Big Bayou Waterpark (BBW(mult), stuffing, WG)

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Cylon_bob

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Big Bayou WaterPark

Driving in her car towards Big Bayou Waterpark, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other clutching a half-eaten jelly donut, Jasmine felt conflicted. She gulped down the last bite, feeling the calorie-filled wad of fried dough slide down her throat to join the seven that had preceded it, adding it's weight to the heavy ball of grease and calories in her stomach. She shivered a little, reaching to turn down the air conditioning a bit before grabbing, no longer hungry, but greedy, for the last donut in the box, shoving it into her mouth, wondering whether she should have brought a sundress for the day, maybe done a bit more to cover up.

Nah, she decided as the last morsel made it's place in her overfull stomach, that would defeat the purpose of this trip. Brushing a few stray crumbs from her breasts, she reflected on why she was doing this.

She didn't like water parks; this was about something else. This was about protecting her self-image. She began thinking through her reasoning.

Big Bayou was in the sweet spot, the cross-section between the obesity epidemic and sheer, redneck apathy, a park populated by women without shame, obese to the extreme, wearing outgrown swimsuits, giving no thought to the intensity of their weight problems as they plowed through their fifteenth churro.

This was an annual trip for Jasmine since she'd moved to the area, driving out a few hours to the water park. It was a new tradition, only five years old, but then, she'd never needed the self-esteem boosts back before she got so...

She didn't like the word using the word 'fat' to describe herself, she preferred to say just that she 'wasn't really ready for bikini season.' That was her usual line, anyway. The fact she hadn't been bikini-ready for years was irrelevant.

It was all her fault, she knew that. Five years of giving in to her baser, more primal desires, overindulging beyond the limits of comfort and safety through the holidays, making a right pig out of herself, and reaping the roundness of her binges, followed by an annual diet and exercise routine of laying around the house, eating whatever she felt like eating whenever it was available, and putting no effort into losing weight. That was bound to end up like this. Every year, a good ten, fifteen pounds were added to her bodacious, bottom-heavy body, enhancing her plump, pear shape more and more.

She wasn't ready for bikini season, but that didn't matter. It was bikini season, whether or not she was ready for it, and she loved the season. She was fatter than ever now, this past winter had been rougher than usual on her poor, plumpening body, but that didn't matter either. She'd searched, and she'd found, coming up with a bikini big enough to cover her, sturdy enough to stand against the swelling softness that was her body.

It was hardly an ideal suit, she'd always loved her swimwear more revealing. Her history was one of always wearing the minimum acceptable, a long line of skimpy, strappy little numbers, just enough to cover her naughty bits, not enough to disguise the rest of her.

Last year was the end of that, though. That bikini, rest in peace, had been a teeny little thing, a thong bottom, the cups of the top barely enough to cover her areolas, with red straps, thin as wires cutting deep into her many plush layers of back fat. It had worked, she'd been covered, but just barely, until...

Well, that was the past, she thought, no reason to dwell on it, she'd learned her lesson, and maybe she didn't like the cut of her current suit, but it wasn't in danger of snapping any time soon. It wasn't awful though. It was still skimpy, enough to get the boys' attention, which was always her goal in going to Big Bayou. She may not be thin by society's standards, or anyone's standards really, but against the women she knew went to this park, she was fit, she was healthy, she was hot.

She was fat, even she couldn't deny that the number on the scale, and the distance around her hips was going up, but she liked to tell herself that she wasn't that bad, that even as the pounds continued piling on without slowing down, that she still looked like what would happen to Kim Kardashian if she went on a diet of cheesecake and chocolate bars for a year or so…

The women who went to Big Bayou on the other hand, they were a bunch of trailer trash, a bunch of fat bitches who'd been closing in on 200 pounds even before they popped out a baby at 17 and had an excuse to 'let themselves go.' Those women had no shame about their bodies, and as far as Jasmine could see, they really should. If she was Kim K on a cheesecake and chocolate diet, these women were Rosie O'Donnell on a cheeseburger and churro diet. She'd seen girls turned away from water slides on the fear they'd get stuck in them, and then again, five minutes after, at the food court.

Jasmine though, she was something else. She wasn't even from this state, she was a classier woman, sexy, under control. She was sexual, but on her own terms.

She liked attention, she liked the feeling of power. She liked her clothes close-cut and revealing, and the way she walked, strutting her stuff with a sexy wiggle, using every extra ounce to her advantage.

As she pulled her plump body out of her car, fighting against the ever-growing force of gravity to straighten up, she felt her self-confidence grow. There weren't many men around, four or five maybe, but she saw from the corner of her eye, they were staring at her. She paused for a second to pull out a wedgie for what she knew wasn't going to be the last time today. These bottoms, they weren't intended to be a thong, but on an ass as fat as hers, they couldn't be much else, with the way her rounded rump kept gobbling them up every few steps.

She didn't pick them out every time, that would break the immutable rhythm of her sexy stride, her patented porker's parade. It was a practiced motion, this walk, each step showing clearly how beautifully juicy her bottom was, the jiggling flesh of her round, meaty buns distracting from her less than slight cellulite problem. She dealt with the discomfort of her bottoms the way she always did, by shifting her focus from her wardrobe problems to the way that one blond guy by the light post was staring, open-mouthed at her, in what she could only assume was pure, unashamed lust. That's a good start to a day, she thought, smiling as she walked through the gates into the park.

It was surprising, even to her, the attention she got. For the most part, the lustful stares of unhappy men married to women with waistlines wider than the front of a bus, had made a slow but steady decline since her second trip. There were always a lot looking, but this time was like the first time, every other guy was watching her. She was center-stage, but… it wasn't quite the same.

She got the sense that a lot of these men, they weren't imagining what a night with Jasmine would be like.

Some still were, more than half, she estimated. Those ones had that familiar, glazed look of sheer, sensual desire on their faces, but there were some, too many, who looked at her the same way that she looked at most of the women there, lips curling with disgust and contempt for such wanton piggishness. She wandered to a lawn chair, feeling a little tired from the prolonged presentation of sexiness.

She pulled a bottle of sunscreen from her bag and began massaging the cream into her pores, her hands sliding along the soft surface of her butterscotch colored skin, sinking into the softness of her stomach, using her fingers to spread sunblock into the fat rolls that her luxurious lifestyle had produced, working it deep into the flesh. She made a spectacle of the whole thing, exaggerating every action, flinching at the cool touch of the sunblock, groaning sensuously as she struggled against the bloated swell of her well-tended tummy to bend far enough to reach her legs, sharing shy smiles, subtle winks, and quiet giggles with the men she kept 'accidentally' making eye contact with.

Finally, confidently, she walked over to a particularly cute guy she'd caught staring more than once, less a walk than a bounce, the entire motion intended to show off her round, full, DD-cup chest. In a sexy, helpless voice, she asked him, "Mister, I'm sorry to interrupt you, sitting here, enjoying your day, but could you get my back for me?" She ended her question with a wink, leaning in towards him, her cleavage in his face.

"Yeah, uh, no thank you." He answered.

"Uh, what now?" Jasmine responded, dropping the sexy pretense. She was just surprised. She'd done this five years now, this was her first rejection. She didn't really want an answer to her question.

"Uh, I said no." The man responded, a rude, judgmental look on his face, "I'm also not looking to smear sunscreen on every other fatass whale who comes in here, either. Why is this such a surprise?"

Jasmine was crushed.

She turned around, not answering, and headed straight for comfort, straight for the food court. She was aware of how stupid that was, she'd started her day off with a dozen donuts, and now it was official, she was too fat for the cute boy to deign to spread sunscreen on her back. The next level of fatness, she was there, and she was reacting to the news by eating more. This was her problem, that was why she was so fat. She knew it, but just that second, she didn't give a shit.

As she got to the food court, she was reminded once again why she came here.

Women were all around, resting in the shade while their husbands/boyfriends watched their children, a collection of the women she'd come to this park to see, lardasses with butts like buses, bellies like great, gelatinous globes, these women were the obesity epidemic personified, great globs of gluttony, feasting on Taco Bell and Dairy Queen, or rather, the off-brand Big Bayou equivalents. Any one of them outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds, easily, and their overblown bodies were on display for her to compare herself to, but somehow, just that second, that wasn't enough for Jasmine. She was thin in this company, but that wasn't enough. A hippopotamus would look slim beside these women. She needed some serious comfort food, some serious sugar, saturated fats, carbohydrates.

She didn't let herself go overboard, at least, not as far as she wanted to. A couple of churros, a hamburger, a lot of food by the standards of a thinner woman, but nothing to one of her. Just a large snack, and a little too much, she thought after she'd finished, considering she wasn't done digesting the donuts. Compared to the size of her normal, day-to-day meals, this was pretty reasonable. That was the problem, she decided as she leaned back to digest her excesses, her 'normal meals' weren't healthy either, or small.

To say she overate at every meal would be to damn her appetite with faint praise. Ordinary meals were excessive, and her moments of indulgence, those were in another class beyond 'healthy' and 'unhealthy.' Her holiday meals were more in line with 'ungodly,' or 'unbelievable.'

She was a hedonist, she lived her life having fun, lazing around being hot, and attracting attention to herself. Add to that eating as much as she wanted of everything she wanted, overeating every meal, clearing her plate even after eating became painful, and this is what happens. Dieting never entered her mind when there was food in front of her. Delicious food on her table meant she'd be eating delicious food, even after her oh-so-mistreated stomach began begging her, please stop.

She began remembering just the way she'd been eating these past months. Not for long, though, just a second before she caught herself and sighed, the past was the past; she couldn't make herself thinner by reliving her long list of dietary sins. Her stomach had shrunk by now, digested. Not entirely, but it was small enough now that she couldn't see it past her breasts. That was how it should be, she thought, she was an hourglass, not a standard grade fatty, even if she was on that path. She stood up and started walking out, pausing by the door, thinking it might be best if she just left now.

Then something happened.
 

Cylon_bob

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"Jasmine?" A familiar voice called. It almost didn't register, it had been so long. "Jasmine Tello!" Jasmine turned to where the voice was coming from, just in time to see a big, busty, blond woman with a familiar face standing a few feet away.

"Crystal? Is that you?" The face, and the voice, were those of her old friend, Crystal Whitaker, from years ago, back in high school, but the rest of the woman, that was new. Past Crystal was a 5'8" goddess, captain of the cheerleaders, entirely in shape, she'd had abs, for god's sake, Jasmine hadn't had abs at her thinnest!

Current Crystal, though, the one in front of her, was a different woman, a much larger woman. Past Crystal was flat-chested, always jealous of Jasmine's then C-cup chest; Current Crystal had breasts like great, fleshy cannonballs, huge and ponderous, covered by a pink tee tight enough that anyone watching knew her breasts were bubbling up from her bra. Past Crystal had abs; Current Crystal had a spare tire bigger than Jasmine's, a great, fat potbelly hanging down where her waistline once was, the bulge giving some support to her massive mammaries.

The two old friends went immediately in for the hug, gripping each other tight, and on breaking apart, "It's good to see you, Jazz, you had lunch yet?"

Jasmine hesitated before answering. That third churro was still sitting like a lump in the depths of her belly, but she couldn't miss the chance to talk to her old friend, "Uh, no… No, I was just about to get something, how about we meet up in a couple minutes, right, eh, over there by that pillar?"

She went through the lines again, ordering foods based on how long they'd take to eat, quantity over quality, just loading down on food, gathering dishes on the idea they would share. Crystal, it seemed, had thought the same, because when Jasmine found her again, she was met with another rich, luxurious spread of everything guaranteed to fatten them both up, more than her last calorie-dense course, already on the table.

"Uh, wow, Crystal, this is kinda awkward, but, uh, could we move to a bigger table? There's just not enough room here for all what we both got. . ."

"Oh yeah, no problem!" Crystal grunted as she stood up, and for a short second, Jasmine gave thanks she didn't store much weight in her belly.

Jasmine asked the first question, "So, Crystal, how you been lately, it's been what, like six years? What brings you here, and more importantly, why aren't you on Facebook!"

Crystal laughed through a mouthful of hamburger, holding her hand over her mouth as she answered, "I am, it's just I'm not Crystal Whitaker, anymore!"

She held up her left hand to show off the ring, and Jasmine dropped what was left of her churro down on the table, indignant, "What? I mean, how could you not even tell me? I mean, like, I want to be excited, but like, how could you not tell me anything about this!"

Crystal shrunk down a bit, her grin fading away into a cringe, "Yeah, the thing about that. . ." She winced, looking down as she spoke, but she kept going, "I was already, kinda, pregnant when it happened? Shotgun thing, no real wedding, and I dunno, you were off at LSU, I was still over at A&M, I just never got around to telling you, and like, remember how we both were back in high school when that one chick, Brianne, got pregnant? We totally tore her down, remember? I think. . . I think I was afraid to tell you, actually. Really, really sorry." She looked back up at Jasmine, her forehead wrinkled in worry while Jasmine processed things.

Jasmine wasn't sure how to respond. So many things were happening in her mind. She wanted to be mad, she wanted to be happy for her friend, she wanted to just sit back and talk like they used to, but how?

It wasn't too long an awkward silence, "So. . . You have a kid, then?"

Crystal smartened up at the mention of her child, "Oh yeah, yeah, Daniel! He's going to be four this spring, Matt's got him all afternoon, mommy took care of him all morning, so it's daddy's turn now!"

"And Matt is..."

"Daniel's dad, yeah. I was a little worried when we got married, first 'cause you know, shotgun weddings never last, right, and I got super fat when I was pregnant, so then I was afraid he might get out of it when he could, but he's actually been really amazing! He's a great dad, I'm a moderately shitty mom, it works out fine!"

"Yeah. . . Well, like, at least you have an excuse for gaining some weight, I mean, look at me, I don't even have that." Jasmine fell back in her chair, feeling all of the things that were in her life converging on her, her perpetual single status, her ever-growing weight problem, her parents' pressure to give them grandchildren, and she responded to this sudden dark cloud by grabbing a slice of pizza, "I'm just fat 'cause I'm a useless lump of lard, or whatever." She took a huge chomp out of the pizza.

Crystal tried to comfort her, "What are you even saying, you're not--"

Jasmine didn't even sit up to interrupt her friend right there, "I'm not what? Not a great fat fuck who sits around all day ordering pizza and watching fucking Animal Planet in her way-too-fucking small underwear four days out of the week? Because, uh, yeah, last I checked, I kinda am. And I'm a pig too."

Once more, Crystal tried, a hopeless attempt at comfort, "No, you're no--"

And again, a scornful interruption from Jasmine, "Uh, yeah. I am. I ate a dozen donuts on the drive here for breakfast." She paused, "And I lied before. I already ate lunch. I was still full from way too fucking many donuts, but I sat my fat ass down and piled on a couple of churros and a burger. Then I see you, and you suggest lunch, and I didn't even think about it, like 'oh yeah, I've eaten enough for a fucking African village in the last four hours, another ten pounds of straight up sugar and grease sounds absolutely, hundred percent perfect!' No lie, I'm a fucking fat assed hog, not even exaggerating here. Last I checked, I was 225 pounds of straight up blubber butt, and I can just about promise you, I'm gonna wake up in the morning, probably hung over because as terrible as this day has been, I'm gonna need a strong-ass drink when I get home, and I'm gonna waddle my fat, dimpled ass over to a scale, and I'm gonna be 230."

Crystal responded with equal intensity, "Okay, but if you're a fat fucking pig, then I'm way worse of one. You're talking about a dozen donuts like it's that big of a deal, I have a full dozen donuts for breakfast literally at least three times a week. Life of this young, unemployed, mother of a four year old, I wake up in the morning, spend some time with the kid, take him to pre-school and stop by Krispy Kreme on the way home. Then, once I'm home, I spread myself out, strip down, and lay on the couch watching TV, eating donuts, ordering way more pizza than any woman should eat on her own until Matt gets home. If he's into it, we fuck, then he goes and gets Danny while I make myself decent. And just so you know, you're so afraid of waking up 230, if that happened to me, I'd have lost twenty pounds, and I can promise you, that ain't happening, tomorrow, or probably any time in the future! I'm gonna be lucky if I don't have a 250 pound wake up!"

Jasmine's first reaction was to prove that she was the fattest, "Yeah, but you're taller than me, so you can be heavier and it not be so--"

Crystal wasn't buying it, "Two inches don't cover for twenty five fricking pounds. At least you got a waistline still, I gained thirty something pounds with the kid, eighty plus in the three years since, and that's probably the one thing I miss, being able to bend in the middle without any problems."

Something about that gave Jasmine pause, "Wait, that's it? Like, everything in total, that's the only thing? You're not even a little bit concerned with getting it together and losing weight?"

Crystal shrugged, "Why would I? Have you seen these tits?" She asked, lifting them up with her hands, "I've talked about this with Matt and everything, like, after Danny was born, he seriously couldn't get enough of the girls, and then, I started getting even fatter, and I did like you're doing right now, buncha complaining, like 'Oh, my dear lord, mah sweet, beautiful, feminine figure! Lord almight, it's blowing up like a balloon, I really must stop all eating this minute, afore it's too late and mah waistline is no more!' And Matt told me, he said plain out, just, 'if you diet, it's coming out of your boobs, that's just how it works,' and I'm sorry, these tits are fucking fantastic, I'm not even interested in anything that so much as might possibly make them shrink. So ever since then, I've just kept eating way more than I need of what I want, sitting on my fat butt until I can't fit into my bra anymore, then I go to the mall and start the whole thing over again, eat until I can't hardly move, buy myself a bra, go back home and have a huge, probably super-fattening dinner with my loving husband and child. Perfect life. Why would I want to change anything?"

"I. . . Don't know, because you want to keep in shape?"

Another shrug, "Why do that when I can have another piece of pizza?"

Jasmine didn't know how to answer, and her inability to answer worried her. What Crystal was doing was putting into words how she'd been acting for months now.

"Well, that's good for you, but what happens when your tits stop inflating?" Jasmine leaned in and whispered, pointing to a woman by the churro stand, "What's Matt gonna do when you look like that, belly hanging down to your fucking knees and you're eating like, seventeen churros at a time, think he's gonna be into you then, still?"

Crystal whispered back, "Okay, so I wasn't planning on saying this, but I think. . . I think he's into it! Like, we'll be doing our thing, whatever, and then, he's all focused on my belly, and it's kinda weird, but, I mean, if he's into it, and I'm getting more like his dream girl by doing what I do, I think I'm gonna be juuust fine being super fat."

Opening a new bag of burgers, Jasmine ignored the aching spasms of pain from her poor, overstuffed stomach as she gave in to her already beyond satisfied gluttonous urges. She leaned back in her chair to give the growing globe of her gut some room, "Well, fucking yippee for you, the rest of us weren't lucky enough to get knocked up by a chubby chasing dude who's down with us blimping out entirely." She went for another burger, frowning, "Some of us are just fat as shit and gotta deal with it. Like fuckin' me, look at me, I'm fat as shit, and I ain't even got tits like you. All I got's a fucking fat ass. . ." She didn't finish the thought, choosing instead to drown herself and her feelings in a milkshake of unreasonable proportions.

Crystal actually laughed at Jasmine's response, looking around the room at the three separate men in the room with their eyes locked on the luscious, smoothly rounded, tan bottom of the woman across the table from her whining through a mouthful of burger about how she was getting too fat for any man, "Oh, honey," she said, "you're so right, but so wrong. Yes, I won the fucking lottery with my husband, and all cards out on the table, I love you too much to lie to your face, so yes, you've gotten way fat. Where you're wrong though, is, there's men who like their women with an extra eighty pounds of ass, or whatever you got, and from the looks some of the guys in here are giving you, I'd say you've got some guys admiring you for both the booty and the belly."

Jasmine tried to turn, to see what Crystal was talking about, but not for long, the swollen globe of her overfed midsection was too stuffed to accommodate even that minimum level of flexibility. She grunted in pain as the complaints registered, and as she fell back into her chair, she realized just how far this binge had gone. Every time Crystal had been speaking, she'd been eating, and she'd already been too full at the start. This was the most she'd eaten in one sitting, ever, so far as she could remember, and her stomach, fat though it was, wasn't big enough to handle a caloric onslaught of this magnitude. She winced at the pain, letting out a small moan of discomfort, burping softly, "Yeah, well, look at the competition in the room."

Crystal gave her a strange look, "Yeah? What about it?"

Jasmine was unsure what was going over her friend's head, "Uh, what do you mean, what about it? We're a couple of pigs in a room full of whales, we're both way fat, but the rest of the chicks in here are bigger than we are!"

Crystal's forehead wrinkled up, "Uh, yeah, Jasmine?" she began, "I'm trying to put this lightly, but, I think you're ignoring about, uh, probably at least 90% of the girls in this room. Like, look over there, the table by the Pizza Hut."

Jasmine looked, there was a table of girls there, three of them. The biggest, a fleshy redhead was talking, gesturing wildly, her arm fat waving as she did so. Next to her, a busty brunette was gorging herself without abandon, her stomach full already, almost round enough to protrude further than her generous chest. The third girl was the thinnest, but that meant nothing in this crowd, her overweight, marshmallow-y, body was pouring over the straps of her swimsuit. She looked to be in pain, mouth grimacing as she clutching her round, swollen stomach, looking for some peace from the overfull aching, and finding no release. Jasmine could relate, but she didn't want to make that connection. She couldn't say, not without lying, anything except, "Yeah? What about them? They're all fat."

"Yeah. Totally. Bunch of chunky little piggies." Crystal said, nodding. She paused for dramatic effect, then leaned closer, giving Jasmine a significant look, "And you're fatter than all of them."

Jasmine's neck snapped back to reassess the three little pigs. The thin one, she could admit, that one was a beginning porker, only about twenty, thirty pounds past her prime. Her belly was round, but that was probably from food. Even as full as she was though, her waistline was probably smaller than Jasmine's empty belly.

The brunette, that was less clear, the woman over there was a big girl in a small bikini, lots of skin, little clothing to hide her lush body. Her breasts were barely contained, her belly poured out into her lap, and her bottom hung over the sides, just a bit. She was built like Crystal, no real waistline, just a chubby rectangle shape from this angle. Was Jasmine fatter than her? Maybe, probably, but the real concern in her mind was the redhead.

Jasmine paused to look this last woman over, comparing her own meaty middle to the globular ball of flesh this woman carried. She had no hips, nothing impressive in the chest department, but her belly was huge, a great swell of meat pouring out into her lap, bunching into rolls at the sides. She jabbed her thumb in that direction, "Even ginger?"

Crystal shrugged, "Sorry, but yeah, not even in question, even ginger. You've got probably like fifteen pounds on her, minimum."

"You think?"

"Easily. You carry it way better, but I'd guess she's only just broke 200 pounds. Probably 205, 215, max. It's just all belly, where it's spread sorta evenly on you. Way better, by the way, it's sexy on you, she just looks like a fat slob!"

"Thanks." Jasmine reached for a sundae, sighing as she pulled it closer, groaning with disappointment, "Ah, dammit, shoulda had this first, it's all melted!"

"Oh, it's fine." Crystal assured her, reaching for the other, "You just gotta pour it now, like this!" she lifted the tray to her pink lips, letting the calorie-heavy cream flow into her mouth.

Jasmine chuckled, "Oh yeah, thanks, now I can get even fatter!" she tilted her tray slightly, taking a sip of the dessert, shivering at the cold, "This is what I need right now, totally, hundred percent, pure sugar and fat and chocolate, all going straight to my thighs!" she poured more down her throat, making noises of mixed pain and pleasure. The dish drained, she slammed it down onto the table, "This is how you do it, right? Coming to terms with the fact that you're officially one of the whales?"

Crystal chose to ignore the sullen look on her friend's face, joking, "Please, Jasmine, don't exaggerate! You and me, we're nowhere near whale status! No, no, we're still just cows! It goes like this: pig, cow, hippo, whale, and neither of us are quite hippos yet!"

Jasmine chomped into another churro, the last one on the table, unamused, "Hmm, yeah, I'll remember that tomorrow morning when I can't fit the fuck into my XXL pants. Make me feel real happy I have two more quantifiable hugeness levels to go. So comforting."

"Look, Jazz. You gotta loosen up! Like, you're big, yeah, hey, guess what! I'm fatter than you are! Size isn't that important, it's how you feel about it!"

Jasmine collapsed to the table, her face in her arms, her voice muffled, "Yeah, well, I feel fat as fuck."

"And I feel fatter than you." Crystal said, almost smiling, pity in her face, but not in her words as she continued, "That's because A) you are fat as fuck, and B) I actually am fatter than you. The difference between us is, you're over there moping and moaning because, let's be real, you've got like a .2% chance of ever being even a little bit, almost skinny again, and I'm over here, grinning like an idiot and pigging the eff out! You're fat, oh yeah, definitely got yourself a solid standing in the 'cow' category, but you know what? You're fucking sexy."

Jasmine tilted her head, just enough to give Crystal a look, a raised eyebrow, "Oh, Missus Crystal, what would your husband say?"

"He'd say the exact same thing. Then I'd smack him upside the head. Then, knowing him, he'd probably try and proposition you for a three-way, and if I'm being totally honest, I'd be hundred percent down with that, but I can't let him know, so I'd smack him again for being a fricking idiot."

Jasmine looked up, a conflicted smile on her face, joking "I meant about you thinking livestock are sexy. Go to Alabama with that bestiality shit, yeah?"

Crystal reached across the table to smack her on the arm, "You know what I meant!"

"Oh, I know exactly what you meant, you slutty little beast, you're objectifying me and my big, fat butt!"

"Hells yes, I was!" Crystal laughed, "I've been objectifying you since the minute I saw you over there, all squishy and sexy!"

Jasmine sat silent for a second, just blinking, "I honestly... I don't really know how to respond to that." She admitted.

"You take it as a compliment is what you do." Crystal explained, "Take it from me, you're hot as fuck, way hotter now you've got fat, and you take that and you internalize it. Take it and accept it as fact, and remember it the next time you're torn between buying the low-calorie version of something and taking the fattier version. Remember it when you're holding the shredded remains of your XXL jeans and feeling down about your XXXL ass. I'd tell you to get your sexy fat ass out of here, but I know I'm still too full to move, and I'm like 80% sure you out-ate me, so just lean back and digest."

She leaned back in her seat and continued, "Then, when you recover enough to move, you get that massive, sexy, fat ass out of here and treat yourself. What the fuck, make another stop by Dunkin' Donuts on the way home, too! Go fucking crazy, two dozen chocolate covered, and you're still gonna feel full from all of this, but you're gonna eat them anyway, all twenty-four, because you just can't stop yourself, because you got a booty that requires sustenance! Do yourself right and eat your fat, flabby consciousness into a sexy, sexy stupor, all in the name of a fatter, sexier badonkadonk!"

Jasmine chuckled, confused, "Thanks, I think?" She said, wrinkling her forehead in thought, "I'd say we should hang out more, but, uh, I think I'd end up getting way fatter if we did."

Crystal laughed, "Oh yeah, I'd basically make it a mission, blow your big booty up faster than a balloon at the fair!" Her hands rested on the great dome of her overfed stomach, "I'd get huge too, most likely. Get you all that food, help you with it all."

"So, it's agreed?" Jasmine asked, "For the sake of our status as not-quite-whales, we only hang out when it's this kinda thing, randomly running into each other?"

Crystal grinned, "Oh, I'm pretty sure we're both gonna end up looking like whales on our own, just not so fast."

Jasmine shrugged, "Yeah, probably."

"Oh no." Crystal interjected, "Ain't no 'probably' about in my case, I'm on the fast track to fatness! I have drank the kool-aid, and I'm going back for another glass of that overly sweetened sugar water!"

"You make it sound like a cult."

"Hey now, we don't use the word 'cult!' The Following of the Flab is a totally legit organization! We'd totally recruit you, by the way, you fit the profile perfect!"

Jasmine squinted, "I know you're joking, but come on, that was kinda insulting."

"No no, this is totally a thing! We have a strict set of rules regarding recruits! They have to be fat, obviously, and capable of eating unholy amounts of food, but they can't just be any fat piggy, they gotta be sexy!" The next bit was where Crystal's straight face began falling apart, "Otherwise, our ritualistic all-night-fuck-fests would fricking suck!"

Jasmine laughed, but took that as her cue to leave. Standing wasn't easy, she had several pounds of undigested empty calories weighing her down, but she did anyway, with a grunt, "I should probably get out of here before you indoctrinate me completely!"

Crystal pointed a dramatic finger, "Aha! So it was working!"

"Yeah, I mean," Jasmine shrugged, "donuts sound super good right now."

"Mwahaha, my devious plan is working!"

Jasmine smiled, "I'm walking away now, Crystal."

Crystal called out after her, "See you whenever, Jazz!"

With that, Jasmine walked away, rubbing her round, full stomach as she moved, protecting it from being jostled. This was a good day, she decided, not in the way she'd expected, but better than that.

She felt fat, bigger than ever, and she could feel the way her thunder thighs rubbed together with every step she took. Her belly was bulging out in front of her like a perfect sphere, heavy, but she couldn't get Crystal's idea out of her head. She'd eaten so much today, too much, in fact, she couldn't see her toes anymore. Her gut was achingly full, but she couldn't get the idea of donuts out of her head now.

She stopped moving for a second, and burped loudly. She saw more than a few spectators turn to look at her with disgust in their eyes, and that settled it for her. She was a fat chick now. A hot one, but very much a fat little piglet. What the heck, she thought, on top of everything she'd already eaten, there was no hope for losing weight in the near future, a dozen donuts, 6,000 more calories on top of the pile, what the hell, why not, she figured as she left the park and aimed for the nearest Dunkin' Donuts.
 

DaveTheBrave

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This is good! I could see how this relationship could be very dangerous for Jasmine's weight problem. I shudder to imagine her waddling her pear shape back through the park a few years later...
 

chubluvman

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I would absolutely love to see this continued!
Great job on this.
 

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