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PATREON EXCLUSIVE - "Guess Your Weight"
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 13:26:19 +0000 UTCHere is the second story from "A Carnival of Fattening Fortunes 2" (though there a things in it that might make me wish to publish it first when I publish the whole collection.)
It comes in at a little over 3,000 words.
Enjoy!
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Sandy was a slim and sexy bitch who carried herself with confidence because she was always in control. And what gave her that control? It was her beauty, but that beauty wasn’t something that just came naturally. It was hard earned by hours and hours in the gym, of careful control of herself.
She was the kind of person who lived for numbers, counting calories, tracking macros, and more. In the gym she tracked her weights, her sets, her reps. She timed her rests perfectly. She knew exactly what she was supposed to do on which day. Sandy tracked her heartbeat and knew her exact step count and how many miles she had walked or cycled or swimmed that day. Then she measured her protein and everything else about her life before and after. Sandy was relentless in that way.
And then she took that relentlessness and aimed it at others, especially fatties. Sandy hated fatties because she found them to be lazy. She could control her life, she didn’t just know how to be fit, she learned it, she lived it. She did everything she could to be lean and mean, and if fat people couldn’t get their lives together and still insisted on being in her presence, then she was going to be extra mean.
Sandy was good at being mean too, just like she was good at everything else. She loved to make people cry and watch them suffer. It made her feel even more powerful, and with her lean muscles, Sandy was plenty powerful to begin with.
Of course, she wasn’t as powerful as Madame Zara, and that’s whose tent she found herself in.
The old lady looked the young and fit one up and down.
“My, my… you are a confident one aren’t you? So proud, so vain.”
Sandy rolled her eyes.
“Wow… okay. Is that supposed to be the fortune or-”
“No… no. Just an observation. Would you like your fortune read?”
Sandy almost walked out, turned off by the attitude that she was presented with. But there was something strangely compelling about the old woman who just sat there shuffling cards in front fo her, something that made her want to stay. Of course, she wasn’t going to let Madame Zara just get away with giving her attitude without at least matching it in return.
“Well, yeah. Of course. That’s why I walked into this stupid tent, isn’t it? But I sure don’t want to pay for it, not if you’re going to have such an obnoxious attitude. I think you owe me that.”
Madame Zara just smiled.
“Oh, you don’t have to pay me.”
And then she began to deal the cards and read Sandy’s fattening fate.
“You will grow to match your ego and in ways that you could never guess.”
“You’re weird as hell, lady.”
Without another word, Sandy turned on her heel and flexed her muscles as she did so that Madame Zara got a good look at what she had been messing with. She then confidently stormed out of the tent.
Still in a huff, Sandy looked around the fair eager for a win. The fortune had been confusing and off-putting, and Sandy wanted something that would make her feel in control again. Would she try a ride like the roller coaster? Maybe she could try a game like the shooting gallery, or the water balloon race. Hell, there was even a pie-eating contest which Sandy knew she could win. With her athletic prowess and the amount she ate while training, Sandy could easily best a bunch of fatties and still survive the calories.
Then she saw it, the “Guess Your Weight” booth.
The guesser, a rather rotund woman, would have to guess Sandy’s weight within five pounds or Sandy would win a prize. (Sandy didn’t even care to find out what the prize was.) Sandy was very confident that she would win because, thanks to all the muscle that kept Sandy looking so trim, people were constantly underestimating how much she weighed. The fact was that Sandy proudly weighed 140 pounds of pure muscle and was confident that the fat woman at the guess your weight booth would peg her for weighing 120.
That’s why Sandy was so caught off guard when the smiling fat lady said-
“500 pounds!”
Sandy practically choked on the confidence with which the fat weight guesser told her she was 500 pounds.
And then she felt like her head was spinning and there was a burning sensation in the back of her neck that told her something was very wrong.
“500 pounds?” She muttered mostly to herself.
Sandy would have felt insulted if she hadn’t found the guess so incredibly absurd. Perhaps the fat woman who guessed her weight was trying to play some kind of mean spirited joke? Jealousy? Maybe she was flirting with her and causally rigging the game so Sandy would win? It wouldn’t be surprising that she was entranced by Sandy's luscious figure, curvy and toned as it was. Or perhaps she was just daft.
500 pounds.
It was nonsense. It was absurd. That one could think she was anywhere near 500 pounds was ridiculous, crazy even.
And then she felt her feet start to swell.
It was barely noticeable at first. Perhaps it could best be described as a bit of a hum, a tingling of her toes. It started with the kind of pins and needles sensation that one feels when their feet fall asleep. And then she could have sworn her feet were stretching. It wasn’t painful by any means, even when her feet pressed against the walls of her shoes. There was just a bit of pressure that came from her feet swelling up with fat.
New pudge padded out the soles of her feet. The sides gained layer after layer of fat. It was of her feet were being wrapped in fat. As they grew more plump and swollen, eventually the fat made its way into her toes. All of Sandy’s toes grew thick like Vienna sausages. They were plump little pigged ripe with fat.
Her feet got so fat that they seemed to stretch longer as well as wider. Sandy soon found herself with a real fat pair of clumsy clodhoppers. Full, fat feet, fitting for a fatty who seldom enjoyed walking, or waddling about. Her feet filled her shoes completely and forced them to size up or split.
For just a moment, Sandy looked away. She looked at the man who had guessed her weight as if pleading with him to guess again, but before she could even utter a word in protest, a strange sense of relief washed over her. The pressure was no longer there.
Perhaps it had stopped.
But then Sandy looked down and saw to her horror that her feet hadn’t suddenly stopped getting fatter. What had happened instead was that her previous shoes were now replaced with a set of flip flops that put her fat feet fully on display.
Those fat feet practically spilled over the bottoms of her flip flops. They were clearly far rounded that they had been before thanks to all of the added fat, and her fat toes were a particular sight to see. Her sausage toes were painted with garish pink nail polish that fit those plump piggies pretty perfectly. As Sandy looked down at them, she gave her toes a wiggle hoping they wouldn’t react, but as they twitched she nearly screamed at the horrible realization that these big fat fat were unfortunately all hers.
That scream caught in her throat, trapped by the added surprise that followed her fett inspection.
Her feet weren’t the only thing getting fatter.
The fat slowly began to make its way up her body. It was like her legs were sponges, but instead of sucking up water they were filling with fat. The fat flowed upward from her plump feet and began to fill her slender ankles. Those slender ankles began to swell with fat just like her now fat feet had. Sandy had seldom considered her ankles when appraising her overall beauty, but now- as they were rapidly lost to this sudden swelling of fat- she scarcely had time to somberly morn their passing from fit to fatness.
Instead, she could do nothing but watch as the inward curves of her ankles bent back outward, now blown up with fat. Any sign of definition, of slenderness was lost as her ankles grew into tubes of fat that ran straight down into her fat feet. They kept swelling fatter, growing thicker, and her calves started to grow with them. They lost their tone and bloated up with fat, but her ankles ballooned at a faster rate, and soon the two things were bound together in an indistinguishable mess of fatness.
They were cankles.
They were big fat swollen cankles.
And there was nothing that Sandy could do about it.
Because her thighs were next.
Sandy had always loved her long slender thighs and the tone that they had. And soon all that muscle tone was gone as the fat filled up her slim legs until they were turned into stretched out sausages. They didn’t even stay taut like that for long. As the muscle left her body, Sandy’s thick thighs lost any kind of tone and became soft and squishy. She soon developed saggy saddlebags, and her thighs became thick, flabby thunder thighs, complete with cellulite that ravaged them as they continued to swell with fat.
Eventually- an eventuality that Sandy would have rather had not occur at all- happened. Her thunder thighs began to gently touch. Then they slapped together. It was a loud, wet sound thanks to the sweat that had gathered on her thick thighs as they fattened. She was dressed in just shorts now, so the sound was as noticeable as the cellulite that also blanketed her lard filled legs. After the slap, her thighs bounced and slapped together several more times, each one a little less violent than the last, until her flabby thunder thighs were just continuously pressing together. From that point forward, her thighs stayed stuck together, but her legs were forced farther apart. Any gap that should have been there was easily filled with more soft fat.
Sandy used to be the kind of woman who could easily run a mile and then strut down a runway with complete confidence. She could dance and twirl and show off her fit figure without even breaking a sweat, and now she was stuck breaking down into a fat sweaty mess who was doomed to walk thanks to the tremendous girth of her tree trunk like thunder thighs, thighs that were so filled with fat that some of that flab inevitably started to roll over her fat knees.
But the fat was far from done. In fact, it found its way into her butt next. Sandy’s beautiful bubble butt lost any kind of shape that it originally had. Soon the only shape it could be identified as was “large”. Her fat ass ballooned with two chunky cheeks that became covered with cellulite just like her beyond chunky thunder thighs. Her ass grew so fat so fast that the cellulite could be seen through the stretched out fabric of her shorts. Her blubber butt featured two big fat bloated ass cheeks that bounced up and down and eventually settled for sagging onto the back of her fat thunder thighs.
Sandy’s prized posterior was once so perfectly toned that a quarter could have been bounced off of it. Now it was soft and squishy and getting softer, squisher, and saggier by the moment. The fat kept filling her fatt butt cheeks which first inflated outward before ultimately giving up and sagging further down onto the backs of her fat thighs. Her blubber butt was like a broken down shelf of fat. The tops of her chunky cheeks were actually so bold that they pressed up and crested over the top of her shorts to give Sandy a permanent plumber’s crack situation.
She could feel the way her ass cheeks trembled with the fat that kept filling them. She could feel the way her now titanic ass was forcing her down, threatening to topple her over and pull her down into a seat on the ground that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get up from. It was a perilous position that her posterior, once perky and now puffed up with pork had put her in.
And it just kept getting fatter.
Sandy’s ass had once turned to many heads. She had loved it. Loved the attention. Loved knowing she was so perfect. Now the monstrously mushy mounds of fat flabby flesh that made up her enormous ass also made her feel absolutely disgusting. From the ass down she felt like an absolute cow. She had a certified pair of hippo hips and a rear end like a fat and lazy rhinoceros. All she could do at this point was hope and pray that all that fat would keep itself to her lower half.
But of course it wouldn’t.
The fat spread.
And it just kept spreading.
Next it came for her perfect abs. It turned her trim tummy into a pudgy mess that pressed forward. Soon her stomach was surging forward and sagging with the fat that filled it and pulled it down over the waistband of her pants and toward her thick thunder thighs. As Sandy moaned in defeat and sunk into a heavy frown, her heavy gut sunk further down while billowing further outward as well thanks to all the fat that just kept coming.
That fat expanded sideways as well. Sandy had worked so hard to maintain a trim waist and now it was all gone as her gut grew and love handles sprouted up alongside it. Those love handles didn’t stay small for long. They started to stick out and then sag just like the rest of her. It bubbled forward with blubber, and Sandy tried to catch it with her hands and shove all the fat back into her body, but such a struggle was completed hopeless. There was no putting the dough back into the can, the toothpaste back into the tube, the fat back into her body. She was just going to keep getting fatter and fatter, and her gut was going to just keep growing.
Eventually, the weight became too much to bear. Physically it was heavy. But emotionally it was worse. Sandy was not prepared for the emotional toll of feeling the softness of her gelatinous gut and feeling of all that fat spill over her palms and oozing between her still slender fingers. She felt completely out of control, and eventually the only thing she could do was turn into the skid and let it go.
Once she did, her big blubbery gut flopped forward and wobbled for a few moments before it more or less settled like a mold of loose jello. Then it just kept sagging forward like a heavy sandbag of fat that soon formed a fleshy apron of flab that obscured a good portion of her thunder thighs. It was a heavy sack of blubber flanked by fat love handles that were big thick meaty slabs, and in the back they were met by another big thick roll of fat that ran along her lower back and rolled over the waistband of her pants just like the rest of her big mushy midsection. It was the perfect paunchy counterweight to her big bloated butt.
Sandy’s breasts suddenly surged forward. Her boobs ballooned with pillowy puppy fat, soft yet heavy. Her breasts gave way to gravity and became covered in stretch marks as they swelled with fat and then looked quite deflated as they pulled downward and settled on top of her shelf of a blubbery belly. They were supremely heavy, and Sandy could feel that thick roll of fat in her lower back twinge with the pain of having to heave those heavy hooters around. Her breasts formed a big and luscious canyon of cleavage thanks to all the lard, and her plush, plump, flabby flesh quivered as they continued to grow.
While her breasts did get bigger, they didn’t grow as fast as her belly, and Sandy could also feel the fat fill up her upper back. Even her shoulders were getting thicker, and Sandy felt the fat forming around the straps of her bra and giving her big jiggly back boobs. Those were getting big and heavy and sweaty, just like the rest of her fat fold covered body.
The fat poured down from her shoulders and filled her arms.Her formerly lithe and limber limbs lost their muscle town and became thick and flabby. She grew big pillowy bingo wings that jiggled with even the slightest movement. Her formerly muscular biceps grew so filled and heavy with fat that the fat rolled over her elbows. Her wrists grew thick with fat and well, and finally that fat came for her hands. Her hands grew chubby, and the fingers that had been slender remained slender no more. They grew plump like sausages to better match the thick toes on her fat feet.
And the last thing to go was Sandy’s face. It was filled with fat, and even her cheeks started to sag with fat down as she grew chubby cheeks with jiggly jowls and a double chin. Her face grew round, and then that roundness sagged. She looked crazy bloated with a big fat piggish face. Her face was a beacon of gluttony. She looked like the kind of person who would get winded easily but could also win eating contest after eating contest. Sandy simply put looked like the kind of fatty that never stopped eating, and that’s why she weighed-
“560 pounds!” She said with a burst of pride.
In that moment, Sandy caught what she said and wanted to scream in response to her own words, but then that apprehension faded away as if it had never been there to begin with. Now she was just feeling pride in the fact that she had won. She was far fatter than what the carnival woman had guessed.
Sandy got to waddle away with a big stuffed pig and a coupon for two-for-one corndogs.
It was a good day, and she was fat and happy!
