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"Fat Black Friday and Other Stories" (FULL FAT EDITION)
🕑 Added 2024-12-16 16:17:20 +0000 UTCHere's the full edition of "Fat Black Friday and Other Stories" which features two stories that will not be included in the version I release on Deviant Art.
It comes out to over 7,500 words.
Enjoy!
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Vanessa loved shopping, clothes shopping specifically. She loved the way she looked in clothes of all kinds, and picking out new outfits to show off her fit figure was her favorite pastime.
And that’s why Black Friday was her favorite holiday.
Vanessa didn’t need to shop for exclusive deals. She came from a life of privilege. She had it all, looks, money, confidence. And what that all added up to was a desire to constantly win, to be the best, and, most importantly, to take things away from other people. Black Friday offered all of that for her. There was the thrill of competition, the thrill of winning with a big deal, looking great in a fantastic outfit, and keeping those deals and outfits out of the hands of less deserving losers. This was her time to shine.
She also found she shone the brightest whenever she was around her cousin Claire. Claire was a lump fat girl and the same age as Vanessa which meant they had grown up together as a forced family connection. Honestly, that suited Vanessa just fine. It turned out that Claire was the perfect fat girl sidekick. Claire was always good for a laugh, often at her expense. She was the fat friend that made Vanessa look even more attractive by comparison. Her fatness helped remind Vanessa to stay in shape. And on Black Friday Claire served a special purpose.
Claire was too fat to be serious competition for Vanessa when it came to rushing around for deals. Her fat legs just couldn’t carry her fast enough, and she had trouble waddling long distances without having to stop and catch her breath. But her fat frame made her very useful for Vanessa. Claire served as the perfect wall. Like an offensive lineman, Claire was there to keep people out of Vanessa’s way as she rushed into the store. Claire was great for helping to block doors at doorbusters as a means of giving Vanessa a leg up on the competition. And then afterward, Vanessa would treat Claire to a victory ice cream which was both condescending and delicious.
Their dynamic was great until one fateful year.
Vanessa had already started getting under Claire’s skin the night before. At Thanksgiving dinner, Vanessa, who had had a few too many glasses of wine starting well before dinner, began to make multiple remarks about Claire’s eating habits, something that started even before the main meal did.
“All this snacking is why you’re so fat, Claire,” she said even as she took a bit of her own cheese and crackers.
“Too much beer has given you a great big beer belly,” she laughed as she polished off her third glass of wine.
“Look at all this lard, lard ass. I bet your greedy gut is ready for some good eating,” said cackled as she drunkenly grabbed hold of Claire’s blubbery belly and gave it a shake for all to see.
The last one brought about a chorus of uncomfortable laughter from the present members of the family, and it should have at least earned Vanessa some kind of chastisement. But Vanessa was the family princess. She was Miss Perfect, and that meant she was allowed to do whatever she wanted. What that meant for Claire was that her family members also silently agreed with what Vanessa was saying and even the ones who didn’t chuckle at Vanessa’s antics couldn’t help but give Claire judgmental side-eye every time she filled her plate with more food.
And, of course, Vanessa’s comments just increased during dinnertime.
“That’s a lot of food, fatty.”
“You’re really making a pig of yourself. Oink. Oink. Oink.”
“More dessert? Do you really need all of that, Fatso?”
Claire was feeling very defeated that early Black Friday morning as she struggled to get her fat body out of bed in time to trudge to the mall. Vanessa, despite all of the wine she had consumed, was chipper as always. She had already gone on a morning jog. It made Claire really eager to skip right to the ice cream.
“Let’s move it, Fatso. Waddle along now. The deals await!”
The day was rough. People were exceptionally nasty as they tried to shove past Claire. Sure, Vanessa got all of the deals that she wanted and decided to reward Claire with a jumbo banana split sundae AND a milkshake, but the truth was that she was tired. She was tired of being Vanessa’s sidekick, tired of watching Vanessa be the one winning all the deals, sprinting through life with easy and privilege, and most of all, she was tired of being stuck left behind treated like the slow fat one fed to the pack of zombies to let the faster one get away.
From that day forward, Claire was determined to make a change. And change she did. Claire dedicated herself to fitness, to diet and exercise and to therapy to feel better about herself at any size. She worked on her physical fitness as well as her emotional maturity and self-confidence. She wasn’t going to be a sidekick, a punching bag. She was going to better herself in every way possible.
And part of bettering herself was bringing Vanessa down.
That plan started by shifting some of her bad habits to Vanessa. She encouraged Vanessa to eat more. As Claire began to diet, she pushed her plates toward her cousin, convincing her that she needed help with her diet and that Vanessa could eat whatever she wanted because of her fast metabolism. Then, with that thought triggered, it was easy to convince Vanessa to regularly indulge herself regardless of what Claire was eating. Desserts became a very regular staple of Vanessa’s new diet. She couldn’t have a meal without one… or two.
The next thing that Claire did was get to the gym more. Doing so meant that Vanessa was left bored without a sidekick more often which meant that Vanessa found herself turning toward food more often. And on the days where Claire got Vanessa to go together, Claire was in charge of the protein shakes, so Vanessa’s was always filled with fattening weight gain formula. After those gym sessions, Claire took Vanessa out for a well earned reward. Tying the idea of food to emotions, like needing a reward or needing some kind of pick me up was a great way to help Vanessa pile on the pounds.
As those pounds piled on, Vanessa began to grow increasingly stressed over the damage being done to her figure. Claire dealt with this by plying Vanessa with more food to make her feel better. She convinced her that Vanessa was just going through a phase, something that she would easily be able to pull herself out of. It was just water weight, nothing serious, a little bloating at her time of month, a few pounds she’d lose easily. Diets could always start tomorrow. Food was comforting. And once Vanessa became a stress eater, her fit figure was done for.
It became easy from that point on to keep Vanessa on her downward spiral. It turned out that since everything had always come so easy to Vanessa, she wasn’t prepared for any real adversity which meant that she was prone to giving up and giving in to her indulgences which meant once she got fat she kept getting fatter much more quickly. She didn’t know what to do, so she just gave up and ate more, dooming herself to a life of obesity.
Vanessa grew a big fat gut, a sagging belly that hung like an apron of fat over the waistband of her sweat pants, spilled out from under her shirts and sagged toward her fat thighs. It was a sack of fat, always greedy, always hungry for more fattening food that would only serve to make it larger. It was a mass of buttery blubber soft as a pillow and covered in stretch marks from having put on so much weight so fast. It was a large sloppy gut that served as the centerpiece of her humiliation.
The fat legs that it came to rest on were thick as tree trunks and soft as dough. Her thunder thighs slapped and rubbed together as she walked, constantly chafing against each other and forcing her once elegant strut to be reduced to a ponderous waddle, slow and awkward. She had to lug a big fat ass around her as well, something fat and flabby that had replaced the pert ass cheeks she once proudly paraded about with.
It was quite a humiliating Thanksgiving that Vanessa waddled into after a very fattening year.
Claire got to the family dinner first dressed in a fabulous sweater dress and eager to receive lots of compliments. She was unused to being the family member who was the most fawned over at family gatherings, but she took to it quite nicely. She loved the attention and knew that she had earned it. It filled her with an additional boost of well earned confidence and delight.
What filled her with even more delight was the moment Vanessa came walking in.
Of course, walking in would be the incorrect term. No, Vanessa came waddling in, and even that didn’t quite describe the display she put in as her fat body had to squeeze itself through the doorway. Vanessa’s too small t-shirt, already stained from some kind of fast food stop that she had made on her way over, rode up over her blubbery belly which had to squish to get through the doorway because she had no choice but to enter sideways. Her belly was like a big soft pillow, overstuffed and worn out in a way that it spilled out from under her greasy shirt and over the waistband of her overtaxed sweatpants. Those pants were clearly stretched to their limit and had long since seen better days, but it was clear by her outfit that Vanessa was clinging onto whatever was left of her vanity and refusing to by larger clothes even if it greatly limited her options to the same sets of clothes stained with the shame of feasts she had messily indulged in over the year.
Vanessa eventually popped through the door like biscuit dough escaping the can. Her thighs shook, just like the rest of her redundantly flabby body, as she barged through the door and came waddling through the entrance hall and into the living room proper. The glamorous girl who used to strut about family gatherings as if she owned the place was long gone, replaced by a great big fat lumbering slob who was forced to waddle slow as the rest of the family turned to gawk at her.
Several awestruck relatives moved out of the way, partly because they had to because of the sheer amount of room Vanessa was taking up and partly because they were eager to see what Vanessa looked like from behind.
And Vanessa’s behind did not disappoint. Her broken down blubber butt was a flabby mess that was pushing on her sweatpants, and the tops of her chunky cheeks could be seen cresting over the top giving her a humiliatingly permanent plumber’s crack. Vanessa had long ago gotten used to people checking out her butt, but not like this. Now instead of admiring her firm behind, they were snickering at her flabby one. And it wasn’t just her butt that they could see. The shirt that was riding up to reveal Vanessa’s blubbery belly also gave a glimpse of her full blown muffin top complete with thick love handles and rolls of juicy back fat.
Vanessa’s breasts, once another part of her pride, had only grown slightly and had certainly grown softer and had a definite sag to them, but they were dwarfed by the big fat blubber gut that they now rested on. They were like sad ornaments adorning a shelf of fat. Her arms were marshmallowy pillows of fat as well with flabby bingo wings that shook with the slightest movement. Her beautiful face had grown piggish as well, bloated with fat that gave her a doughy double chin and thick jiggly jowls. The corners of her lips were clearly stained by ketchup, another clear sign that she had not been able to overcome her cravings on the way to Thanksgiving dinner and needed a snack.
That habit for snacking continued as Vanessa quickly waddled over to a plate of cheese and crackers and began to go absolutely hog wild on them, devouring crackers and leaving quite a mess behind including crumbs that tumbled into her cleavage and covered her shirt.
Jaws dropped at the sight of Vanessa double chin wobbling as if she were the turkey while she stuffed her face with whatever snacks were available to her before the main feast. For her part, Vanessa was more than just hungry. She was using the food to actively avoid having conversations with her family members, many of whom she had insulted in the past and were now clearly salivating at the chance to get their revenge on Vanessa. She did a good job of not having to do much talking by keeping her mouth constantly full of food, but that plan couldn’t possibly last forever.
Fittingly enough, it was Claire who made the first crack.
“Jeez, Vanessa. Maybe leave some snacks for the rest of us. Think you can manage not pigging out and eating all of them?”
“You think she’s going to fill up before we even get to turkey?” asked their chubby cousin Linda.
“Oh I doubt it,” mused Claire.
And then she reached over and grabbed Vanessa’s exposed belly while Vanessa was bent over the snack table.
“I think this Butterball still has plenty of room. Don’t you think so, Piggy?”
Then she gave Vanessa’s big blubbery gut a shake for all to see. Vanessa's face grew flush, something that added to her already piggish look, and she could only stammer in silence.
Claire continued to give Vanessa’s big belly a squeezing, kneading the fat like bread dough.
“This is really something, definitely heavier than mine was. You know, all of this snacking is why you’re so fat, Vanessa. All the beer drinking has given you a great big beer gut.”
Then she gave Vanessa a hard spank right in front of the family who found the whole thing hilarious.
“Look at all this lard, lard ass. I bet your greedy gut is ready for some good eating,” Claire cackled as she gave Vanessa’s gut another slap and shake.
Claire was also right.
Vanessa’s greedy gut was ready for some good eating.
All of the humiliation had sent Vanessa’s hunger into overdrive as she was now exceedingly desperate to stuff herself with some real comfort food. As she got ready to eat dinner, plenty of other relatives, now emboldened by Claire’s words and actions, felt the need to pepper her with comments, and jokes, and to poke and pinch her flab as they “admired” how much she had grown. She felt like a prized pig, and responded by absolutely pigging out at the table.
She made a real hog of herself as she piled her plate high with turkey, stuffing, potatoes and more. She smother everything in gravy which proceeded to splatter everywhere as she stuffed her fat face with food. She tore into everything with gusto, snorting as she ate so quickly that she barely had time to inhale properly.
“You’re making a real pig of yourself. Oink. Oink. Oink,” cracked Claire.
But Vanessa didn’t care. She only cared about how much food she could stuff herself with.
And she could stuff herself with a lot of food.
She piled her plates with seconds, then thirds, and she still had room for dessert. She enjoyed multiple slices of pie and more than a few cookies.
“More dessert? Do you really need all of that, Fatso?” asked Claire.
The rest of the family just shook their heads and offered similar criticisms.
“She was so hot. It’s a real shame she let herself become a total pig.”
“Hottie to hog, who would have thought it?”
“She’s really grown up and out, huh? She’s BIG”
“Such a shame, a big FAT shame.”
And all these comments did was make Vanessa eat and eat and eat until she was too full to move and the family just sort of moved on without her.
“Rest now, Fatso. We’ve got a big day of shopping tomorrow, big girl. Me and your piggy ass are going to have so much fun tomorrow. I’ll even treat you to ice cream!” Claire crowed as she rubbed Vanessa’s overstuffed belly.
Vanessa groaned at Claire’s touch, but she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of ice cream.
The next morning was a special kind of hell, as most mornings had become for Vanessa at this point. Getting out of bed was not something she did easily at her new size thanks to gravity working so steadfastly with her blubbery bulk to keep her down. She found it especially tough on mornings after she ate herself into a food coma the night before. It was like she was stuck with a big fat food hangover. And, of course, this was particularly special.
It was Black Friday.
And the woman who used to jump out of bed and to be practically dragged out of it by the cousin she used to make fun of for being fat. Vanessa was cursing herself and Claire as she squeezed herself into yet another ill-fitting sweatsuit, something that had her fat bulging out from numerous places and which still bore the evidence of several food binges.
“Looks like we’re gonna have to look for some new clothes for you while we’re there. That muffin top says it’s time to size up. You’ve outgrown your fat girl clothes, fat girl.”
Vanessa lumbered out of bed, cringing as she felt her fat slosh about unceremoniously. She waddled downstairs and had herself a big breakfast, as usual, and then crammed herself into the car next to Claire, something else that was not nearly as easy as it used to be for her. Claire’s car was sporty and cramped, but Claire insisted on taking it even if it meant that Vanessa’s thick meaty love handles pressed against the door and spilled over the middle consul.
At the mall, Vanessa took up Claire’s old position. She was the blocker, the big fat wall. And she could feel the judgmental gaze of others as they took their positions. She could hear them snickering and calling her names in frustration like “cow”, “whale” and “wall of blubber”. People openly speculated, wondering why she was here looking for deals on clothes when it was clear “the nice ones wouldn’t fit her”.
“Maybe she’s hoping for big fat deals at the food court,” someone said which elicited a loud laugh from the people he was with.
When the doors finally opened, Vanessa did her job well. She couldn’t run worth a damn. She could barely waddle very far without needing to stop to catch her breath. But she was exceptionally good at just taking up space, she couldn’t help but do that well.
People frequently ran into her, and her bulk was not bothered. While other, leaner women might have been knocked over, people just bounced off of Vanessa’s blubber careening back into other people and creating quite the traffic jam, effortlessly giving Claire quite the head start to snag whatever deals she was most looking forward to. In a way, it made Vanessa feel proud and weirdly powerful, and in another way it made her feel extremely self-conscious and humiliated, especially when the people who had bounced off her blubber started cursing at her for being such a fat pig.
She was a fat pig. She knew it. There was no hiding it. All of the cruel words she had spent years saying to others, she now applied them all to herself. There was no room for positivity or an aim for understanding. All that Vanessa had now was her old prejudices which left a gaping hole within her that could only be filled by junk food.
After a few stores, a sweaty and out of breath Vanessa found herself leaning against an Auntie Anne’s food stall, finishing off her second pretzel and starting on small bucket of pretzel nuggets to tithe her over until lunch when Claire declared that it was finally time to take Vanessa to the fat girl clothing store to buy new, bigger, fat girl clothes. This was another exceptionally humiliating experience on top of a long list of humiliating experiences from the day. Claire began by forcing Vanessa to try on plus-sized clothing that she knew Vanessa had already grown out of. Then, after she finally found items that fit, Claire insisted that Vanessa get a few items that were significantly larger as well.
“It’s a good deal, and let’s be honest, your fat ass is going to grow into them.”
Vanessa hung her heavy head in shame because she knew that Claire was right.
When the bulk of the shopping was finally done, Vanessa shuffled her bulk over to the ice cream parlor for her promised double-sized banana split sundae.
“I think piggy’s earned her treat. Does piggy want some ice cream?”
Vanessa just nodded.
“Then say it.”
“Piggy wants her ice cream.”
And piggy got her ice cream and everything else that she had coming to her.
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“Candied Carrots”
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Candied carrots are delicious aren’t they? How could you not find them delicious? It’s pretty much impossible to take something, smother it in butter, sugar and other warm spices and not come out with something that is irresistible. I suppose you could make cookies with like shredded carrot in them? Like there’s carrot cake. I know there’s carrot cake. Carrot cake is obvious. But candied carrots, that’s my jam. You can make candied carrots with just carrots, a ton of butter, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, lots of brown sugar. You could throw in some fancy things like five spice powder, maybe some cardamom, saffron if you’ve got money. I like to throw in just a little bit of cayenne pepper for an extra kick. Measurements? Whatever your heart desires. Just throw it all in a slow cooker for four to six hours and forget about it. I even buy the baby carrots to save on cutting time.
The thing about candied carrots though is that they’re absolutely loaded with butter and sugar. I guess I already said that. But the point is that all that butter and sugar comes with a lot of calories, like a LOT. And if you go into the eating of candied carrots with the assumption that because they’re carrots they are at all healthy, you’re in for a real surprise. Plus, candied carrots are like a gateway drug to eating other unhealthy things. That hit of sweet, it makes you want more, so suddenly a little piece of pumpkin pie at the end of the meal becomes a big piece, then two, and always buried in whipped cream and often served with ice cream. And then why just settle for pumpkin pie? There are so many other desserts to sample, pecan pie, blueberry, apple, cookies of all kinds, anything one might have, if you’re eating candied carrots with dinner, you’re going to want more of it.
It’s not just dessert either. Have candied carrots at dinner time, and you’re likely to think that because you’re having something healthy you can indulge a bit more in other things. Have that extra helping of turkey- protein is good for you. Ladle on more mashed potatoes. Stuff your plate with stuffing and smother absolutely all of it in gravy. If some of that gravy were to touch the candied carrots? Well then, it suddenly becomes healthier.
That’s a lie.
The candied carrots are liars.
They are very fattening, and when you stuff your face with all the other food, dessert included, it’s very fattening.
Sylvia loved candied carrots. She was a shredded sorority sister who loved to show off, especially after she successfully dodged the Freshman 15. Once she got past that she felt like she was immune and could make fun of others with impunity, not that she wasn’t doing that already. She loved to put others down and constantly brag about her beauty and her metabolism.
But then the candied carrots did her in.
It started on Thanksgiving of course. Those sweet candied carrots laid their trap. She got to eating way more than she should have, and that was the first of many cheat days to come.
And as the cheat days piled up, the pounds piled on.
Her stomach was the first part to give way to the fat. Rock hard abs are hard to get and even harder to maintain. They’re often the first to go when the pudge starts packing on, and her abs disappeared real quick thanks to those candied carrots. All that sugar she was eating caused her stomach to stretch and start to sag. She developed a root poly potbelly that rolled over the waistband of her pants. That roll of fat stretched all around her until it became a very full muffin top, guy, love handles, and all.
All that butter made Sylvia’s thighs buttery too. The candied carrots made them chunky and covered them in cellulite. She soon lost any sense of being slim as her thighs started to slap together. And things didn’t stop with her thighs, of course. All the snacking she was doing was also starting to soften her ass quite a bit. She developed two thick, doughy cheeks, and sitting down became like sitting on two big, soft, squishy pillows wherever she sat. Sylvia didn’t mind the comfort, but she did mind the stares.
The same kind of stares she used to give others.
Now Sylvia feels them every day, and she’s going to keep feeling them because she’s just going to keep getting fatter. It’s a spiral that she’s stuck in now with no turning back. Food is a comfort. Food makes her fat. Being fat makes her tired. Being tired means she’s too lazy to get ot the gym, too self-conscious too. No gym equals more weight gain. Pretty girl is pretty plump now and just going to get fatter. She’s got those big flabby bingo wings and a doughy double chin and everything else I’ve talked about, and what it all adds up to is a great big obese slob all because she gave in to the allure of candied carrots and believed their lies. Now she’s paying for her mistakes with all of the pounds she’s added.
And she’s not the only one.
Getting a little tubby there, aren’t you?
I can see you’ve fallen for my candied carrots recipe. No more abs for you. Muscles melting away. That belt around your waist is getting tighter. Soon you won’t need it. Soon you won’t be able to button your pants either. You’ll trust trade them in for sweats, nothing but nice stretchy clothing for you as you lounge about stuffing your fat face.
Who needs fitness? You don’t. Goodbye classically hot body, hello fat one. Everyone’s enjoying talking about how much weight you’ve gained, but you don’t have time to care about that. You’ve got too much food to eat.
Go ahead, have another bite. I’ve got plenty of candied carrots to spare.
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“Thanksgiving Leftovers?
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Me?
I couldn’t have another bite. No. Not a one.
I don’t care. I don’t care how delicious the stuffing is. I feel like the turkey right now. Yes. I know we still have so much food leftover. But that’s not my fault. You’re the one who cooked it all, and you made to much and you know it. You know I can’t possibly eat all of this stuffing… and potatoes… and turkey.
God, it really does look fantastic doesn’t it? Still smells so good, and if you put it on a sandwich. Just think about it, some perfect toasted, buttered bread and those cheesy mashed potatoes layered on with stuffing as well. Then that turkey, that succulent turkey, and a bit of cranberry sauce to brighten the whole thing up. Oh, oh that would be so, SO GOOD. My mouth is watering.
But no. No!
Look at what your cooking is doing to me.
I used to have abs, and now I’ve got this great big squishable gut, this tubby sack of fat that just kinda hangs over the waistband of my pants and rolls onto my lap, oozing fat, a blubbery belly, soft and squishy. You can feel it. I know you’ve felt how soft it is.
And that lap, my lap is getting fatter by the day it seems. My thighs used to be really toned and muscular, strong but lithe and now they’re fat as hell. Just like my gut they’re so soft and squeezable. You can put your hands on them and feel them sink into flesh, my fat, flabby flesh. There’s cellulite and everything. My thighs are thick and wobbly and slap together when I walk. I’m going to be waddling soon.
Waddling and carrying around this big fat ass of mine.
Damn, I’m really carrying a lot more junk in the trunk these days, right? My ass used to be in really great shape. Maybe that’s a bit arrogant of me to say, but it’s the truth, well it was the truth. My butt used to be tight. And now there’s no tone left. It’s just mush, big flabby mush. I’ve got a fat flabby ass, a big fat blubbery ass. It’s heavy and it sags. If you give it a nice slap, which I know how much you love to do, it’ll jiggle for a long time.
My chest feels so soft and heavy and saggy. I’ve got fat arms, and a big fat face too. It makes me feel like such a piggy when I see my reflection in the mirror and see this big thick, doughy double chin that I have wobbling there. I’m just so fat, and it’s all your fault.
I just can’t help myself now because you made me like this. You kept feeding me. You kept me out of the gym. You’ve been so bad for my diet and my waistline and just…
Well, now I’m just so damn hungry. You’ve conditioned me so well. I’m just a big fat spoiled piggy now aren’t I? Just like you want me. I’m fat and helpless. I’m at your mercy.
Alright, fine. Hand me that sandwich. Go ahead and stuff your piggy some more. I want it. I need it. You know I need it so bad, so get over here and stuff me. Oink. Oink. Stuff me real good.
But you better be buying me new pants for Christmas.
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“Stuffing”
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Amy loved stuffing in every sense of the word. She was, by all accounts, a foodie. Hell, she was more than that. She was a feeder, the kind of person for whom eating food wasn’t just something she did for sustenance, or even just for fun. Eating food gave her intense sexual pleasure.
Amy hadn’t always been this way. There was a time where she was slim and rather vain. She was the apple of her slim and rather vain family’s eye. Amy had been head cheerleader and prom queen. She was a real queen bee type, destined for ruthless leadership, perfectly able crush those around her with little more than a judgmental glance.
She was the apple of her mother’s eye, the golden one.
Then she got to college.
Once she was out from under the watchful eyes of her mother and other family members, and once she discovered the joys of all you can eat buffet style dining at the campus dining hall, things began to change for Amy.
With an unchecked appetite, and a nearly unlimited amount of food, Amy soon discovered that pants were getting quite snug. It was hard to fit into skinny jeans when she wasn’t so skinny. This could have been a problem for Amy, or at least a warning of things to come, but instead, she just stopped worrying about wearing pants with buttons and instead switched the stretchier clothing. Clad in her new fat girl pants, the former cheerleader continued to make the most of her meal plan.
That first Thanksgiving was a real shocker for Amy. She had already put on the freshman fifteen (and maybe a little extra. Amy didn’t really do scales.) in such a relatively short amount of time, and most of her family members hadn’t seen her since she went away to school. Her mother, up until that point, had tried to be in denial. But the shocked looks of her family members humiliated Amy’s mother far more than they humiliated Amy.
For her part, Amy was too busy making a naughty little piglet of herself at the Thanksgiving table to notice the unabashed stares and snickers of her family members. It wasn’t until her mother, using those exact words after dinner, assured her of how much of a naughty little piglet she had been. And in that moment Amy realized a very important truth about her family’s reaction.
She didn’t care.
In fact, it was just that she didn’t care. The idea of her family being so repulsed by her actions, of feeling like she was being so incredibly taboo doing something that she had discovered such a deep love for, eating, made her tremble, but not with anxiety or fear, with pleasure. It shook her to her very core, and served as a real turning point in Amy’s life. If her family was so shocked and disgusted by her with just an extra fifteen to twenty pounds on her and with her appetite what it was, just imagine the look on their faces the next year. She made a pledge right then and there to stuff herself silly and really put on a spectacle for her family.
And she did just that.
Amy spent an entire year indulging, stuffing herself silly, growing fatter, much fatter, growing out of clothes and purposefully buying new ones that were a touch too small. She loved spilling out of her sweats. She loved the stares she got when she did so. Amy was used to having people stare at her, used to wearing skimpy clothes when she was slim and sexy and having people gawk. But now instead of cat calling her they often turned away quickly afterward, or if they did call out things it was often some very unkind words. Sometimes it was just animal sounds.
And Amy loved it all.
It all just encouraged Amy to delve deeper into her eating habits. She was so consumed by her deep need for humiliation that she kept consuming more and more food just to grow fatter and fatter. Bursting her clothes was one of her greatest thrills.
Come that next Thanksgiving, Amy was a great big lumber slob with a gut that rolled out from under her food stained sweatshirt and over the waistband of her greasy sweatpants. She was ready to savor the stares of her family almost as much as she was ready to savor the feast she planned for herself.
She was not disappointed.
Amy’s family was aghast, and this time they didn’t limit themselves to rude stares and snickering side conversations. This time they came right out with their condemnations, some lamenting how Amy had “let herself go” others were openly ecstatic talking about how she had fallen and become so “fat and disgusting”. They talked openly about looking forward to Amy getting even fatter as if Amy was supposed to be ashamed about that. But Amy wasn’t ashamed.
She was aroused.
All of the condemnation only made Amy want to eat more. So she did. She stuffed herself like there was no tomorrow, until her already large gut was a big spherical ball. And then the next day she did it
And that’s how Amy got to where she is now. She’s a big obese ball of blubber with thick thunder thighs that cause her to wobble and waddle about, and a titanic ass with two blubbery cheeks that bounce with each step and don’t stop moving when she does. Her arms are pillowy bingo wings; her breasts are huge bowling balls of fat, and her fat piggish face has jiggly jowls and multiple chins.
Thanksgiving is, of course, Amy’s favorite holiday. She loves all the food, but she loves stuffing in particular. It’s her favorite food because it’s extra delicious and it reminds her of her favorite activity. She loves the way her family still stares at her and judges her, though their more vocal jabs have subsided over the years as they’ve just gotten used to her size and now find making fun of her to be a bit tired and boring. That’s okay for Amy though. She gets her kicks elsewhere.
Amy is now a very successful fetish model, regularly doing mukbangs and showing off her gloriously fat and flabby body. People pay lots of money for the pleasure of saying degrading things to her, and Amy takes a lot of pleasure in that as well. Nothing makes her feel hotter than thinking about how thin she used to be, how fat she is now, and how much fatter she is going to get. She loves what all of the food is doing to her, what she’s doing to herself by eating so damn much. She loves to feel like a naughty piggy.
She is very fat and outrageously happy.
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“No More Football on Thanksgiving”
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Brad used to love football on Thanksgiving. Not just watching it, which he also did religiously but playing it. Touch football on Thanksgiving was a well loved Thanksgiving tradition with Brad’s family and Brad was the kind of show off who often took it way too seriously. He was known for being a bit of a bully, and his touches were really rough shoves and quite frankly almost tackles. Brad was seemingly obsessed with showing off just how tough, strong and fast he was.
And Brad was certainly a very athletic specimen. His whole life, he had found physical activity to be extremely easy, and fun. He was a jock through and through, and the chiseled physique that his heavy rotation of physical activities had earned him, combined with his strength and skill, had given him an incredible amount of unchecked arrogance. He loved to not just show off but to look down on others, especially guys who were physically weaker than him.
Brad was a classic bully. He was a “shove you in the locker” type of guy and was always handy with a few cruel names when the moment called for it. And while it should be no surprise to learn that Brad was the kind of guy who objectified and was very derogatory toward women, his favorite target was overweight men, or fat boys as he loved to call them.
He loved making fun of fat boys, using that term as a way to crystalize his feelings. It didn’t matter how old he got and who he was making fun of. Fat boys was the term Brad loved to use because it made his targets sound weaker, more pathetic, and he loved making people feel weak and pathetic.
Well, luckily, karma, and Brad’s metabolism eventually caught up with him.
Pizza and beer can only avoid sticking to a person’s abs for so long, and Brad loved pizza and beer, and chicken wings, and meatball parm heroes, and a whole host of other heavy meals that eventually made Brad himself rather heavy. As his metabolism slowed down, it wasn’t just that the weight started to pile on. It also meant that Brad found himself with less and less energy, and less energy meant less time at the gym. A few skipped workouts soon became a habit. And Brad’s arrogance meant he thought he could actually stay in shape without hitting the gym regularly.
Boy, was he wrong. Let’s just say that skipping the gym was a big fat mistake.
And so Brad got fat.
He didn’t just get fat. He became a great, big, lumbering obese slob. Brad’s abs, once thick, pronounced, and hard enough to grate cheese off of, disappeared and his trim torso became overwhelmed by a thick beer gut that hung over the waistband of any pants he tried to wear. It was pronounced spare tire that often found itself awkwardly getting in the way of things. It was snicker inducing whenever Brad would move and his big blubbery belly would knock over yet another thing. The unexpected should have been expected by that point, and yet Brad always had a stupid look of surprise on his big fat dumb face. On more than one occasion, his sudden shift in response to knocking something over would be the final straw that popped a few buttons over his shirt or the one on his overtaxed pants.
Brad’s belly was a blubbery, flabby mess that moved like it had a mind of its own. Shirts could not contain it. If it wasn’t bursting the buttons on a work shirt, then it was slipping out from under any t-shirts that Brad tried to wear. His gut was big and greedy and Brad found himself constantly needing to fill it with junk food. It wasn’t just that he had maintained his big jock appetite. Spending less time at the gym and more time at home meant that Brad was frequently bored and snacking, and once the pounds started to pile on, he found himself stress eating as well. Comfort food became a crutch, and the mighty Brad was reduced to a pathetic emotional overeater, a sad, flabby fat boy sitting on his couch and stuffing his fat face as he felt bad about himself. And while Brad’s blubbery belly bore the brunt of his bad diet, it was not the only part of him to have expanded.
His thick, muscular thighs grew thicker, but they also lost the muscle. They became weak flabby limbs whose fat smashed together, chafing and pressing until his legs forced him to widen his stance and gave the former jock who used to love and jump and sprint about with a pronounced and ponderous waddle, a slow, labored and awkward gait as his legs moved from side to side and his thick thunder thighs swished against each other.
The fat ass that Brad was now packing into his overtaxed sweatpants also kept him grounded. It was fat and flabby, two big soft squishy pillows for chunky ass cheeks. His blubber butt was outrageously bloated and frequently drew judgmental stares as it gave the former jock a permanent plumber’s crack.
Brad also grew a big bouncing pair of bitch tits. His man boobs sagged heavily onto his big blubbery belly and made him look like the kind of guy who might actually benefit from wearing a bra. They were squishy, saggy, and put a lot of strain on his fat back. In Brad’s mind, his moobs were by far the most humiliating part of his weight gain. It was normal enough to have a big fat belly. He could deal with that. Hell, he had half expected to develop some kind of dad bod when he got older. But having big floppy breasts, a heaving bosom that puts many women to shame? The jokes that came with that were too much to handle. If Brad had already stopped going to the gym, his big ol’ man titties and newfound fear of being seen shirtless ensured that he was never going back.
Even Brad’s arms grew thicker though far less muscular. He developed fat arms with flabby bingo wings and fat hands with chubby, greedy, greasy sausage fingers that were always grabbing at something fattening to stuff his face with.
That face, once home to a chiseled jawline, now had a thick, doughy double chin and jiggly jowls that gave the former jock a rather piggish appearance. He looked more boyish as well.
Brad was the fat boy now, the kind of guy he had always made fun of. He was fat, and weak and pathetic. He could barely lift things- other than the greasy food to his waiting maw- or move long distances without having to stop several times to breath. He was a big squishy loser in food stained clothes that barely fit him, fat and lazy and greedy. He was the perfect target for revenge from the people he used to bully. And football? Playing football, or anything was right out the window.
Brad still loved football on Thanksgiving, but now all he did was sit around, making a permanent indentation on the creaking couch as he stuffed himself with more servings of Thanksgiving dinner and dessert late into the evening all while his fat ass just kept getting fatter.
