Katie's Portly Panty Poop

Katie waddled into the supermarket, headed towards the mobility scooters.  As she did, she felt a strong urge to poop her panties.

Katie was 32 years old.  She was married, and she had a 10 year old daughter who she would be picking up from soccer practice after her shopping trip here.  She had been married for 11 years.  She had pale skin, blond hair, and blue eyes.  She was very pretty, all told.

Or, she was pretty if you liked fat women.  Katie was quite fat.  She had been on the chubby side when she'd been married, and on their honeymoon, her husband had revealed to her that he had a sexual attraction to bigger women.  He had never pressured Katie to gain weight, but he had made it known, over and over, that if she got fatter, he'd find her just as attractive as before, if not, possibly, more.  That "possibly" had especially helped Katie relax, and give in to her temptations to eat and be lazy.  She had steadily gained about twenty or so pounds every year of their marriage.

As a result, she had gone from weighing a little less than 200 pounds to weighing more than 400 pounds.  Her pretty face was swathed in plump cheeks and a doughy double chin.  She wore a pretty, tent-sized pale blue dress, but its size could not disguise her enormous, bloated breasts, or the great big belly that folded itself into two heavy rolls, the lowest of which drooped over her panties and sagged down her thighs.  From behind, the dress likewise did not disguise her bulges of back fat, nor did it hide the huge, shelf-like bottom she had, with its two big buttocks that wobbled and rippled behind her as she waddled.  At least its long skirt mostly hid her vast, fat legs, with huge thighs that touched to the knee.

Finding the mobility scooters, Katie quickly talked with the attendant, and was given access to one of them.  She was a bit sweaty and winded from the long walk from the parking lot.  She settled her colossal backside down onto the scooter's seat.  "Ah," she said, sighing contentedly.

*FFRRRTTTTTT*

"Ahhh," she sighed again as she farted, easily letting the gas escape her anus.  It helped relieve some of the pressure on her bowels--some, but not all.  "Uurrrp," she belched, a little dollop of drool oozing out the front of her lips.

Katie had known about her husband's fat fetish for almost their entire marriage.  But in the last three years, her husband had admitted to having other fetishes, and had gently, kindly been talking about them with Katie.  In particular, her husband had what was called a "slob" fetish.  He had a fetish for women being a bit gross and disgusting.  Being sweaty, and stinky.  Burping.  Farting.  Even, sometimes, peeing and pooping themselves.

He had, again, emphasized to Katie that he would never pressure her to fulfill these very odd fantasies he had.  But Katie loved her husband, and he was gentle with her.  So for more than two years now, she had been indulging him, giving in to some of her own laziness in new, and somewhat disgusting, ways.  Some days she would not shower or bathe, and her own fat body became a bit ripe and stinky from the sweat that built up in her folds and rolls.  She would burp loudly when she felt the need, not holding it back or trying to hide it.  Likewise, she would fart freely when she felt the pressure build up.  She was even perfectly willing to piss and shit herself.  Lounging around the house, as her husband worked from home and her daughter was at school, Katie would wear huge adult diapers, and lazily empty her bladder and bowels.  She always made sure to tell her husband when her diaper was full, if he wasn't able to tell by the stench of her feces when he entered the living room.

It had been very strange.  But also very phenomenal, and, in fact, very sexy.  Katie and her husband were having better sex now than they had ever had.  Katie, honestly, loved it.  It was so strange, but so titillating and erotic, to behave in such a way.  It made her feel naughty, and like some kind of sexy fertility goddess, or a fat queen able to do whatever she wanted.

*PPPRRRRTTTTTTTT*

"Uuhhh," muttered Katie as she drove her scooter through the aisles.  A few people looked up at her as she passed them, leaving the stench of her flatulence in her wake.

*FFRTT!!!!*

A really sharp, short toot issued from her backside.  Katie blushed a little.

It was all well and good to indulge in such strange fetishes in the bedroom, or around the house when only her husband was around.   But in the past few months, Katie had found herself increasingly unable to keep them there.  Her slobby behavior had gone on so long, and she'd become so comfortable with it, that she was gradually losing the ability to control it in public.  Her friends at the lunch club had noticed her dripping drool down her lips.  She would burp loudly while out to dinner with her parents, and they would stare at her, and she would be somewhat confused until she realized what she'd done, then apologize, blushing profusely.  She farted in public and didn't pay as much attention to it as she should have.  One time in the past few weeks she had farted so loudly at a PTA meeting that the meeting had actually stopped, and the board had looked up towards her direction as she sat in the audience.

By far the worst incident had happened last month, when Katie had been meeting with a realtor about possibly finding a new house for the family.  The realtor had been going over mortgage plans, and Katie had been listening, when all of a sudden she had very easily and instinctively peed her panties.  She'd needed to go, so she'd gone, and it was only when she was halfway done that WHAT she had done washed over her.  She had sat there, a blush on her fat cheeks, trying to ignore that she had just soaked her underwear with urine.

*FFRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!*

The huge, trumpeting fart billowed out from Katie's bloated butt cheeks. "Ohh," she moaned.  But the pressure was still building.  She idly wondered if she should head towards the restrooms.  She'd thought she could hold it in, but she was thinking more and more that she really was going to have to poop before she left the store.  She was right in the middle of shopping, though...

A blush crept up her cheeks.

"Oh, no way," said Katie under her breath.  "I'm absolutely not going to do that."

Yet the blush continued on her plump face, and she felt her big, fatty nipples stiffen a bit.  Truth be told, she'd grown so aroused by her own slobby behavior, over the past few years, that the thought of legitimately pooping her panties in the middle of the supermarket was intensely erotic.  Her dress and her panties were probably strong enough to hide the mess.  It's not like anyone would know.  It would be her secret.

"No," said Katie firmly.  "No, no way, I'm not gonna do that."  She turned down another aisle, and grabbed some bread from off the shelf.  "So I need to, you know, go to the women's room."  She headed down the aisle, grabbing some crackers off the shelf with her fat arm.  In addition to the pressure in her bowels, she felt a new pressure.  Not really thinking about it, she released the pressure--

*hisssssssssssss*

"Oh, oh, oh no," mumbled Katie under her breath.  She was peeing.  She blushed and put a hand on her fat gut as she pissed her panties, flooding the black plus-sized underwear with urine.  She couldn't even stop it, so the heavy flow quickly soaked through the fabric.  "Uhhh," she muttered under her breath, another little dollop of drool absent-mindedly escaping from her lips.

She drove through the supermarket, headed for the restrooms.  The pressure in her bowels was now really building.

*FFFFFRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT*

"Uhn," Katie grunted.  She so badly needed to go.

"Ice cream, ma'am?"

"Hmm?"  Katie stopped her scooter.  She was right in front of the supermarket's ice cream counter.

A friendly man smiled over the counter at her.  "You look like you could use some ice cream."

"I..." Katie drummed plump fingers on her big belly.  She actually was a bit peckish right now, in spite of her raging need to defecate.  She could always get a little ice cream and eat it on the toilet.  Her bowels were screaming at her, but Katie pulled her scooter up to the counter.  "Oh, yes!  Can I get a large bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream?"

"Coming right up!" said the man.  Katie went ahead and handed him her credit card.  Having already paid, she merely had to sit, waiting, the pressure in her guts building, as the man carefully scooped those three big, heavenly scoops of ice cream.  Katie licked her lips.  Chocolate chip cookie dough was her favorite.  "Here you go, ma'am," he said, handing her the bowl.  "Have a nice day!"

"Thank you!" said Katie brightly.  She set the ice cream on a tray on the scooter.  She needed to head towards the bathroom... but the ice cream was right there, glinting delectably at her.  "Oh, one bite couldn't hurt," said Katie.  She scooped up a big bite and put it in her mouth.  She'd never had this store's ice cream before.  It was great!  "Ohhmm," moaned Katie, delight beaming off her fat face.  She took a moment to really enjoy the taste, and relaxed--

*SPLRT*

"Urhm," mumbled Katie, mouth full of ice cream as she felt something wet and goopy in the back of her panties.  Her eyes bulged.  She'd sharted.  "Ohh," mumbled Katie as she swallowed the ice cream.  She could feel the wetness back there, pressing up against her bloated bottom.  "Oh, these panties are ruined," she muttered under her breath.

And then she realized: they WERE ruined.  She'd been hoping to make it to the restroom to save her panties.  But if the panties were beyond saving...

Katie looked down at the ice cream.  She smiled.  She steered her scooter over to a corner, out of the traffic pattern of the supermarket's cafeteria area.  "Hmm, mmm," she muttered gluttonously, and began to eat.

And she also began to poop.  With a heavy grunt, and a mount full of ice cream, Katie proceeded to poop her panties.  The big fat woman felt the double pleasures of the ice cream's heavenly taste and the release of the pressure in her bowels.

"Urnf," she grumbled, dribbles of ice cream running down her double chin, as she forced a big, thick log out into the panties. It was joined by others, creating a wet, hot, heavy mass in the back of her seat.

She finished the ice cream about the same time as she finished her dump.  She used the napkins to daintily wipe the ice cream off her fat face, then she flicked her scooter back on and resumed her drive to the rest room.  Under normal circumstances, she would just have gone and checked out with her goods, but this had been quite a large shit, and she was worried her panties would sag off her seat.  She didn't want to have THAT big of a slobby accident.

At least, not yet.

END