing off her sexy abs, and encouraging people to touch them as a way of making them jealous that they thought her gut was now fair game for grabbing so that they could feel a great sense of amusement. The schadenfreude was strong as people who had once felt the judgment of the formerly slim and sexy bikini babe watched her now struggle with the simplest of things and marvelous at the outrageously obese size of her fantastically flabby body, especially her big round blubbery apron of a belly. They loved that greedy blubber gut.

Of course, her big belly wasn’t the only big fat part of her.

As Veronica rolled her fat body out of bed, feeling like a fat wad of melted gum peeling herself off of her sweat soaked sheets, she felt the massive weight of her meaty thighs, thighs which were often confined to her overstuffed mermaid costume. When she wasn’t working, her fleshy thighs consistently rubbed together, widening her stance and making her swing her legs in a slow ponderous waddle that was far removed from the confident strut that she used to have when she modeled bikinis and sexy lingerie instead of food and her own unstoppable gluttony. Now her thighs lacked even the barest hint of tone. Anyone who saw them, and her lumpy, flabby ass, would have easily thought that she must have been a lifelong couch potato instead of someone who used to work out regularly and took great ride in being active.

Now Veronica barely moved, and when she did she felt like a big fat slug. Some days she thought about comparing herself to a snail, but then she remembered that snails still had hard shells that they dragged about, but there was nothing hard about Veronica. She was soft. At best she could be described as spongy, but mostly Veronica felt very loose. She felt like her body fat, which quivered with the slightest provocation, was disgustingly useless blubber that did nothing but make her life difficult.

And nowhere on her fat droopy body was this difficulty more evident than in her thighs and hips.

Besides slowing her down considerably, they made any kind of movement exceedingly difficult thanks to their weight, girth, and lack of muscle. This included getting up and down. Getting up was predictably difficult, but even sitting down was an issue. Veronica was now so large that she worried about losing balance and falling backward with a loud thud and potentially breaking a less structurally sound chair. Chairs in general were less friendly to her nowadays as she constantly worried about breaking them, getting stuck in them, or needing more than one of them to fully support her. 

Of course, when she did sit down on chairs, or anything at all, she sat on considerably more cushion than she used to. Her ass had grown incredibly fat. She now had two bloated cellulite covered cushions that she dragged behind her as she waddled about. If she tried to cram them into any kind of pants, they had a tendency to crest over them and give her a permanent plumber’s crack. If she wore a dress, the shape of that crack would still be seen as she constantly appeared to be vacuum sealed in. Her outfits were consistently so tight (because she was continuously in the process of growing out of them) that they stretched out and clung to her body revealing every lumpy curve that she had. When she wore leggings, one of her more frequently relied upon options, they were stretched so sheer that anyone could see the cellulite that covered her blubbery butt and tremendous thunder thighs. 

And when the size of her rotund rump and her tree-trunk thighs combined with the width of her girthy hips, Veronica was an absolute terror to anything that was precariously perched on a table or low set shelf. 

But her butt was still dwarfed by her belly. Veronica had even developed extremely large breasts, but those massive mammaries looked like sagging mounds of sad deflated puppy fat compared to her grand expanse of a gut. Veronica’s bloated breasts were covered in stretch marks and swung like heavy pendulums when she wasn’t strapping them into a heavy duty bra. They were certainly too big to just hold up with seashells and call it a day. Now her big nipples pointed downward, and looking at herself in the mirror made Veronica feel like a real cow with some big udders. Her breasts were so soft and spongy and yet so incredibly heavy due to the sheer amount of fat that filled them. They now put a great amount of strain on her fat back, especially when she took her slow steps and her breasts kept swinging from side to side, fat from her breasts slapping against fat from her belly. It was a large part of why she had to stop and rest every few steps.

The other fact was her big fat feet. They were constantly sore from try to convey her bloated body from point a to point b. They were swollen with fat and had sausage toes that she had to keep perfectly pedicured. Even though she kept her feet mostly tucked into her costume tail, she still made the occasional Little Mermaid parody videos on the side for a little extra cash. People paid a lot of money to watch her try to play with her feet just for her big blubbery belly and thunder thighs to get in the way and make doing so impossible. That was part of the thrill. They loved to watch her struggled, loved to watch her flabby body quiver with each attempt. And rest assured, the quivered from head down to her fat toes.

People especially silly loved the way her fat legs quivered as she tried to stretch her chubby hands and fingers past her bloated cankles to get to her big fat feet. Her arms shook too. Veronica’s arms used to be so thin and toned, but now they were just big flabby limbs with bloated bingo wings instead of defined biceps. Her arms were now just as pathetically jiggly as the rest of her big fat blubbery body. 

That part that made Veronica the saddest though was when she looked at her face in the mirror. Veronica’s face had been so beautiful and full of confidence. Now she could see the defeat in her eyes. And those eyes looked pretty beady to because of how bloated her face had become. Just like the rest of her, Veronica’s face had grown swollen and round with fat. She had great jiggly jowls and a multitude of doughy chins that quivered with every movement, especially when she ate. 

And Veronica ate a lot. 

She couldn’t stop eating. Even when the camera wasn’t on, Veronica was always hungry. It was a large part of why she was so large, the non-stop after hours snacking. And as she grew she felt worse about herself which meant she sought out the one thing that gave her comfort, food. The more she ate, the fatter she got. The fatter she got, the more she needed comfort. The more she needed comfort, the more she ate. She was stuck in the fattening cycle with no means to escape. 

Veronica’s whole life revolved around food these days, food and humiliation. Her work life demanded it. Her home life was filled with it. The woman who once had everything, and who loved to flaunt it while taunting others, now had nothing but fat filled days of misery. 

To think, she had once been a slim and sexy swim star who could cut through the water with ease, a model, a real beauty with a bright future. Now she just felt like a big fat waddling loser who could barely bend herself over enough to tie her own shoes, a whale. And there was nothing to be done about that. It wasn't like she was going to suddenly go on a diet or start going to the gym again. She couldn't handle that kind of humiliation. At least when she performed in front of the camera she didn't have to see the people that were laughing at her downfall. There was no going back for her, only going forward, only getting fatter.

So she waddled to the door and grabbed her mermaid costume off the its hanger. 

It was time to see what this day’s humiliation would bring.