Fat Trimmings Vol. 3

“Belly Bursting Button”

Look at that belly hanging over those jeans. That’s a solid pinch an incher right there. Yup, look at that flesh just oozing out from under that shirt.

A while ago, someone might have described it as cute, a cute little sliver just peeking out for the world to see. A small bit of tummy fat just trying to say hello. How adorable.

This isn’t adorable. This is a whopper. It’s a fight too. Just look at the jiggling pot of jello pressed up against the button of those jeans.

Give ‘em hell, Blubby!

That’s right. This is the kinda pot belly that deserves a name. Blubby’s due to burst that button any day now. Any moment really. If you look closely enough you can see where the thread holding button to pants is beginning to fray. There are bits of it already dangling. Hairs have split and the rest is not long for this world.

Feel bad for that little button. If it manages to live through the day, and if those practically painted on pants can even be peeled off, it will get to rest limply as it quite literally holds on by a thread. And it’s life is only due to last till the next time she tries to shoehorn her fat rear into these jeans. Once she tries cramming those quivering, shivering, jiggling thunder thighs in here, those sausage fingers are gonna wrap around this poor button one last time, squeeze the life out of it and pop it right the hell off.

Of course, that’s being optimistic. Look at that Buddha belly. Watch that fat gut balloon outward with every breath, surging in and out like a tide of fat. It’s packed full of wiggle and no roam to wiggle in. That button has got to go. It’s not making it long enough to see the floor or laundry bin.

Forget popping off at the end of the day, the rockets are primed and this thing’s ready to explode.

It was always a race, a battle for what was going to give first, the button of the seams. The button’s been putting up a hard fight, but the poundage of that pot belly is getting to it. Of course, those inseams are pretty tight too. The fabric is wearing thing from being stretched too far for too long. The sausage casing is near ready to split, those thighs can’t be contained forever. If that button doesn’t send these pants to the garbage, the seams will finish the job. That quivering thigh meat is going to come bursting out as those seams split like blooming flowers tearing along the sides and up that bountiful ass revealing the overtaxed pink panties waiting underneath.

And look at her go with another chili dog. You just know that’s gonna end up dripping all over that mess. What a pig she is. It’s okay though. That pink shirt looks as painted on as the jeans. It’s due to be thrown out soon too. Time to size up, piggy admit it! She’s such a fatty. It’s great isn’t it. Bulging belly, big back side and hippo hips to match.

Start counting down now. With every bite that button is getting closer to blast off. She’s wolfing down that chili dog in record times. That pink shirt’s a Pollock painting now. Just look at those stains!

She’s grunting as she eats. Can’t cram that chili dog into her mouth fast enough. Any moment now. Any bite could be the one that breaks the button. She’s sucking chili off her plump fingers like a hoover and any drop might be the one to break the dam.

Come on. Break. Do it. Come on button. You know you want to. You’re holding her back. Let her belly free. Let everyone see what’s waiting just barely tucked away.

The button has to break free soon. It can’t possibly hang on any longer.

Can it?

It’s so close. Right there. Her fat has pushed this button to it’s absolute limit. It’s trying to hold. Trying to keep some shred of dignity tucked in, but she’s too much of a glutton. Also those chili dogs, every single cookie, every late night bowl of ice cream smear across her fat face. It’s all been leading to this very moment.

Ping.

Thar she blows!

Where could that button have gotten to as it sails through the air. It shot off with such force that one would be justified in wondering if it might have just left the earth’s atmosphere all together. There was certainly enough fat behind that overtaxed dam to make that button disappear from sight. There’s no turning back now, those pants will never close again, not that that was ever in any real doubt. Anyone privy to her abundant eating habits knows she’s destined to grow bigger and bigger, fatter and fatter. She’s far too lazy and greedy to change.

Just look at that fat oozing outward, the deluge of pudge plopping out onto her lap as the button ricochets off the wall and into a trash can full of crinkled up candy bar wrappers. It spills outward like a swollen river after a rainstorm, a swollen river of fat fat fueled by snack cakes.

This plumper’s chili covered sausage fingers desperately try to pull the ends of her jeans back together. Too late Big Momma! The Pillsbury dough is out of the can, and you can’t squeeze all that toothpaste back in the tube. You’re stuck like this, fatty. It’s all hanging out there for the world to see and laugh at.

Look at her juicy double chin wobble like a turkey as her fat cheeks grow red. She’s trembling now as she rocks back and forth desperately trying to tell herself that somehow she can fix this. Better be careful or…

Riiiip.

And split goes the sausage casing. Out comes the flabby thighs like over yeasted dough rapidly rising. She’s in full bloom today. It’s over, tubs. Time to mooooove on from these jeans.

She’s shaking her head. She honestly can’t believe it. Look at those jowls move. Look at her piggish nose. Of course she’s this fat now. This is her destiny. And she’s gonna get fatter still.

Think of all the means names that are gonna new thrown her way: fatty, piggy, hippo, lardass, cow, whale. Her fat cheeks are red, but it’s hard to tell behind all the chili.

How embarrassing.

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“Natasha Likes to Munch”

Natasha likes to munch.

She’ll munch on many things.

On mangos and macaroons,

on beef ragu and dumplings.

She is fond of many foods,

most notably of stew,

but she will eat most anything

for anything will do.

Ice cream, cake and cookies

all end up in her gut.

They fill her thighs up nicely,

and help balloon her butt

Candy bars and pork rinds,

gummy bears and chips.

They all go in her stomach,

and help expand her hips

And soda, milk, and o-j

all help fill up her breasts

While all the other snacks she eats

Take care of all the rest

She’ll do her eating anywhere,

At any time of day.

She’s always eating something.

She always finds a way.

In bed is where the most feasting is-

Chocolate covered strawberries,

and bananas by the bunch

Fed to her by her fat girlfriend

Whom she also likes to munch.

Natasha likes to munch. She’ll munch on everything and everything. There is no cuisine she will not find a way to enjoy. I could be Italian, Thai, Brazilian, North African. It could be French, Indian or Chinese or anything. She is a bon vivant and a connoisseur of all things culinary. And while she loves to eat big feasts from time to time, Natasha’s true passion is in munching.

Try a little here and there off everybody’s plate. A little munch. A tiny nosh. Just a nibble here and there. But consistent nibbles. Lots of noshes.

And those noshes add up.

Natasha’s noshing turned her from a slim girl to a chubby one to a chunky one to a fat one. Her abs have gone to flab. Her hips are brushing door frames. Her belly hangs to her knees. Her butt is a big old shelf.

Sweets are what really get Natasha going. She eats cookies not by the handful but by the package. The Girl Scouts love her. So does her local grocery store. Her trips to the frozen food aisle could keep them in the black alone. Natasha is the kind of girl who will settle in for the night with a whole gallon of ice cream and not care about it dripping down her chin and onto her massive heaving bosom. The sticky girl just loves to eat more and more and more.

Natasha is a naughty girl who loves to be fed.

And that’s what she has a big fat girlfriend for, so they can both keep each other well fed and satisfied in every way possible.

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“What If (Part 3)”

It’s happening. She can feel it now, not just in a metaphorical sense, but in the very physical one. She can feel the softness of her stomach. What was once hard muscle is now a soft roll, the beginning of something much bigger to come. She is used to having a slick set of muscular abs, a washboard for her to lovingly run her hands up and now. And now?

Now as she runs her hands up and down what would have once been her abs she instead feels soft and yielding flesh that quivers at her touch. Her still slender fingers graze the flab and push in gently and then angrily. She then turns that anger into a twisting of her juicy roll, the part that sticks out from under her shirt and pushes over the waistband of her jeans.

She pinches the fat angrily and then looks at herself in the mirror. There is a deep frown on her slightly softer face, but as she pinches she also feels a warm slightly burning sensation across the back of her neck. The hair stands up on her neck as her one hand pinches her stomach fat and her other hand slides between her thighs.

These could be next, she thinks- she knows. Yes. These could be the next part of her to fatten. No more athletic muscles just… melted softness. She could picture it so easily. She wanted it so badly.

But she is already getting strange looks from her friends. She can already hear them whispering behind her back.

“She’s put on some pounds.”

“She better be careful or she’s going to turn into a real porker.”

“That would be hilarious, and deserved.”

“I hope it happens. I hope she turns into a cow for us to make fun of.”

They haven’t gotten bold enough to say those things to her face, only when they think she isn’t listening, or when she’s not supposed to be listening anyway. But she knows. She knows what her future could hold if she doesn’t get a hold of herself. Once the words come to her directly, that would be another step down the social ladder and on the path to obesity.

Another sign that there would be no turning back.

She would be on the road to being a fatty, a full blown fatty.

But she would stop, wouldn’t she? She must be able. At any point she can stop if she wants to. It’s easy to say that. Harder to do. Actions have consequences.

Without stopping herself she would grow fatter and fatter. She would be quite large, waddling through the halls feeling the eyes of people who once admired her, glare at her, laugh behind her back and in front of her face as well. She could be that.

But she doesn’t want to be. She’s not ready for that kind of fall from grace that’s why she is planning on just poking at her breakfast today. Just a nibble. There’s no need to stuff her face with delicious buttery pancakes and fistfuls of fattening bacon. Even now she can’t help but think about the smell of what a delicious feast that could be, the thought of such a meal has her drooling.

No. It’s not just thoughts. She can smell it. She can smell it from all the way up the stairs. It’s there waiting for her. She could throw it all away and continue down the indulgent path she set herself on with those cupcakes, and the regular cake, chocolate, vanilla, pie… ice cream…. Oh so much. She wants it all right now. She wants to give in, and she doesn’t all at the same time.

As she tries to button her jeans once again she comes to the realization that if she gives in to her hunger these jeans won’t be long for her world. Of course… she could just wear some sweats anyway. What if she does? Would that really be giving up? Maybe just for now.

She reaches into her dresser for some sweats and gets herself properly ready for breakfast.