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"Fat Trimmings" Volume 6
🕑 Added 2024-01-09 15:00:07 +0000 UTC“Big Pig”
Her face is already covered in sauce. Look at her. You turned away for just a moment and the bones of three chicken wings are already tossed aside on her plate. The plate is to share, but that was never the intention, not for either of you. You take one dutifully, that’s what needs to be done to keep up the pretense. You take one so technically you can say you’re sharing. But the rest are for this delightful little piggy in front of you.
Look at that sauce dripping down her fat cheek and resting on her double chin. Watch the extra bit of fat wobble with every enthusiastic bite as she tears into her buffalo wings with reckless abandon. Pieces fly onto the plate or even onto her shirt, but they’re scooped up quickly and with little thought to the state of her clothes. Hunger has taken over, and the act of eating is all that she cares about at the moment. For a brief second she stops and smiles at you, and you can see the bits of chicken fat still wedged in her teeth.
Those sauce stings on her tongue and you watch as it causes sweat beads to form across her forehead. If she bothered to slow down she would probably be fine, but because she’s plowing through this plate like it's a professional wing eating contest, the sweat builds up until it physically starts to run down and mingles with the sauce on her cheeks. As she nears the end of the large platter of fifty wings her pace begins to slow. She has six left, then five, then four. Then she stops.
With three wings left she looks like she’s hit the wall. Her head tilts back and her pot belly, bloated and rock solid, lets out a mighty rumble. Her sauce covered hand covers her mouth for a second and she takes a deep breath. She steadies herself and nods before heading back to the wings. She picks up the next wing, and brings it to her lips. Her fingers pop out the wing flesh, but before she can suck the meat from the bones her stomach rumbles again and she lets loose a tremendous burp without even attempting to cover her mouth.
The hot gas hits your face as the burp lasts for a full three seconds, and it’s the most buffalo wing flavor you’ve tasted all day since the one wing you’ve picked up is still held in your hand. With more room now available in her previously gurgling gut, she attacks the last two wings like a hungry vulture tearing into roadkill. She rips the meat clear off the bone and sucks the bones dry before ending her display with another victorious burp.
Then she looks to you, and her still hungry eyes look down at the one wing in your hand.
“You gonna finish that?”
The hunger in her eyes is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. She looks at you with the gaze that you imagine a starving beast in the jungle must have. It’s a look that should not exist after all of that gorging, and yet here it is. She stares at you with wide hungry eyes that rest above chubby sauce-covered cheeks and a set of plump, juicy lips that quiver as she pleads with you for more food. Her tongue swirls around them, licking up as much buffalo sauce as humanly possible as she hopes that you’ll continue to feed her. She wants it so bad.
You swear you hear her stomach growl again as that loud burp seems to have opened up some more room in her ravenous belly, and the sound of greedy gut begging for more grows into a growl as she looks at the wing that you’re holding and reaches out her hand to touch yours.
“Please.” She whimpers. As she leans forward and wraps her mouth around the chicken wing that you hold. It slides toward the back of her throat as she takes it all in and then sucks every bit of flesh and fat that she can get. She pulls her head free, and her lips make a satisfying smacking sound as they come off the bone and spray a spackling of sauce on your hand.
“More. I need more. Feed me more.”
You push your own plate of wings forward and she practically pounces on them like a lion that hasn’t eaten in a month pouncing on a gazelle. She tears into them one after one with the speed of a truly glutinous competitive eater. You’d swear she was a death row inmate gorging on her last meal if you didn’t know any better. But she isn’t a wild animal, and she is a prisoner of nothing except for her insatiable appetite.
She knows what she’s doing too. She knows that all of this food is just going to add to the pounds swaying around what used to pass for a waistline. She’s just going to get larger and larger until she starts creaking and then breaking chairs. Her future is an immense one thanks to all the food she keeps stuffing her fat face with, all the fattening food you’re more than willing to fill her with.
First it’s buffalo wings. Then it’s french fries smothered in cheese and gravy paired with a side order of creamy mac and cheese. It’s all followed by cake, mounds of cake shoveled by hand and washed down with a strawberry milkshake.
Oh yes, this is just the first of many many food fueled nights to come. There are plenty of big things in store for this not so little piggy, plenty of big things indeed.
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“The Mighty Have Fallen”
In high school she was popular, Queen of Mean and ruler of the school. Nobody said no to her because a few cutting words from her and your whole life was ruined. She knew how to use her looks to her advantage and ruled from a storm of jealousy and fear. Everyone wanted what she had and she would seldom give anything to anyone.
In college she was hot, and she knew it. She decided to work her magic at every party possible. Her freshman year she was a staple at all the best parties. Everyone wanted a piece of her, but she never wanted to give. She would only ever take, piece by piece, drink by drink. Never one for a full course meal, she was always more of a grazer, a nibbler.
But the thing about all those nibbles is, they start to catch up with you, and it’s hard to count the calories when you’re grazing about. But nibbles add up, don’t they? Nibbles turn to bites, turn to pounds, turn to inches on the waist. And then you’ve got stretched seams then popped seams and ripped pants. Dresses that were bought to be form fitting tend to tear when there’s just too much form to fit. And that’s just what happened to her. Take six pack abs and add enough six packs of beer, and sooner or later you get a keg sized beer belly.
Freshman fifteen, sophomore twenty, and then she just stopped pulling out the scale all together as her weight bounded every upward. That’s what happened to our cheerleader. Pounds upon pounds piled on until our pretty popular princess was looking pretty portly.
A lot can happen in five years. People can change a lot. That’s especially true when you’ve spent those last five year pounding beers and porking up, stuffing yourself like a pig at parties until any remnant of your hard earned cheerleader body is shredded more than meat on a barbecue sandwich. She gorged herself well passed that point, past button popping and seam splitting, in five years she moved straight into the all sweatpants all the time club. Gone is the glamour. Gone is the makeup. What started out as a few party pounds have been compounded by the weight of depression and a cycle of self-loathing fed by chocolate and pound cake.
But still, there’s something she has got to do, a certain social event that she must drag herself to lest she be labeled a quitter as well as a fatty. No matter how humiliating it might be, there’s one last important social event she has to waddle to no matter how much she dreads it. In the back of her mind she thinks, maybe a little public humiliation will be fine. Maybe it’ll be the wake up call she needs to find a diet that sticks instead of another pack of sticky buns.
Yes. With a resigned nod that sends her double chin quivering, she knows she is going to wobble on down to her high school reunion.
Now, let me ask you a question.
Do you know what revenge sounds like?
It sounds like whispers at first, snide little comments made just out of earshot as all those people that she lauded her looks over get their first glimpse of the former beauty queen now returned to her roost rather rotund and with a pronounced sway to her hips that was at one point alluring but is now a chaotic jumble of undulating fat bouncing back and forth and threatening to burst through the unfortunate dress that she has squeezed herself in like an overcooked sausage.
It’s the sound of shocked disbelief as people refuse to believe and reject that overwhelming amount of evidence that is horking down h'orderves right in front of them. This couldn’t possibly be the head cheerleader, the prom queen. This bloated cow of a woman threatening to split her dress and choke on the cocktail weenies that she’s inhaling couldn’t possibly be the same person who once scrutinized other people's lunches and cruelly commented on the size of other people’s waistlines.
Then it looks like pointing. It’s seeing the slow wave of shoulder taps spread throughout the freshly refurbished gymnasium as one after another people search for confirmation that their eyes aren’t playing tricks on them, that this isn’t some sort of elaborate gaslighting. She really has put on a ton of weight. The Queen Bee is swollen with honey and scarfing down appetizers. Yes, the lithe athletic arms that drew letters in the air now are bloated bingo wings drawing buffalo wings to her greedy sauce covered lips. She tears into the greasy chicken with reckless abandon as sauce spills on her dress.
Looks like reality is setting in. The people are believing. One by one they’re realizing that it’s true, the prom queen has turned into a prized hog ready to trade in her crown for a blue ribbon pinned to her massive chest, a chest that is becoming more and more covered by food debris as she continues to munch her way down the entire buffet line.
Revenge feels like all eyes turning toward her and making her neck burn with humiliation. It’s the feeling she has deep down in the pit of her overfed stomach that says that behind her there is a sea of Cheshire cat grins from all of the people she once treated as inferior to her.
She can feel her dress pull taught against her belly and ass as she continues to stress eat. It’s the only thing she can think to do as she begins to nervously sweat. She digs desperately into more food as she can feel people getting closer. Their courage is growing now too. Soon somebody will say something directly to her face. This was a bad idea. She knows that she needs to go.
And that’s when it happens.
One heel gives out. Snap. Then she’s wobbling backward and falling to the floor. As she rolls herself over and tries to push herself up, that’s when the back of the dress gives out. It rips clean down the middle of her ass and reveals a pair of overtaxed plain white granny panties.
That’s when the laughter starts.
And the insults.
“Wow! Look at bubble butt! Piggy’s got back!”
“I can’t believe she ever made fun of me for my weight. Who’s porky now?”
“What has she done for the last five years other than eat? She’s absolutely huge!”
Yes. This reunion will be a night she never forgets. She wants nothing more than to waddle home and bury her face in a pie. With any luck, she’ll never have to see any of these people again.
Of course, with the way she’s gaining, the couch is becoming harder to get off of. She might not even be able to get to her ten year reunion even if she wants to.
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“Michelle Wants to Be Fat”
Michelle hated being skinny.
Even though she was very popular, and people always told her she was gorgeous, Michelle was never truly content. She was blessed with a figure that many would die for, sleek curves, flat abs, an angelic face. Michelle was everything that society said was supposed to be perfect. But Michelle didn’t give a damn about what society said.
Michelle wanted to be fat.
She longed to be fat. She was the kind of person that would stuff pillows under her shirt when nobody was looking. She cruised every feeder/feedee site that she could find. She made her way through pages of content including fetishes that she did not particularly care for but would never go out of her way to kink shame, so that she could find as much feederism content as she could.
Sure, she loved imagine other people as fat as well. She loved a good old revenge story, but fatten was herself.
mostly because she knew that she, at least physically, resembled the stereotypical hot girls whose bodies were being “ruined” in those stories, and the person that she really wanted to
But Michelle had a problem, and that problem was society, and even more explicitly that problem was her family.
Up until college her mother kept her on a very strict diet, and even when she went to college , she had so many friends who were so used to her being the “hot” one that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to risk losing them by changing herself. She was afraid for several months during her Freshman year. And then….
As October turned into November…
Michelle got an idea, an incredibly important, thoroughly life changing idea.
People put on weight during the holidays. And the Freshman fifteen is something everyone knows about. She could put on the freshman fifteen, or at least get it started until Thanksgiving, and then she’d have the holiday season to indulge. Her mom would probably make her cut back between New Year’s and the beginning of the next trimester, but she could at least enjoy getting fifteen to- maybe even twenty- TWENTY-FIVE pounds heavier!
And then once she was back at college…. Well, losing weight can be so hard to do. And people who do? Those fa cells never go away. Yo-yo dieting is a very real thing.
So Michelle set her plan in motion. And she ate whatever it was that she wanted whenever she wanted. Not only that, but in the time between Halloween and Thanksgiving, Michelle very purposefully ate as much as she could get away with eating with the intention of gaining as close to fifteen pounds as possible.
Michelle’s plan worked to perfection. It worked so well, in fact, that she repeated the plan the next year, and the year after that. She made sure to stuff her face from the week before Halloween till New Year’s, and on every other holiday during the year, every year while she was in college. And once she was out of college?
Well, once she was out of college, she moved out of her parent’s house and then she was really off to the races.
Sure. Her mom was, predictably, a bitch. But, eventually, she got tired of bullying her daughter and actually decided to be a good mother and shut her damn mouth. Michelle lost some friends along the way, and she faced a lot of mean comments. Social media was very unkind to her, and Michelle learned what it was like to be the victim of cyber bullying, including from people she knew in high school who were quite fat. She didn’t recall being outwardly mean to anyone while she was stereotypically hot, but those people seemed to take a real pride in her “downfall”.
Michelle was above it all though by the time she graduated college. She had spent those years growing far more confident than she ever had been when she was slim and “hot”. As her weight increased so did her happiness, and, once outside of college, she was ready to take it to the next level.
Feeders.
First there was Chris, then Darren, the Jean-Paul, the Jose. They came and went and served their purpose. But none of them were truly satisfying. As the number on the scales rose so did Michelle’s desire for independence and continued growth. She didn’t want one person to tie her down. (Though she did try that a bit with Jean-Paul.) She wanted as many people as possible to be a part of her growth.
People used to say Michelle should model.
They don’t say that anymore.
But that’s still what she does.
Michelle is a hardcore BBW model. She does eating videos, belly play, collaborations with other talents. She is down for revenge videos, role reversals, anything. Sometimes she write her own stories. She has her own Patreon, and OnlyFans, several accounts on a number of websites. If there’s a revenue stream, she goes after it.
Miss Mischelly Belly is very popular once again, just with an entirely different crowd. And though with her positively massive flabby body it’s getting harder to get around, there is no denying the truth.
Michelle loves being fat!
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“What If” (Part 6)
What if she told someone? Should she? Should she tell someone what is happening to her?
She is getting fat. Her outfits are rapidly being outgrown. Her hunger keeps increasing. She is losing control.
And she’d like someone to help her.
Not to lose weight, but to get even fatter- to feed her.
She wants to lay back and touch herself with one hand, rubbing her taut gut with the other as someone feeds a slice of pizza into her mouth, followed by a second, and a third. She wants to be stuffed full of cupcakes, teased, and touched- but most importantly fed.
She wants someone to watch her get fatter- love her getting fatter- and taking the time to tell her what a naughty naughty piggy she is.
But what if she asks the wrong person? Will they just make fun of her? Will they laugh and spread the word and then what?
She had grown used to getting laughed at by now for getting fat, but being laughed at by the world for WANTING to be fat would be an all new humiliating low that she was not sure she was ready for. That gave her a lot of anxiety, and the only cure she knew for anxiety was to eat.
So eat she did. She began another session of stuffing her face but this time with her eyes closed so that she could imagine someone else sitting beside her, pinching her thighs and slapping her tummy. She gently touches a cannoli to her lips and then pulls it away, teasing herself. She wants to make herself work for it.
“Oink oink.”
And then she bites into the cannoli and fills her mouth with cream.
She wants someone to do this for real. She wants to feel the thrill of a partner. When she was slimmer, this would have been so much easier. She had men and women falling all over her, but now she knows her options are so much more limited. People are less inclined to date a bloated sow.
Unless she put herself out there, perhaps online. She could find herself a feeder online, right? And stay completely anonymous. That might scratch the itch, a little roleplay, a little fat talk. A camera while she eats? That certainly sounds like the first new step in her continuing spiral.
Could she take it?
