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"All of My Hot Neighbors Are Getting Fat"
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 20:59:52 +0000 UTCThat feels like an anime title....
Anyway, here is a collection of all of the "Hot Neighbor" stories in one convenient place, including in Downloadable PDFs. This includes to previously unreleased story, "All My Neighbors Are Fat Now".
Enjoy!
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"My Neighbor is So Hot"
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My new neighbor is so hot.
I mean- like- total smokeshow, walks around in athleisure all the damn time kind of hot. She’s the kind of hot person that knows that she’s a hot person and carries herself accordingly, tons of confidence just the right amount of aloof. And again, she clearly works out or just wears sports bras and gym leggings for style.
You’ve seen those legs right? They’re the kind with the thick waistband that covers the lower part of her abdomen, that chunky waistband would be the perfect place to tuck the lower roll of a chunky belly. I want to see her soft gut push the front of her workout pants outward as the upper roll spills over that waistband, a dominating dome of fat. She would look amazing with a muffin top that makes her blush. I want to see the look of embarrassment on her chubby cheeks.
Right now she has an extremely pleasant face, her features are perfect and yet not too perfect. They’re natural. A lot of hot people have hard faces, sharp angles, gorgeous but intimidating. Not her though. There’s just enough softness to them to make her face effortlessly welcoming- inviting, even. Of course, I’d like there to be a bit more softness to those cheeks, and I’d like to invite a doughy double chin to the party. It would be so hot to see her plump apple cheeks blush with self-consciousness.
Just imagine those first few pounds piling onto her after years of being absolutely perfect- tons of dedication to controlling her appearance and social status through diet and exercise. Thinking about the hours at the gym that she must have put in to have the body that she has. It makes me wince.
She deserves a bit of a break don’t you think?
It would be irresponsible of me- as a good neighbor- to not encourage a bit of relaxation. Don’t you think?
Self care is just so important nowadays.
And we’ve all gotta do what we can to help take care of each other.
And if lifting her up means she’s soon lifting up a big blubbery belly to clean under her spongy fat folds? So be it. If helping her take care of herself means helping her into a larger pants size and turning her toned thighs into thunder thighs big enough to force her to waddle? This is the price of living.
God, her thighs. You really have to see them. She could probably crack a walnut between her thighs, but I’d settle for it being my head. They are so toned. It’s painfully obvious that she squats, probably more than I do- definitely more than you. She’s got these thighs that somehow say that she’s strong and that she can run fast- powerful thighs ready for explosive speed. I’m sure she could maul me like a tiger, and I wouldn’t do a thing to stop her.
I’m not sure that I could.
Her arms look pretty strong too, and I’m not weak. But she- It’s amazing to look at arms that are so strong and yet effortlessly sexy. She’s wiry, not bulky. But when she moves just the right way? I- just- you have to see her get her mail- the way she handles a package. Yeah, those arms look real great holding a package. And now- now I can’t stop thinking about her hands, her beautiful hands, and what they must feel like.
She probably gives some amazing massages with those strong hands and powerful arms. It would be so hot to get a massage from her, to feel her pining me down and kneading my shoulder muscles.
But you know what would be even hotter?
If all that muscle went away. If her muscular arms just became soft, weak, pathetic. I’d love to see those sculpted limbs of her turn into a nice plump set of flabby bingo wings. From muscle to mush. I even want to see those strong, confident hands of hers turn into chubby clumsy ones. Wouldn’t that be something?
It would be so hot to turn someone from their peak of physical perfection into a plump powder puff, a helplessly pathetic piggy. I want to reduce a woman so clearly active into a fatty just sitting on her ass.
Oh! Her ass! How the hell could I have gone this long without mentioning her ass? Her ass is- you may have guessed by now- perfection. It is bounce a quarter off it tight and toned, but it is so pleasantly large. It’s the truth. Squats were God’s gift to us all. She’s got such a big, luscious, powerful looking ass that thing does work. Try not to stare at it when she struts by. I dare you. It’s impossible. That thing is a head turner for sure.
It’s her best feature- and she has many- many- amazing features- Including her breasts. Did I talk about her breasts yet? Her breasts are the perfect size, perky but plump, and, honestly I try not to look too much lest she catch me staring.
But she’s always turned around when I get to admire her ass.
That’s why I know it so well. Those curves are so perfect. They are a marvel, the way they move just enough when she moves to have their own hypnotic rhythm. They are so damn squeezable. I’m sure they’d be rather firm to the touch, but they’re large enough to each be held in one hand with flesh to spare. She could have a picture of her ass hung up in a museum, and I wouldn’t even notice any of the other art. That’s how perfect it is- how hot it is. I just cannot stop thinking about it. It drives me wild with its size, its shape, its- its everything. My hot neighbor’s ass is just the perfectly plump peach.
And yet.
I want to watch that peach grow overripe and rotten.
I want to watch her ass cheeks balloon and sag in defeat. I want to watch that plump but get plumper until those buns of steel at buns of blubber. I want her butt to explode with fat, to become two chunky cheeks that make perfectly plush pillows for me to rest my head on.
I want to lay down on that bed of flesh and cellulite.
Just- I just need to see her turned into a weak fat ass with a big fat dumper, I’m talking an ass so large it anchors her to the couch. She needs to be the kind of wide load lard ass that leaves a permanent indentation for her ass to sink in. I want to see a chair- hell a couch- break under her immense weight.
And then I just want to stuff her full of food until she’s not getting up after she’s spiraled from a fit young hottie into morbid obesity.
I want to turn her into a big fat pig, a total fatty, my total fatty.
So that’s exactly what I’m doing.
It’s started with little things. I left some treats, a housewarming gift. Then, when I decided that was too small I gave her a full basket of goodies which I pretended was from multiple people. And when that was figured out, and I realized she talked to our other neighbors, I apologized and covered my ass by saying I didn’t want to impose on them and figured I’d make them look good.
Then I smoothed things over with a tray of brownies.
See, people don’t actually think you’re trying to fatten them up. They might say that.
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” She asked.
They never really think that, though, and neither did she. At worst she thought I was being a bit forward and wanted to ask her out on a date.
But I don’t need a date.
I just need her to eat.
And that means I’m perfectly happy to give her food, let her eat it behind closed doors, and then just admire the results when she comes out.
So I organized a building potluck, something to hold with everybody there as a cover for me, and to ensure that she went home with plenty of leftovers.
Then I made things for other people on other occasions and made sure it was known to her. From that moment on, I wasn’t just a creep trying to score a date. I was the magnanimous neighbor who loved to make food for people. And if my other neighbor’s wife happened to get a little fatter because of that, bonus for me.
There was truth to that statement of course, me being the neighbor who loves to give food. If I must say so myself, I’ve gotten to be a pretty good cook. For someone with my proclivities, it comes with the territory. With talents like mine, it would be wrong not to share.
And, for my purposes, being a home chef is a much more effective way of fattening people. Most neighbors won’t go in for leftover pizza. But people will take it when I’ve made too much chicken Alfredo or spaghetti and meatballs. It’s easy to get people to taste test “new recipes”. And nobody says no to a plate of cookies.
Or brownies.
Or a whole chocolate cake.
Maybe I’ve been pushing things just a little bit, getting a little cavalier.
But I can’t argue with the results.
She’s getting softer. Bit by bit. I’ve seen it. Her abs are disappearing. Her thighs have a bit of jiggle when she walks, and that ass- that perfect ass- it’s starting to wobble just a bit more than she would want it to.
So I’m going to keep going with my little treats, my little tricks to fatten her up. Because it’s very clear to me…
My hot neighbor is going to get so fat.
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"My New Neighbor is So Fat"
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My new neighbor is so fat.
You’ve been wanting for me to say those words so here they are once again.
“My new neighbor is so fat.”
It’s wonderful isn’t it? You just love getting the news that a hottie with a body like hers has gone full fridge city and fattened up into a total cow, a piggy, a whale of a woman. Let me say it for you one more time.
My hot new neighbor is so fucking fat.
I don’t know if you can technically consider her new anymore. She’s been here quite a while now, long enough to get very, very fat. But she’s still technically my newest neighbor… for now. But that’s getting away from the point which is that my new neighbor, who was so outrageously hot, is now incredibly, undeniably, fat.
And when I say fat, I don’t mean chubby. I don’t mean pudgy, tubby, soft, or any of those other euphemisms. I choose my words very carefully. And fat means FAT. We’re talking seriously chonky, morbidly obese.
Let’s be real, sometimes dreams do come true, and mine did. But hey, you want to make dreams come true, than you have to put in the work. And that’s exactly what I did. Kind words, patience, and lots and lots of food. That’s the key. I’m talking desserts, dinners, “leftovers”, you just got to keep coming up with ways to ply her with food. Then the habit is built and the piggy comes to you.
I knew she was done for the first time she made a request.
Brownies. She loved my brownies. She was dying for my brownies. So I was happy to make her a tray when she asked. When she asked again, that meant it became a weekly thing. Then, it became a twice weekly thing. I always made sure that the second tray was a “new recipe” , something I was trying out. Sometimes it was, but most of the time it was something I pulled out of my deep rolodex of dessert recipes. (You didn’t think this was my only time doing this. Did you?) I’d make blondies. I’d make brookies. One of the batches that went over the best with her was my smores brownies, so that became a regular part of the rotation when she kept asking. That got us to brownies three times a week.
And I just started taking care of Sunday dinners for her too. Chicken parm, lasagna, chicken alfredo, beef stroganoff. Every week, I made more and more fattening things just for her. I would eat a little bit myself and then give her my “leftovers”. She would eat everything and then give me back my tupperware which was the perfect time to give her something new. I started using this as a little trick. When she finished the food and gave me the container back, she got a new little treat. Soon, she was a well conditioned little piggy, eagerly finishing all her food faster and faster and getting the nice clean dishes back to me so she could get more food and the sinfully delicious treat that went with it, cookies, cake, anything I could think of.
I got her eating all the time, and once that happened it left no room for the gym. She was quickly cutting back on her sessions, skipping workouts because she was too tired or bloated to work out, or too busy actively eating- stuffing her face- to go to her personal training sessions. It became easy enough to get her to cancel those and save money, and she was rewarded with a double batch of brownies for that. My good little fatty deserved it.
And she is such a good little fatty. Would you like to know what she looks like now?
Like a pig, a big fat beautiful pig.
Those abs of hers? Gone. She’s got a huge flabby gut now. Remember when I said I wanted to see it pushing against her leggings and rolling over the waistband? It’s so much more than that. It’s really funny to see her with her big blubbery double belly now. She’s got that big thick lower roll tucked into her pants like that’s doing something to hide it. So now she’s got stretchy pants that cling to that gut like saran wrap and if anything draw even more attention to it. And she’s still got that upper roll that rolls over the waistband. So what is she even trying to hide? I suppose, if she took the time to pull down that waistband that’s strained for dear life, and let her gut hang freely, we’d all be witness to a great big apron of belly fat that sags uselessly onto her thighs.
And those thighs. Oh, those are some meaty, meaty thighs. They are thunder thighs alright and everything I wanted them to be. They’re big tubes of quivering fat. When she walks I can hear them slap and rub together. You have to really work to hear that, but it’s there. I promise. Her thighs are tremendously thick and possess none of the tone that had made them so powerful. They’re just thick with soft, spongy, useless fat and covered in cellulite. She’s still cramming them into legs and her saddle bags are so thick that they stretch the legging to the point of near transparency, and you can see the pattern of the cellulite through the fabric. That fabric is stretched so much, her tree trunk-like legs look like sausages ready to split their casings. And it’s not just the thighs either, which are so thick that she has to waddle about when she tries to move at all. She’s got ankles and calves that are swollen with fat and get more swollen when she waddles about, which is not something she does nearly as often as she used to.
It’s hard to believe now that she was ever an athlete.
Her arms. Remember how powerful her arms are now? They’re so fat and pathetic. She’s got great big flabby bing wings that wobble at the slightest movement, and she’s got these wonderfully chubby hands at the end of thick wrists. Her thick sausage fingers make her so clumsy now. She isn’t delicate in the slightest. She is weak though. Any power she once had is gone, replaced by fat. Her flabby arms struggle to lift things now. Sometimes, when I make her so kind of extra dense and heavy dish, like a full casserole, she asks me if I wouldn’t mind bringing inside and putting it on her counter. She’s not trying to seduce me. She just wants less work for her fat self to do.
It lets me see the inside of her apartment which is a mess nowadays. She’s not just fat. She’s fat and lazy, and too fat and lazy to care about what I might think walking into her apartment and seeing all the dirty dishes and fast food containers and wrappers just laying about. Personally, I think it’s hot. Okay, sometimes I’ll admit that when I see a Thick Burger wrapper on the floor, I feel like she’s cheating on me a bit, but I can’t argue with the results, so I suppose I’m going to have to be willing to share my little piggy a bit. It’s just helping her get even fatter even faster.
And of course she keeps crawling back to me.
Thick Burger is great, but they haven’t mastered dessert like I have.
The way she practically begs me for food nowadays is so pathetically adorable. She has these big sad puppy dog eyes to go with her piggish body. I can see the need in them. Luckily for her, I’ve always got something planned, something ready to hand over so I can keep my piggy stuffed. And I love the way her smile lights up when I hand over another tray of food. She has such cute deep dimples now on her fat face thanks to the jowls that she’s also developed. And her doughy double chin jiggles with delight every time she knows she’s about to have another free and delicious meal.
She must know on some level how fattening they are. She has to see and feel what they’re doing to her once firm and fit body. She’s definitely bought new clothes (though I’ve noticed she keeps stubbornly buying the same kinds of clothes and never in sizes that are truly big enough for her fattening figure because she’s clinging on to some shred of vanity and denial), so she must be aware of how much she’s growing, how much fatter she is. But if she knows how much damage my dishes are doing to her waistline, how fattening they are, she just doesn’t care anymore. She wants them too bad. She needs them. She can’t get enough of my fattening food. And I’m happy to give it to her and watch her walk- well, waddle- away. When she does…
That ass! Lord, that ass! It’s something to see. Her firm ass has ballooned, bigger than I could have hoped. She’s got hippo hips and a huge ass to go with it. My cake has caked her out. My cooking has turned her into a real fat ass. She’s got two bulbous blubbery butt cheeks that now move to their own rhythm. Those buns of steel are now incredibly soft and sag onto the back of her big fat thunder thighs. Her saggy ass cheeks are covered in cellulite, and they sway with the slightest movements. I can’t get enough of it. It makes me want to cook more and more.
And sure, her breasts have definitely gotten bigger. They’re heavy and saggy, and I love to watch her reach for her fat back rolls when she’s feeling their strain. But that ass of hers is the real trophy, the real prize for me to keep my eyes on. She’s got two saggy pillows, overstuffed, blown out, blubbery. She’s a fat ass. She’s a pig.
Still though, it’s not just her size, her incredibly fat size, it’s about the things that come with it. It’s about listening for the way she wheezes and has to stop and pause multiple times on her way up the stairs to her apartment. She used to be so fit. Now she’s fat and weak and pathetic. She used to be so in control of her life, but now so much of that control belongs to me and what I feed her, what I help her with around her apartment now that she’s too fat and weak to do so many things herself. She’s my pig, and deep down she knows it even if we never say it out loud.
I don’t need to touch her to know how soft she’s gotten, how far she’s fallen, and how hot she is now as a big fat pig. She’s hotter than ever in my eyes, and I’m going to keep making her fatter, muh fatter.
Anyway, I’ve got other news to share too. My other neighbors, the one whose wife I may have accidentally started to fatten up? Well, she’s gotten even fatter. And then she got tired of her husband telling her how fat she was getting, so she kicked him out- which, honestly, good for her. But she’s not going to be able to afford the rent alone, so she’s also moving out.
And my landlord acts real quick, I saw a couple of ladies checking the apartment out just the other day. They are a pair of real hotties let me tell you.
I think they’re bikini models or something. They certainly have the bodies for it, generous but toned hips that support perfectly lush but tight ass cheeks. They’re got trip waists that then taper up into big, plush breasts. They both could have easily stepped out of the pages of a glamor magazine with their perfect hourglass figures. They came in wearing practically nothing, just really cropped crop tops and booty shorts, and my mind already started spinning.
I’m just thinking I’m going to need more tupperware, my shopping lists are going to get longer. Food budget might be making some other things a little tight, but I think I can manage another major project. I’ll tighten my budget to tighten their pants. Maybe they’re friends and just roommates. Maybe they’re lesbians. I don’t know. I don’t care. They’re both super hot.
Plus, when my piggy came waddling past them, I heard them snort at her. They actually made little pig sounds and then laughed about it. I saw my piggy’s face flush with embarrassment, and it was so hot. I’m sure my piggy used to be just like them, the hottie that made fun of fatties. Now she’s the fatty hotties like to make fun of.
Those two hotties, I watched them whisper some more catty jokes to each other and then laugh again. I eyed their exposed abs as they did so. They were too busy laughing at my piggy to notice my eyes lingering on their tight curves as I thought about how badly I wanted them to get the apartment. And I still hope they do. I’m eager for them to sign a new lease because I know just what I’ll do when those sexy bitches officially move in.
I’ll be sure to keep my oven going and bring them my usual housewarming gifts.
After all, we all have to be good neighbors. Don’t we?
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"My New Neighbors Are Getting Fat"
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It’s happening. It’s really happening. I mean, I knew it would happen like it’s happened so many times before, but every time still thrills me like the first.
You remember those hot bitches who were moving in, the ones who were making fun of my poor piggy as she was waddling about the building? Well, my piggy is getting her justice now because those two slim and sexy bitches are getting fat.
You’re welcome, Piggy.
That’s right, those slender vixens, classic mean girl stereotypes with their hard bodies now have bodies that are getting softer, squisher, fatter. Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I’ve gotten them past the soft stage. They’re at least chubby, and even that is borderline- borderline fat.
Their names are Tracey and Lacy by the way, and they are a lesbian couple, one of those cute couples whose names rhyme. Cliche? Sure. But love is love right? And I don’t care who they love as long as that love chub settles on their bellies, and around their hips, thighs and-
Woo. It is settling. I can tell you that much. The chub is settling. The pounds have been packing on. And the most beautiful thing about fattening two hotties like this at the same time is that, even though their names are so similar, they gain weight in different places. So, even though both of these lovely ladies are getting larger, they’re getting larger in different ways.
Tracey is a pear shaped woman. She has gotten really bottom heavy. She used to have a tight little butt, not as naturally voluptuous as my piggy’s was in her prime (pre-porking up) but a cute little butt. She clearly didn’t squat as much as my piggy used to do. But her butt is making up for it now. It has ballooned in size and is threatening to become the biggest butt in the building. And because she didn’t work out as much, there wasn’t as much tone to start out with, not nearly the same amount of muscle structure to help it fight off gravity. So her cheeks are softer and saggier than my piggy’s are. Tracey’s ass cheeks tremble like crazy when she moves, and when she is in a rush to get somewhere- something she really struggles with nowadays- her butt cheeks bounce like mad.
They’re just so blubbery. And I’ve seen her reach down for her mail and seen the pants that she insists on cramming them into roll down just enough to get a nice half moon rising out of them. Her cheeks are so doughy and dimply with rich cellulite. I’m sure she’s ashamed of how much she has to struggle to squeeze into clothes that she’s too vain to get rid of. Tracey and Lacy live in the apartment directly above my own, so I hear a lot of jumping around when she’s trying to cram herself into those pants, and when she hurriedly- as hurriedly as she can be with her big fat butt- tries to run out of the apartment, sometimes I find that to be the perfect time to go check my mail and watch a glimpse of her wobbling by. And she wobbles quite a bit, especially her thighs.
Those thighs used to be tight, but not anymore. They’re sausages in too tight casings, thunder thighs that have earned their name with the way they smack and rub together. I see her sometimes at the end of a long day when she’s too tired to really work to maintain her posture and proud walk. She just gives in and waddles. It’s a slow defeated step as she struggles to lumber up the stairs. I’ve seen her as she stands there at the bottom of the steps looking up like she’s about to climb Everest instead of just up to the second floor. It would be sad if it wasn’t so hot to see. But as it is she’s such a lovely little piglet these days, and her newfound sense of self-consciousness and embarrassment just plays so nicely off of the arrogance and vanity she had until very recently.
And it’s not just her ass and thighs that have gotten fat. They’re just what have born the brunt of the weight. Tracey’s got a nice sized belly too, certainly something that she doesn’t want to show off in crop tops anymore, but she doesn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. Her belly is so pudgy now that it likes to push all of her shirts up enough to at least show a sliver of flabby flesh, and that’s tantalizing enough for me… for now at least.
Her arms are softer, weak looking things now with a real squishy quality where her arms were once lithe and very toned, and her face has gotten noticeably rounder too. The weight has taken away her high cheekbones and replaced them with chubby ones. It’s rounded out her original chin and paired it with a second one. That double chin isn’t nearly as doughy as my piggy’s, but we’re still in relatively early days.
Tracey’s tits haven’t gotten that much bigger. I’m sure that’s probably a bit of a sore point for her. She’s got the fat girl curse where her breasts get a bit more blubbery, but they mostly just sag. Now they’re heavier but not as perky and attractive as they once were, and they don’t have enough extra size to compensate.
That’s not the case with Lacy.
Lacy has enormous boobs.
Everything about her is fat. She’s got a big cushiony ass too. She also has weak arms with flabby bingo wings and fat clumsy hands. Her face has fat rosy cheeks and a nice double chin. She’s got thunder thighs too, not nearly as thick as Tracey’s thunder thighs, but they still do plenty of fat slapping. There’s a lot of her to love. She may even technically be bigger than Tracey. It’s hard to tell since their dimensions are so different. But no matter how you cut the cake, there’s a whole lot of Lacy to love, and I love all of it.
It’s just that, when it comes to Lacy, the real show is in her boobs and belly.
She’s got what one would justifiably refer to as bazongas, titanic tits. They are big blubbery fun bags, packed with fat because, unlike the pear shaped Tracey, Lacy is a delicious apple. Her breasts are full up, stretched out (with the marks to prove it) and saggy as all hell because there’s no way for all that fat to keep itself up. She’s got big pendulous breasts that sag downward, and the only thing that stops them from really hanging flat is the shelf of a belly that she’s developed to give them some modicum of support.
Her gut is huge. Lacy used to have some very sexy abs. Clearly her core was what she used to work on the most, but now that she’s too busy stuffing her face to go to the gym, that slim stomach has gone to pot- pot belly that is. She’s really grown quite the gut. Her trim waist has ballooned outward with that new spare tire of hers joined by some thick saggy love handles. They really are something to see. She used to be so toned and now she’s just got this tremendous muffin top.
Tracey can at least pretend her shirts fit. That’s not the case for Lacy. Every shirt that Lacy wears is a belly shirt. Even the blouses she tries to wear tend to ride up. And when they don’t, there’s always the gaps that inevitably form between the buttons. Pushed apart by the girth of her gut, the fat oozes through the gaps when she sits down. I’ve seen her blush when that happens.
I’ve even seen one of those buttons pop off.
You see, Lacy and Tracey are very neighborly people. And, perhaps because they’re a couple and not just single people, they’re a bit more open to me coming over. So when I make them something, they’re inclined to invite me over.
That’s when I get a front row seat to see them go whole hog.
It’s something really special to see. Even my piggy doesn't invite me in. I think she’s too ashamed to have me watch her pig out in person. And that’s hot enough for me. But Tracey and Lacy have no such qualms. They stuff their fattening faces with my food and are absolutely unashamed of how messy they are. They practically snort as they inhale my food and I love to watch it happen.
They get sauce on their cheeks, crumbs in their cleavage. They stain their shirts. And the best part is the button popping. I’ve seen them fly off of shirts and off of pants alike. It’s honestly surprising that they keep inviting me over so much. You’d honestly think they’d have some shame.
Maybe they’re into it.
I don’t know. All I know is that they’re getting fatter, and I love it. So I’m going to keep feeding them and making them fatter. Because it’s fun. Because I enjoy it. And if they happen to enjoy it too, then that’s a bonus, but it’s not a priority.
It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong. They don’t have to eat my food. They want to eat my food. They could tell me no. Or they could take my food and throw it right in the trash without me even knowing about it. But they want this. They choose to eat. They choose to pig out, to stuff themselves and turn themselves from fit little brats to fat little piggies. I’d call them piglets. They’re not as big as my piggy yet, of course.
But give them time.
Time and calories. That’s all I need. Time and calories, and they’ll keep getting fatter for me. My piglets will get fatter and fatter, spiraling into obesity just like my piggy. They’ll never laugh at her or another fat person again. They’ll be too busy stuffing their fat faces with food and being the ones getting laughed at.
You’re welcome, world.
One vain slim and sexy bitch at a time (or two in this case) I’m making this world a better place, a fatter, happier place.
Now my neighbors are just nicer to themselves and to each other. That’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it? In fact. Maybe I’ll make building potlucks a regular thing. It would be community building. And isn’t that what we need right now? A bigger, better community. That’s the truth of this world. And I won’t let people getting fat get in the way of that truth. If they happen to get fat- very fat, that’s all just a part of the very important lesson.
We all just need to be kinder to each other.
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"All of My Neighbors Are Fat Now"
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All my neighbors are getting fat now. They’re all fat or getting fatter. No more hotties left in the building and even the ones who weren’t necessarily stereotypically hot have caught the strays.
My building is full of fat people, and I love it. Another couple moved out. I wonder if I had scared them away perhaps with all the food. I saw his waistline getting wider. He used to be super fit, and the food from all the potlucks must have really got him going with the eating cause his abs turned the flab, and he gained a real dad bod. And his wife? (Or maybe just his girlfriend, I never really took the time to look for a ring.) Her breasts got huge. She got a big blubber belly and fat ass to match, but her breasts were the real things I couldn’t stop staring at. Those mammaries got massive. We’re talking titanic tits.
Actually, now that I think about it, maybe she just got pregnant and the moved out into a bigger space. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, but it’s way more fun to think that my food had a lot to do with it. And his weight gain definitely wasn’t just sympathy weight.
He was getting quite a hefty chest as well, proud pecs turning to mushy moobs. But still, she was the one I was more interested in. It was fun to watch her hips widen and her thighs thicken. She used to have a pretty high and firm butt, but by the time she was waddling out of her, that butt was a big fat flabby ass starting to sag and slap onto her thick thunder thighs. It was something of a sad day to see such promising piggies waddle away from my feeder influence, but it was fun to watch them go if you know what I mean.
And the new neighbors that moved in? Even better.
They were two young hotties, somewhat like Tracey and Lacy, but just roommates this time as I found out. They’re Mandy and Collette, and they’re a couple of college girls looking to live off campus during their senior year, and well we’ve been having a lot of fun.
A lot of food based fun.
Mandy and Collette had managed to easily avoid the freshman fifteen, but senior year so close to me has greatly expanded their waistlines. I’m proud to have helped put more pounds on them then a school dining hall, late night study sessions, and college parties had had up to this point. My brownies are just that good, just that addicting.
I got them into bad habits with my food, and now they crave junk even when I’m not the one supplying it. They’ve gone from fit and active hotties to lazy fatties thanks in large part to me. But I haven’t played the only role in turning their abs to fat rolls.
The people in this building are just so nice. So welcoming. So fattening. My little piggy does her part to keep Mandy and Colette tempted and well fed. And my piglets, Tracey and Lacy, are there with kindness and cookies. In this building, our community watches out for each other and watches waistlines grow. We’re like one big fattening family.
And nothing’s forced. Everything comes from the heart, fills the tummy, warms the soul, and thickens the thighs. People want to eat. They want to share what they have. And if getting fat is the inevitable result of all this community building? Then that’s just how it is. The building potlucks are extremely popular. People love them, and they’re not changing any time soon. If anything, they just keep getting larger as the people who attend them grow larger, happier, fatter.
Mandy and Colette are no different. Mandy has a great hourglass figure. Her hips have gotten wide with thighs that have gained some very saggy saddle bags. She has real thick thunder thighs that rub together and make her waddle. And they’re nicely paired with her thick, saggy ass. That butt is large and blubbery, and has this absolutely amazing amount of bounce to it.
Colette is an absolute cow. She’s got a whopper of a belly, a big gut that hangs down like a saggy apron of fat. It’s really fun to watch her wear dresses because of how her big blubbery belly hangs down and stretches the fabric making it look like she’s wrapped in saran wrap. She used to wear sexy bodicon dresses. Now she wears dresses that are designed to be looser, but nothing is loose on Colette. She’s far too fat for that.
What’s great is that even their friends are getting fat. They like to host a lot of people, and I’m a very accommodating neighbor who never complains. In fact, on more than one occasion I have very graciously catered their get togethers, and that means I’ve gotten to watch hot college co-eds come into my building and then waddle out of it as well thanks to all the partying they’ve done (and the treat bags I make sure they’re able to take home.) A lot of people who definitely looked like they were part of the mean popular crowd in high school now look much more like the kind of fatties they used to make fun of.
Sure, things are starting to get quite expensive, but I’m a lucky person. My apartment was a steal when I got it, one of those rent controlled places people just die to get into. (In this case it was my aunt, but that’s besides the point.) And I have a pretty solid paying dayjob with some flexibility about working from home. Plus, it turns out my baking is legit, and the more I make the better I get. I’ve got a pretty solid side hustle going with that. I’ve branched out far beyond the building, and that means my fattening ways have too.
Who knows when it’s going to stop?
Me? I hope it never does. I’m very happy making the world a better, fatter place. I’d happily turn everyone into fat contented piggies.
And I think I will, one new hottie turned fatty at a time if I have to.
