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"Fit Friend, Fat Friend": EXCLUSIVE EXTENDED CUT
🕑 Added 2024-07-07 17:56:58 +0000 UTCHere it is, the extended cut of "Fit Friend, Fat Friend." At over 6,100 words long, it is over 3,300 words longer than the original, over double the length. For those following along, that means I added a lot more words today when I thought I was done last night, but hey sometimes inspiration strikes.
Honestly, I'm definitely going to use some stuff from this in other non-exclusive stories going forward because this one has stuff in it that I know would be a big draw, but it's staying right here just for you as promised (with a slob cut that I'll hopefully do by the end of the month.)
Anyway, I hope people will read and comment. It means a lot.
Enjoy!
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Layla was the fat friend of her group. She knew that. She had grown up just like that. Many people had gotten used to calling her Lard Ass Layla. It was an unfortunate but fitting nickname given the extremely large size of Layla’s blubbery posterior. Hers was an ass that was matched only by her big belly which was a sloppy spare tire that regularly sloshed from side to side as she waddled around, that waddling courtesy of the thick thunder thighs that she was sporting.
For years, Layla was the least popular girl in whatever school she was in. That is until she Samaira. Samaira was a queen, the complete opposite of Layla. She was always considered classically pretty. She was always well liked and popular, and the only thing that stopped her from being a stereotype was the fact that she was also rather nice. Sure, Layla was not immune to criticism from Samaira. And Samaira was full of microaggressions and passive aggressive (and sometimes aggressive aggressive) comments about Layla’s weight or appetite, but for the most part Samaira was Layla’s true best friend, and as such she became part of a friend group of plenty of other people who otherwise would have been very mean to her.
Still, Layla remembered the exact moment she wished things could be at least a little different, a little better.
It was the end of their summer right before the beginning of college, and Sam was throwing one last rager before everyone went their separate ways. Though Layla was going to college with at least one member of their friend group, Jenny, whom Samaira had actually convinced to room with Layla after quite a bit of prodding, Samaira was headed elsewhere, destined to pursue her dreams while networking with a whole new set of people. Everyone knew she would keep in touch and that their close bonds would last forever, but the fact that this was the first time in years that their friend group was going to be going its separate ways added a weight of melancholy to the party.
That meant it had to be the biggest party of all time with all the coolest people.
And that made Layla feel like her fat ass stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a lot of talking at the party, but so much of it seemed to be around her and not at her. People weren’t always mean to her face, but she caught the occasional side comment as she ate BBQ while standing around in a one piece that had definitely fit her better.
“Layla, honey. Maybe you don’t need another helping of potato salad. And chill out with eating so many spare ribs. Eating all that pork is going to pork you up even more,” teased Samaira as she eyed Layla up and down.
Layla just snorted in defiance.
“Shut up. I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. That’s why you’re so hefty.” teased Samaira as she reached out and squeezed Layla’s belly, giving it a big shake.
Layla pulled herself away, sending her fat body jiggling.
“They’re so good though. And I don’t want to be rude.”
“So you’d rather be fat?” accused Samaira with a hard poke to the stomach and a smack to the butt.
“I mean, let’s face it. You’ve gotten pretty fat, right?”
Sam gave Layla’s butt a big squeeze and felt the fat ooze through her fingers.
“Pretty porky?”
Samaira threw a condescending arm around Layla’s fat shoulders and pulled her close.
“I’m just looking out for what’s best for you, for your health, and the way people treat you. You’d be so pretty if you lost weight.”
“Th… thanks?”
Sam then lowered her arm around Layla’s fat back and squeezed her love handle.
“You’re welcome. And hey, just think, if you eat right and work out, you can be just like me.”
Layla couldn’t picture herself being like Samaira at all. For Samaira, it was all just so effortless for her. When she wanted attention, she got it. She turned heads just by walking past. She never had to wait to say what she wanted to say. She always got her way. This was her world. She was the undisputed queen.
Layla wanted that. She wanted at least a piece of it. She would settle for just feeling like she fit in.
Her daydreaming was interrupted by Sam taking one step over the line with a parting shot.
“And then nobody would call you Lard Ass Layla,” Sam said with a squeeze of Layla’s ponderous posterior.
It was the ultimate betrayal, the straw that broke the fat camel’s back. So from that moment on Layla made a vow then to change herself, not like super drastically or dangerously, but she was going to take charge of her life, and, with a renewed sense of control and vigor, she would shape herself into exactly what she wanted to be and no longer settle for being the fat friend on the fringe of the popular group.
At the end of the party she hugged Samaira goodbye, and as she did, she felt Sam’s toned body. A wicked little notion popped into her head. She couldn’t help but wish that her and Sam could switch places, that Samaira’s life wouldn’t be so effortlessly perfect and that she would get to experience the struggles of being the fat friend. She pictured Samaira struggling with her weight, popping buttons and splitting pants as she struggled to fit into her jeans. Layla wanted to wrap her arms around Samaira and feel the softness of Sam’s plush belly and thick love handles. She wanted them to switch places completely.
And little did she know that overtime and in its own way her wish would come true.
By the time Thanksgiving rolled around and the whole crew got back together for a Friendsgiving celebration of their own, there were winds of change in the crisp Autumn air. Layla was proud of some early college weight loss. While others may have given in to the freshman fifteen, Layla had stuck to her summer promise and taken control of her habits. It turns out that Jenny was a big help in that regard. The two had grown very close living together that first trimester, and she served as a model and a personal trainer which really helped Layla stay on track with her goals.
Meanwhile, Samaira had clearly taken to partying. Layla couldn’t help but notice the way that Sam filled out her sweater in a new way. And she didn’t mean with her breasts. Sam had definitely grown the start of a noticeable beer belly. It wasn’t huge by any means, and nobody would even call her chubby. It was just that since Sam had been so slim any amount of weight gain was noticeable especially to Layla who couldn’t help but be looking for it. She was especially gleeful when she noted that Samaira took seconds and Friendsgiving and still had room for dessert featuring two slices of pie and a handful of cookies. She chuckled to herself as she caught the side eye that a few friends were giving Samaira over her display of gluttony.
At one point, Layla found herself in the kitchen listening in on a conversation between two of her other friends, Sasha and Bianca.
“Can you believe how much weight Samaira’s put on?”
“It’s not that much… but yeah. It’s noticeable.”
“It’s not that much now, but you saw how she ate.”
“How she’s eating. I think she’s still working on like her third slice of pie.”
“She better be careful or she’s going to end up looking real hefty.”
“Fat Sam? I can’t picture it.”
“Well I didn’t think I’d see her with a beer belly and eating like a pig, but here we are.”
“It sure would be funny.”
“Hilarious.”
“I hope it happens.”
“Oh, you’re so bad.”
“Come on. You want it too. Admit it.”
“Yeah. I’d love it.”
“Love what? Say it.”
“I’d love Samaira to get fat. I want Samaira to get fat. Really fat.”
“Fat Sam- Sam the Ham!”
“Oink. Oink. Oink.”
Layla clutched her chest as she heard the tittering laughter of two catty friends fade off into the distance. She thought about saying something. She should have said something. She should have stood up for her friend, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Why? The truth was that she wanted that as well. She pictured Samaira not just with a little beer belly, but with a big spare tire spilling out in front of her. She imagined Samaira waddling about with thick thunder thighs and a big fat shelf of an ass knocking things over as she squeezed herself into the kitchen to get herself more food to feast on. She pictured those ass cheeks spilling out from their sweatpants as Samaira hunched over grabbing packages of deli meat, dipping it in mayo and stuffing her fat face with it. Layla could picture Sam the Ham with bologna crammed into her chubby cheeks and mayonnaise dribbling down her double chin and splattering on her sloppy stretch marked cleavage.
Layla struggled to catch her breath but managed to pull herself back together and head back toward the party. As she was exiting the kitchen she ran into a rather tipsy Jenny.
“Heeeeeey roomie,” Jenny slurred as she hung onto Layla’s shoulder.
“Hey.”
“Y….you know… you really her looking goooooood.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Maybe you could give Samaira a few tips on maintaining a diet. She’s getting chunky.”
“She’s not that-”
“Reeeeeealy porking up.”
“It’s just a little-”
“She’s gonna get sooooooo fat.”
Layla couldn’t help but smile and pat the sweet drunk Jenny on the the
Samaira seemed obvious to all of this and even to her own weight gain, and Layla hoped that she would remain so for as long as possible to maximize her gains.
And Sam did remain oblivious for quite a while.
But then summer came.
It wasn’t that Samaira was fat per se. It was just that… well she wasn’t exactly thin either. She was packing quite a few party pounds, especially around the middle. And people didn’t quite know what to say about the now borderline chubby queen bee. This worked out well for Layla because in an effort to avoid talking about how much weight Samaira had gained, they instead doubled down on their talk about how much weight Layla had lost.
Layla had a spectacular Freshman year at college. Not only had she excelled academically, but she had lost an impressive amount of weight, and, while she was still far heavier than Samaira, she couldn’t help but smirk at the direction things were heading in.
It seemed that Sam had picked up some nervous eating habits, and, as she stood around in a bikini that fit her much better the year before with her chunky ass cheeks and freshman beer belly on full display, her nervousness led her to eat a lot which in turn led to a lot more whispering behind Samaira’s back. Layla was certain that Sam had to have heard at least some of this. She had to have known what a spectacle she had turned herself into after gaining a good deal more than the freshman fifteen and going from a hottie with a hard body to a bloated party girl struggling to fit into her bikini while still openly stuffing her face with barbecue.
How delightfully embarrassing for her.
Layla couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of humiliation that Samaira must have been experiencing. Sam had never had to put up with being embarrassed for a moment in her entire life. She never knew what it felt like, and to know that Sam was now learning the hard way what it was like to not have an absolutely perfect life was thrilling.
Layla also couldn’t help but notice that Samaira was the only one to not compliment her on her weight loss which just made Layla hope that Samaira would gain even more weight. As she gave Samaira a hug goodbye, she was sure to squeeze hard and drink in Samaira’s new softness.
She couldn’t help herself.
“You’ve gotten soft girl,” teased Layla as she poked Samaira’s belly.
“I-I.. w-what?”
Layla had never seen Samaira as anything less than completely confident, and she needed to take advantage of it.
“No more abs, Sam. You’ve gained some weight. Look at this chunk,” chuckled Layla as she pinched Samaira’s love handle.
Samaira smacked Layla’s hand away.
“The freshman fifteen happens.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would happen to you, Miss Perfect.”
And then Layla decided to push things a bit further.
“And it wasn’t just fifteen pounds was it? Come on. You can be honest with me. We’re friends. How much weight have you gained?”
There was a long pause before…
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-two!” Layla squealed.
“No wonder you’ve gotten this tanker,” she said as she shook Samaira’s pot belly, earning her hand another smack.
“Okay. Okay. I get it. I’m just saying. Be careful girl.”
And Layla took Samaira’s hand and pressed it against the softness of her own gut representing a possible future.
“You don’t want that little gut to become a big squishy belly like mine, do you? You don’t want to be a fatty like me.”
Samaira just turned her head away in shame, and Layla could see the hint of a double chin forming.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go!”
Layla gave Samaira one more big hug to really feel her softness as she dreamed of more to come.
And sure enough that dream would come true.
It was a hard summer for Samaira. Her father’s business went belly up and Sam found herself in unfamiliar and unsteady financial waters. In order to help offset some of the massive college costs she was experiencing, Sam had to get a job at her local Thick Burger. Because she was new to the job she couldn’t afford to not take holiday shifts which meant that Layla didn’t get to see Sam again until the next summer.
Things can certainly change in a year.
By the time summer rolled around, Samaira’s body was a mess of fat rolls with the biggest being her blubbery belly that rolled over the waistband of her pants. Layla had gotten to spend some personal time really inspecting Samaira’s overflowing figure before their usual pool party get together because the two needed to each get new swimsuits, though they were buying them for radically different reasons.
It was Jenny who first pointed out how similar Samaira and Layla now looked, though in Layla’s case it was a clear compliment. As for Sam…
“But come on, Sam. You’re getting. I’m sorry. You’re getting really fat.”
“I’m not fat!” scoffed Samaira.
“Well no. You’re not fat, chubby, very chubby (kinda fat). But you’re getting really fat. Everyone can tell.”
From there people were off to the races. There was a fair bit of cognitive dissonance to sit through for Layla, listening people praise her for her own weight loss and compliment her on her own figure while chastising Samaira and offer words of concern and advice to her even though it was all agreed that she was weighing in at or around Layla’s current weight. (People had the decency to not pull out the scales though Layla was half hoping they would.)
And Layla couldn’t help but get herself in on the act when she saw Samaira eating and found the opportunity to be on the other side of a familiar conversation.
“Do you really need more potato salad, Sam? And maybe you should cut down on the pork ribs because they’re making you pretty porky.”
“Shut up. I’m hungry.”
And that’s exactly what Layla was waiting for.
“You look like you’re always hungry, and that’s why you’ve gotten so hefty.”
What was different about the two women, even though they were both approximately the same in weight and height was the way in which they carried themselves. Layla carried herself with a new found air of confidence. She dressed herself as a woman who loved her curves and dressed for them. Samaira just looked like someone who had let themselves go. She had a vibe of someone who was traditionally hot and now that she wasn’t she didn’t know what to do with herself. Their weight may have been the same, but everyone could tell that the two were headed in different directions. Everything was positive when it came to Layla, and for all the chastising, words of concern and advice… well, everyone could just tell that things were going to get fatter for Samaira.
And they were right.
The rest of college went the same way as the first two years did. Layla’s weight continued to trend downward, and Samaira just continued her downward spiral.
Nobody expected Samaira to end up obese. They all thought that surely she would pull herself together. They didn’t think she would ever be thin again. (And without saying it out loud many people certainly hoped that she would never be thin again.) But nobody could have expected Samaira to end up nearly as large as she got.
Layla, meanwhile, became every bit the hard body that Samaira used to be; she did develop curves that she could own, and her confidence was so high that she learned to instantly command a room. She became the kind of person people paid attention to, the woman who could turn heads.
Samaira turned heads too but it was mostly so people could gawk at her like they were rubbernecking a five car pileup.
The most perfect example of these came during Layla and Samaira’s five year highschool reunion. Suddenly Layla was the bell of the ball, the talk of the town, the new queen that everyone naturally flocked too. The compliments abounded. The jealousy was real, and Layla loved to soak it all in. She was finally experiencing what she had longed for her entire life. She was finally where she always felt she should be.
Samaira showed up late. This was unfortunate for her because it made for a rather grand and notable entrance that she would have rather avoided. It was an entrance that was further delayed by the fact that people almost didn’t let her in at all when she was so thoroughly unrecognizable. But hey, that’s what nametags are for, so she wouldn’t be able to avoid lack of recognition later on. For Samaira, putting her nametag on felt like putting a ribbon on a prized pig for everyone to see. She immediately wanted to leave, but she had promised too many people in her friend group, Layla included, that she would be there and didn’t want to appear chicken. She would have preferred to just sneak around unnoticed, but at her size that was impossible.
Every head turned to see Samaira’s grand entrance as she came waddling into the auditorium.
The dress was a poor choice. It was a skintight ensemble that had clearly fit her much better several dozen pounds ago. It was overstressed and threatened to burst from all the fat that it was forced to contain. It hugged her like she was one big overstuffed sausage, misshapen from an array of bulges, and it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every fold was outlined. Every roll was clear. She looked even fatter than she was, and Samaira was morbidly obese.
Sam’s big blubbery belly took center stage wobbling about as a big sack of gelatinous fat, tugging at the fabric of her dress and forcing it to pull upward and reveal even more of her tree trunk like thunder thighs covered in cellulite. They wobbled and slapped together with each movement, and as she shuffled along her fat flabby ass was threatening to slide out the bottom of the dress and expose her cellulite covered ass cheeks as well as her enormous and yet undersized granny panties to the world.
The gasps were audible as people began to realize who the tremendously fat woman was, the obese hog who had been homecoming and prom queen.
Layla greeted Samaira with a broad grin on her face.
“Hey there, Sammy. Lookin’ pretty hammy.”
This elicited a round of giggles from their friend group who were all looking Samaira up and down, sizing her up- which at her size took quite a while.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” continued Layla.
“Now that our fat friend is here, we can really get the party started.
Samaira looked around at her friends and was amazed to see that out of all of the Layla was now clearly in the best shape. Everyone else had at least put on a little bit of weight, gotten a little out of shape, but none of them were nearly as fat and out of shape as Samaira who was getting sweaty just standing there, and Layla wasn’t going to let her forget it.
“What’s the matter? Miss Perfect doesn’t have anything to say now that she’s Miss Piggy. Come on. It’s just a joke. We’re all friends here.”
Samaira lumbered through the auditorium, and waddled past her friends and directly to the buffet. She couldn’t help herself. Even though Sam had secretly had a large meal at home with the specific intention of not needing to eat in front of people here, the reactions to her appearance peaked her anxiety and forced her toward her most comforting crutch.
Food.
Without a word to anyone else, Samaria loaded her plate with ziti and buffalo wings and breadsticks. She went to town on her feast as people watched her inhale what was on her plate and go back for a second, and then a third. It was during the third plate that people really got bold.
See, Samaira was usually a nice person in high school. But remember how she had a tendency to have passive aggressive comments about Layla? Well, she had that kind of bad habit about a lot of people. And many people tend to take passive aggressive comments rather personally, and when they hold on to those personal grudges for a long period of time, they tend to become rather aggressive in response.
“Look at that pig!” was the first comment Samaira heard that she realized was directly about her.
“Prom Queen to pig!”
“Homecoming queen to hog!”
“She can’t stop eating.”
“She looks like she hasn’t stopped eating for five years.”
“Sam the Ham!”
People grew even bolder. They began to come up to her and loudly express every personal gripe they had ever had; every mean thing Samaira had ever said was thrown back in her face. They unloaded on her with verbal barbs and physical pokes. Her fat was pinched, prodded and jiggled, and all Sam could do was offer some half hearted apologies mumbled through mouthfuls of pasta and then waddle over to the dessert table.
Standing there in front of the dessert table was a woman named Michelle. Michelle was someone that Layla remembered Samaira being unusually cruel to about her weight, and now here she was cake in hand and looking quite a bit slimmer (though not as in shape as Layla).
“Well, well, well, looks like the prom queen who used to make fun of me for my weight has really porked up. You’ve gotten real fat, huh fatty? The Sensational Samaira really did turn herself into Sam the Ham. Here, I got you a present,” said Michelle as she forcefully handed Samaira the cake.
“Have your cake and eat it too, piggy. You deserve it.”
Samaira wanted to turn it down, but she was still so hungry and the cake looked so good. Plus, eating the cake would be a good excuse to avoid conversation. So she started digging in, shoving forkful after forkful into her mouth in a speedy fashion only to be shocked to see that Michelle was already ready with a second slice. And as soon as Sam started digging into that one, Michelle resumed her taunting.
“You really need that second slice, Sam the Ham? You’ve already put on so many piggish pounds and sugar is addicting, as I’m sure you know. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on those wide ass hips of yours, aye piggy? Oink. Oink.”
As Samaira ate, too ashamed to respond or defend herself in any way, Michelle squeezed both her love handles.
“Remember how you used to squeeze me like this? Remember how you used to call me names and oink at me. Well who’s the fatso now, fatso? You’re the fatty. You’re the pig who can’t stop eating. Oink. Oink. Oink. You’re fatter than I ever was. Oink. Oink. Oink. So thanks for making my life by turning from a slim and sexy bitch into a gloriously obese hog. OINK. OINK. OINK.”
“Michelle I’m really sor-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Sam the Ham. It’s too late for you, fatty. You’ve made this mess and now you lay in it like the big fat pig that you are. Oink. Oink.”
And with that Michelle shoved a cupcake in Samaira’s mouth, a cupcake that Samaira was ashamed to admit she was far too eager and able to take.
Michelle wasn’t the only person to be directly mean to Samaira that night, not by a long shot, but she was certainly the most verbose.
Layla couldn’t help but feel a sense of schadenfreude as Samaira experienced in just a few minutes all that Layla had experienced for years. Sam was truly stuck now and forever feeling the embarrassment of being the fat friend, and the fact that she was so much fatter than Layla had ever been was icing on the cake.
Eventually, Layla had enough and decidedly to use her newfound popularity to protect her friend from any further embarrassment. She sent all the vultures away and put a comforting arm around Samaira’s fat shoulders offering her some quick diet advice as she led her to a table so that Samaira could continue to comfort herself by eating in peace.
“I mean, let’s face it. You’ve gotten pretty fat, right?”
Layla stretched her arm around Samaira’s fat back to squeeze her love handle.
“Pretty porky?” she asked with a smile.
Samaira was too busy stuffing her face to do anything other than snort in agreement.
“I’m just looking out for what’s best for you, for your health, and the way people treat you. You were so pretty and you could be so pretty again if you just lost weight. And hey, just think, if you eat right and work out, you can be just like me.”
Of course, Layla had no real desire to see that happen. And she still had another shot to take as she squeezed Samaira’s bloated butt.
“And then people won’t call you Sam the Ham. And won’t that be great?”
After that Layla did her best to keep her cool for the rest of the night, and keep people from making fun of Samaira so that Sam was free to keep fattening herself up in peace. Strangely, it was something of a comfort to Sam to have Layla there for her at all. Even if she had just dished out some pretty harsh words, it wasn’t nearly as bad as what people like Michelle had said and done.
At the end of the night, Samaira thanked her friend with a great big hug. Layla felt every ounce of softness, squeezed as hard as she could to drink in just how fat her friend had become and pressed her now much more toned body against Samaira’s flab so that Sam could see just how much had changed between them.
Even with all the squeezing, Layla was very pleased to know that she could not get her arms all the way around her big fat friend.
And then Layla had a wicked idea.
“Let’s go back to your place.”
“What?”
Layla grabbed Samaira by her fat hand.
“Yeah. Come on. We haven’t hung out in so long. Let’s go back to your place.”
“I don’t know,” Samaira protested.
But Layla wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She had come too far and Samaira had fallen too low to get to be the one making decisions anymore.
“Samaira, stop being a loser.”
The bluntness was so sudden and stunning that she found herself unable to put up more resistance.
“O…. okay.”
And then the two were off.
Samaira’s apartment was far smaller than Layla thought it would be, and that smallness was made worse by the incredible amount of clutter. There was dirty laundry thrown everywhere along with a variety of empty fast food containers and dirty dishes stacked up. Layla couldn’t be more amused.
“Wow this place is really a mess.”
“Y-yeah… I guess I let the place go a bit.”
“You let yourself go.”
“Yup.” Samaira just blatantly admitted. It wasn’t worth fighting.
But Layla wasn’t happy with such a limited response.
“Admit it.”
“I let myself go.”
“You got fat.”
“I got fat.”
“Obese.”
That was a bridge too far, and somewhere, underneath all that fat, Samaira found some bit of resistance left.
“Jeez, Layla.”
“Say it. Admit it.”
“I’m… I’m obese okay.”
Layla was happy, but she was not near done.
“Let’s see it.”
“What?”
“Strip. Let’s see how bad it is.”
Samaira blanched.
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Come on.”
“I’m fat. Okay. I’m really really fat. I’m a big fat obese hog. Just let it go okay.”
“No. No. All the time you used to make fun of me. All the times you used to show off. You owe me. Strip, piggy! Strip!”
Samaira stared at her dominating friend and her fat body quivered for a moment and then really began to shake as she started to peel her dress off. Slowly more fat began to reveal itself as she pulled her flabby arms out of the dress and pushed it past her pillowy breasts.
When it finally got to Samaira’s bulbous belly, it was like biscuit dough exploding from the can. Her fleshy belly ballooned out in all directions now free of its confines and bounced in front, hanging so low that it covered most of her oversized and overtaxed granny panties, panties that were somehow still fraying from behind as the bottoms of her massive ass cheeks were fighting to be free.
The dress struggled to get past her saddle bags and then eventually fully revealed her tree trunk thunder thighs. They wobbled just like the rest of her obese body, shaking and slapping together, earning that thunder thighs label.
Layla couldn’t help herself and gave Samaira a hard slap to her fat ass as she stepped out of her dress.
“Damn you’ve got a real fat dumper there, Fatso.”
Sam suddenly shot back up, and her heavy gut jiggled like jello.
“What? That’s- don’t- that’s mean.”
“But it’s true. You’re a fatso with a fat dumper. Aren’t you?” Layla teased as she used both her hands to grab Samaira’s ass. Each cheek was too big to be held in a single hand, and Layla loved the way they each felt like a heavy, squishy pillow. Fat oozed through her fingers as she leaned forward and whispered in Samaira’s ear.
“I want to hear you say it.”
A shill shot up through Samaira’s spine as she felt compelled by Layla’s confidence and dominance and felt compelled to do as she was told. Her fat body was putty in Layla’s strong hands.
“I… I’m a fatso with a fat dumper.”
Layla slid her hands around and lifted up Sam’s tremendous apron of belly fat.
“And look at all this blubber. You used to have abs, didn’t you, Sam?”
“Yes.”
Layla gave the fat a hard enough squeeze to make Samaira wince.
“But not anymore, right fatty?”
Tears rolled down Samaira’s chubby cheeks as she could do nothing but admit the same truth.
“No. No more abs just my…”
“Just your what?”
“Just my blubber belly.”
Layla began to really shake Samaira’s belly which in turn caused the rest of Sam’s fat body to undulate.
“And what a blubber belly it is!” laughed Layla.
“But wait!” she exclaimed before leading Samaira into Sam’s messy bedroom to look in the full length mirror.
Then Layla began to take over her own clothes and stood before Samaira in all of her glory.
“Look at my abs! They’re just like yours. You were the fit friend, and I was the fat friend. Now I’m the fit friend, and you’re the much fatter friend, far fatter than I ever was. Tell me, fatso. Do you think you’ll ever be thin again? Be honest.”
“N-n…. no.”
“Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“No! I’ll never be fit again. I can’t control myself. I’m a fatty, fatter than you ever were. I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are, sorry that you lost everything, sorry that you let yourself go, sorry that you turned yourself into a big fat pig.”
Layla took one of Samaira’s hands and pressed it to her sexy abs. Then she took the other hand and made Samaira squeeze her own squishy belly.
“I warned you. I told you, you were going to turn yourself into a fatty like me, a fatty like I was. Now I have everything you had and more, and you’re a big fat loser. You deserve it too. You deserve to be a big fat pathetic loser. You did this to yourself. You couldn’t control yourself. You pigged out and porked up. Every chance you had, every time you could have turned back, you turned to food. Didn’t you, Fatso?”
“I… I love food. I need food,” Samaira sheepishly admitted as her multiple chins wobbled in agreement.
“It’s such a comfort isn’t it? And now it’s all you have to comfort you, so it’s a fatter you will be. You deserve this. You were so vain, so mean. You took everything for granted, never appreciated any of it. You deserve to be the fat friend. Say it.”
“I deserve this, all of this. I did this all to myself. I have nobody to blame for getting so fat, so obese by myself. I could have dieted. I could have exercised. I could have taken any of the advice that I found so easy to dole out when I was slim and sexy. But I couldn’t control myself. I pigged out and porked up. I ate and ate and ate. I couldn’t put the fork down, couldn’t put the food down. And I was so vain and mean. I was the fit friend who always deserved to be the fat friend. I was vain and now I’m the big fat humiliated fatso I deserve to be.”
“I think you deserve one more thing.”
“What?”
“Get on all fours.”
“Please,” Samaira begged as she sobbed in front of her “friend”.
“Do it.”
Samaira did as she was told and got down on all fours. Her blubber belly didn’t quite touch the floor, but Layla knew she would get her there with just a bit more time. Layla reached down and gave it another firm shake.
“Look at you, on all fours like the pig you’ve become. Who are you now?”
“I.. I don’t-”
“You know. You’ve heard them. Say it.”
“I’m Sam the Ham. Oink. Oink. Oink.”
“HA! I didn’t even ask you to do that, you’re just so good at being a submissive piggy. My submissive piggy. That’s what you want don’t you? You want to be my submissive piggy? No more worrying about your life, your choices. You’ll just do what I say, indulge, get fatter and lazier all for me. Just give up. Don’t you want that, Sam the Ham?”
Sam couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t bear it, any of it. The years had been too hard and left her too tired to deal with anymore.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes… I want to be your piggy.”
“Then oink again. Oink for me, piggy. Oink for me, Sam the Ham.”
“Oink. Oink. Oink.”
Layla gave Samaira another spank.
“Good, piggy. Now let’s go get you some more food. You’re going to get way fatter.”
Sam couldn’t help but shiver at the thought, but not out of fear but a strange arousal at how far she had fallen and how far she still had to fall. She dutifully followed her new master, crawling on all fours and oinking as they headed to the kitchen to stuff her with bologna with mayonnaise.
Layla was overjoyed with how everything had turned out. She loved that she was now the fit friend, and that Samaira was now Sam the Ham.
Sam had gone from being Layla’s fit friend to her fat friend to her pet pig. Oink. Oink. Oink.
