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Fat Trimmings Vol 1
🕑 Added 2023-12-27 03:27:59 +0000 UTC(Fat Trimmings is a series designed to present quick put potent bits of weight gain fiction. Enjoy!)
“A Big Fat Prologue”
She’s fat and getting fatter.
That’s what you want to hear.
She’s bulging forward, taking big heavy breaths as she hungers for more.
This is not a place for plot. You’re not here for high art. You’re here for quick and dirty fat fetish fiction. You want to read about big bellies and even bigger breasts, or vice versa. There’s no judgment here, just pure unfiltered content coming right at you.
So let’s cast the pretentious literary aspirations aside and get right down to it, shall we?
What do you want?
You want name calling? Sure. What’s your trigger word? Is it piggy? Porky? Sow? What’s it matter? As long as they’re oinking for you, it doesn’t matter. We’ll call ‘em piggies alright. We’ll call them piggies, hippos, and whales. I’m sure we can sprinkle in a cow or two.
Anything goes here, anything you want.
What are you in for?
Stuffing? Maybe you want to read about big bellies filled with an impossible amount of food expanding ever outward. You want a woman who pops buttons and rips her pants, and I’ve got plenty of them. There are plenty of busted seams to go around.
You got a favorite food to read about? What do you want to see people gorge themselves with? Buffalo wings dripping with sauce? Ice cream that gets sucked down even as it melts? Heaps of crumbly chocolate cake? Should they stuff themselves with sandwiches or guzzle down soda? Scarf down sausages or make a mess with some mayo? Salty and sour, sweet and stick, it’s all here.
This is a feast, a veritable smorgasbord of smut just waiting to be consumed.
No need for names. No room for character development. This is too stuffed to the gills with action, packed full of description of pound after pound. You’re going to read about swelling bellies and heaving bosoms, doughy double chins and luscious love handles.
Here there be fat rolls and plenty of them.
Or do you want names? Pretty names like Daphne, Alessandra, Naomi, Natasha, Isabella, Giselle. They could be here. Fancy names and beautiful girls made fat. More beautiful? Ruined? Your choice. We aim to please. We can give you what you need. All you have to do is read.
What kind of stories do you like? You like reading about those first couple pounds, those ones that creep up on her when she’s not expecting it until suddenly she’s rocking a pot belly that she can’t suck in no matter how much she tries? Or do you want to read about fatties struggling to move, girl so large that every desperate trip to the fridge is a struggle. Por que no los dos, friend? Por que no los dos? You want to read about those who embrace their curves? Who love their blossoming bodies? It’s here for you.
Or are you into revenge?
You want to read about hotties becoming hogs- cheerleaders, models, bitches becoming big fat fatties and facing tons of humiliation as the tables are turned on them and the taunting they use to do bites them in their big fat asses.
We serve all kinds here with fat every way you can get it. And when you’ve reached the end for now, feel free to ask for seconds.
We’re happy to oblige.
So what are you waiting for? There’s gaining to be done. There are plenty of fat trimmings to be had. Search and you’re sure to find some premium cuts. Let’s get to feasting.
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“Fat in a Flash”
She’s thin for now, but that won’t last for long.
At this moment she has exactly the body that the media says she’s supposed to have. She is lean, but curvy, athletic, but not overly muscular. She has what many would call a model body, the kind women love to flaunt around and taunt others with. It’s a fit frame with just the right amount of junk in the trunk.
And she’s also totally naked.
She’ll still be naked when this is all over, but the slim body the she posses now, the one perfect for cheerleading- climbing to the top of the pyramid and soaring through the air, will soon be gone- replaced by a hefty body much more suited for sinking into couches than somersaulting.
Where should we start with her? There are so many ways this could go. Which part of her slim figure should we fatten first? Shall we take it top to bottom? Bottom to top? Nah, let’s cut right to the middle and turn those abs into flab.
She’s worked hard for that six pack you know. She’s been working out every day. Those abs are precious to her. She loves wearing crop tops to show them off. Well, soon every shirt she wears is going to be a crop top that rolls up her spongy belly.
Watch those abs melt. Look at the years of effort turning to soft buttery fat in an instant. The new fat bounces as it grows outward first into a starter belly, then a paunch, and then to a full blown gut. Of course, just leaving her with a bouncy belly won’t do. No. She grows a nice set of juicy love handles and suddenly where there was once a slender hourglass there is now a big bulging muffin top.
Ah, watch her hands. She’s trying to shove the fat back into her body as if that was even possible. No turning back now. That fit figure is being wiped away forever and replaced with a much fatter one.
Of course, with just a pot belly and love handles, she looks kind of ridiculous. So let’s help her out and start working our way from the bottom up. It’s simple at first, she might not even notice her feet swelling, her tiny toes turning into tubby little sausages. Then her ankles grow and merge with her calf to form those dreaded cankles, but the fat doesn’t just stop there.
She’s going to have a real hard time running as her lithe thighs turn into thick thunder thighs and press themselves together. She won’t be doing laps around a track anytime soon unless she can find the energy to waddle around with these babies rubbing together. (Spoiler alert, she won't be finding the energy to do anything other than stuff her face anytime soon.) And the dumptruck ass that she’s growing isn’t going to help matters at all.
Her cheeks are ballooning and filling with cellulite. She used to have a firm heart shaped ass, and now it’s a quivering mess of cottage cheese flesh. But hey, at least sitting is going to be more comfortable than ever, and she’s going to need to do a lot of sitting because all this added weight is going to make standing very tiring.
She’s panicking, but she’s powerless. There’s nothing she can do. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so vain and haughty in the first place. If she wasn’t so caught up in what the media says she should be, she’d realize that she’s growing into someone far better than the skinny bitch she used to be.
As her ass expands outward, her belly surges forward as a nice counterweight.
Then there’s her breasts. They’ve always been pert- if on the small side. We’ll take care of both of those things. They swell with fat and begin to sag onto her belly. No more cute bras for her. This cow is going to need big ugly heavy duty ones to keep these udders in check. Moving at all with these (forgot about running) is not going to be less than comfortable. She’s definitely going to be making good friends with her couch.
Her muscular arms jiggle with fat and her newly fat hands are perfect for digging into cake and shoving it into her mouth.
That just leaves her face. It might be comical to leave it just as it’s been, an angular face juxtaposed with outrageously bulging curves, but let’s finish what we’ve started by giving her some swollen chipmunk cheeks and a nice thick double chin. There’s no hiding how fat she is now, there will be no camera angle she can use to pretend she’s other than an obese woman.
This is who she is now and who she will be forever more, a true fatty.
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“Daphne”
Daphne loved to eat. Hell, she still loves to eat (even more so now); the only difference is that Daphne used to be able to pride herself on eating whatever she wanted without gaining a single pound. It was a fact that she loved to brag about and hold over people.
There would be Daphne and her friends, them with their salads and her with an overstuffed burrito and a side of cheese fries. She lived a life full of decadent, bordering hedonistic pairings. And when those around her would complain about the slightest bit of weight they may have gained, the smallest beginning of tightness in the waistband, Daphne would be there with a package of cookies or a bag of chips to eat right in front of them.
Daphne loved that. She loved being able to lord her shape over others, but more than anything she loved being able to lord her ability to eat whatever she wanted over them. Day in and day out it would be a repetitive cycle. It was a cycle that would remain unbroken.
Unlike her metabolism.
Like most people, Daphne’s metabolism eventually gave up the ghost. It started with a crack. Two pounds. She thought nothing of it. She normally didn’t even weigh herself. It was just something of a whim one day. Then, when it was five more pounds, Daphne assumed it was just her time of the month. A little bloating. She put away the scale for a long while after that. No need to stress. She was perfect. She didn’t have to be like other women and worry over the scale. Why deal with that anxiety? She didn’t need to weigh herself. She never needed to worry about her weight.
That was a mistake.
It’s amazing how quickly five pounds can double into ten and then ten can become fifteen, especially when one tries denying it hard enough. Daphne’s laundromat was just being careless and shrinking her clothes. They were new after all. Of course, they were new because Daphne’s slowing metabolism and constant junk food sessions were leaving her too lazy to do her own laundry, so she had switched to a new place that did pick up and delivery. It would have been great if they could put her clothes away too. Daphne was picking up a bad habit of living out of her laundry bags now with her “shrunken” clothes often becoming wrinkled from simply sitting in the bags so long.
Yes. She decided. The place was the problem and so she must find a new new laundromat, one that wouldn’t shrink her clothes and leave them wrinkled.
And then she would find another new place.
And another.
It’s amazing how long you can blame laundromats for shrinking your clothes when you keep switching laundromats on a monthly basis.
But eventually all good things must come to and end, and that includes the comfort of blanket denial.
Daphne had gotten fat. And her friends were more than happy to let her know that. If ever she had called any one of them names, those names all found their way back to her. The accusatory fingers were pointed in her direction and very often found themselves poking her spongy pot belly. The unforgiving fingers were quite at home sinking into yielding flesh.
In short order, Daphne went from being the queen of her friend group to being that fat friend, the one whose new social purpose was to make all the other ones seem better. And it wasn’t just her weight that kept increasing. So did the amount she was eating. What was decreasing quickly was her lack of caring about her appearance.
Daphne’s friends were used to watching her binge it, but as her body grew, her binging grew bigger and messier. Crumbs and sauce stuck to her body and clothes like a Jackson Pollock painting. She was fat. She was careless. And in her carelessness she grew clumsy which meant that spills of all kinds were not uncommon. This unadulterated piggishness was a major turnoff to most. It made it easy for Daphne’s friends to redirect attention away from her. And that lack of attention led to sadness.
And that sadness led to ice cream.
Sure, Daphne could have dieted. Or, at least she could have TRIED dieting. But it’s hard to go from a bad habit back to a new one. It is damn near impossible to start a good one that one has never bothered to learn. And Daphne couldn’t even be bothered to try. The hunger was too great. The food was too good. Her so called friends were more than happy to enable her. To keep her around as a source of amusement for themselves. So Daphne stuck around (and got stuck in several undersized chairs in her oversized body.)
Daphne was no longer the hot one. She had once been slim and sexy and could eat whatever she wanted. But no more. Long gone were the days of being queen bee. Now she is forever what her friends love knowing her as…
A pathetic, fat, greedy, lazy pig. A sloppy sow destined to grow fatter.
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“What If”
She’s so perfect. Perfect body. Slim waist. Fine abs. She is everything society says she’s supposed to be, and she knows it. She loves to flaunt it, to show others what they’re missing and then to rub their faces in it.
She has a perfect ass, the kind you can bounce a quarter off of. It’s the kind of ass that people love to stare at. She’s a big fan of walking away and knowing that people are still looking at her. She can feel their eyes on her dainty shoulders and then following her slim back down to her plump but tight ass and her lean but muscular thighs. She is the kind of model that other models event.
And yet… what if she wasn’t.
What if she just let it all go? She can’t help but ask herself that. Wouldn’t that be something? To indulge just a little bit?
Or perhaps a lot.
What if she were to purposefully eat too much, to eat whatever she truly wanted. Wouldn't she be pathetic, if she let herself go, let her body soften out of control?
She would be pathetic.
And it would be so hot.
This could be it. She could eat and eat and grow out. Her tight abs could be a soft pot belly. Her thighs could thicken and run together.
She runs her hands between the tight muscles and imagines them softening.
It brings a little moan to her lips.
She could be a fatty. She could be a weak, pathetic fatty. She could absolutely ruin herself, and it would be the hottest thing ever.
She could be the one people make fun of. Wouldn’t the irony be delicious? She could be the victim of karma. So many people would enjoy it if she let herself go.
Including herself.All it would take is saying yes just once, one extra helping, one ice cream, one slice of cake.
Just break the diet one time, give up one time and that would be the start of the spiral. What an intense moment that would be.
But can she do it? Can she give it all up.
She can picture it. That’s for sure. She can picture herself chowing down on juicy dripping burgers and letting their fattening greasy roll down her chin. She could picture cramming her face with chocolate cake and covering her cheeks with chocolate icing. She could imaging chips being consumed by the bagfull with their crumbs falling down into her breasts, already large and subtle but soon to be massive and covered in angry stretch marks.
She could see herself growing fat and lazy, too weak to even bother exercising, helpless. She could picture the names her former friends would call her: piggy, cow, whale.
She twitched and moaned as the thought of her former friends enjoying her downfall, turning on her like that. It was delicious.
Almost as delicious as the cupcake she was holding.
She could eat it. She knows that. She could do it and get this whole thing started, one bite, one bit of wasted calories turning into pounds of pudge, one small step and the fat rolls down hill to obesity.
Just. One. Bite.
Will she do it?
To be continued…
