"Your Fat Ass is Gonna Eat"

Here is the patreon exclusive sequel to "You're Going from Fit to Fat".

Enjoy!

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You need to eat. It’s this incredible, insatiable feeling. You have never been more sure of something in your entire life. Now you ginormous, gelatinous double belly calls to you and it must be answered. The rumbling in your greedy gut will not cease until you have stuffed your fat face silly, and so you waddle, a woman possessed, your eyes wide and crazed with an intense need, and burning desire that grows between your thunder thighs. It is a growing warmth in your loins that merges with the warmth of your chafing thighs as they rub together so intensely that, if you weren’t so consumed with hunger, you might start to worry that they could start a fire.

Luckily for you, there’s a buffet across the street from the gym. What a stroke of made genius that was, to create an endless feedback loop, hunger to shame to hunger. You waddled across the street as fast as your fat legs and dump truck ass will allow. You don’t even bother to wait for the light, so it’s a good thing that there aren’t many cars. With your size, they would have a hard time swerving to get around you. Of course, your massively obese body is full of so much blubber that you might very well be able to cushion the blow. Your blubbery belly, balloon breasts, and beanbag chair butt make you look like the perfect example of an overinflated human airbag. It’s ridiculous the way your clothes are still clinging to you. Just like an airbag, it looks like something hit you and then you just exploded out in all directions.

It’s a slog, crossing that street, a humiliating struggle made all the mor embarrassing by the knowledge of how fit you were just minutes earlier. You move like someone who has spent their entire life glued to the couch gazing stupidly at the tv as you stuffed your face with an endless array of snacks. You look like someone who hasn’t even heard of the concept of a gym. It’s a miracle you don’t stop, winded, and double over in the middle of the street. The only thing that keeps you going is your hunger, that incredible need, the need to feed.

It’s pathetic, but you can’t stop yourself. You’re weak. You’re a weak, greedy, naughty little piglet. But there’s nothing little about is is there? No. You’re a greedy, naughty pig, a big fat hog, a hambeast!

You get to the buffet and blow right past the slender hostess who gives you a judgmental stare. The staff here are wondering if you’re even allowed to be here with all your fat hanging out so grotesquely. But, hey, money is money. Although, by the looks of you, people know that the buffet might actually lose a bit of money today. You certainly look like you can eat more than your fair share. At the very least though, you should be able to put on a good show for them.

And you do just that.

Plates of food become piled on a platter. The only thing keeping you from taking even more food is the fact that you fat, flabby, pathetically weak arms can barely carry any more. You sit down with your feast, and you already know you’re going to want seconds, but there’s a part of you that knows your fat ass isn’t going to want to get up. With your weak thunder thighs, getting up again would be a struggle right now. It’s going to be even harder once your greedy gut is stuffed with food, but you’ll cross that big fat bridge when you get to it.

Right now all that matters is the food. You dig your fork right into a big plate of pasta, messy fettuccine alfredo. The cream smatters across your cheeks and dribbles down your multiple chins until it drips onto your poor excuse for a shirt and into your cavernous cleavage. Your crop top, now resembling more of an ill fitting sports bra with plenty of under-cleavage sticking out as the big saggy boulder that you call boobs spill out in all directions and rest atop the mountain that is your gluttonous double belly, is quickly pathetically stained with greasy food that joins the foul smelling sweat stains that you’ve gained just from struggling to waddle over here.

The fettuccine alfredo goes down like a snack. Most people could have made that entire plate a meal, but you inhale it. It is nothing to you, not even a passing memory as your greedy hands move right along to the next thing you’ve gotten your, a big plate piled high with fried chicken. Its crispy skin crumbles down to your chest even as its hot grease spurts out and splatters against your fat face. You tear into each piece ravenously, sucking down every hot piece of meat that you can. Your fingers are so coated with grease that the pieces nearly fall out of your hands, but that just makes you desperate to eat them faster. You eat with such tenacity as you gorge yourself that your entire obese body quivers. Fat folds fly as you ferociously feast.

You’re down to your last plate of food, a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy, already bemoaning how you’re going to be able to get your fat body up and back over to the buffet line for more when you hear the voice of Kristin who is now standing right in front of you.

“Well aren’t you just a naughty little piglet.”

You have a spoonful of mashed potatoes spilling out of your fat cheeks as you stare up at her flush from both the efforts of your feasting and the shame that you feel. You really are a naughty piggy, you know it, a naughty piggy caught in the act who can’t even stop herself.

“Go ahead. Those mashed potatoes must be pretty tasty. Pretty fattening too, but I doubt you care about that anymore.”

She’s right. The only thing you care about is sating your hunger. You hate what you’ve become, and there’s a part of you that screams for you to stop, cries and begs for you to put the fork down and waddle back to the gym to work all this fat off, but the greedy girl gives in and you go right back to shoveling mashed potatoes into your maw. Greedy, greasy spoonful follows greedy greasy spoonful as Kristin walks around you and begins to massage your shoulders as she leans forward and whispers in your ear. Her cruel words don’t even make you break your rhythm for a moment. Food goes from plate to mouth over and over even as she taunts you.

“You’re such a pathetic sight, such a weak, disgusting slob. Look at how fat you’ve gotten, it’s rich, rich like those buttery mashed potatoes that are making your fat body even fatter. I love seeing you like this. Honestly, the only thing I regret is that it’s been so long that I couldn’t see you on all the steps along the way. I would have loved to follow your downfall as your perfect body piled on the pounds. I never got to call you pudgy, or tubby, of chubbs. None of those names do you justice anymore. You’re far too big, far too FAT for that. I don’t even think the name porky fits anymore, just like your clothes. Piglet doesn’t work either now that I think about it. You’re a hog! A big fat sloppy sow, and obese cow, a hefty heifer. Yeah, those words are much more your speed, your slow, pathetic speed- unless you’re eating- isn’t that right, my hungry hungry hippo. You’re still plenty fast when you’re eating.”

It’s true you realize that the bowl of mashed potatoes is empty. Its only remnants adorn your fat face, a portrait of gluttony at its finest. You struggle to get up to get more, but Kristin easily holds you down with one hand on your shoulder and barely any effort. She reaches down and with the other hands she rubs your big stuffed belly.

“Oh, there’s still plenty of room for food in this greedy gut of yours, isn’t there? Allow me. I don’t want you burning any precious calories. Let it all just turn into more delicious, humiliating fat, as you sit here on your big fat ass.”

You begin to rub your own belly now as Kristin leaves you to digest momentarily, and you let out a very loud unladylike burp to make room for even more feasting.

Kristin brings over a platter impressively packed with food. There’s a big bowl of ooey, gooey macaroni and cheese, a pair of personal pizzas, and a massive helping sloppy joe filling that she hasn’t even bothered to put on buns. It’s just slop on a plate, perfect for a big pig like you.

“Eat.”

You dig in like the obedient fat girl that you are, eager to please and even more eager to eat. The food calls to you, and you eat so fast that you’re not even sure what you’re putting in your mouth. It isn’t until the third spoonful that you even realize it’s the mac and cheese. It’s rich and creamy and heavy, but you eat it as effortlessly as Jello. Your efficiency is like a machine, and before you even realize it, the first personal pizza is in your hand, and you’re not even bothering to tear it into little pizzas, you just fold it over and started chowing down on it like it’s a massive taco, sauce and cheese squirt everywhere, but you don’t care. You just need to eat.

Even your breathing becomes ragged as you cram your face full of food. As you struggle to breath while inhaling food at the same time, the reckless breaths come out as snorts.

“Look at you. You’re really oinking like a pig. This is just your life now, huh? It must be so humiliating, but to me it’s so fucking funny. This is everything I could have asked for and so much more. I mean, there’s just so much of you, so damn much of you. Look at all this blubber.”

Kristin pinches your love handles and sinks her palm into the quivering flesh of your thigh, but at this point nothing can distract you from your singular goal of demolishing this pizza, not even the fear and shame that is building up inside you. You are helpless, and Kristin knows it.

“That’s right, Piggy. Let’s keep going. I want to help.”

She picks up the second pizza and holds it up to your greedy mouth hand feeding you like a greedy animal at a petting zoo. Once the second pizza is done, you go to pick up the spoon again to go after the sloppy joe filling, but she forces your chubby hands to the table.

“No. Like the pig you are.”

And you know what she means. You’re trembling but you feel the need to obey, to please, and so you give an obedient little oink and shove your face into the slop, eating it in big gulping bites and making a mess everywhere, all while Kristin laughs at you.

“You used to be so prim and proper, so glamorous, so perfect. Now you’re a fat greedy pig eating slop like an animal. Quite the fall. It’s wonderful. This is exactly what you deserve for flaunting your fit figure and making other people’s lives a living hell. You deserve to be a disgusting show, a big fat car crash of a human being for people to gawk at and enjoy. You fill us with schadenfreude, sow.”

She continues to laugh, and you continue to eat, and by the time you are literally licking the plate clean, you look up and see that Kristin is standing over you with another tray.

“Time for dessert.”

Cookies, cake and ice cream. You start with the ice cream first since it’s already starting to melt. You scarf it down so fast that you don’t even know what flavor you’ve just consumed, and it’s quickly on to the chocolate cake that quickly becomes smeared across your cheek, chest, and belly. You’re not allowed to eat with a fork so you just stuff slice after slice into your fat cheeks with your hands, and then you rub those messy hands all over your distended belly which is out there for all to see. It is stretched so tight that the crease of your folds has momentarily disappeared, and you look like a circus parade balloon.

And there’s still room for cookies.

The cookies are a quick bite and a crumbly mess. But they are chased down by a thick milkshake that believe it or not you’re only barely able. It takes another tremendous belch to make the last of the room you need to finish your meal.

Satisfied, Kristin rubs your messy swollen belly while pinching your chubby cheeks.

“That’ll do, Pig. That’ll do. And you better get used to it because I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other and doing this a lot more often. You’re going to be my person pet piggy, aren’t you, my big fat hog?”

All you can do is nod and oink.

“Oh, I’m so delighted, Piggy. We’re going to have so much fun together, especially when I show you off to all your old friends, and all of mine as well. All the people you’ve ever made fun of are going to get to see just how fat you’ve gotten. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You oink and sadness, but you know there’s nothing you can do but go along with your new master, this former fat girl whom you used to make fun of back when you were a slim and sexy goddess. But you’re not slim and sexy anymore. You’ll never be slim and sexy or in control again. This is your big fat life forever.