You know that feeling when something becomes obvious to you that everyone around you has known forever?
Where something happens and there's a moment of clarity where all you can think is 'how could I have not noticed,' and 'my god, how long has this been going on?'
Well, Natalie definitely had one of those moments last night.
Winter's over, and she was all kinds of excited to get out her 'cute, sexy, springtime-y clothes!'
Then, approximately .02 seconds later, she realized for the first time that her ass was about five months and fifty pounds beyond those clothes. It was one hell of an event.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Okay, you're completely lost; let me start at the beginning.
Anyway. Spring's finally here, and you know how it is. Women everywhere spent yesterday pulling down their spring clothes, and getting the bad news about how fat they got over the holidays. Nat was one of those, and my god, she made a show of it.
So Nat.
Nat's my roommate, and let me say right now, before you get the wrong idea, not that kind of roommate. Nothing sexual. It's sort of a mutual friendzoning thing. By that, I mean that she's like 'I don't see you like that,' and I'm like 'I would fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren't completely fucking insane.' And before you take the wrong idea, that bit about her being insane, that's not me being misogynistic, that's an objective fact. I'm diagnosed bipolar, and compared to Nat, I have the emotional stability of a stone wall.
Anyways, like I subtly hinted earlier, Nat's spent the last year making the transition from a 'pretty, but kinda chubby' girl to a 'fatass blimp of a woman.' going from your average, slightly chunky American woman to the epitome of American overindulgence.
It sounds like I'm being cruel, but you haven't seen her. It's ridiculous how big she's gotten! Nat's always been a bit chunky, a short, squat sort of girl, very overweight, but not actually obese, very soft all over with a big, round booty popping out behind her like a shelf. Your average guy might say she'd have been a knockout if she lost 15 pounds, a guy like me, who likes a woman with a bit more to grab onto, would say she was about perfect.
That was at the end of last spring. She started putting on weight over the summer, just a little, and that was all well and good. Her boyfriend didn't say anything about it, but, then again, that was probably because he was fucking another woman. Which she discovered when she went to surprise him at his house over Thanksgiving break.
That was the trigger, I think. Walking in on her boyfriend and another woman. After that happened, she freaked out, then went home to comfort herself with food. Like, a lot of comforting. I said before, Nat's a massively emotional woman, and she decided to try and swallow those emotions with ice cream. Which took a lot of ice cream.
Since it was Thanksgiving, shortage of food wasn't exactly a problem, unfortunately for her womanly figure. She told me herself, she spent the whole break eating until she couldn't move anymore, napping where she sat, then having seconds as soon as she woke up. All I could think while she was telling me about this was that she looked like it, spread out on the couch like she was, her T-shirt not quite covering the lower curve of her tummy, shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream into her chocolate-stained mouth.
It was like it sounds; her 'comforting' continued at full-throttle after she got back. Just bar after bar of chocolate, even when it clearly was hurting her to shove more food into her overstuffed stomach. Even once the crying stopped, she kept with the eating, like it had turned into force of habit or something.
You can imagine the effect that kind of diet can have on a girl's figure, even if she did have an insanely fast metabolism, which I want to emphasize, Natalie does not and never has had. She's definitely never had that 'tall, slim, svelte' sort of figure. Always been more of a 'short, soft, squishy' kinda gal. Not the type of woman you'd call 'athletic.' Looked more at home plowing through her fourth plate at an all-you-can-eat buffet than on a playing field. Doubt she's ever walked into a gym in her life. You already know where this is going.
Constantly pigging out, no exercise, girl blew up faster than a parade float at the Macy's Day Parade,and that may sound like an exaggeration, but I swear, it's not much of one. Thanksgiving was what, four months ago? Well, she'd been pudging up throughout the year, probably put on ten or eleven pounds, not much, just enough to round her fat ass out a bit more.
That was forty pounds ago.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Back to yesterday.
So when she asked for my help getting her spring clothes out, I figured she'd look through them to decide what she liked well enough to buy a size or three larger. I set the box down on the foot of her bed, Hey! Nat! Got your clothes down, they're right here on your bed when you're ready!
I turned around just in time to see her biting into a freshly-opened Snickers, big grin on her face. She mumbled something through a mouthful of chocolate, 'thanks,' I figured, and I started to walk out to give her some privacy while she did her thing. but no, she reached out and grabbed my arm before I could get out the door. C'mon, Jake, help me out a bit more, let me know what looks good on me, 'cause, I mean, let's be real, I think I've gained a bit of weight these past months!
Okay, so she admits she's gotten fat, but the fact she thought she could 'try stuff on' was a bit of a flag. I honestly think she didn't realize just how much she'd gained. Calling 50+ pounds on this 5'1 woman 'a bit of weight' is almost like calling a tornado a stiff wind, technically true, but my god, the image is misleading.
Me being the fatty fucker I am, was getting a good feeling about this. This was my chance to see first-hand what Nat's reaction would be when she realized those 'cute, sexy, springtime-y' clothes weren't made for an ass almost fat enough to have gravitational pull.
She takes one big chomp out of the chocolate bar, tosses it onto the bed, and starts rummaging through her old clothes. A few seconds later, she lets out a small, excited squeal and straightens up with a pair of blue denim shorts. I had a bad feeling about this. I recognized those shorts, and Nat was packed into them like jello in a mold last time she wore them, god knows how many pounds ago.
I thought about saying something, but then my brain basically went into overdrive, because Nat needed to strip down before she could try anything on, and oh my god. Nat's always been comfortable being only partially clothed around me, part of that 'mutual friendzone' deal, but recently, that's just meant her not feeling she has to rush to get bigger sweatpants as soon as the old ones wear out. This was different. I don't think she was trying to make a performance out of it, but it's been a long time since she upgraded to the next size up, and she was at least twelve pounds too fat for it to be anything but.
Basically, I was so turned on by what was happening in front of me that I couldn't even say a word for a good long while. My mind was making comments the whole time, though, so. . .
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
From here on out, everything, even pulling her pants off was a definite struggle for this girl, though watching was. . . enjoyable. For a minute or two, she fought to get a finger into the waistband, but groaned when she realized there was no slack in the fabric whatsoever, stretched tight as it was over her mammoth ass. She bent over, leaning from one side to the other, her arms outstretched, her face red from exertion. After trying for several minutes, she managed, god knows how, fat girls are magic when it comes to outgrown clothes, to get some slack, and with that, she started getting her pants off.
It was less 'removing,' than it was a 'peeling,' a slow process of revealing Nat's frankly massive thunder thighs, complete with that thick layer of cellulite that inevitably shows up when a woman makes a habit of inhaling carton after carton of Ben & Jerry's. Finally, Nat stood back up, breathing heavy, coated with a light sweat, looking red in the face, and fatter than ever in her baggy tee and hopelessly undersized blue panties.
She pulled off the tee and I got my first good look at her upper body. Before this past year, when she was just a mildly chubby girl, she was always fairly confident about her upper body. Since all her blubber was below the equator, skin tight tanks were a normal look for then, but this past winter was nothing but sweatshirts and baggy tees, so as far as I knew until now, she was still fat as hell below the waist and fairly fit above it.
She wasn't.
As she pulled the tee over her head, a luscious, plump stomach came into view, fattened by months of continuous care and gluttony. Nice, juicy jelly rolls lined her sides, leading up to the biggest surprise, or should I say, the two surprises, Nat's breasts.
Being the pudgy pear Nat is, her tits have never been that impressive. Fantastic shape to them, but when you compare to other, similarly chubby girls, pretty small. She was very excited last fall that she was finally a C cup, but that was about 30 pounds ago, and I'm guessing at least one cup size, because those boobies were busting out, fatty flesh bulging out at every opportunity. That should give you some perspective when I say that her bra was the closest thing she had on to actually fitting her.
She grinned for a second when she noticed her boobs and reached up to try and tuck them back in a bit, Heh, boobs are bigger! She did a little dance to celebrate which showed off the fact that her belly and booty were also bigger.
Her face scrunched up in a bit of irritation when she noticed the gut that came with the boobs, though. She pinched it experimentally, her thin(nish) fingers digging into the soft layer of lard where her waistline once was. She turned to the side, and I could see her pudgy belly hanging out over the tops of her poor, poor panties, pooching out in front of her, completely canceling out her slightly-larger chest in the eyes of the average man.
But, as I had been expecting, the biggest enhancement Nat's gluttony had wrought was to her already bountiful bottom. Hell, even those baggy clothes she'd been wearing all the time couldn't hope to hide an ass of that magnitude. Nat grabbed a handful of fat on the side of her thigh, and gave it a shake, sending ripples across her entire lower body. Her face scrunched up in worry, like she was just realizing how huge she'd gotten, which I soon realized was the case.
She started to try on the shorts, one massively fat leg at a time, and in an astonishing turn of events, found them completely non-cooperative, barely making it up past her knees.
MMF! She didn't seem entirely able to accept it at first, trying over and over again to get these 'Damn. Jean shorts. Up!' So she kept trying for a few minutes, still apparently unable to fathom the fact that her daily ice cream binges had somehow mysteriously turned her 'cute little bubble butt' into two massive, flabby cheeks, out of proportion to her 'chubby, but only a little overweight' upper body.
Finally, she seemed to grasp the reality of her massive ass, groaned, and collapsed backwards, flailing out onto the bed, how did I let myself get like this?! she moaned. Well, I'm no detective, but I suspect misters Ben and Jerry have a pretty significant part in it. Also misters Ronald MacDonald, and a certain 'Queen of Dairy?'
Oomph! she groaned, struggling to sit back up, her fat stomach bunching up as she did so. She was clearly disheartened by her failure at fitting her fattened figure into her former favorite pants, but she moved on, digging once more into the box, emerging with a pair of slightly-larger khaki shorts I recognized as being her 'fat pants' of yesteryear. Ugh, well. . . These should still fit. . .
Well. . . Not likely. I mean, yeah, they'd been helpful last year after a night of one too many pieces of cheesecake, but this was after a full year of 'too many pieces of cheesecake.' The difference being at least six extra inches of ass fat.
Oomph. . . Come on! Oh, really? You mean your old 'one size larger' pants aren't much help now that you've gone up three sizes?
God, are you fucking kidding me? Umm, nope, your ass is actually that massive.
And the question that answered itself, Did I seriously comfort myself to a giant ass?
Finally, frustrated by her blubbery bottom, Nat actually tossed the khakis across the room like it was their fault she'd spent the past eight months eating like her life depended on being capable of eating her weight in chocolate. She dug her hand back into the box, coming out with a smile and a hopeful Maybe a dress would work!
I knew immediately that the red and gray dress she was holding was more likely to succeed than the khakis had been, but still not likely. She was pretty excited about it, saying how this'll work. It's stretchy, but I had a different idea. It was stretchy, that was true, but all I could think was how the last time I saw her in it, probably thirty pounds ago she'd looked like too much sausage stuffed into a casing, and if it made her look fat that long ago, it wasn't likely to be any more flattering these days.
And it wasn't. She did successfully get it on, after a fight with the boobage she'd been celebrating, (Okay, umph, maybe not so stretchy!) but it looked closer to a very long shirt than it did to a dress, barely reaching past her chubby midriff, and clinging close to her flabby form, exposing every bulge, every little roll of flab. Not to mention how short it was, leaving her gigantic ass out on display to the world.
Ugh, fine, what about shirts? She said this more to herself than to me, since she'd basically forgotten I was there, thank god.
She pulled out a green tank top, and with a worried look on her face, started pulling it over her head. And immediately, problems arose, namely, the size of her oh-so-celebrated rack, which wasn't a massive obstacle, due to her relatively tiny tits, but still unexpected. God, my boobs have gotten bigger, everything's gotten bigger! An accurate statement, but weirdly focused on the part that's gotten the least bit massive.
Finally, she got it past them, but not very far, God, it's like a belly shirt! Yeah, that's what they call it, though usually when this is the situation, the people talking are less focused on the shirt than on the fat bitch who's wearing something clearly not meant for a woman her size.
She didn't bother to pull the shirt off before she moved on to the next article of clothing.
Groaning in disgust, she turned back, one last time, to the box of skinny(ish) girl clothes to find yet another lost cause for her to try desperately to cram into. Only this time, she pulled out something that could work-- a checkered skirt. I know, why would a skirt work when everything else was hopeless?
Well, a skirt would be tough to get into, but if she somehow managed to pull that waistband past her thunder thighs and over her hips, then potentially, her fat ass would be covered!
And pretty quickly, we learned that this skirt was in no way able to get beyond her enormous legs, but then she had a brainstorm! She tore down the zipper, widening the waistline of the skirt, and pulled it up higher. With a sigh of relief, Just need to safety pin it or something! She leaned to each side, examining how her fat stomach bunched up under the stress, and under her breath, muttered something to the effect of, no one'll know. . .
Maybe I heard her wrong on that, but trust me, people will know. Everyone with eyes will know.
I was brought back to the real world when Nat suddenly commanded me to bring her a safety pin. Was she serious with this? Did she honestly think people wouldn't notice her massive behind just because she could safety pin a skirt to (mostly) cover it?
Not my place to ask. It's her right to be deluded if she so wishes.
And let's make one thing clear, she is deluded. Came back from the mall with stuff only one size larger, muttering something about going on a diet. Which is well and good, proof of nothing, only she was munching on a Hershey's while saying that.
Then she did some more research into her gain.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
She was still packed into that hopelessly outgrown skirt, somehow. I'm honestly unsure how that thing survived her getting to the mall and back without coming completely apart, I mean, her thigh fat was bubbling out around the safety pin holding the rip closed!
She stood in front of the mirror, feeling her soft body all over, digging her fingers into the forgiving flesh, groaning slightly as she did so, Nnnggh, how did I even get like this?
I kept quiet and just watched.
The skirt was the first thing to go, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it came off, but she kept the shirt. I can't complain, I mean, the thing was clinging tight, and was so short, it was basically a sports bra, clinging tight to her chest and covering nothing else.
She looked at her stomach first, turning to the side and trying to suck in. Emphasis on 'trying,' since it only made her look slightly less obese. She started commenting on her figure, I mean. . . How fat even am I? At a guess, I'd say probably 200 plus, emphasis on the plus. Not because she was THAT much more than 200, just because there's no way in hell a girl with an ass that fat, with that many rolls, could possibly weigh less.
God, my stomach! It's all, like, hanging out! Yeah, I'd put $20 down that someone's gonna mistake her for pregnant the first time she goes out in public in her new spring clothes. Another twenty says she'll respond by eating a pint of ice cream.
I think she was in some kind of shock at seeing her bloated body looking like it did. Her voice wasn't panicked, or anything, just sort of horrified and amazed, and she kept groaning and complaining every time she noticed another way her comforting had expanded her body. Which took a while, I mean, she was never skinny, but she was pretty much massively fat at this point.
This was all to be expected. What happened next was a little bit more surprising.
It was shortly after she was horrified by how much cellulite she had that she stopped examining herself, and immediately, she just walked backwards to the couch I was on, and collapsed heavily onto it, with a heavy sigh. She leaned back, and with a disappointed look on her face, asked, So, you wanna just order some pizza, then?
Pretty much the last thing you'd expect from a girl who was just now horrified to learn she can't see her feet anymore. I just kind of nodded, wide-eyed, which prompted her to call in an order for not one, not two, but three extra large supremes.
Working against my own creepy, sexual desire to see Nat stuffed to immobility, I questioned her on this,Uh, Nat? Are you a hundred percent sure you want to get that much? I mean...
She cut me off, shrugging, What the hell, you know? She grabbed a slab of stomach and shook it around, sending waves across her exposed flabby body, 'M fat already.
I hesitated for a second, then Oh, Nat, don't be like that, you're not that--
She cut me off, Morbidly obese? Sorry, Jake, yeah, I kinda am! She paused for a second, a small smile growing at the corners of her mouth, Also, when you're telling a girl she's not fat. . . don't hesitate.
I almost laughed at that, but Nat wasn't laughing, so I kept it in. So. . . you're okay with this, then?
Well I mean, my other option is to actuallygo on a diet and start exercising, and that's just blech.
I was seriously confused, But. . . you were just talking about going on a diet?
She shrugged, And now we got pizza coming. If you're making me choose between pizza and no pizza, I'm choosing pizza every time, it's simple as that.
Yeah, but you ordered three, and there's uh, only two of us?
Fat girl's hungry.
So you're fine with this?
She sunk down a bit, I mean, it kinda sucks, like with none of my clothes fitting anymore, but if it's a choice between this and not eating until I'm actually full, well then I guess I'm just doomed.
And I guess that's how it is, I guess she's just doomed, because she ate both of her pizzas and half of mine before the night was over with, and made sure to get her some dessert!
Where something happens and there's a moment of clarity where all you can think is 'how could I have not noticed,' and 'my god, how long has this been going on?'
Well, Natalie definitely had one of those moments last night.
Winter's over, and she was all kinds of excited to get out her 'cute, sexy, springtime-y clothes!'
Then, approximately .02 seconds later, she realized for the first time that her ass was about five months and fifty pounds beyond those clothes. It was one hell of an event.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Okay, you're completely lost; let me start at the beginning.
Anyway. Spring's finally here, and you know how it is. Women everywhere spent yesterday pulling down their spring clothes, and getting the bad news about how fat they got over the holidays. Nat was one of those, and my god, she made a show of it.
So Nat.
Nat's my roommate, and let me say right now, before you get the wrong idea, not that kind of roommate. Nothing sexual. It's sort of a mutual friendzoning thing. By that, I mean that she's like 'I don't see you like that,' and I'm like 'I would fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren't completely fucking insane.' And before you take the wrong idea, that bit about her being insane, that's not me being misogynistic, that's an objective fact. I'm diagnosed bipolar, and compared to Nat, I have the emotional stability of a stone wall.
Anyways, like I subtly hinted earlier, Nat's spent the last year making the transition from a 'pretty, but kinda chubby' girl to a 'fatass blimp of a woman.' going from your average, slightly chunky American woman to the epitome of American overindulgence.
It sounds like I'm being cruel, but you haven't seen her. It's ridiculous how big she's gotten! Nat's always been a bit chunky, a short, squat sort of girl, very overweight, but not actually obese, very soft all over with a big, round booty popping out behind her like a shelf. Your average guy might say she'd have been a knockout if she lost 15 pounds, a guy like me, who likes a woman with a bit more to grab onto, would say she was about perfect.
That was at the end of last spring. She started putting on weight over the summer, just a little, and that was all well and good. Her boyfriend didn't say anything about it, but, then again, that was probably because he was fucking another woman. Which she discovered when she went to surprise him at his house over Thanksgiving break.
That was the trigger, I think. Walking in on her boyfriend and another woman. After that happened, she freaked out, then went home to comfort herself with food. Like, a lot of comforting. I said before, Nat's a massively emotional woman, and she decided to try and swallow those emotions with ice cream. Which took a lot of ice cream.
Since it was Thanksgiving, shortage of food wasn't exactly a problem, unfortunately for her womanly figure. She told me herself, she spent the whole break eating until she couldn't move anymore, napping where she sat, then having seconds as soon as she woke up. All I could think while she was telling me about this was that she looked like it, spread out on the couch like she was, her T-shirt not quite covering the lower curve of her tummy, shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream into her chocolate-stained mouth.
It was like it sounds; her 'comforting' continued at full-throttle after she got back. Just bar after bar of chocolate, even when it clearly was hurting her to shove more food into her overstuffed stomach. Even once the crying stopped, she kept with the eating, like it had turned into force of habit or something.
You can imagine the effect that kind of diet can have on a girl's figure, even if she did have an insanely fast metabolism, which I want to emphasize, Natalie does not and never has had. She's definitely never had that 'tall, slim, svelte' sort of figure. Always been more of a 'short, soft, squishy' kinda gal. Not the type of woman you'd call 'athletic.' Looked more at home plowing through her fourth plate at an all-you-can-eat buffet than on a playing field. Doubt she's ever walked into a gym in her life. You already know where this is going.
Constantly pigging out, no exercise, girl blew up faster than a parade float at the Macy's Day Parade,and that may sound like an exaggeration, but I swear, it's not much of one. Thanksgiving was what, four months ago? Well, she'd been pudging up throughout the year, probably put on ten or eleven pounds, not much, just enough to round her fat ass out a bit more.
That was forty pounds ago.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Back to yesterday.
So when she asked for my help getting her spring clothes out, I figured she'd look through them to decide what she liked well enough to buy a size or three larger. I set the box down on the foot of her bed, Hey! Nat! Got your clothes down, they're right here on your bed when you're ready!
I turned around just in time to see her biting into a freshly-opened Snickers, big grin on her face. She mumbled something through a mouthful of chocolate, 'thanks,' I figured, and I started to walk out to give her some privacy while she did her thing. but no, she reached out and grabbed my arm before I could get out the door. C'mon, Jake, help me out a bit more, let me know what looks good on me, 'cause, I mean, let's be real, I think I've gained a bit of weight these past months!
Okay, so she admits she's gotten fat, but the fact she thought she could 'try stuff on' was a bit of a flag. I honestly think she didn't realize just how much she'd gained. Calling 50+ pounds on this 5'1 woman 'a bit of weight' is almost like calling a tornado a stiff wind, technically true, but my god, the image is misleading.
Me being the fatty fucker I am, was getting a good feeling about this. This was my chance to see first-hand what Nat's reaction would be when she realized those 'cute, sexy, springtime-y' clothes weren't made for an ass almost fat enough to have gravitational pull.
She takes one big chomp out of the chocolate bar, tosses it onto the bed, and starts rummaging through her old clothes. A few seconds later, she lets out a small, excited squeal and straightens up with a pair of blue denim shorts. I had a bad feeling about this. I recognized those shorts, and Nat was packed into them like jello in a mold last time she wore them, god knows how many pounds ago.
I thought about saying something, but then my brain basically went into overdrive, because Nat needed to strip down before she could try anything on, and oh my god. Nat's always been comfortable being only partially clothed around me, part of that 'mutual friendzone' deal, but recently, that's just meant her not feeling she has to rush to get bigger sweatpants as soon as the old ones wear out. This was different. I don't think she was trying to make a performance out of it, but it's been a long time since she upgraded to the next size up, and she was at least twelve pounds too fat for it to be anything but.
Basically, I was so turned on by what was happening in front of me that I couldn't even say a word for a good long while. My mind was making comments the whole time, though, so. . .
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
From here on out, everything, even pulling her pants off was a definite struggle for this girl, though watching was. . . enjoyable. For a minute or two, she fought to get a finger into the waistband, but groaned when she realized there was no slack in the fabric whatsoever, stretched tight as it was over her mammoth ass. She bent over, leaning from one side to the other, her arms outstretched, her face red from exertion. After trying for several minutes, she managed, god knows how, fat girls are magic when it comes to outgrown clothes, to get some slack, and with that, she started getting her pants off.
It was less 'removing,' than it was a 'peeling,' a slow process of revealing Nat's frankly massive thunder thighs, complete with that thick layer of cellulite that inevitably shows up when a woman makes a habit of inhaling carton after carton of Ben & Jerry's. Finally, Nat stood back up, breathing heavy, coated with a light sweat, looking red in the face, and fatter than ever in her baggy tee and hopelessly undersized blue panties.
She pulled off the tee and I got my first good look at her upper body. Before this past year, when she was just a mildly chubby girl, she was always fairly confident about her upper body. Since all her blubber was below the equator, skin tight tanks were a normal look for then, but this past winter was nothing but sweatshirts and baggy tees, so as far as I knew until now, she was still fat as hell below the waist and fairly fit above it.
She wasn't.
As she pulled the tee over her head, a luscious, plump stomach came into view, fattened by months of continuous care and gluttony. Nice, juicy jelly rolls lined her sides, leading up to the biggest surprise, or should I say, the two surprises, Nat's breasts.
Being the pudgy pear Nat is, her tits have never been that impressive. Fantastic shape to them, but when you compare to other, similarly chubby girls, pretty small. She was very excited last fall that she was finally a C cup, but that was about 30 pounds ago, and I'm guessing at least one cup size, because those boobies were busting out, fatty flesh bulging out at every opportunity. That should give you some perspective when I say that her bra was the closest thing she had on to actually fitting her.
She grinned for a second when she noticed her boobs and reached up to try and tuck them back in a bit, Heh, boobs are bigger! She did a little dance to celebrate which showed off the fact that her belly and booty were also bigger.
Her face scrunched up in a bit of irritation when she noticed the gut that came with the boobs, though. She pinched it experimentally, her thin(nish) fingers digging into the soft layer of lard where her waistline once was. She turned to the side, and I could see her pudgy belly hanging out over the tops of her poor, poor panties, pooching out in front of her, completely canceling out her slightly-larger chest in the eyes of the average man.
But, as I had been expecting, the biggest enhancement Nat's gluttony had wrought was to her already bountiful bottom. Hell, even those baggy clothes she'd been wearing all the time couldn't hope to hide an ass of that magnitude. Nat grabbed a handful of fat on the side of her thigh, and gave it a shake, sending ripples across her entire lower body. Her face scrunched up in worry, like she was just realizing how huge she'd gotten, which I soon realized was the case.
She started to try on the shorts, one massively fat leg at a time, and in an astonishing turn of events, found them completely non-cooperative, barely making it up past her knees.
MMF! She didn't seem entirely able to accept it at first, trying over and over again to get these 'Damn. Jean shorts. Up!' So she kept trying for a few minutes, still apparently unable to fathom the fact that her daily ice cream binges had somehow mysteriously turned her 'cute little bubble butt' into two massive, flabby cheeks, out of proportion to her 'chubby, but only a little overweight' upper body.
Finally, she seemed to grasp the reality of her massive ass, groaned, and collapsed backwards, flailing out onto the bed, how did I let myself get like this?! she moaned. Well, I'm no detective, but I suspect misters Ben and Jerry have a pretty significant part in it. Also misters Ronald MacDonald, and a certain 'Queen of Dairy?'
Oomph! she groaned, struggling to sit back up, her fat stomach bunching up as she did so. She was clearly disheartened by her failure at fitting her fattened figure into her former favorite pants, but she moved on, digging once more into the box, emerging with a pair of slightly-larger khaki shorts I recognized as being her 'fat pants' of yesteryear. Ugh, well. . . These should still fit. . .
Well. . . Not likely. I mean, yeah, they'd been helpful last year after a night of one too many pieces of cheesecake, but this was after a full year of 'too many pieces of cheesecake.' The difference being at least six extra inches of ass fat.
Oomph. . . Come on! Oh, really? You mean your old 'one size larger' pants aren't much help now that you've gone up three sizes?
God, are you fucking kidding me? Umm, nope, your ass is actually that massive.
And the question that answered itself, Did I seriously comfort myself to a giant ass?
Finally, frustrated by her blubbery bottom, Nat actually tossed the khakis across the room like it was their fault she'd spent the past eight months eating like her life depended on being capable of eating her weight in chocolate. She dug her hand back into the box, coming out with a smile and a hopeful Maybe a dress would work!
I knew immediately that the red and gray dress she was holding was more likely to succeed than the khakis had been, but still not likely. She was pretty excited about it, saying how this'll work. It's stretchy, but I had a different idea. It was stretchy, that was true, but all I could think was how the last time I saw her in it, probably thirty pounds ago she'd looked like too much sausage stuffed into a casing, and if it made her look fat that long ago, it wasn't likely to be any more flattering these days.
And it wasn't. She did successfully get it on, after a fight with the boobage she'd been celebrating, (Okay, umph, maybe not so stretchy!) but it looked closer to a very long shirt than it did to a dress, barely reaching past her chubby midriff, and clinging close to her flabby form, exposing every bulge, every little roll of flab. Not to mention how short it was, leaving her gigantic ass out on display to the world.
Ugh, fine, what about shirts? She said this more to herself than to me, since she'd basically forgotten I was there, thank god.
She pulled out a green tank top, and with a worried look on her face, started pulling it over her head. And immediately, problems arose, namely, the size of her oh-so-celebrated rack, which wasn't a massive obstacle, due to her relatively tiny tits, but still unexpected. God, my boobs have gotten bigger, everything's gotten bigger! An accurate statement, but weirdly focused on the part that's gotten the least bit massive.
Finally, she got it past them, but not very far, God, it's like a belly shirt! Yeah, that's what they call it, though usually when this is the situation, the people talking are less focused on the shirt than on the fat bitch who's wearing something clearly not meant for a woman her size.
She didn't bother to pull the shirt off before she moved on to the next article of clothing.
Groaning in disgust, she turned back, one last time, to the box of skinny(ish) girl clothes to find yet another lost cause for her to try desperately to cram into. Only this time, she pulled out something that could work-- a checkered skirt. I know, why would a skirt work when everything else was hopeless?
Well, a skirt would be tough to get into, but if she somehow managed to pull that waistband past her thunder thighs and over her hips, then potentially, her fat ass would be covered!
And pretty quickly, we learned that this skirt was in no way able to get beyond her enormous legs, but then she had a brainstorm! She tore down the zipper, widening the waistline of the skirt, and pulled it up higher. With a sigh of relief, Just need to safety pin it or something! She leaned to each side, examining how her fat stomach bunched up under the stress, and under her breath, muttered something to the effect of, no one'll know. . .
Maybe I heard her wrong on that, but trust me, people will know. Everyone with eyes will know.
I was brought back to the real world when Nat suddenly commanded me to bring her a safety pin. Was she serious with this? Did she honestly think people wouldn't notice her massive behind just because she could safety pin a skirt to (mostly) cover it?
Not my place to ask. It's her right to be deluded if she so wishes.
And let's make one thing clear, she is deluded. Came back from the mall with stuff only one size larger, muttering something about going on a diet. Which is well and good, proof of nothing, only she was munching on a Hershey's while saying that.
Then she did some more research into her gain.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
She was still packed into that hopelessly outgrown skirt, somehow. I'm honestly unsure how that thing survived her getting to the mall and back without coming completely apart, I mean, her thigh fat was bubbling out around the safety pin holding the rip closed!
She stood in front of the mirror, feeling her soft body all over, digging her fingers into the forgiving flesh, groaning slightly as she did so, Nnnggh, how did I even get like this?
I kept quiet and just watched.
The skirt was the first thing to go, and she breathed a sigh of relief when it came off, but she kept the shirt. I can't complain, I mean, the thing was clinging tight, and was so short, it was basically a sports bra, clinging tight to her chest and covering nothing else.
She looked at her stomach first, turning to the side and trying to suck in. Emphasis on 'trying,' since it only made her look slightly less obese. She started commenting on her figure, I mean. . . How fat even am I? At a guess, I'd say probably 200 plus, emphasis on the plus. Not because she was THAT much more than 200, just because there's no way in hell a girl with an ass that fat, with that many rolls, could possibly weigh less.
God, my stomach! It's all, like, hanging out! Yeah, I'd put $20 down that someone's gonna mistake her for pregnant the first time she goes out in public in her new spring clothes. Another twenty says she'll respond by eating a pint of ice cream.
I think she was in some kind of shock at seeing her bloated body looking like it did. Her voice wasn't panicked, or anything, just sort of horrified and amazed, and she kept groaning and complaining every time she noticed another way her comforting had expanded her body. Which took a while, I mean, she was never skinny, but she was pretty much massively fat at this point.
This was all to be expected. What happened next was a little bit more surprising.
It was shortly after she was horrified by how much cellulite she had that she stopped examining herself, and immediately, she just walked backwards to the couch I was on, and collapsed heavily onto it, with a heavy sigh. She leaned back, and with a disappointed look on her face, asked, So, you wanna just order some pizza, then?
Pretty much the last thing you'd expect from a girl who was just now horrified to learn she can't see her feet anymore. I just kind of nodded, wide-eyed, which prompted her to call in an order for not one, not two, but three extra large supremes.
Working against my own creepy, sexual desire to see Nat stuffed to immobility, I questioned her on this,Uh, Nat? Are you a hundred percent sure you want to get that much? I mean...
She cut me off, shrugging, What the hell, you know? She grabbed a slab of stomach and shook it around, sending waves across her exposed flabby body, 'M fat already.
I hesitated for a second, then Oh, Nat, don't be like that, you're not that--
She cut me off, Morbidly obese? Sorry, Jake, yeah, I kinda am! She paused for a second, a small smile growing at the corners of her mouth, Also, when you're telling a girl she's not fat. . . don't hesitate.
I almost laughed at that, but Nat wasn't laughing, so I kept it in. So. . . you're okay with this, then?
Well I mean, my other option is to actuallygo on a diet and start exercising, and that's just blech.
I was seriously confused, But. . . you were just talking about going on a diet?
She shrugged, And now we got pizza coming. If you're making me choose between pizza and no pizza, I'm choosing pizza every time, it's simple as that.
Yeah, but you ordered three, and there's uh, only two of us?
Fat girl's hungry.
So you're fine with this?
She sunk down a bit, I mean, it kinda sucks, like with none of my clothes fitting anymore, but if it's a choice between this and not eating until I'm actually full, well then I guess I'm just doomed.
And I guess that's how it is, I guess she's just doomed, because she ate both of her pizzas and half of mine before the night was over with, and made sure to get her some dessert!
