Kallie Tell
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Fat Pants
🕑 Added 2024-09-20 05:15:31 +0000 UTC“What are you even doing?” came the exasperated yell from downstairs, startling the 26 year old brunette who was staring at herself in the closet’s full length mirror.
“I’m serious Taylor, what could possibly be taking so long,” the deep voice continued, floating through the closed door more clearly as the speaker clearly ascended the steps. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Taylor panicked as the footfalls drew nearer and nearer, nearly tripping in her rush to kick off the pants that pooled around her ankles.
“I’m coming!” she cried. “I’m coming. I’m almost ready.”
The footfalls pause, then retreat. She sighs in relief then takes a step back, attempting to assess the situation from a new perspective. The freshly discarded pants had joined a growing pile of inside out clothes on her closet floor, and the full length mirror in front of her gave hint to the reason why.
Ever since she moved in with her new boyfriend Jack, Taylor had completely let herself go. Even before meeting him she hadn't been the most health conscious person in the world, but her metabolism had always kept her in decent shape. She was fairly active and even biked her 1.2 mile commute to work, but after her job went remote and she moved in with the automobile owning Jack, her bicycle became nothing more than a cobweb collector.
Jack was a Viking of a man, 6 '6 in socked feet, and she’d never loved anyone the way she loved him. They’re in love, yes, but more than that they have a perfect rapport, they genuinely enjoy spending time together, they’re completely comfortable with one another.
Too comfortable. Taylor thought bitterly, her eyes locked onto the mirror. She gripped her lower gut and gave it a shake, watching in horror as her stomach and tits began jiggling hypnotically. She’d been packing on weight for the last year, and her denial act had officially run its course. Jack took her for fancy dinners, sent her lunch, brought home food every night, and was even an exceptional baker for a carpenter. She’d eaten everything he brought her, stuffing her face and asking for seconds and thirds everytime, too preoccupied with the joys of her new relationship to notice the way her trademark work-from-home sweatpants grew tighter and tighter. Her once average frame had grown quickly as she ate more and more, finishing each night nearly beached on the couch by the second pint of ice cream Jack had brought her.
She grew a sizable, wobbling round belly that hung slightly over her now skin-tight sweats. She tried to suck in as she stared at herself, pressing on her gut to flatten it further. She was shocked to find it barely made a difference. Her belly still swelled from her middle dramatically and she let it back out, feeling herself jiggle as her gut pooched forward into its natural position. Her thighs had grown thick and wobbling, and rubbed together cumbersomely when she plodded up the stairs of their 2 bedroom home, the most exercise she ever undertook .
She turned around, angling her head to survey the damage. Cellulite dimpled her thighs and ass, which had exploded with globs of wobbling fat. She’d never had a disproportionately large butt before, but now she found the sides of her hips pressed firmly against any seat she sat in. She could feel her widening hips swaying wildly from side to side as she walked, the combination of her newly accentuated backside and fleshy thighs giving her the slightest waddle.
She rested a hand on her stomach, cringing as she felt her fingers sink into its cushy layer of fat. Nothing fits her anymore. She was still able to squeeze her way into some of her work sweatpants, but even the t-shirts she wore them with now exposed the bottom of her tubby gut no matter how hard she pulled them down.
She could ignore her newly fattened proportions most of the time, but on the rare occasions like today that she actually had to leave the house, acknowledgment became unavoidable. She’d been in her closet for nearly an hour, huffing and puffing as she fruitlessly yanked old jeans, work pants, and even leggings up her plush thighs. Seriously? I can't even cram myself into my leggings? As it stood, she was in nothing but a bra and panties, her tits bulging wildly out of the top of the too-tight bra that cut deeply into her back and side fat. The panties had fared no better and looked primed to snap, the fabric stretched paper thin over her rippling cheeks. She was supposed to be ready an hour ago, and it’s not just that she couldn’t find something she looked good in, she couldn’t even find something she could get in.
Taylor looked around desperately, surveying the shelves of the walk-in-closet for any pants she hadn’t yet tried. Her eyes lit up as they landed on a pair of extra wide leg, baggy boyfriend jeans. Perfect. She hadn’t worn them in ages. She grabbed them from the hanger, noting with relief just how large the jeans really were, and looked at the tag. An XXL, nowhere near her old size but they were a trendy thrift store find she couldn’t bear to pass up, especially when she realized a belt and some safety pins could function as a makeshift tailor. These jeans were enormous, almost impossibly large compared to the pile of mediums and larges she’d failed to tug any higher than mid thigh.
She unbuttoned the jeans then stepped into each leg, her belly bunching into a series of doughy rolls as bent over. She grabbed the jeans firmly and began to pull them up, cheering internally as they slipped past her mid thighs with relative ease. Maybe I haven’t even put that much on, she thought. Maybe my normal clothes feel smaller cause I wash them so much, maybe all my old old clothes still fit the same. She reached resistance when the jeans met her ass and gave several hard tugs. Nothing. She jiggled around for a few little jumps, her whole body wobbling uncontrollably as the jumping and the pulling shimmied the pants over the rest of her ass. They were skin tight on her thighs and across her hips and she was breathing heavily from the effort.
She looked down. The pants cut into her love handles, forcing them to bulge over the waistband of the jeans. She pushed down on the pliable fat in an attempt to tuck the blubber into her pants but there wasn’t an inch of extra room and her fatty hips wobbled as she tried. The jeans cut into her almost painfully while she attempted to shift them and her fattened belly bounced slightly as it hung free, unconfined by the open, gaping button. She grabbed both flaps and pulled as hard as she could. Not even close. She sucked in again and reattempted the button’s closure, groaning as she gave it her all. The two sides of the pants wouldn’t even come close to meeting, and she let her belly back out with a moan. She grabbed her gut again, placing a hand on either side of the bottom as she shook it more aggressively, noting with horror that it was a bit heavy for her to lift. She gave herself the once over in the mirror, barely recognizing the chubby-cheeked, bloated fatty in the undersized clothes staring back at her. She was never getting those pants fastened.
She gave her gut a little squeeze, trying to ignore its growls. She’d gotten so huge she can’t even button her biggest jeans, food was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now. But Jack had said he was gonna take her to Chuco’s, that’s why she was even getting dressed in the first place. They had the best Mexican food in the city, their gordita burritos were… I’ll start the diet tomorrow. She decided. I need one last hurrah. She looked down at the pants again, marveling at how she could barely see the undone button over the swell of her gut. God, I’ve gotten so fat, she thinks as she works her way out of them, kicking them into the reject pile with her other unwearable garments.
She sighs as she turns to the neatly folded pile of sweatpants and joggers that she wears every day, selecting a gray pair from the top. Just this one time. I’ll wear them out this one time, just to get a last meal, then I’m going on a diet. She turns back toward the mirror, grabbing the bottom of her rounded, tubby gut and giving it yet another jiggle, cringing again as she notices that her chubby arms wobble right alongside her belly as she does so. All this is gonna be gone.
She bends over, steps into the sweatpants, and pulls them up. She gives herself a once over in the mirror, then does a spin. The fabric is stretched to near translucency across her widened ass and she still can’t pull the waistband over her bloated gut, but at least the pants were on.
“Taylor let’s go!” Jack yelled from downstairs. “I’m getting hungry.”
“Coming,” she called back confidently before throwing on a once oversized hoodie and sliding her feet into her tennis shoes. “I’m coming right now!”
She reached for the closet door’s handle and then noticed her right shoe was untied, its laces dragging limply against the carpet. She bent down, hands extended to grab that lace when a loud RIPPP filled the air. Taylor straightened up immediately as her eyes flew open in horror. She reached around, praying she didn’t just hear what she thought she heard. She grabbed her ass to discover the sweatpants had ripped straight down the back seams, its confines proving too restrictive for her mammoth, wobbling backside. Tears sprang up in her eyes as the realization set in; this wasn’t just a couple pounds, she had exploded. She was truly, hugely fat now, and not even the clothes she faithfully wore could contain her anymore. Her sweatshirt clung tightly to her gut, emphasizing its huge rounded shape and plump bounces as she turned this way and that, unsure of what to do next. What was there to do?
“Taylor,” Jack called from downstairs. “Are you ok?”
“I’m ok,” she yells back too quickly. “I’m ok, I’m coming!”
“Are you sure?” says Jack, his voice nearing again as he trotted back up the stairs. “You sound weird.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” hollered Taylor in a voice that indicated the opposite, panic beginning to set in as Jack approached.
“Babe,” He said from right outside the door. “Babe, what's wrong?” The handle began to turn. “I’m coming in.”
“Don’t come in!” Taylor cried at a frantic pitch as the door swung open. She spun quickly to face Jack, her face a deep shade of vermillion.
He raised his eyebrow, taking in the scene with a bewildered if not bemused look. She backed away from him a bit, trying to hide the giant rip in her too tight pants.
“I thought you were getting ready?”
“I am. I mean I'm almost ready.”
“You’re wearing that?” Jack asks, staring her down steadily with the bemused half smile still on his face.
She nodded after a beat, too embarrassed to speak the lie aloud.
“So you’re gonna wear those pants.” She nodded again, unable to meet his gaze.
“Why are you gonna wear ripped pants to dinner?” He asks teasingly, and Taylor realized with horror that the full length mirror behind her meant he could see her giant ass wobbling though the shredded sweatpants even better than she could. She flushed deeper, unable to respond or even look up.
Jack looks to the pile of clothes next to her on the floor. “Those didn’t work either, huh?” he says with a laugh. Taylor’s hands fly up to cover her face, the humiliation overtaking her.
“Taylor, baby, come here,” Jack instructs, reaching out to gently grab her chubby forearm. He pulls her close, one hand falling to her waist as he embraces her. “It’s ok baby,” he murmurs gently, slowly beginning to stoke the side of her belly. He slips his hand underneath the hem of her sweatshirt and begins rubbing her gut more rhythmically, shaking and jiggling it a bit while he soothed her.
“It’s ok baby. It’s my fault. I guess I shouldn't have gotten you so much Burger Shack, huh? You just can’t control yourself.” He pulls back but still leaves a hand underneath her sweatshirt. He’d begun grabbing and squeezing her tubby gut the way she had, as if he was also amazed by how big she’d grown.
“Nothing in here fits you?” He asks. She shakes her head silently. “We’re gonna have to get you some new clothes then,” he says, giving her belly a firm pat. “Yea?” Taylor nodded again.
“I can't hear you” he said calmly, the pitch of his voice dropping lower. He was kneading and shaking her belly more aggressively now, pinching and poking her wobbling rolls as they flowed between his fingers. “Do you need new clothes?”
“Yes,” she whispered quietly without looking up, her face hot.
“Yes, what?” he breathes in a teasing voice tinged with lust.
“Yes. Yes I need new clothes,” Taylor rushed out, feeling her nipples harden as she inexplicably got more and more excited the more Jack groped her fat belly.
“Why?” he asks her, no trace of an actual question behind his voice. Taylor finally looked up at him. She was nearly squirming under his grip and could barely speak, feeling her too-tight panties dampening as he looked down at her expectantly. She opened her mouth then closed it again.
“Cause I got fat,” she finally says quietly, her whole body on fire.
“Good girl,” he says, releasing her with a sly grin. “Now, let's get Chuco’s delivered. I know you’re hungry.”
