"Fat Trimmings": Volume 20 XXL Edition

5 stories, almost 8,000 words. Two different versions!

"Twenty Pounds Here and There": A woman tries to deny her steady weight gain until it's too late.

"A Little Bit of Magic": A vain and jealous witch engages in some magical shenanigans that backfire.

"One of Those Fat Making Notebooks": A chubby girl finds a magical notebook that makes people fat. My take on a classic trope.

"Prissy Priscilla Gets Fat": A prim and proper gold digger gets more than she bargained for with her fat fiancé's even fatter family.

"Sorority Sisters Swell": Vain sorority sisters get fat, each gaining weight differently.

Attached you will find the slob cut of this post if you're into that sort of thing. It is over 8,000 words.

Enjoy!

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“Twenty Pounds Here and There”

She didn’t even notice the first twenty pounds really. Sure her pants were getting tighter, but Freshman year of college was such a blur. It was a year of making new friends and partying harder than she had ever thought she would. It was a time when the world was her oyster, and she felt unstoppable, untouchable. 

So she never checked the number creeping up on the scale until it was too late. 

Having been the Queen Been of high school, it was easy enough to believe that she would never gain weight. The mere thought of it seemed like an impossibility to her. Gaining weight was for lesser people. Getting what was for lazy pigs who couldn’t control themselves. That’s why, in her mind, fat people were so worthy of being made fun of, because they could have avoided being fat and chose to be lazy, greedy, cows.

But she never took her own grazing into account, never kept track of the amount of time she was spending snacking, especially now that she didn’t have the watchful eyes of her mother or her cheer coach watching her. She didn’t have to pay for her dining hall meals, so she never tracked just how much food she was eating there and how many trips she was even making. And well…

That adds up.

And the first twenty pounds eventually became noticeable because one can’t expect to gain twenty pounds and still have all of their clothes fit, and twenty pounds is also enough time to look in the mirror and stop blaming the laundry for shrinking things and accept that you’ve just grown a bit.

She felt it. She could touch and pinch and jiggle the beer belly she had grown over her first year of college, but the freshman fifteen is an expected thing. Everyone gains the freshman fifteen, right? And, sure, twenty pounds is technically more than fifteen pounds, but what’s a difference of five pounds? Five pounds is nothing. Five pounds might as well be water weight. 

So she didn’t panic.

There were promises to watch what she ate, to exercise more and party less, and these promises lasted for about a month before the allure of beer pong and keg stands became too much, and all the hangovers made even the idea of going to the gym a wretched one.

And so sophomore more year brought another twenty pounds. And while twenty pounds may not have been as noticeable, there is no way to hide a forty pound weight gain.

Forty pounds gets people talking.

And most of those people were beginning to generously refer to her as chubby. Some were more inclined to call her downright fat. The more catty among her friends were already starting to refer to her as “Piggy”.

At forty pounds everything that was already inclined to be bigger grows bigger still. Her belly got fatter.  It stuck out further. It slipped out from under more shirts, a jiggling mass growing harder and harder to contain. At forty pounds the start of stretch marks began to appear on her love handles and she developed a truly delicious muffin top ripe for the squeezing. 

Her forty pound ass was fuller and fatter, no longer holding shape on its own. Her cheeks were chunky and covered in cellulite, and they bounced and jiggled with every step. There was next to no muscularity left to her blubbery butt which had once been one of her finest features.

Her breasts had grown as well, not enough to outpace her belly but enough to start sagging and causing her back pain issues. Even her face was getting fatter with her hint of a double chin becoming more prominent.

The forty pound mark is right around where the panic began to set in.

But losing forty pounds is a lot harder than losing twenty.

By the time one has gained forty pounds, bad habits have formed. Appetites and metabolisms have greatly changed. There’s more to fight against and less of the willpower to do it. Gaining forty pounds of fat means muscles have been lost. The gym gets even harder to go to. And when the gym gets harder to go to, while the appetite keeps increasing and the metabolism keeps crashing, well that’s when you can end up on the wrong end of a downward spiral.

And that’s exactly where she was. All of her attempts to lose weight became a struggle just to mitigate the gain, to slow it down, and the best she could ever seem to get it to do was to not accelerate. She tried to ignore it. It was just another pound here and there. But then those single pounds became sets of twenty. It was like clockwork. You could set your watch by her weight gain.

By the end of junior year she had gained another twenty, bringing her grand total to sixty pounds gained. Then by senior year she was up to eighty porky pounds put on her previously slim frame. Imagine then, what she looked like when she showed up to her fifth year high school reunion blown to one hundred pounds heavier than when she graduated, almost double her weight since entering college.

Lots of people put on weight in college. Lots of people show up to their five year reunion looking a little chunkier. It’s always a fun game to play, seeing which of the mean cheerleaders and arrogant jock had chunked up in college, letting themselves go and showing everyone how they peeked in high school. But it is remarkably rare for someone’s weight to take the kind of outrageous swing that hers did.

Her gut was huge as she walked through the door. It surged far past her massive breasts, and the ill-fitting dress that she wore might as well have been painted on. It was stretched to show the exact outline of every curve, but the fabric itself was not tight enough to contain anything. That meant that the fabric illustrated every inch and fold of her double belly, but it still moved as her gelatinous gut jiggled and swayed with every slow, ponderous step she took.

Those steps were so slow because she could no longer walk normally. Her weight gain of one hundred pounds had gone to her thighs and made them large enough to press together and outward forcing her to waddle. Her thick, cellulite covered thunder thighs were fully exposed to the world to see. She couldn’t risk any kind of leggings because her fat thighs were already sweaty and uncomfortable enough as it was. They also stretched the fabric of her dress so much that it was riding up and threatening to expose her ass cheeks if she wasn’t careful.

Those chunky cheeks had also ballooned out and gave her a real shelf of an ass. The undulated in rhythm with every step that she took, and she frequently had to stop and reach a chubby hand as far back as she could to pull her dress down and save whatever dignity that she had left. It was clear to everyone based on how the dress was trying to ride up her fat ass that this was probably an outfit she had purchased at least twenty pounds ago.

Everyone was speechless.

Until they weren’t.

Then the laughter rang out. And the words were heard.

“Piggy.”

“Whale.”

“Fat slob.”

“Look at how she’s let herself be a cow.”

“COW! MOOOO!”

“OINK OINK OINK! What a porker she turned into!”

“To think, she used to make fun of me for my weight. She’s a balloon!”

“I feel even better having lost weight. Looks like she found it all!”

“She’s the big fat loser now!”

Karma hit her in a big way. The queen had lost her crown.

And she could have let this drive her into a retreat, but instead her stomach and her anxiety combined to send her to the place years of eating at college had conditioned her for, to the buffet.

She stuffed her face all while people laughed behind her back and to her face. She stuffed her fat face until she couldn’t possibly eat any more, until her dress was threatening to burst. She ate and ate and ate, making a complete and total pig of herself and giving everyone the biggest show they could have ever asked for.

And when she was done she went home to eat some more because she knew the truth deep down.

There was no going back.

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“A Little Bit of Magic”

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Opal felt a spark. Not a good kind of spark, mind you. No this was the kind of spark that quickly spread throughout her body and ran hot up her neck, making the hairs stand on end. She looked over at Delia, her rival, her best friend, her greatest enemy, and her jaw dropped as Delia’s smile twisted into a sinister grin. That’s when she knew she was truly screwed.

She had thought she was so smart too, she had practiced endlessly, researched the perfect spell, found the perfect moment to do it and quickly and quietly pulled her wand.

For all of their time and school, Opal and Delia had competed to be the most powerful, most beautiful, most popular. The two vain women knew each other better than anyone else. They were a pair, two gorgeous, glamorous girls who felt like they were superior to everyone else while being consumed by a bitter jealousy of each other. And Opal was ready to settle things once and for all. With their senior year of college ending, now was the time. She had Delia right where she wanted her.

She just didn’t expect Delia to be expecting her.

And to have the perfect counter charm prepared.

But now Opal knew exactly what was going to happen to her.

Opal was going to get fat.

She could feel her arms vibrating and then quivering as they filled with fat. She looked rather comically with her arms being the only part of her inflating with fat and doing so quickly. Her previously lean limbs turned into puffy marshmallow arms with pillowy bingo wings that were jiggling as she looked at them in panic. She felt whatever strength she had in them drained as the muscle melted away into fat making her both weaker and heavier at the same time. 

Then her belly suddenly surged outward, all at once, it blew off several buttons on her blouse as it announced itself to the world. All it took was an instant and her hard earned abs were no more, replaced by a big spongy gut that hung over the waistband of her. The buttons flew and Opal’s new belly bounced. It was a heavy, sagging blubbery belly that made her look like the kind of person who had spent her life eating nothing but sweets as opposed to the dedicated gym rat and vain meticulous dieter that she always had been. Opal had always felt in control, and her precious abs were the ultimate symbol of that. Now she had a great big greedy gut, and she could already hear it calling out, grumbling with the desire to be filled by sweet, greasy, fattening food.

Opal’s ass blew out as well, blowing up like twin balloons and filling with pounds upon pounds of soft, gelatinous fat. Her great big flabby ass first pushed up her skirt in a rather comical fashion as her chunky chunks pushed outward and sagged low, bouncing and quivering as they slapped against the backs of her thighs. Then, thanks to the widening of her hips along with her growing ass and burgeoning love handles, the skirt gave up. The fattening assault from all sides was too much for it to handle, and it burst at the waistband and blew off her body. Opal was left with her ass exposed. Her fat cheeks were out for all to see and looked to be eating her underwear swallowing up the fabric which was now crammed in them far further than they were ever designed to be. Her bloated, blubber butt was covered in cellulite and quaked as she frantically tried to cover it up with her chubby hands.

Opal’s thighs grew flabby as well. Her lean, muscular legs quickly expanded into fat and flabby tree trunks that slapped together like waves of fat crashing in a storm. Her thunder thighs rubbed together, and it was evident by the few clumsy steps that she took that she was now stuck with waddling awkwardly instead of strutting around like she owned the place. The fat seemed to flow downward from her thighs throughout the rest of her legs. Her calves and ankles swelled until they came together to form cankles, and even her feet got fat enough to make Opal knew that she would be best suited investing in a new pair of shoes.

Her breasts grew bigger, softer, saggier, and became adorned by bright stretch marks. They too quivered just like the rest of her. Opal’s whole body shook like jello as she stumbled about in a panic. Even her face grew fat and droopy with jowls and a double chin to match.

Hoisted by her own petard, the obese Opal stumbled about some more before eventually crashing to the ground sending another wave of shaking fat through her body. She truly gave the appearance of a beached whale and left her rival, Delia none the worse for wear. Instead, Delia simply laughed at Opal and walked away leaving the fat girl seething.

And as Opal laid there, ball of blubber that she had become, she already had the wheels turning in her brain as she began to plot her revenge.

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“One of Those Fat Making Notebooks”

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Asami couldn’t believe it. She had actually stumbled upon a notebook that made people fat. It worked like Death Note, but with fat! Debu Note! Just like the videos she had seen. But this was a parody come to life, a weapon of great power at her disposal and ready to humiliate her enemies and achieve her fattening vengeance.

Hell yeah!

Sure, there was probably some kind of gluttony demon attached to this thing, and there were probably some kind of consequences in store for her, but she had never read nor watched enough of Death Note to worry about that kind of thing. Her knowledge of fat making notebooks was exceedingly limited to a couple of Youtube parody videos and an old Fan2000 story that she was only half remembering.

Still, fat making notebooks don’t come around every day. (Maybe every few years perhaps, but certainly not EVERY day.) And she was determined to make the most of it.

First, a test was in order.

As Asami sat her chubby butt on a chair outside the little cafe where she had found the notebook (totally not ominously thrown in the bathroom garbage), she watched a slender woman across from her eat an undressed salad. It was the undressed salad that so easily led Asami to jump to the conclusion that this woman was a skinny bitch, and so she went to work with the notebook.

“The woman sitting across from me and eating an undressed salad will gain ten pounds, mostly to her belly, within the next minute and think this is totally normal,” she wrote. Asami was working under the suspicion that when testing it was always best to be as specific and detailed as possible.

Sure enough, the woman’s slim waist soon began to swell as she gained ten pounds. Her dress stretched to accommodate the growth, most of which landed on her belly and gave her formerly flat stomach a distinctly convex shape. Asami could watch it jiggle as the woman finished her meal and got up to leave. The woman seemed a bit uncomfortable with the tightness of her outfit, and was left somewhat more insecure than she otherwise would have been, but she was not exactly in a panic.

The whole thing made Asami chuckle softly, but it didn’t exactly leave her satisfied. 

“The woman I just made gain weight will gain another fifty pounds over the course of the next year and never be able to lose it,” she wrote with a sinister grin on her face.

And then Asami let the woman go off on her merry way, content to use her imagination to think about what would become of the woman whose life she had changed for the fatter, the self-consciousness, the panic, the failures at dieting and the bursting of clothes. It was an enjoyable taste, but she again needed more.

So she headed off to the modeling agency that she worked as a production assistant at and prepared herself for a feast.

Asami had three particular targets in mind. She thought about changing more. She thought about creating radical changes throughout the whole company, but she didn’t want to let all of this power get ot her head, to rush and make mistakes. And, mostly importantly, she wanted to savor things.

So three would do for now, and she knew just which three it would be: Colleen, Kyara, and Melanie. Asami was a chubby, dowdy production assistant at the modeling agency and those three were the models who most consistently made her life hell.

Kyara was the first of the vain, stuck-up models that Asami ran into. Kyara was always on Asami about her weight and most specifically what she ate. She loved to spot Asami at the craft services table having a doughnut and reprimand her for eating unhealthy snacks. She was a cruel bitch like that.

In a perfect coincidence, Asami spotted Kyara standing by the craft services picking at a tray of fruit. She was just in a bikini and a whisper thin sarong. Making it look like she was just checking some notes in her production binder, Asami quickly wrote in the notebook.

“Kyara will gain thirty pounds right now, mostly to her belly, but and thighs. She will become addicted to junk food and gain an additional hundred and twenty pounds over the next year and never be able to lose it.”

Kyara’s hand dropped the grape she was about to eat and instead hovered over the box of doughnuts as her six pack abs began to melt away, seamlessly turning into a generous potbelly, going slack and then surging outward until fat began to roll over her sarong while the lowest part of her belly fat pushed at the very loose knot that was holding the garment in place.

The double chocolate glazed doughnut soon graced her lips, and as it did so it was like it sent a message to her hips. They began to widen as both her ass and thighs grew thicker and softer. Her ass began to swell and sag, two chunky cheeks covered in cellulite, and while her thighs weren’t near fat enough to make her waddle just yet, they were now filled with enough flab to get rid of any thigh gap she had previously had.

Kyara’s body found new softness all over, but it was clear that things were working as intended. With another one hundred and twenty pounds to come her way, Kyara was destined to become an extremely bottom heavy girl. Asamai loved watching as Kyara continued to swell a bit more until the combination of her hips, butt and belly growing finally undid the knot on the sarong and sent it falling to the floor. As Kyara bent down to pick it up, Asami watched Kyara’s ass cheek wobble and her thighs quiver and slap together.

“What the hell is this?!” yelled Mike, one of the photographers.

Kyara finally noticed herself and let out a scream.

“I-I don’t know how this happened. I-”

“We can tell. You’ve been sneaking snacks, you naughty little piglet.” snickered one of a pair of models that Asami did not recognize.

“Yeah. Keep stuffing your face with doughnuts like that, and you’ll get even puffier,” laughed the other of the two new girls.

Kyara’s mind was racing. She couldn’t understand how or why this was happening. It was like all she knew was that she was suddenly much heavier, fatter, than normal, and she had an immense desire to panic stuff her face with junk food. Without even thinking about it, she crammed most of the doughnut into her mouth.

“She’s a goner.”

“Yup. Oink, oink, Fatty.”

“Oink. Oink. Oink.”

The two girls kept laughing and oinking as they strutted away, and Asamai took a mental note to possibly come back to them later.”

Meanwhile, Mike was thinking out loud.

“Okay. Okay. I can still do a lot of chest up shots, work from top down, and then put in overtime with the photoshop. But you better get things straight and be careful, girl, if you don’t want to end up in the plussize division.”

Asami laughed at the idea knowing that she had stuck Kyara and the perfect weight and proportion. She wasn’t big enough for plus size, and she wouldn’t gain weight very evenly, and with another hundred and twenty pounds to go, that should put her out of most plus size gigs. Asami loved thinking about how Kyara’s career would suffer, how every aspect of her life would change, including her becoming one of those people who takes a lot of face only pictures and then surprises you with how immensely obese they are. Asami wanted to stay and daydream about Kyara forever, but she had other targets to fatten.

Melanie was next.

Asami found Melanie fresh off a lingerie photoshoot wearing a lace negligee top and matching panties. She looked so sexy with her lean body and toned muscles. Her butt was perfectly pert. Her abs were visible. She had an angelic face that did such a nice job of hiding her devilish interior. 

Asami was about to change all of that with a few flicks of the pen.

“Melanie will gain two hundred and fifty pounds within the next minute, and everyone will act like things are surprising but normal. Melanie’s clothes will grow with her but be barely fitting.”

She had thought about having Melanie burst out of her clothes and be left a naked, blubbery, blubbering woman. She thought about Melania as a fat blob with her clothes broken on the floor, struggling to cover her massive breasts and broad backside. Her belly would be big enough to hang down and cover her front.

But Asami wanted to save the clothes bursting for another time, so she left things as is and enjoyed the show.

It started just like Kyara with a rumbling in Melanie’s stomach. But unlike Kyara’s tummy which swelled out slowly below sloping over the waistband of her bikini bottoms, Melanie’s stomach practically exploded with fat as it inflated like a huge water balloon filling with blubber. Her flesh was undulating as it grew. It bounced and jiggled as her abs turned into a gut and beyond. In moments she was standing there with a gelatinous sack of fat, a huge double belly hanging over the front of her panties and obscuring them completely. It was still bouncing and jiggling as the rest of her filled with thick, quivering fat.

Melanie’s ass ballooned to match her belly, growing two bulbous cheeks chunky and chalk full of cellulite. They were flabby cushions, pillows of jiggling adipose, filling up and out and then hanging down, slapping against her growing thighs. Her well cushioned backside was quickly met by the rising dough of her thunder thighs. Melanie’s lean and athletic thighs became great tree trunks that pressed together and forced her into a wider stance fitting someone who would soon be stuck waddling about instead of strutting like a proper model. Her billowy thighs quivered with the slightest of movements much to Asami’s delight.

Up top, Melanie’s breasts also surged forward, filling and practically spilling out of the cups of her bra. Her massive mammaries would have broken the bra completely if it wasn’t for the specifics of what Asami had written. Instead the bra itself shifted and changed to include much more intense underwire to better hold the boulders that it contained. And even then, the titanic breasts tagged heavily and strained Melanie’s fat roll laden back with their immense weight. 

Her arms got fatter as well, becoming thick but loose with flab. Her bingo wings shook as she grabbed at her flabby flesh with her chubby sausage fingers.

Melanie’s angelic face was not left unchanged. It morphed into a far more piggish appearance with chubby cheeks that were not at all flattering to her upturned nose and made her eyes look small. Even that nose swelled with fat. But the most prominent change to her face was the appearance of a thick double chin that drooped down from her previously delicate jawline.

Melanie grasped at her fat body and Asami could see the look in her eyes. It was interesting, a look of complete humiliation but not fear. There was clearly panic there but more from how humiliated and exposed she felt and not from shock at how suddenly she had grown and how large she had become. Even the people around her seemed to react more in annoyance and frustration than in surprise and disbelief.

“Holy shit, what are we gonna do with her now?” asked Esteban, one of the agency higher ups as he talked to Trishelle, a chubby photographer who Melanie had a very tense working relationship with up until now.

Trish looked down at her camera and then back up at Melanie with glee.

“Well, we could roll this hog over to the fetish department. This would make for some great before and after photos, worth her weight in gold.”

Trish laughed as she shook Melanie’s spare tire and sent the rest of her fat body jiggling as well. 

“Yeah. Yeah. That could work. I think I can get her a whole cake she can eat too. You can handle that, can’t you Mel?”

Melanie was aghast. She was just a moment ago a perfect model living her dream, and while suddenly being this weight seemed totally normal to her, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how or why it had happened. All she knew was two things. One, she was supremely fat and hungry. Two, she was far too fat for regular modeling now and if she wanted to keep her job at all she was going to have to eat an entire cake. 

She nodded and her fat cheeks flushed as her double chin wobbled.

“Yeah? You’re gonna eat a whole cake?” teased Estaban.

“I’m gonna eat a whole cake.” muttered Melanie.

“Come on. Louder. With some spirit.”

“I’M GONNA EAT A WHOLE CAKE!”

“You’re my fatty.”

“I’M YOUR FATTY!”

“Oink for me, fatty.”

“OINK! OINK! OINK!”

“Look at me, and do that again.” chimed in Trishelle.

Melanie did as she was told, oinking like a pig for Trishelle’s camera, scrunching up her fat face and snorting like an animal. It was humiliating, but it was the only way Melanie knew how to make a dollar at this point.

“Good piggy. Now save some of that for your next shoot. I hope you’re hungry,” laughed Trishelle as she spanked Melanie’s fat blubber butt and led her new piggy project off to the fetish department for her new humiliating career.

Asami was practically doubled over in laughter. It was all working out better than she had ever planned. And she still had one more to go.

Luckily, Colleen was not hard to find at all. In fact, Asami heard her before she could see her. Colleen was berating Stuart, another nebbish production assistant for bringing a glass of water in it with only three slices of cucumber in it instead of four. This was the exact kind of thing that Colleen was known for doing all the time. In fact, just the day before Asami had heard Colleen yelling at Stuart for bringing her a glass of water that had four slices of cucumber in it instead of three.

Colleen was often berating Asami as well, usually about her weight and her job status. Colleen loved to lord her power over the assistants and was known for strutting her stuff and crushing anyone in her way.

Asami was eager to change all that. That’s why she had saved Colleen for last. She had a particularly ironic fate for her and wanted to really test the powers of the notebook.

“Colleen started gaining weight two years ago. She got too fat to be a model, and was instead demoted to a production assistant a year ago. She’s been steadily gaining ever since and will continue to do so because she is a junk food junkie.”

In an instant the Colleen that was standing in front of Asami was completely different.

Colleen had been standing around in an elegant evening gown. She was every bit the image of prim and proper poise and elegance. But this Colleen looked like a fat schlubby slob in sweats.

The former model had become a round ball of fat with a thick gut that was so ponderous that it easily slipped out from under her dirty t-shirt and over the waistband of her sweatpants. She was constantly having to alternate between tucking her big belly into her sweatpants and pulling down her too small shirt to cover what she could. Unfortunately for her, Colleen’s job as a production assistant had her frequently waddling from place to place which left her sweaty, winded, and frequently humiliatingly exposed.

And Colleen had to waddle because her thighs were so tremendous, swishing tree trunks that constantly rubbed together. Her thighs were so thick with fat that the impressions of the cellulite that they were covered with were visible through the fabric of the too tight sweatpants. Even though Colleen definitely had cankles, the meat of her thighs was the real show, blowing outward like two huge fatty drumsticks. And they were paired with an equally bulbous blubber butt.

Colleen’s ass was the definition of a wideload. It was like she had a pair of bean bags crammed into her pants, and the pants couldn’t always take it. Her chunky cheeks often crested over the top giving her a very noticeable and oft laughed at plumber’s crack. Her entire body was like that, overly large and wobbly and constantly leaving Colleen in a state of humiliating disarray.

Even her fat pillowy arms were so large that the ham hocks that were once her biceps made any t-shirts she wore uncomfortably tight. Her back had fat rolls. Even her shoulders were fat. 

Colleen had also gotten a really fat face. It was round like a moon with big dimples on the rare times she smiled. She was a jowly girl with multiple chins to her name. Overall, her face had a greasy sheen and a dopey look on it far from the glamorous and confident visage she had previously projected.

Her fat face looked miserable. It was full of regret and the knowledge of the pretty privilege she once possessed and had since lost. Colleen’s fat face was full of disappointment and the weary acceptance of her new lot in life. She waddled with her head held low and her multiple chins bloated outward like a frog. She was quiet yet clumsy, still unused to her lumbering body. 

She was a complete slob too, with a dirty shirt constantly stained by sweat and the remnants of whatever meal she had just eaten. She had completely given up. Everything about her screamed defeat.

Asami couldn’t be happier.

And yet, she was not satisfied.

She wanted more.

With her precious notebook clutch in her hand, Asami decided to head to the fetish department and watch Melanie eat an entire cake.

Who knows, she might even find some more fun to be had while she was there.

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“Prissy Priscilla Plumps Up”

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Priscilla had finally made it. She had spent years digging for gold and finally hit the jackpot. 

Walter Gelt was a very rich man, and Priscilla was practically driven crazy thinking about all the things she would do with his money. She daydreamed of the things she would buy. At night when she slept she imagined herself jet setting around the world, taking in gorgeous windswept landscapes while casually promoting her own lifestyle brand on social media. She saw herself dripping in jewels and dressed to the nines in the most glamorous outfits money could buy. She was all set to have everything she ever wanted, everything she knew she deserved. 

And there was just one problem.

Walter Gelt was a very FAT man. He was a ponderous, lumbering fellow with an outrageous ball of a belly, a huge spare tire that hung out over his pants and forced every shirt he ever own to rise upward as his gut somehow continually defied the laws of gravity. The only thing saggy about his torso was the great big set of sweaty man boobs that rested atop his gargantuan gut. 

Down below, Walter was a man with a big fat ass and chunky thunder thighs that left him with a slow moving waddle. He was a kind man. A good man. And, most importantly to Priscilla, he was a rich man with lots of connections. The fat part was something Priscilla was going to have to learn to deal with.

Priscilla hated fat people. She had hated them her entire life. To her fat people were disgusting slobs, lazy and awful. She couldn’t stand the idea of body positivity. Priscilla was certain that that was just an idea created by the weak to make excuses for their ugly, bloated bodies. Instead, Priscilla loved to make sport of fat people, to humiliate and taunt them. She was the queen of doing that ever since she ascended the social ranks in high school.

When Priscilla became the head of her prestigious sorority, she made restrictions even tighter when it came to body type and regularly made people’s lives hell all in her relentless pursuit of perfection. The only thing she cared about about her appearance was her desire to have lots and lots of money handed to her while doing as little work as possible.

Prisicilla was gorgeous and inherently lazy. She had never had to work all that hard to keep her figure, and for money she had never had to work at all. She regularly strung people along whether that was family or a strong of handsome boyfriends. She desired nothing more than to be absolutely set for life. 

That’s where Walter came in.

Priscilla found Walter physically disgusting, but she also found that she had the kind-hearted fat man wrapped around her little finger. If she had to do some things, if she had to get into Walter’s pants to get access to his wallet, she could swallow her pride and do it. She always figured when she was jetssing on Walter’s dime she’d find herself in the arms of some real hunks, and, with Walter’s weight… well… she didn’t expect that marriage to last very long.

The only thing Priscilla didn’t count on was Walter’s big fat family.

Walter had a big fat mama and two heifers for sisters. They were big fat blubbery slobs who lived in Walter’s mansion, sucked up his money, and had far more of a run of his life than Priscilla was accounting for, and the biggest problem that came from that was that Priscilla had to go and live with them for an entire year before she and Walter were even allowed to get married.

It didn’t take long for Priscilla to realize that Walter’s mother, Gertrude, and his sisters, Hilda and Florence were going to be a nightmare that Priscilla had to live with before she could live her dream life. They were tremendous fatties. Walter’s sisters were so large that when they sat on the couch together they took up practically the whole thing. Priscilla was disgusted anytime she was forced to sit between the two and felt their fat bodies pressed against her. 

And Walter’s mother, Gertrude, better known as Trudy, was the fattest woman that Priscilla had ever known. She was a hog on wheels and required a mobility scooter just to get around. Walter had spent far too much money as far as Priscilla was concerned making the mansion accessible for his mammoth mother. 

She was a horribly uncouth woman who was constantly talking about how Priscilla was only after Walter for his money, which of course she was, but it was still rude to constantly say out loud!

Worst of all, Gertrude clearly wanted to make Priscilla fat. She insisted that Priscilla eat and eat and eat, stuffing her face seemingly endlessly. In fact, it wasn’t just a matter of insisting. It was an order. Priscilla couldn’t believe it, but Trudy had made a requirement of Priscilla marrying her son, eating whatever she was given for the whole year, and Walter had gone along with it!

So Priscilla had no choice. If she wanted to get to the finish line and bask in the glory and riches she would have to put up with a little fattening first. Just a few pounds. She could lose it once she had the money. Personal trainers and surgery if necessary, right?

Easier said than done.

The thing that Priscilla hated the most, other than the changes to her perfect figure and feeling stuffed like a turkey all the time, was the pure glee that her fat cow future sister in-laws took in feeding her. They kept bringing her plate after plate of food, and when she couldn’t bring herself to eat any more of that, they took to feeding her by hand all while taunting her, poking her and pinching her. She grew fatter, and the two fatties were there to point out how much she was growing every single day.

When the wedding finally came, Priscilla was a prized pig, fatter than she had ever thought possible. She looked absolutely miserable crammed into her ill-fitting wedding dress next to her slim and sexy bridesmaids. She was convinced that Hilda and Florence had purposefully turned down being bridesmaids so that Priscilla would be the fattest person in photos.

She had spent so much of the day starving herself to try to look as good and feel as confident as possible, but one drink in and her self-control was lost. She made a complete pig out of herself and it was a whole fiasco. She was such an embarrassment that by the time she split the seams of her wedding gown, her own mother had stormed out in humiliation.

After the wedding, things weren’t much better for Priscilla. Jetsetting was right out. She wouldn’t be caught dead on a beach in a swimsuit. And she had grown far too fat to fit into her former glamorous outfits. Her weight gain had also shot her confidence straight through, so it wasn;t like there were going to be any hunks coming calling for her.

And her friends? Her bridesmaids? They all turned their back on her after the wedding. She may have been rich, but she was a big fat rich loser to them. They hung around for a bit, but with Priscilla being unwilling to take them to fabulous places, they certainly weren’t going to stick around and blow up right alongside her. Once they each put on fifteen pounds, they knew they needed to get out.

So Priscilla was all alone.

Almost.

She had to admit that through it all Walter had been a gem. If anything, as she grew he grew even more amorous. And as she spent more time with him she found him more tolerable. And the food was always so good. She tried to diet after the wedding and found it to be impossible. Priscilla had grown so used to piggy out that it was like she needed to be stuffing her face.

And her new family was happy to enable her.

So Priscilla just let herself go, let it all go, and she had to admit it felt great to do so. No more tight glamorous outfits. She was a fat slob in sweats with a gluttonous gut, a spare tire that was growing out as if she was trying to match her husband’s. But she grew much bigger hips than her husband’s. She grew blubbery behind perfectly suited for sitting on a couch. She had to be given her own because she could no longer fit on the one with her sister in-laws. 

It was a revelation just cutting loose, eating whatever whenever indulging in every kind of hedonistic pleasure worth indulging in. With Walter by her side, and her new family supporting her, Priscillia shook off the shackles of her prim and proper life and accepted the fact that she was destined to be a big fat fatty. And she had to admit the truth.

She was a happy hog of a housewife.

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“Sorority Sisters Swell”

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The Terrific Trio were a group of well known skinny bitches. They were slim and sexy and they knew it. Tonya, Maria, and Amelia were queens of their sorority who had known each other since they were queens of their high school. They were, as far as society at large was concerned, the epitome of physical perfection. 

And they loved to hold that over people. They felt superior to everyone, especially those who were fat, and if that made some people bristle at them, who cares? They didn’t need anybody else. They had each other. They were thick as thieves.

One they took a fateful visit to Thick Burger.

And soon they were just getting thick.

That visit to Thick Burger was a life changer. It led to another, and a third, and then weekly appearances, sometimes bi or even thrice weekly. Every special occasion required a trip to Thick Burger. They began to go to Thick Burger more and more, they started to grow more and more. And it wasn’t long until the previously slim sorority sisters were downright fat. And while they were alike in so many ways, all of their fat settled very differently.

Tonya was an undeniable pear. Sure, up top she grew as well. Her breasts swelled a fair bit. Her arms got thick, and her face rounded out and developed a slight double chin that became more noticeable when she smiled or opened her mouth to shove another burger in it. But the weight really started to pile on the further down you looked. She grew a sizeable pot belly, a nice gut that pressed against her dresses or spilled out over her pants, but even that wasn’t the show stopper.

That award went to everything below the waist starting with her incredible wide hips. Her monster hips were paired with a huge ass, two balloons for butt cheeks that had an uncanny knack for staying afloat, defying gravity even as they filled further with fat. And below those bulbous cheeks were a pair of titanic thighs, thick blubber pillars of fat that pressed together and forced her to swing her legs in a wide waddle. They were covered in cellulite just like her butt, and those thunder thighs paired with all the junk in her oversized trunk made her move very slowly across campus. As she slowed down she stopped exercising and grew even faster becoming a comically large pear with an incredibly huge peach.

At the other end of the fruit bowl was Maria. Maria was an apple. Sure, she grew a big flabby ass too, but it was soft and saggy. It rested on flabby thighs, but even that was not where the majority of her weight went. Maria’s fat settled mostly around the middle. She used to have immaculate abs that she was incredibly proud of. She loved to show them off. She doesn’t do much showing off of her gut, at least not intentionally.

Maria grew a huge pot belly, the kind of fat sack that stretched out her shirts and forced either buttons to strain or t-shirts to ride up as her flabby muffin top spilled out and over her pants. She was often mistaken for pregnant until people noticed how jiggly her gut was. Her spare tire made her have to work to lean forward and grab the food she loved to stuff her face with. And it still only narrowly outpaced her massive breasts.

Maria’s humongous mammaries became her pride and joy. They required an extremely heavy duty bra to manage them, but her cleavage was the most impressive on campus, and it often caught pieces of whatever she was quickly cramming into her mouth. Mouths around her would water as she took a napkin to dab sauce off her big boobs. Her arms had gotten thick bingo wings, and her face had gotten fat, but there was no denying that all eyes were immediately drawn to her chest.

Rounding out the rather round trio was Amelia. And while she didn’t have her fat settle in one particular spot as much as the others, her weight settled in more places giving her a rather outrageous hourglass. She turned heads before she got fat and she turned even more afterward. She was gifted with the three b’s, a big butt, a big belly and big breasts. Her fat made her stacked, and because she managed to go to the gym more than the other two, it remained tighter. Although plenty of people still made fun of her, Amelia knew she was getting plenty of suitors, even more than her two tubby friends, a fact that she secretly enjoyed.

She smiled at them as they all ate together. Of the three, Amelia had grown the fattest face with chubby cheeks and a thick doughy double chin. She loved her food the most, and had probably put on the most weight, so it was helpful for her that it settled more evenly.

There was no turning back now, no dieting in sight. The three of them couldn’t stop going to Thick Burger if they tried, and they had no desire to try. The only thing they wanted to try doing was to stuff themselves more and more. They were on an unending cycle of fattening, and by the time they graduated college, they had a new nickname that would follow their fatasses from that moment forward.

They were the Titanic Trio forevermore.