"A Fattening Fortune": Extra Slice #3

This extra slice comes in extra long at over 2,100 words. A vain woman visits Madame Zara and gets hit with a rather fattening fortune. It's quite the punishment.

I enjoyed writing this piece and the last story featuring Madame Zara. I think this is likely to become a semi-regular series where at some point I collect them and release that as one story elsewhere while exploring a much deeper version for you people here.

For now...

Enjoy!

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Madame Zara raised her eyebrow as the beautiful blonde walked into her tent. She had seen so many just like this and could smell the vanity oozing out of her pores. It took just a small glance into her crystal to see that much. She could see that the woman standing in front of her was a woman of privilege with a history of fatphobia and fat shaming. Madame could see the past laid out before her: cheerleader, prom queen, sorority president, poised to climb her way up the corporate ladder.

Of course, she could also see the threads of a future that were ready to be twisted to her whims.

The Seer of Truths looked up at the slim and sexy vixen standing in front of her. She was so nicely dressed in a blouse and tapered jacket that highlighted her trim waist, and her pencil skirt showed off her long lean legs, toned and tan limbs. The skirt also highlighted her perfectly perky butt, something that was so well toned it looked like one could bounce a quarter off of it. It was a butt she had clearly worked hard on and just like the rest of her, it was designed to turn heads.

“You certainly are beautiful, darling.”

“I know. I’m special.”

Madame Zara raised an eyebrow and once again looked the pretentious vixen up and down. She could see the way the woman held her nose up at her. She was clearly the kind of woman of privilege who enjoyed being prim and proper and professional while also being exceptionally hot. Madame Zara took another look into her crystal and was already twisting the threads of fate in her head.

“What brings you here, Gia?”

“I don’t honestly know,” responded Gia, so self absorbed as to be oblivious to the fact that Madame Zara shouldn’t have known her name.

“This fair is full of fat slobs, disgusting poor people and just general losers. Some friends of mine, whose friendship I am thoroughly reconsidering, dragged me here. I figured I’d give them one last fun fling. After this, as my star shines, I’ll be leaving them behind. I don’t wallow with pigs.”

Madame Zara smiled as Gia solidified her punishing fate. She was already twisting the threads of Gia’s gluttonous future as she reached for her deck of tarot cards.

“Let’s see what your future has in store.”

She flipped the cards over one after another. It was a purely ceremonial act. The real magic came from what she channeled through her crystal, but it was an effect that the clients were counting on. So after Madame Zara collected her money, she flipped her cards and gleefully gave her punishing fortune thus sealing the glamorous Gia’s fate.

“Your vanity will come crumbling down. It will melt away just like your precious abdominal muscles which will become buried by blubber as you grow a blubbery belly that surges forward and announces itself to all around you. The stress of your professional responsibilities will crush you, and the prim and proper Gia will be lost forever as you unleash the inner piggy within. You will become fat, out of shape and hopeless, shamed out of the gym, and forced out of your job once you become far too piggish to be professional and your sloppy work matches your sloppy appearance. You who were once so high and mighty will find yourself locked into a life of service and a bloated, fat body that is your personal nightmare.”

“You’re a disgusting fraud, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Oh, I think you’ll see you’ll be the one who ends up disgusted and ashamed of herself.”

Gia stormed out and went home to have a salad and then get dressed for the gym. She hit the treadmill harder than she ever had that day as if it were to spite the old woman and her stupid fortune.

It was a mistake that would cost her.

Sure enough, not having enough food and overdoing it on the treadmill were a bad combination. Gia wiped out pretty badly, spraining her ankle and hitting her head hard enough to give her a concussion. That meant sitting around doing a week of absolutely nothing.

Gia could have survived that. Sure, she wasn’t even allowed to look at electronics for the whole week or read too much at a time, and the ankle injury made moving around difficult and exercise seemingly impossible, and, yes, this boredom led to a lot of excess snacking to fill the void which meant that, by the end of the week, Gia’s fancy work slacks were a bit more snug, and her blouses strained a little bit against the start of a belly that she was developing. But Gia could have worked that all off.

What really killed Gia was all the work she missed. There were emails to respond to, reports to file, clients to work with, some clients that were so time sensitive that she lost their accounts to other colleagues. Gia had never been behind in something like this her entire life. She had always been the golden girl, so struggling for the first time ever caused and extreme amount of stress.

And an extreme amount of stress led to an extreme amount of snacking.

Trips to the vending machine were constant. Late night takeout orders devoured at the office were nightly. And these meals were often followed by nights of binge eating ice cream late night at home to take the edge off. Takeout extended to lunch as well. Gia used to be a meal prepper, and she used to love salad for lunch, but the stress from work left her with a lack of time for meal prep and a heavier reliance on ordering food, and the stress also robbed her of her taste for salad apparently. So it was greasy burgers and sandwiches for lunch. Gia justified that by noting that fresh salads were expensive, and since she was already relying on ordering food so much as it was, her budget had to be stretched. It didn’t matter that this diet also led to a stretching of her pants seams. Gia kept gorging on greasy garbage throughout the work day.

Gia had been an occasional partier, but along with her usual weekend excursions with friends, her co-workers began bringing her to bars after work too, and her Fridays always ended up the same: Work late, greasy takeout at the office, then to a bar with her work friends to drown her stress and sorrows. That would always end with pizza, and then it would be home to binge on some ice cream and drink some water before finishing things off with a sugary sports drink and some leftover pizza to try and beat the hangover.

As one would expect, the weight piled on.

Gia grew a gut, a big spongy ball of fat, a saggy paunch that strained every outfit that she wore, and even when she tucked it into her skirts, the top of it still rolled over her waistband. It was even worse whenever she tried to wear pants. Then her whole gut would hang over. As her weight kept increasing, her pot belly kept getting harder and harder to hide. People would have thought she was pregnant if it wasn’t clear by Gia’s hard partying ways that this was just an ever growing beer gut. It became the first thing anyone ever saw of Gia, and it frequently introduced itself with groans of either hunger or gas. Gia couldn’t help herself. As she grew, so did her appetite, and she found a ceaseless urge to stuff her greedy gut full of greasy junk food. It was an urge she always gave into. She knew she should diet. She could feel the sack of fat growing heavier in her hands each day, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. So she just kept eating, and she just kept getting fatter.

Of course, Gia’s gut wasn’t the only thing that grew. Her ass really packed on the pounds as well. No more bouncing a quarter off of it, Gia grew an ass that bounced with a mind of its own. Her gorgeous butt cheeks ballooned into incredibly chunky ones. They regularly lifted up her skirts to tantalizing but definitely unprofessional heights, and her bloated butt cheeks also frequently started to pop open the backs of the pants that she insisted on trying to cram them into. Her gorgeous ass was now engorged with fat and covered in cottage cheese like cellulite.

Her thighs grew thick as well, losing their tone and becoming juicy thunder thighs that split the fancy leggings that the growing Gia used to wear with her skirts. And legging weren’t the only thing her fat thighs destroyed. When she tried to keep wearing her designer pants, the seams would find themselves splitting along her saddlebags. Her blubbery thunder thighs slapped and rubbed together as she walked, and they grew so incredibly fat that she eventually was forced into a slow awkward waddle, no more confident model strut for the former queen turned fatty.

Even Gia’s arms grew fat and flabby. She developed bulbous bingo wings, pillows of fat they made her arms stick out even as they rested on her fat sides. Her marshmallow arms quivered with even the slightest bit of movement. They made short sleeve tops unflattering but long sleeve tops too warm and uncomfortable. 

Gia’s breasts grew as well but not nearly as much as the rest of her fattened body. While her breasts were now soft saggy sponges of plush fat, the bigger story was the changes to her previously model quality face. 

Thanks in no small part to all the alcohol consumption, Gia’s gorgeous face grew grotesquely bloated. Her cheeks grew jiggly jowls and multiple wobbling chins that were constantly dotted with grease and acne. Gia ate like a pig and her chubby cheeks were often stained with sauce or syrup and or crumbs. Her greasy forehead was constantly sticky with sweat from the slightest exertions, and her greasy hair often stuck to it in limp strands. 

Eating and work also left no time for working out which only sped up the demise of Gia’s once gorgeous figure. Once, after things had already spiraled out of control, Gia made a last ditch effort to get to the gym and work some of this unsightly blubber off only to find that most of the people she knew at the gym didn’t recognize her at first, and then once they did realize who she was, they absolutely tore into her for becoming such a pig. Sweaty and exhausted after just a brief attempt at working out and humiliated by her former friends and people she used to look down upon, Gia waddles out of there as fast as her fat legs could carry her which was not very fast at all. 

The day Gia truly realized what a pig she was came when she was fired. She was far more of a pig than a professional, with messy food and sweat stained clothes, rumpled and smelling of lack of laundry time. Her clothes were also constantly strained by her fat which poked out at every opportunity. Gia was caught during multiple meetings messily eating and belching like a pig. Outside of her piggish appearance and actions, her work also grew sloppy. She missed deadlines and was late to meetings that she would show up to with snacks in hand to stuff her fat greedy face with. 

Out of a job, Gia was left to waddle about life aimlessly with her food budget dwindling her savings until she was forced to downsize to a much smaller apartment in a much worse part of town. It was already messy when she moved in, a perfect place for a piggy like her. But Gia was out of a job and desperate. Her piggishness meant she never made it past a first interview no matter how good her résumé was. Eventually she was able to get a job, and it was the ultimate humiliation. 

One of Gia’s former rivals offered her a job as a maid and general servant. It was for amusement more than anything. Gia’s rival got great joy out of watching her former rival brought so disgustingly low and showing her off in front of their fancy friends. Gia was made to to clean and especially serve at parties while clad in a multitude of humiliating costumes, all tight and revealing, and many of them animal themed. 

This was Gia’s life now, a fat pig living in service to others, degraded and humiliated. It was all as Madame Zara predicted, but everything fell in place so clearly and logically that she never even paid the old woman a second thought-

Except in a few of her nightmares.