"Nightmare Pigs" Chapter 2

“Fucking fat ass.”

“You’re pathetic, piggy.”

“Look at that gut.”

“Look at that lard ass.”

“What a complete and total fat, flabby loser.”

“You’re disgusting, you gluttonous pig.”

Marjorie Smith had heard it all before, and she knew she would hear it again and again. This was her existence. She had hoped that she had escaped it once she graduated high school. She thought that college would be a new beginning, a respite from her bullies, but there was no escaping the simple fact-

Marjorie was fat.

Large Marge as the others liked to call her was a big ball of spongy fat, a ponderously pudgy girl with a protruding pot belly and a matching posterior. Her thighs were thick and pasty, large wobbling beams of softness that pressed themselves together and forced her into a slow, lumbering waddle. Her chest was comparatively small which, along with the constant teasing about her body in general, helped contribute to her incredible sense of inadequacy and overall lack of confidence.

Marjorie strived to be a nice girl. She tried hard to be friendly toward others, always donated to charity, volunteered her time, the things that you’re supposed to do. She worked hard on her studies, loved her mother. She would have been perfectly at home in a Tom Petty song.

But all the years of bullying had left Large Marge a tired, turgid, mostly depressed mess. Even on days when she was feeling good about herself, actually feeling happy for once, she could count on those moments being absolutely ruined whenever the campus mean girls found her.

They were a group of five, and they made Marjorie’s life a nightmare.

Cynthia Sinclair was sunshine incarnate. Everything about her was sunkissed and bright, from her tan skin to her blonde hair, to the outfits that she wore. She was known to all as a bright and bubbly person. At least, that’s how she looked.

“You shouldn’t be smiling. You don’t deserve to be happy.”

Cynthia’s attitude was an entirely different story. She was as volatile as a summer storm, and when she was looking to rain on someone’s parade, Marjorie was her favorite target.

“Seriously, Piggy. Someone has fat as you should be miserable. How are you not disgusted with yourself? The rest of us are. You’re a fat slob.”

Cynthia loved calling Majorie a fat slob. She loved calling most people with even the slightest of weight issues fat slobs, and she loved to show off her own remarkably toned body in comparison.

“Check out this ass, Fatso,” said Cynthia as she waved her perky butt clad in a bright white, tight and short skirt right in front of Marjorie.

“Tight, and toned, but curvy. It turns heads. This is what an ass is supposed to look like, not a fat shapeless dumper like yours, you cow.”

“Maybe if you lost some weight you’d actually be able to wear some halfway decent clothes that fit you right so that you don’t look like such a hot fucking mess.” chimed in Bethany Richardson, Cynthia’s best friend and roommate.

“I mean. You just look like you smell.”

Bethany Richardson was as uptight as her outfits. Always perfectly coiffed and manicured and impeccably dressed like Elle Woods in court, pink power suits a plenty, she strutted around with a judgmental gaze that could cut people down with a look, and anyone who didn’t cower to that was sure to shrink at her sharp, cold tongue. Bethany was the queen of cutting words with a mind that perfectly matched her junior law partner look. She was the master of the technicality and of twisting her words before or after to the greatest effect possible. Be it making an insult sound like a complement, or getting herself out of trouble after the fact, Bethany was teflon.

Of course, with Marjorie she didn’t even bother pretending to be nice. Nobody did.

“You fat, lazy loser. I bet you just laze about on the couch all day on your fat flabby ass. That’s why you’re a pig who will never be slim and sexy like us. You’re just a fat, lazy, good for nothing, slob.”

Bethany’s own body was a temple and as tight as her preppy outfits. She was a sporty girl with six pack abs and long lean legs that drove people wild. Her short skirts perfectly accentuated the toned curves of her ass, and her tailored jackets always tapered with her waist.

“Your fat butt personally disgusts me.”

Bethany leaned down to inspect Majorie’s face and poked at her double chin.

“And are those some hairs growing on your double chinny-chin chin, piggy? Gross!”

She tweaked Marjorie’s extra chin and laughed, being sure to flick Marge’s fat arm while she was at it.

“Heh,” laughed the normally dreary Diana Pendelton.

Diana was a mousy girl, never very popular in high school, not particularly popular now. She was one of those types that could be quite attractive if she gave more thought to the particulars of their clothing or the maintenance of their hair. But since Diana did not she appeared to have a rather plain appearance and was indeed almost entirely forgettable. 

Her body didn’t particularly lack curves nor did it have an abundance of them. Diana had a decent if somewhat soft butt along with modest breasts. If anything, her one point of self-consciousness was a belly that was a little too padded for her liking. To take care of that, Diana made excellent use of a control panty girdle, her little secret.

Diana did not particularly care for parties or making friends, but she was smart. She cherished and lorded her intellect over anyone, and while that might have ended up making her an ostracized nerd, Diana’s brains turned to cunning in college, and while she didn’t care about the social scene, she was smart enough to start networking right away. As such, she had singled out Bethany Richardson as the perfect person to hitch her wagon to.

While Diana was thoroughly lacking in charisma and only average in looks, she was excellent at being a leech, and knew how to make herself useful enough to have Bethany keep her around which kept her floating around the popular circle without feeling any of their sting. It was Diana’s hope that these connections would set her up for much more in the future, and if keeping these connections meant helping Bethany and the others stomp down on a few lesser mortals, then so be it. 

Hanging with the popular girls was making Diana feel powerful in her own right, and Bethany and Cynthia truly seemed to have it all.

But they all paled in comparison to the Queen, Jennifer Russel.

The blonde bitch in high heeled boots crossed campus with a strut that felt like it should have a guitar sting accompanying it. When she burst through the doors, all eyes were immediately to her, and rooms would go so quiet that pins were afraid to drop.

And she truly was the Queen. Homecoming, Prom, Spring Fling, she won them all. Her home featured her collection of crowns as part of a shrine to her perfection. She was head cheerleader and student body president, the undeniable most likely to succeed. Jennifer had ruled over her high school and was already doing the same in college.

How could she not?

Jennifer’s body was a magnet that drew stares. She was the embodiment of society’s idea of perfection, a complete smoke show with curves that were generous but tight, an ass that was full but pert, breasts that were large yet perky, thighs that were thick and toned, and impossible abs in the middle of her perfect hourglass figure.

She made everything look effortless because everything was easy. Whatever she wanted? It all came to her easily. Any guy she wanted? Hers. Any grade she wanted? When she cared, if it didn’t come easily enough to her there were always plenty of people available to make sure she easily got it. Food? She could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a single pound because her miraculous metabolism burnt calories like a furnace and gave her the energy to make exercise effortless and fun. So she loved to indulge and rub her indulgences in the face of others.

“You wish you could eat like me and never gain a pound. Don’t you, Piggy?” she would constantly tease Marge as she poked Marge’s doughy belly.

“But you’ll never be like me, wide load. You’re stuck as a fat ass getting fatter, destined to be a loser while I’m a hottie with a body destined for success.”

It was true too, not just the part about her smoking hot body which she regularly loved to show off in tight, skin baring outfits, but also the destined for success part. Jennifer’s parents were loaded, absolutely filthy rich, and if Jennifer didn’t want to settle down and spend her life partying as a trophy wife, she could have any number of lucrative jobs set up for her at her daddy’s company where she would barely have to do anything. She liked the idea of having one of those jobs where she could pawn everything off on her assistant and taking all the credit for it. Maybe she could poach Diana from Bethany and fit her for that role.

But right now, Jennifer had her own personal project that she was working on, and that project was Marjorie’s former best friend and Jennifer’s current roommate, Mildred Miller.

Mildred and Marjorie used to be thick as thieves in high school, M&M as they styled themselves. Even when times were at their toughest, Marjorie knew that Mildred would always be there. And then Mildred decided to dorm at the local college they all went to, while Marjorie’s mother kept her baby at home. 

At first Mildred and Majorie both thought this would be great. Mildred would get a roommate, Majorie would come over all the time, and their friend group would grow by one. But then a freak of the housing lottery landed Mildred with Jennifer Russel. Instead of just being cruel to her new roommate until she quit college entirely and allowed Jennifer to get a new socially acceptable one (which was her first instinct), Jennifer instead decided that she would take the poor creature under her wing and go full on Pygmalion.

Mildred benefitted from one of those late nineties early two thousands “just take off your glasses” movie type of makeover. She was also told what to wear, what to eat, and, most importantly, who to hangout with.

Rechristened Em, Mildred dropped Marjorie like a bad habit and had in fact been the one to begin really pushing the Large Marge nickname. Em now looked every bit the part of the stereotypical popular mean girl, with tight outfits hugging her curves, and she had the attitude to match.

“Seriously, Large Marge, you’re just pathetic. You’d think a fat nerd like you would learn to take care of herself by now. But no, you just keeping blowing up. It’s like you’re fatter and fatter by the day.” 

As Em tore into her former best friend, Jennifer watched with a shark like grin and a nod of approval. She couldn’t have been prouded of her handiwork.

It was good to let one’s lessers know their place in the world lest they get ideas of being better than they are. It keeps the servant class in line, and it’s just so damn fun.

“That’s right, loser,” sneered Jennifer.

“Don’t forget your fat ass can’t hold a candle to us. All your blubber would burn up!”

She wasn’t sure that metaphor landed the way she wanted it to so-

“FATTY!” She threw in at the end for good measure.

That day, when Marjorie got home from school, she came through the door in a huff and waddled up the stairs as fast as her thunder thighs would allow (which wasn’t very fast at all). 

“Honey?” called out Marjorie’s mom, Scarlet, as she watched her fat daughter trample through the house.

Marjorie gave no response, which put Scarlet on high alert. Scarlet liked to think of herself as a rather empathetic person who was used to her sweet daughter being easily upset. It was something to hate to think about, her poor baby suffering. It’s why she kept her so close, possibly coddled her a bit much- certainly why she kept her home and commuting to college instead of boarding there. It was just that Marjorie had such few friends and… Well Scarlet didn’t like to consider her possible role in that. She just wanted to know-

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” exclaimed Marjorie with a slam of her bedroom door.

That night, Marjorie dreamed of better, and as she tossed and turned, her mother stood over her thoughtfully with her hand just above Marjorie’s sweaty head. 

Scarlet relieved Marjorie’s memories of the day, and as she did, a single tear ran down her cheek. Her eyes turned yellow and her hair pulsed with a purple manevolence.

And she swore she would make things right.

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Cynthia Sinclair cowered as Scarlet finished her story. Her now fattened body shook with fear.

“Please. Please change me back. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be nice to your daughter. Please.”

“No can do, Piggy. This is all very permanent.”

Tears ran down Cynthia’s pale chunky cheeks as her chubby hands ran down her fat sides, pinched her love handles, and then cradled her pudgy pot belly, letting the thick flab ooze through her sausage fingers.

“Y-you mean I’m stuck like this?”

“Yes you are, Fatso. You’re stuck with that gut and your stinky but forever.”

PFFFFRRRPPPPPTT! Trumpeted Cynthia’s bloated rear end right on cue.

“Enjoy that big fat dumper of yours, Lard Ass.”

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is. Look.”

The ground seamed to part beneath Cynthia’s fat feet, and it was like she was looking down through a window into her dorm room. There she was, her corpulent body fast asleep, snoring loudly and occasionally passing gas as she slept. Cynthia watched her heavy chest heave up and down in her slumber. She was wearing a barely fitting black night gown that did appear to have popped one of its seams allowing a pale love handle to peak on through.

The bed had several discarded candy wrappers in it, and Cynthia’s side of the room was littered with dirty dishes and empty fast food containers. It was a perfect mirror of Bethany’s pristine side as the still preppy blonde slept peacefully unaware that anything was even wrong.

“When you wake up, you won’t remember anything about who you used to be. You’ll just go about your life as fat goth slob. And the only time you’ll know the truth… is in your nightmares.”

Cynthia’s multiple chins quivered as she sobbed.

PFFFFFFFFPPPPPHHHRRRRTT!!!

The mocking sound of her own flatulence pair with the smell made Cynthia sob even louder.

“Enough of that now, tubs. I have a lot of work to get to tonight.”

With a snap of Scarlet’s fingers, Cynthia’s mind grew cloudy and a coldness filled her eyes as Cynthia disappeared into Syn once more.

Scarlet looked through the window in Cynthia’s dream at the preppy girl still soundly sleeping.

“And I think I’ll start with your friend Bethany.”

Syn watched Scarlet slip through the window as it began to close.

“Ooooo. That thin preppy bitch is gonna get it.”