Short & Fat

Chapter 1

18-22

Okay, so, I used to be fit. In college, I was the libero on the volleyball team. We were terrible, but I was in great shape. I was blond with a pretty face and tight little body — maybe 100 lbs soaking wet. Thin but not too thin for 5-foot nothing. Even then I had some curves. My tight little booty filled out my volleyball shorts and I had perky little tits. I was so fucking hot and I liked to flaunt my assets.

22-23

After school, I moved back to Daytona. My parents wanted me to work for them. They wanted me to prepare to take over their hotel business — to start a career. I wanted to keep partying.

I decided to move in with some of my sorority sisters in Daytona Beach. I got a job as a social media coordinator for a tiny local place. It hardly paid anything, but my parents had me covered. They signed for my luxury apartment, bought me designer clothes, and paid my extravagant credit card bill without batting an eye. I was so spoiled. I always got what I wanted and I just wanted to have fun.

Me and my sorority sisters partied a lot. We tore through clubs in tiny black dresses dancing and flirting all night.

All the partying had an effect. I filled out a little. By the time I was 24 I weighed 120lbs, 20lbs more than in college. At 5’0, I wasn’t so skinny anymore. I wasn’t complaining. The weight landed in the right places. My ass was turning heads. I had nice rack too.

25-26

By 25, most of my girls found men and started to settle down. We went to restaurants not clubs. We drank wine not tequila. We wore sun dresses to brunch not black dresses to bars.

I wasn’t ready to settle down. I’d date a little bit, but always got board and moved on. I was so spoiled and rich, no one was good enough for me.

Even if I wasn’t settling down, my friends’ new lifestyle was changing me. Brunch, lunch, dinner, wine & cheese nights. Everything we did relvolved around eating. Well, everything I did. they exercised a lot, but I hated exercise. I didn’t want tired and sweaty. I was already hot, so what was the point?

I ate my way to 150. My ass was plush and round, my thighs were thick, and my boobs were big. My waist was still thin, but I wasn’t your classic hot girl anymore. My tiny little frame was so curvey.

26-27

By 26 my friends were getting married, buying houses, and having babies. They were becoming domestic little southern belles. Brunch turned into barbeque, birthdays were for kid’s, and a big night was Watching UF football drinking beer and eating pizza.

No one meant to, but they were pumping me full of food… plumping me up… turning me into a fat girl. I didn’t get it. How come they were still thin? Fine, I knew why — they exercised — but I didn’t want to work out. I just wanted to stay thin. Or even hot but curvy. It was so unfair

I never made a workout and never missed a cook out. My weight climbed.

180 lbs, my curvy body was turning chubby.

190, I wanted to be thin.

200, I kept eating.

210, I hoped this was a phase.

220, I’d become the fat friend.

There was no denying it. My thighs were thick and meaty. My ass was fat and round. My boobs were big and soft. I didn’t mind all that — I even kind of like it —but my waist was getting chubby too and I was growing a gut. That was bad. I was surrounded by gorgeous southern belles. I used to be one of them, but I’d porked up like their pet pig.

28

I might have been the token fat girl, but I still had an ego. I carried my weight well. Did I like my gut? No. But no one had an ass or boobs like me. I knew I was a fatty, but I was a hotty too. I was not about to drop my standards. If anything, I raised them. I wanted a guy who could handle my weight. I only had eyes for the fittest and most muscular men. I don’t know if they were attracted to my big ass and boobs or my supperiority complex, but I was landing the guys I wanted.

I worked my way through a few dumb jock types, but I was finally looking to settle down. When I met John, I knew right away he was the one. He owned a beverage distributorship. He was 35, smart, and rich. He was 6’4, and muscular. He was 225 lbs and shredded. He was everything I wanted. The sex was wild. I loved the way he handled my weight. There was a catch though… John worked out all the time and ate soooo much.

Let me give you an example of what a day in my life looked like then. Maybe in the morning, I’d grab brunch with the girls after their spin class. Then we’d go watch a game with their husbands and John. We’d eat pizza, wings, bbq — whatever. Then John would got to the gym and I’d go home and take a nap or something. When he got back, he’d eat again! I did too. I wasn’t hungry. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist.
I kept gaining weight.

225, I was constantly stuffed.

230, the extra calories stuck to my body.

235, my thighs and ass grew too fat for my tiny frame.

240, I began to waddle.

245, I was getting used to being overfed.

250, walking was getting harder.

255, my appetite grew.

260, I became more sedentary.

265, I was getting so fat.

270, I wanted to eat more.

At 5’0 270. My thighs had fattened and pressed together. My ass was two heavy beach balls. My gut was thick. My boobs were huge and fat. I was a hot for a fat girl, but I felt like a whale. Thank god for John. He was so big and strong. He made me feel small even though I was fat.

I had an ego, but even I recognized he was too good for me. Hot or not, I was way too fat. He was out of my league. Thank god he proposed.

29-30

I wasn’t the only friend letting go. A two of my girls had started to let married life and motherhood get in the way of their workouts. They were starting to soften, just a little, but it was noticiable.

I was here for it. I’d get earlier brunch reservations then ply them with cocktails, apps, and even extra meals while shit talking our friends at spin class for being skinny bitches who were always late. I’d been the fat friend for to long. I was never going to lose weight. I wanted company. I'd bring them to the dark side.

It worked. After a few months, they were downright chubby. Their weight gain didn’t make me any thinner though. I was eating more too. Chicken and waffles while we wait? How could I say no? I fell into my own trap.

275, did they skip spin class again?

280, what if I wasn’t the only fat friend?

285, these girls love to eat.

290, crap, I love to eat.

295, I should be losing weight for the wedding.

300, fuck fuck fuck.

305, I cant stop eating.

310, whatever, I give up.

315, they’re getting so chubby!

320, I bet they can eat more.

325, how is my ass this big?

330, I’m so fat.

335, at least I’m not the only fatty.

Still, I weigh the most by at least 100lbs. I’m so heavy. I hope we don’t stand at the alter for too long.

My fattened thighs press together and my whole body shakes with every step. It’s going to be a long walk down down the aisle.

My ass is so huge it rolls up into my back. My belly is thick and round. My tits are huge, fat, and heavy. How am I going to fit into my wedding dress?

Thanks god John doesn’t seem to care how fat I am. I can’t turn this ship around now.