Chapter 1 - 1

Your belly bumps the cart as you turn down your favorite aisle. You wish you would have taken more time to dress but the store was closing. You hope that sexy cashier isn't working tonight, you've got so much fat showing. It's crazy how much weight you've gained in the year since your divorce, old friends are shocked now when they see you. But the store was closing - what could you do? A fat girl needs to eat − so you heaved your *** off the couch and grabbed the closest thing. Now you're waddling down the aisle, feeling the cool air across a wide expanse of flesh. Your belly has gotten so wide and sags heavily. It bounces rythmically against your heavy upper thighs as you jiggle-waddle along, putting thousands of calories into your cart as you trundle down the aisle. You blush thinking of those deep dimples in your buttocks, the ones that got so defined, so obvious with the last fifty pounds. They can easily be seen through the thin cotton pants stretched across your wide, wobbly posterior like cellophane. You waddle , waddle, waddle along, filling your cart with junk. You watch as you fill it - nothing but fat and carbs. This is why you've gotten so heavy, so out of shape. No self control. Such overwhelming desire to be full, swollen. You're a selfish, greedy pig, eating and eating and eating. And worse yet, you can't take a bite of anything sweet anymore without sliding your hand between your thighs and rubbing yourself to orgasm. Oh the fantasies: being fed, being humiliated: pinched and slapped and fattened and fattened. More stuff goes in the cart; you laugh. Your ex-husband left you for just this reason, the day you were married you gave up any pretense of dieting. A year ago, he'd finally had enough. Oh if he could see you now, waddling down the aisle 120 pounds heavier, bouncing, shaking, rippling, rippling with every step; if he could see you blushing and salivating as you spy your favorites and toss them defiantly into the cart; watch you struggle as you bend down to retrieve yet another box of snack cakes sure to make you bigger...softer...flabbier.
You turn now into the bakery section and and load in the cakes and pies. You're getting wet just thinking about pigging out. Your nipples tighten as you smell the warm bread, the baked crusts. God, you're such a pig: a hog, a greedy selfish hippo who dreams of being stuffed around the clock, sitting on her wide, spreading ass and gorging on slice after slice, handful after handful, of everything; greedily filling your belly as it pushes further and further onto your lap. You catch you relfection is the bakery case − thank god the store is all but empty- what a sight! So much blubber − jiggling, jiggling, jiggling. You're embarassed at the sight of yourself and so turned on. Desire overcomes you and blushing, you plunge your fat hand into the open bulk container and draw back a fistful of caramels. You shove them into your mouth, your face hot with lust.
Your heart stops as you turn towards the registers − the sexy cashier is the only one working; god, he looks like he's in even better shape than last week. You're so embarassed, this physical contrast , your complete transformation into a flabby, gluttonous hog; a jiggle-pig; a formerly plump woman now covered in layer after thickening layer of wobbly pig-jelly . You consider leaving the cart and going to another store rather than face him. You've had a serious crush since he started here two years ago. He always recognizes you and says hello, ugh, you've put on so much weight since then. He's watched you grow every week: fatter...fatter...FATTER. You gather your courage and push your cart slowly to his register. You can hardly breathe. Your heavy sagging gut slaps your thighs as you approach. The soft, rythmic bump-wobble, bump-wobble is so obvious, oh, you've gotten so big and heavy.
The cashier is looks at you and smiles, he can see your belly hanging out, your food-mounded cart, ugh, he's good-looking. You blush deep red. Your big, soft arms woggle, your back fat wiggles, your buttocks jounce and jiggle as you nervously unload the piles of junk onto the conveyor. The cashier watches and does not advance the belt or begin ringing you up. The food boxes pile higher and the cashier watches.
"Just stocking up for the family," you stammer. He laughs.
"You don't have any family, this is all for you, porky." You blush. Oh ***, please humiliate me some more, please, please. You move to the end of the register and he begins to ring you up. Your wide hips and huge belly are in full view, god, you're so wet. You want to be home with a box of cookies, eating and rubbing your clit. He scans a few items and then grabs a box of ice cream sandwiches,
"Do you know how many calories are in these? There is a low fat version right next to these," he glances at your bulging fat, "you should really try them." You sputter and struggle to respond.
"I've...I've ...these taste a lot better."
He scans a few more things and then stops at a huge box of twinkies and grabs the intercom and levels his eyes at you. He's doing this on purpose, oh please, yes, humiliate me, I'm such a greedy pig.
"Tom, can I get a price check on the jumbo pack twinkie, the 30 count, I think they're on sale."
Tom buzzes back with a price.
"No Tom, the JUMBO pack ,the really big box for like a family of ten or something."
A few other customers moving towards the exit turn and stare. They shake their heads in disgust. The cashier smiles at you.
"Sorry, just want to make sure you don't get over charged."
He scans more food and continues to glance at your belly.
"Set that big thing on the counter for me, fat girl. I want to see how much of that is pure hog-jelly."
You stare at him in disbelief, unsure of what you heard.
"C'mon, lard ass, I see how much weight you've put on lately. Put that big, wobbly pile of chub on my counter so I can see how fat you really are."
Your hands shake, your breathing is fast and ragged, you lift your heavy gut and set it on the counter. He pats it playfully then slips his finger in your belly button.
"Wow, you've really gotten tubby, hogged up big time." He leans forward and grabs a fistful of blubber and jiggles it, "Is this why hubby left you? Is this why? You couldn't stop filling this greedy gut with food?"
You begin to sweat, "Yes, oh god, I let myself go, I got huge and fat and lazy," you're panting as he jiggles, jiggles, jiggles your belly, "I couldn't stop myself, he told me to lose weight, he warned me, but I just couldn't help it, I just love eating and eating."
He laughs and returns to scanning your items. Your panties are soaked.
He finishes scanning and begins bagging your stuff. You watch his arm muscles ripple as he packs the bags with all your favorite food. He smiles at you as if he didn't just spend five minutes humiliating you. "Write your number down for me. I get off in thirty minutes."
You stare at him in disbelief and try to pretend you have plans, "I can't, not now, I...I have a friend−"
"Don't be silly, the only thing you're doing tonight is eating, stuffing that huge gut with food you clearly don't need. Now write down your number and address, you fat blimp."
You give in easily. Your hand shakes as you write down your information. What are you doing? You hardly know him, but oh how you want to be teased, teased and fed and humiliated. He loads the bags in your cart and you head for home.