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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)
Diana panted, exhaling exhaustion and feeling the slickness of perspiration ooze from her body as she took one lumbering stride after another. Her thighs were smudged together, globs of fat that held no trace of her superhuman strength. Her stomach was an apron of flesh, nearly covering the lower half of her super-sized costume, flapping up and down as she pushed herself to move faster. Her powers were still there, she knew, felt her speed increase, but the unfamiliarity of this form was stopping her from fully using the powers she'd been gifted by her gods and goddesses. Her feet pounded on the rooftop as she ran further, breasts crushed together and joining her stomach in a quivering tango as she pressed ahead. She didn't want to think about how her now massive butt looked.

Her blood pumping, her heart pounding, she moved ahead, not willing to let any villain get away, even encumbered as she was by her body. She cursed in Greek at the imp that had brought her to this odd reality but shook her head. Focus on the present moment, she thought to herself. Ahead of her, Catwoman's rear was nearly a match for her own titanic bottom, the rest of the thief equally large but she moved with all the grace of the lithe figure from Diana's own universe. Though this obese version didn't have jewels or a priceless artifact in her gloved hands. No, what she had was several large bags filled with junk food.

A girls' night in, she'd called it before winking at Wonder Woman and the other heroine following after Diana.

The heroine currently moved past Wonder Woman, huge body quivering, equal amounts sweat and body odor clouding the air as Natasha Romanov, the famous Black Widow and an associate of Diana's in her reality, continued her task.

Why Natasha had been patrolling Gotham was still a mystery to Diana but when one was chasing a criminal, explanations could wait. Now there was only the chase and ignoring the urge she had to glut herself on the food Catwoman had stolen when she eventually caught up to Natasha and Selina, pushing down any thoughts about how she had found herself in this form and this universe.


The day had been typical for Diana. She woke up with Bruce's arms around her, content as could be as she watched him sleep. The worries and stress he heaped upon himself vanished while he was sleeping and it pleased her greatly to see him untroubled. She savored the quiet moment, wishing she could just stay with him here, knowing it was bound to end. As she stared at Bruce, she thanked each god and goddess by name that she had decided to pursue this relationship with him despite what she had seen in J'onn's machine.

Eventually though, she got out of bed, leaving him with a swift kiss to the lips, ensuring that she didn't wake him. He needed his rest after the night they'd had. After getting dressed and having a delightful breakfast chat with Alfred, she took her leave of Wayne Manor and Gotham, flying in her costume, ears alert to the first sound of trouble.

But what she was met with was a calm spring day over the Atlantic Ocean. There were no calls from the watchtower or Avengers HQ.

Until the calm froze, along with everything else around Diana.

“Morning, Wonder Gal!”

Diana's eyes narrowed as she stared at the fifth dimensional imp and usual foe of Kal and Steve Rogers, Mr. Mxyzptlk.

“What are you doing here?”

“The usual reason: I'm bored and since bugging the Boy Scout or the Captain is what I usually do, today I decided to be more unpredictable. And what should I pick up but your little wish from earlier today! Talk about the jackpot!”

“What wish?”

“You wanted to stay in bed with Batman. Something I can easily provide.”

“Do not try to tempt me, imp, I will not succumb!”

“You already wished for it, doll, and like all granted wishes it won't be just that. I'm gonna send you to a universe where the waist size goes way beyond 52, not to mention the size of every other woman. You're big there, just like here, but in more than just reputation. Don't worry, time will be frozen in this universe until you get back.”

Diana tried to speak back, to move her limbs and try to stop the imp but all the being did was wink at her and suddenly she was back in bed with Bruce.

But something didn't feel right. A feeling that only grew as she got to her feet and looked down.

She couldn't see her feet. Three globs of flesh blocked her view. The first two were her breasts, droopy and heavy. The last was her stomach, pushing out farther than her breasts did.

She didn't scream, she didn't faint.

Diana Prince merely placed her hands on her hips, feeling tubby digits sink into bogs of adipose, and moved towards the mirror.

The imp was staring back at her, thrusting a piece of paper towards her hands before vanishing, leaving Diana's obese reflection staring back in her usual Wonder Woman pose, nude and struggling to reconcile her normal body and her new reality shown in the glass.
Mature Content Filter is On. The Artist has chosen to restrict viewing to deviants 18 and older.
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
She was Poidaes, a member of the Watchers and currently she was observing something entirely new to her and her species. Oh the being before her appeared mortal enough, if a tad more diminutive than normal for Earthlings but she could sense the power the being possessed and for the first time since she had laid eyes on the Living Tribunal a sense of awe gripped her.

“You're not too shabby yourself, doll,” the tiny man said, snapping one of his gloved fingers and the universe the Watcher had been observing was now resting in the small being's palm. He tipped his orange hat and winked at her, squeezing his hands together and the universe in his hands bent a bit before splitting into hundreds upon hundreds of separate realities. The little being shuffled the universes between his palms, tiny legs kicking to a tune only he could hear before he put an end to the shuffling. “Take your pick, more than 52 ways to look at the mortals and not so mortal here and all of them to your liking, I'm sure.”

“I've no idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh I'm sure you do. Nothing wrong about appreciating a larger figure or a slim body rounding out. Now take your pick and just do  what you're so good at.”

Poidaes's blank eyes gleamed as she reached out a hand and touched a universe just to the right of center, creation springing to life around them, her eyes piercing the glare of innumerable stars as they landed on a specific section of a particular Earth.

                                       DC DC DC

Selina Kyle, the infamous Catwoman, narrowed her eyes.

Harleen Quinzel, aka Harley Quinn, pouted.

Pamela Isley, Poison Ivy herself, simply watched the both of them. Harley had already convinced her of this mad idea and besides, it would be amusing to see if her powers of seduction could work when she made Oswald Cobblepot look anorexic.

“She has a point, Selina. No one would ever suspect us of doing something like this and we've all been off the Bat's radar for weeks. Besides, a break is what we need.”

“You're just saying that because Harley's got a talented tongue,” Selina replied. Harley lightly punched her on the shoulder for that, the thief sighing. “Fine, I'll get fat but you two better believe I'm in charge of getting us all back in shape.”

“No arguments there, right Harl?”

Harley shook her head, an image of pure joy as she hopped to her feet, bouncing up and down. “Oh thank you Kitty! We'll have so much fun!”


Harley squealed at the sight of so many bags of junk food from so many different establishments found in Gotham. Sans makeup, or Ivy and Selina, Harley had managed to procure this much for herself and two or three bags each for her two cohorts in her perfectly rational plan to lay low. In the three weeks since starting, Harley was starting to soften. Not terribly noticeable to the busy Gothamites in the fast food restaurants, but she knew she was plumping up. Her middle was becoming less compact, flesh spreading freely. There was the tiniest of jiggles to her rear that had nothing to do with how she liked to sway her hips sometimes. Not to mention the little bit of extra jostling about her breasts did as she moved around.

Sitting her slightly softer self down, Harley reached out a hand towards the closest bag, ruffling through it to pull out a triple-stacked burger with three burgers and an avalanche of condiments. Opening her mouth wide, Harley bit down, chewing slowly, savoring the taste.

Elsewhere in the home, Selina Kyle was reclining on her bed, trying to drown out the sounds of construction as a couple of eager men and women, courtesy of Ivy's abilities, went to work on expanding the doorways, reinforcing the bed frames, and other potential future choke-points. Because Selina just knew that her two compatriots would certainly exceed her own modest gain of two hundred extra pounds, Harley because she'd be into all this and Ivy because Harley would get her to overindulge at every opportunity.

Currently she was just five pounds heavier, most of it going to her rear and stomach, softening the muscles found in both those parts of her body.

Reaching a hand into the second bag of fast food crud Harley had gotten for her, Selina winced a bit at the excess salt on the fries. Taking a few, she put them in her mouth and tried her best not to enjoy the empty carbs. She was just doing this to lay low and could certainly stop when she reached three hundred pounds and not a bit over that.

All it would take was willpower and she had plenty of that.

Ivy certainly enjoyed the dead cow Harley brought her, especially smothered in barbeque sauce like it was. She was grateful towards her lovely clown that there was no lettuce or fries with her meal. Finishing off her third burger, Ivy lightly patted her stomach. A layer of adipose covered it, a layer that eclipsed both of her gaining friends. Smirking at that, Ivy reached for another burger, playing with images of a softer Harley and how much fun they could have with so much more to grab in her mind.


Selina huffed as she opened her eyes again for the twelfth time in as many minutes. Here she was, trying to rest after at taxing day of stuffing her face and lazing around, and her two friends were still going at it. The bed hadn't stopped creaking, the moans from Harley or Ivy or both, Selina really couldn't tell, kept on rising in pitch and volume.

Sitting up, Selina ignored the sound of flesh against flesh as her upper roll of a gut slapped against her lower roll, letting loose a sigh as she eventually got to her feet. Thighs squished together even more and it was getting harder and harder for Selina to think of a time when the two mighty hunks of fat were ever apart. She looked back at the indentation her body had left in the reinforced bed. The majority of the dip was caused by two large, crater-like depressions. Selina moved her hands to her rear, digits sinking in up to the knuckle as she kneaded her slightly numb rear from not really getting out of bed the whole day.
I'm more ass than anything else, she thought to herself, sighing again. Still, if she wasn't going to be getting any sleep owing to her roommates, she was going to get some payback. As she removed her hands from her rear, Selina started to waddle her way out of her room and towards the kitchen, specifically the freezer full of ice cream and nondairy treats with Harley and Ivy's names written all over them.

By the time she was done eating and digesting this dessert, there was going to be even more of her ass.

The neon glow of the clock showed four in the morning, bathing the cuddling, exhausted couple in its light. Ivy took in just how much of her Harley there was now, just over year since starting this mad plan.

Harley was mostly breasts and stomach, with a round rear and flabby thighs. She was finding, as Harley grew, that sex with a fat person was quite enjoyable. Sex as a fat person, well that had pleasures all its own. The initial fumbling as their adipose squished against one another, the sapped stamina that would be an impediment if both were normal women, the effort it took to bring one another to pleasure, though the Green helped Ivy with that issue. All of it was a joy to explore, especially with Harley.

Sweat coated the both of them and they were close enough that Ivy could tell Harley's heart was pumping as hard as hers was.

“Red...that was...great. Who knew being such a fatso would be a turn-on for ya, huh?”

“Indeed,” Ivy replied, running a hand along Harley's singular mass of a gut, so much like her own huge stomach.

“I think big is an even better look for you,” Harley murmured, slapping Ivy's right butt cheek and feeling the quiver there. “You're booty's even bigger than Kitty's!”

“Not by much,” Ivy commented. Harley nodded at that and lifted Ivy's gut up, eyes gleaming as she saw her prize, lowering her mouth downwards as Ivy let her do what she wanted, about to lose herself in the bliss of being with Harley when a bang rang out.

A bang that had nothing to do with the headboard of their shared bed rocking back and forth.

Harley moved away from Ivy, letting Ivy's stomach cover up the front of her waist. Ivy, for her part, was looking around the house for the source of the noise and when she found it, a grin that wouldn't look out of place on Harley's face took over her lips.

Watching Harley get to her feet, Ivy reached out a hand to get pulled up by her lover once the clown was standing. Both on their feet, the pair exited their room and headed towards the kitchen.

“What is it Red?”

“You'll see Harley and I think you're going to love it.”

Coming around the corner, Ivy turned on the lights revealing the obese form of Selina Kyle, on all fours, eating with her bare hands from a number of tubs. Other empty tubs littered the floor and a shattered bowl lay in one corner of the kitchen. But the main thing drawing their attention was Selina's rear end. The XXXL panties Selina had recently purchased were wedged between her massive butt cheeks, quivering as the sounds of Selina masticating came to their ears.

“Ulph...upp...mmmmmmmm!” Selina moaned loudly as she shoved her face into a tub of ice cream, slurping it down with abandon, lost in her own private heaven when a familiar voice yelled out.


Whirling around, Selina felt both ashamed and proud as she saw Harley glaring at her and Ivy grinning. “Well this is what you get when you two aren't considerate enough about other people trying to sleep.”

“So much for your carefully planned diet, Selina.”

Selina nodded at Ivy's remark. “Yeah...who knew I'd grow to love it, right? Now would you two mind helping me up? I think I left some of your desserts untouched.” Selina went to move into a better position so they could pull her off the ground but found vines trapping her. “What are you doing?!”

She was now on her back as the vines twisted her around, Harley holding one tub in her hand with Ivy holding two, tree limbs gathering the uneaten desserts and holding them until commanded to stop. Selina's green eyes widened as Harley grabbed a chunk of ice cream with her bare hand and held it over her mouth.

“Kitty, you need to finish your meals!”

“Quite right Harley and Selina I don't think we've even begun to see just how much you can eat in one sitting.”

Selina gulped but opened her mouth as wide as she could, shooting them both a look of thanks.

This was just what she needed to fully embrace the obese woman she now was.

                                 Marvel Marvel Marvel

Sooraya Qadir, also known as the mutant Dust, sighed in contentment as she woke up with Cessily Kincaid's strong, familiar arms wrapped around her. Sooraya was nude, just like her lover, and Dust basked in the feeling of being held.

“You're so beautiful,” Cessily's voice said, low and close. Turning her head, Sooraya blushed and placed a quick kiss on those lips she adored so much, not minding the faintly metallic taste. Like the rest of her body, Cessily was metallic yet unlike Colossus, did not retain her former body. Her powers were her body and vice verse. Sooraya pressed as close as she could, letting Cessily feel her heartbeat, a finger tracing along the metal woman's breasts.

“Well then I'm in grand company, because you are stunning.”

Cessily smiled at that and gave Sooraya a kiss of her own before getting out of bed and stretching, making sure to bend over and give her lover a prime view of her rear end. She felt a hand touch her rear, pressing something else against it after a few moments, Sooraya soon giggling. Walking towards the nearby mirror, Cessily spared a moment to gape at the pink heart magnet placed just above her butt crack.

At that point, Sooraya lost it, collapsing into a fit of giggles and clutching her stomach, Cessily discarding the magnet and rushing over, soon having her giggling girlfriend in her arms.

“Think that's funny, do you?”

“I was just giving you my heart darling, and close to one of my absolute favorite parts of you, now if you would let me down. I have to pray.”

Cessily nodded, placing Dust down and watching as she dressed in one of her usual black hijabs before she started her prayers, head bowed towards Mecca as her soft voice filled the room with Arabic tones. The metal woman stared at the piety Dust was showing, smiling as she heard her name mentioned. She wasn't particularly religious but she respected Dust's beliefs and did her utmost to ensure that she could observe her traditions and beliefs.

Even if Ramadan grated on her if only for Dust fasting. Still, it was great to see her lover tear into her first meal post-fasting. The image of her last great glutting after Ramadan made Cessily bite her lip, shame filling her at the arousal springing to life at the thought of a stuffed Sooraya. Her thoughts drifted to before she looked like a T-1000's ideal spouse and the desires she'd had then, the darker corners of the web she had surfed, that she still lurked at when Dust was on a mission or she was alone. She decided then and there that she would tell Dust her deepest fantasies when they were eating next.

Well, Cessily reminded herself, when Dust was eating next. Maybe that was why the fantasies lingered so, her total lack of any biological need to eat just highlighting what she couldn't attain with her own body.

“Mercury!” Cessily jolted a bit at the use of her codename by Sooraya, finding that her fellow mutant was looking at her with some concern. “Is everything okay? You kinda drifted off there.”

“Everything's fine, Soo, I just...I need to tell you something at breakfast, okay?”

Sooraya looked like she didn't quite believe her but nodded anyway. “Very well then, let's go eat, hmm? Well after you get dressed of course, unless you were going for shock value today.”

Cessily nodded and went to her closet, pulling out some jeans and a tank-top, Sooraya taking her arm and leading her towards the cafeteria, the shorter woman nuzzling a bit closer while they walked. Upon arriving, both grabbed a tray, with Sooraya deciding on oatmeal and a cinnamon roll with hot chocolate while Cessily settled on a plate of eggs, bacon, and sausages with orange juice to drink.

Both seated, Cessily watched as Sooraya ate, picking at her own meal and biting off a bit of bacon. There was no taste, nothing to indicate that she wasn't just sucking more air into her mouth, just a bit of a lump as she swallowed. So she focused on Sooraya's enjoyment of her meal, her lover soon having finished a quarter of her cinnamon roll before placing a hand on hers.

“Will you tell me what had you zoning off earlier?”

Cessily nodded, turning her wrist and squeezing Sooraya's fingers gently. “I used to...that is I still do have this attraction to fat. There's something about seeing someone go from skinny to fat that just does things to me. When you eat your first meal after Ramadan and watching you dig in with such gusto it makes me want to ask you to eat more. You clearly enjoy eating and I know I shouldn't want you to give up your body you've put long hours into toning and maintaining. It's not normal to want someone to get fat and I've been trying to stop reading the stories online but I just can't. So what I'm asking you, Soo, is if you wouldn't mind getting just a big larger for me? Just a tad. I can't, obviously, do this to myself anymore and if I could, I would, if you were okay with that. I don't want to ruin what we have and I love you so you can see why this is so hard for- Sooraya was suddenly kissing her, deeply. Again, like the bacon before it, there was nothing to really indicate it was her lover's tongue in her mouth, no sensation of taste and the barest whispers of feeling as Sooraya broke the kiss. Her dark eyes were gleaming and a pleased smile was on her face.

“Is that all?”

“Is that all?! Soo, this is something I've been wrestling with for years.”

“Well it's like you said, I do enjoy eating and I've noticed your difficulties in adjusting to no longer needing to eat. You were also quite understanding when I explained my bondage fetish with you and were more than willing to be the sub to my dom, remember?” Cessily nodded, wishing she could still blush. “So why should I deny you something that would bring you such joy? I'll get fat for you, habibti.”

Cessily smiled at that and reached across to hug Sooraya as tightly as she dared, breaking apart after another kiss and gently sliding her tray towards her lover. “Don't feel like you need to eat all of this-but Cessily was cut off for the second time that day as she watched the woman she loved pick up the pace, wishing her mouth could still get dry at arousing images.


Elsewhere, Abner Jenkins was tinkering with one of his latest inventions: a new type of artificial exoskeleton that would greatly increase the strength of his suit, maybe enough to warrant him to change his name to MACH-VI. A slow clap rang out in the tiny lab Abner had set up for himself, turning from his creation to see his girlfriend being responsible.

“So what's this thing do?”

“Just increases my strength to about Iron Man-levels.”

“Hmmm, so I suppose you're going to be testing it a lot, huh?”

Abner smirked a bit at the look of light jealousy she shot the exoskeleton. A superheroine like Melissa Gold aka Songbird and a supervillian like himself in a relationship. It still boggled his mind that they had lasted this long. Approaching her, he gave a tight hug and a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, you're the one I'm sleeping with.” That earned him a laugh before she stared into his eyes.

“What if I have something I'd like to test?”

“Then I'd be all for it, barring it doesn't involve me acting too much like a hero.”
“Don't worry, your rep will be safe. I just want to test out my abilities in controlling others.”

“Isn't it more like nudging?”

“Whatever, now will you let me test it on you?” Abner nodded. “I'm also thinking about testing how much my wings can carry.”

“Don't see how the two are related.”

“I'm going to suggest slash control you to fatten me up. Upon reaching a weight I feel is enough for test purposes, I'm going to fly with my wings.”

“Is this all one big test to see if I'll still love you if you're fat?” Melissa rolled her eyes at that and lightly punched him in the shoulder.

“I just want to see if I can make you do something outside your comfort zone.”

“Babe, your breasts and ass getting bigger aren't exactly outside my comfort zone.” That earned him a glare. “Fine, fine, get with the suggestions but I am not held responsible for any jokes I make at your super-sized expense, okay?”

Melissa nodded and focused her concentration on attuning to the right pitch. Humming a little, she felt the power surging through her vocal chords, pretending she could see the warped tones she was using twisting their way through the air and deep into Abner's mind. He had a relaxed, goofy, look on his face that almost made her lose concentration, it was so cute, in her opinion, but she refocused and issued her commands.

“Abner, you're going to make me fat and you're going to love doing it until I tell you I've had enough. When I say beetle you're going to stop wanting to make me fat.” That was good, she decided but couldn't help but add one more thing. “I love you so much, don't forget that you geek.”

Shutting off her power, Melissa waited as Abner blinked a bit and shook his head. “Hungry?”

Melissa smirked and patted her toned stomach. “Starving.”


Sooraya smiled warmly at her lover. Well when she was looking at her like this, both alone in their room, Cessily with an armful of tasty, high-calorie, treats and both were nude, save Sooraya in her underwear she supposed feeder would be a better term. The research she'd done since that breakfast in the cafeteria was quite something. It was almost like something out of One Thousand and One Nights and she could imagine just such a story being told though it would likely involve something magical and not quite so mundane as simply stuffing ones face. All thoughts of her current situation paralleling one of her favorite collection of fables stopped when she felt Cessily's cool touch along her stomach. Her lover always started with rubbing her belly first and Sooraya couldn't blame her. Her belly was larger now, a clear bulge when in her hijab and just starting to droop a little when she was out of it. Her bare buttocks touched the carpeted floor of their shared room, Sooraya enjoying the cool sensation of the AC combined with the smooth carpet against her flesh, smiling a bit more as she felt her formerly toned rear squash outwards a bit as she scooted back to allow Cessily more room to feel her body.

“You're getting a little chubby here,” Cessily murmured, rubbing Sooraya's stomach, then her thighs, followed by her rear, and ending with her face, cupping it gently.

“Well get to feeding me, habibti, so I won't be chubby anymore.”

“You haven't said how big you want to be yet,” Cessily reminded her.

“I'm just living in the moment, now please feed me. I really am quite hungry.” A hot dog, loaded with all her favorite condiments, was pulled from one of the many plates, bags, and other containers Cessily had provided, gently pressing the food past Sooraya's lips, the young woman moaning at the taste. “Faster please.”

Cessily complied, pouring half a container of chili into her lover's mouth along with shoving the rest of the hot dog, bun and all, barely a second after the chili hit the back of Sooraya's throat. “Tell me if I'm going too fast.”

Sooraya nodded, moaning as best she could as more and more foods entered her mouth. The amount never seemed to end and it was all she could do to chew, swallow, and mentally prepare for more. She felt arousal fill her, still not quite used to it while eating, but she soon realized it was partially just letting herself eat as much as she wanted and also due to the look in her Cessily's eyes.

Hours went by as Sooraya diligently consumed everything Cessily had to offer, finally feeling full and quite pleased at how much she could pack away. Cessily was behind her now, Sooraya resting comfortably in her lap with those metal arms wrapped securely around her, one hand from each woman resting on the taut mass that was Sooraya's belly. “It's almost like you're pregnant,” Cessily whispered, earning a giggle from Sooraya.

“Well we are not calling this food baby Oscar Meyer, that's for sure,” Sooraya commented, pressing deeply into her reddening flesh.

“I have my heart set on Haagen-Daz, personally.”

“Mmmmm, that has a nice ring to it. Haagen-Daz Kincaid.”

“Or Haagen-Daz Qadir.” Both women lost their composure at that and started laughing, Sooraya soon feeling her eyelids grow heavy and murmured something Cessily couldn't quite make out. “What was that Soo?”

“I wanna be bigger than...The Blob.”

“You will be, honey, you will be if that's what you truly want.” But Sooraya was soon snoring, Cessily gently lifting her stuffed girlfriend and placing her gently on their bed, cuddling up to her and paying special attention to just how strained Sooraya's largest pair of panties were getting.


Melissa ran a hand through her pink hair and grinned as she saw Abner bring in a platter full of burgers with a ring of fries and onion rings all around. Moving a bit on her bed, she patted her gut. “Place it right here, please.” Abner did as she asked and watched her expectantly. Melissa rolled her eyes but got to it, cramming as much as she could into one bite and kicking manners to the curb as she talked with her mouth full. “Thansh for tis!”

“Of course, but anymore of this and we'll have to start calling you Songpig.”

Melissa gave an oink at that and winked at the flushed expression on her darling Abner's face before shoving her whole face into the platter, munching with abandon and not caring one whit as sauce, bits of fries, and grease stained her nude body. If she were to stand, Melissa knew her gut would be covering her privates by now and on its way towards her knees. It wasn't quite what she expected, being more belly and butt than the breast-heavy figure she'd thought she'd become when this whole idea started months ago but she wasn't about to complain. The extra mass made for a nice cushion when she sat and it was beyond amusing to see Abner get so aroused by just rubbing her stomach.

She gave a coo of appreciation as she finished off the platter, motioning for her man to remove it, which he did. “Dessert?”

Dessert turned out to be a five scoop monstrosity of a sundae with hot fudge, all the nuts she could tolerate, and enough whip cream to give her a Santa-worthy beard if she didn't want to eat all of it so much. The ice cream joined the burgers, fries, and rings in her belly, Melissa very pleased with herself and that she still felt a little peckish.

“We still have that bag of pork rinds left?”

Abner produced two bags, Melissa raising an eyebrow. “Figured you wouldn't complain if I bought in bulk.”

“I'm a bit tired of moving my arms, so you'll have to feed them to me.” She inwardly squealed at the expression on his face and allowed a giggle to pass her lips as he straddled her, both hands filled with rinds. “Let's see if we can crack three hundred pounds by Monday.”

Abner just nodded, Melissa opening her mouth and allowing herself to be fed.


Sooraya was getting turned on by her body. A body that was larger than even her wildest expectations but close to two years of constant feeding, minimal exercise, and missions conducted from the mansion by sand-created proxies had clearly done a number on her. She wasn't quite sure what number, having broken the scale in her and Cessily's bathroom but it was clearly past Fred Duke's weight. Well, she thought as she hefted her multiple rolled gut, maybe a few pounds lighter than him. Still, it was getting harder and harder to move around unassisted these days. Cessily was a godsend, helping her get out of bed and in the correct positions for her prayers when her body got in the way.

Her metal lover was currently standing behind her and it made Sooraya bite her lip at the thought that she was so massive that she couldn't see any part of her lover in the reflection. Cessily was kneading her rear end, pressing herself into the flab of her back and the many, many rolls that made up her back half. As she felt Cessily's face make contact with her lower back, Sooraya used her powers, the section of her upper back becoming the heavy granules now making up her sand form.

“Hey, Soo, I just showered!”

“Just having a bit of fun, besides you should be used to sand in your hair by now.”

“I'm going to get you back for this.” Sooraya turned her head as Cessily walked around her, coming to her front.

“And here I was about to sit on your face,” she replied, watching Cessily go still and get that dazed look on her face whenever she was feeling horny. Giggling at just how easy it was to get her soul-mate all hot and bothered, Sooraya barely caught her lover's frame shrinking. A few seconds later, Cessily was just a puddle of liquid metal, moving towards her left foot. “This is new.”

Cessily didn't reply and Sooraya giggled again at the cool sensation that was her lover's liquid form meeting her bare skin. Cessily moved about her body, sinking into every fat roll, bit of adipose, and layer of flab that she possessed.

“You tickle!”

“Well I said I'd get you back!”

Sooraya didn't reply and let her lover slide her way all over her body, goosebumps springing to life and more laughter escaping her lips as Cessily continued her advance up her body. Finally she stopped and Sooraya noticed a bit of liquid metal stretching in front of her face, Cessily's eyes staring at her.

“You're still so beautiful Soo.”

“Right back at you, darling, now mind helping me back to bed? I have dessert still coming, if I remember correctly.”

Cessily's lips appeared and she smirked, returning to her human form. Taking Sooraya's hand, she helped her towards the bed. It was incredible that she even had to help Sooraya lie down but that's just how large she was and the thought of that, all the meals and feeding sessions resulting in so much woman made Cessily moan.

“I'm going to turn myself completely into sand now, habibti and I want you to turn back into your liquid form and merge with me.”

“I'll hurt you,” Cessily pointed out.

“You're not water, Cess, now please, do what I say.” A moment later there's a massive pile of sand on their bed, Cessily sighing but doing what she was asked, sliding into the heavy bits of sand where Sooraya's rear had been by her best estimations.

I though I was the one with the butt obsession.

I don't know how I'm hearing you right now Soo.

Did you think my dust form was any different from yours? Besides, think about it, we're merged with one another and soon enough you're going to get a glimpse of what all this weight feels like.

A moment later she's draped across the lips of her lover and being swallowed down into her stomach. She fells a wall of flesh press into her and then heard a voice.

“Can you feel it? I'm going to try and sit up, probably won't be able to without you here to help me, but I want you to experience this.”

A grunt, filling her liquid frame, the bits of human insides she can feel quivering and jostling like mad as she hears labored breathing and feels sweat pass through her to eek its way out into the world beyond Sooraya's pores. All this struggle, the sheer amount of flesh all around, the energy expended to try and move just a few inches; Cessily can't begin to process it all and suddenly she's merged with sand again.

Slide away and turn back to normal.

Cessily did as she was asked and stared at the nude form of her elephantine lover, tears trailing down her cheeks as she moved to hug as much of Sooraya as she could. She felt the barest whisper of her lover's embrace but now she knew what all that weight truly felt like. “Thank you. I love you so much habibti.”

Sooraya hugged her back and let a few tears loose as well, adoring just how little space Cessily now took up against her body. “I love you as well, darling. I'm so happy you were able to feel what it's like, if only for a moment.” Cessily nodded and broke apart, wiping her eyes and helping Sooraya sit up fully, noticing a happy gleam in her eyes. “Dessert?”

Cessily laughed and nodded her head.


Today was the day, Melissa decided. Sure, she might have gone a tad overboard in indulging herself, but she was definitely larger than anyone she'd tried to carry before. Abner was standing in the backyard, staring up at her as she summoned her wings.

True, three stories wasn't a large drop by any means but she was certain that with her sonic scream as a buffer, she could land safely if her wings did fail her. Testing the wind, Melissa took one step. Her thighs now permanently squashed together oozed sweat and her heart pounded as she huffed and puffed. Five hundred and ten pounds, the scale had read and boy did she feel it. Still, there was no time to ponder how her gut was starting to eclipse her knees or how her rear was needing three chairs to sit comfortably in at the dining room table.

There was just the fall and flying ahead.

One more step was all it took, the ground rushing towards her, Abner's worried expression getting closer. She flapped and she flew, the mental strain taxing but nothing like taking a hit from Venom. She was hovering. She gave a whoop and lowered herself gently to the ground, feeling like the quarterback responsible for the game-winning pass.

Until, that is, her foot got caught on one of Abner's discarded bits of scrap metal as she was walking towards him. A moment later she was on her gut, her ass facing the sky. As if that wasn't enough, her largest, comfiest, and favorite pair of sweats gave up the ghost. There was a rip, followed by a louder tear, and then she felt the cool breeze on her now bare butt. Abner appeared in her field of view, freed from her control last night.

He was smirking at her.

She glared at him. “How many times have I told you to pick up in the backyard?!”

“A lot.”

“So why haven't you? This was my moment, Abby and now look at me!”

“I'm not complaining and bare ass is a good look for you, as I've told you more times than you've told me to pick up the backyard.”

“Stop smirking and help me get up!”

“I'm going to need the new exoskeleton.”

Melissa screamed. It was a normal, non-powered, roar wishing she was still a villain so she wouldn't feel bad about slamming him through the back of his work-shed. But then he couldn't get to his damn exoskeleton and she'd be unable to get up.

Sometimes being a heroine really cramped her style. Still, she had to admit, this was all on her.

Starting tomorrow she was going to get back into shape. Her gut rumbled, reminding her that there was still three layers of that seven layer cake in the fridge.

She'd start next week.
Mature Content Filter is On. The Artist has chosen to restrict viewing to deviants 18 and older.
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)
Slob Drabbles

I. Tifa and Lightning

The couch had been Cloud's originally and the first place Lightning and Tifa had made out after both reciprocated their feelings for one another. The couch stayed with them as they moved in to a whole new apartment, a bastion of sorts against the pressures of a life together, fights and reconciliation often exploding on the faded brown leather.

It's on the couch that Tifa asks Lightning to marry her and the couch creaks a bit as Lightning accepts, Tifa unprepared for the speedy hug and feverish kisses that follow.

The couch creaks louder three years later as Tifa sits on it, her rear covering more room than it had in the past. Lightning joins her, an arm around her shoulder.

“I'm getting soft,” Tifa murmured, a few fingers absently trailing along the pooch of a belly she'd grown, her other hand pinching a bit of her face and feeling the bloated flesh there.

“I've noticed but it doesn't matter. You're beautiful, no matter what,” Lightning replied, bringing her in closer. Tifa's hand now went to Lightning's defined abs, caressing the muscles there gently.

“You're too good of a cook, spoiling me like you do. I'd put all the blame on you but it's my willpower that's faltered. Guess I just want to take things easy now.”

“We've earned it and, if you want, I'll take it easy too.”

Tifa smiled at that, running a finger along Lightning's stomach and imagining her softer. The fantasy gets away from her control, face flushed not a minute later, Lightning noticing the hardening of her nipples. “I'd like that,” Tifa replied.

The couch gets reinforced half a year later, Lightning sitting down first with a big bag of potato chips in one hand. Her abs are nothing but memory now, a sizable pot belly ready to evolve into a full-fledged gut replacing the muscles. Tifa sits down beside her, a tub of ice cream under one flabby arm. The former fighter's dark brown eyes gleam as she takes in how far her spouse has come in just six months. It appeared that they were gaining in synch with one another, with Lightning's rear, thighs, face, and stomach piling on the pounds, matching Tifa's own general figure. Of course there was more of Tifa than there was of Lightning, something that wasn't exactly part of the plan. But Lightning's cooking was so good and she really had gotten used to large helpings that she just went along with it.

Now though, Tifa was starting to admire her own fat figure, how it bulged and squished against Lightning's smaller frame, how she was needing to shop at stores catering to the obese, how it was getting harder and harder to do even the simplest of exercises without working up a terrible sweat.

Like now, for instance.

Sweat was steadily pouring from her, staining her clothes, wafting the air around her and Lightning.

The stench was shameful, a few labored inhalations bringing the taste of her exertions to her tongue and then out again. Her round face was reddening more and more as she waved her hand in front of her face.

Lightning, for her part, just took a deep breath of the air, pressing closer to her. “You smell nice.”

“Don't joke,” Tifa shot back, taking a big bite of ice cream to soothe her shame. “I stink-” but she was cut off as Lightning kissed her deeply, the former solider tasting chocolate ice cream as she broke away.

“I don't joke, honey, you smell lovely.”

“So I like fat and you like...smells,” Tifa said. “Why didn't we tell one another about this sooner?”

“We never got exposed to it. Besides, we're still us.”

Tifa smiled at that, nuzzling into Lightning and taking a deep breath of her own, noticing her wife's lack of deodorant and hygiene as she did so. It really wasn't that bad, once you got used to it.

A few more years went by, the couch the only remaining piece of furniture from the early days of their marriage. It was completely reinforced and could handle up to a ton before breaking. It was this couch that shook just a little as a pair of legs waddled past, into the hallway and then into the bedroom.

The owner of said legs huffed and puffed, wheezing following as she lowered herself onto the enormous bed that took up the majority of the room. Tubs of ice cream, several day old slices of pizza, and three bags of pork rinds oozed from her grasp, landing near the left side of a massive pile of flab that had been a martial artist once upon a time.

Tifa let a roiling, hissing, burst of flatulence out from her rear, the sound of her wife's sharp inhale following shortly after her own. Lightning's blobby figure surged into her own as the woman lay down beside her.

“Huff...thanks...for getting up for me,” Tifa said, kissing one of Lightning's chin flaps while she caught her breath.

Lightning just nodded, grabbing a handful of rinds and pushing them past Tifa's lips, spittle and flecks of checks spraying outwards as Tifa chewed a few moments later.

“Have some,” Tifa said after chowing down on a tub and a half.

“Not hungry, just gonna nap.”

Tifa smiled at that, scooting as much as she could so Lightning could get her face into position by the crevice that was once her toned rear end. Grunting, Tifa let fly some bowel-rumblers, driving even the stench of their BO away for a few moments, Lightning smirking and closing her eyes, starting her nap.

As she watched her wife drift into sleep, Tifa beamed before returning her attention to the food that would only increase her beloved fat and give her wife a few more smells to imbibe.

II. Lara and Sam

Lara Croft stared at the weathered map that had landed her in her current predicament resting on kitchen counter. No, she wasn't being chased by a band of bloodthirsty mercs or immortal samurai. Instead, the former college student and current relic hunter was doing her best to move around on crutches stealthily. Sure she was back in civilization, away from the ancient mysteries that blurred the supernatural and the real world, but she still faced an enemy.

Of sorts, Lara reminded herself, as her foe found her, disapproval etched onto Sam's pretty face.

“I was just moving about like the doctor said,” Lara defended herself.

“Not seven feet from the gym you had installed two expeditions ago?”

Lara gave her best sheepish smile, knowing before she tried it that her efforts were as futile as Napoleon invading Russia. Her girlfriend just pointed behind her, towards the hallway which led to their bedroom.

“I believe the doctor also said something about no harsh physical activity for at least a month. Last I checked it hasn't been a week.”

“Sam,” Lara stated in her most loving tone and the closest she ever got these days to a whine, “I've had plenty. I just need to see how I'm healing and then I'll rest, I-” but suddenly Sam's kissing her, stealing the excuse from her lips.

“Back to bed, Lara. Don't worry, I've placed your favorite dusty book there too.”

Lara sighed, knowing she was beaten. Allowing Sam to lead her back to bed, Lara lay down, Sam cuddling up next to her as Lara lifted the heavy tome, opening the cover with one hand while idly stroking her lover's hair.

Soon enough Sam was asleep, an arm wrapped around Lara's waist, squeezing just a bit around her abs.

Abs, Lara realized, that were losing their hardened core.

Sam can hardly remember the fierce, trauma-hardened survivor that had become the woman she loved. Oh parts of that survivor was still there, in the gleam in her eyes when she spied a seemingly insurmountable amount of burgers or cake, the id-like passion she'd exert when the pair were making love or feeding one another or simply stuffing their faces, the drive she had for eating and laying about and ensuring Sam's safety. Those parts of Lara were still visible.

The rest was buried under layer and layer of flab, coated with cellulite, and swathed in sweat.

The pair were currently nestled together in their renovated bed, their bedroom floor a trash-sculpted monument to sloth. Sam felt her gut quiver, the multiple-rolled middle bringing to life a trumpet of flatulence, the heir to the Nishimura company greedily inhaling her own stench. Lara stirred awake beside her, her brown eyes staring deeply into Sam's dark ones.
“What have we got to eat, love?”

Sam raised a flabby arm, grasping around for something the pair might have missed in their last binge, finding a bag of half eaten burgers, taking one out and bringing it to Lara's mouth.

The burger was gone in two bites, Lara grabbing another soon after and pressing it past Sam's lips.

“Good, isn't it Sam?” Lara murmured as she watched Sam finish off the chunk of cold beef.

Sam nodded, laying her head against Lara's gut, the apron of flesh nearly covering her entire face. The guts behind that layer of skin churned, Lara burping and giggling a bit.

“What a pig you've turned me into!”

“You agreed, remember?”

Lara hummed agreement before raising her right arm, giving Sam a heady whiff of her noxious body odor, the aroma easily overpowering Sam's own mighty funk.

Side by side, Sam knew Lara was bigger. With her apron gut that nearly covered the lower half of her kneecaps, a rear that was almost needing three chairs to comfortably sit down, and a face fatter than Sam's own prodigious gut, Lara Croft was everything Sam wanted her to be.

Of course, Sam knew her own figure was a sacrifice. Her belly was starting to develop a third roll, her rear even larger, more like two beach balls than the bowling ball sized glutes she remembered just two months ago. Her breasts, the only area she eclipsed Lara in, were saggy sacks of flesh, drooping mightily. Her face she didn't like to think off, feeling the soft cocoon of flab marring her once model-like features.

Lara's finger is under her smaller flap of face flesh that was starting to become her second chin, lifting her up to stare into her eyes.

“Hey now, don't dwell on what we were. Focus on how much more of us there's going to be, my not so little Sam.”

Sam reached down for another burger, unwrapping it and taking a large bite, shoving the rest into Lara's mouth before bringing her lips against her lover's, the bits of chewed meat, sauce, and bun bits colliding along with their tongues.

Smiling after breaking apart and swallowing what was in her mouth, Sam lay on her back and raised both arms, giving Lara a good whiff of her body's stench and spying again that survivor's gleam in the eyes she loved so much as Lara drove downward, obese body colliding against fat flesh.

III. Cammy and Chun Li

Dinner was a simple affair.

Two plates, a fork, a glass of wine from some chateau in Paris Chun Li had never heard of, and a delicious looking pasta made by her longtime rival and lover. But as the Chinese fighter placed the first bits of pasta to her lips, she realized that the food was even better than it looked.

“It's all wonderful Cammy!”

Cammy nodded, giving Chun Li a small smile. “I'm glad you enjoy it, love, and eat up, I made a little too much.”

“Will do.”

The pair chatted as they dug in as the bowl of pasta, and much of the wine, filled them up, Chun Li calling it quits a good twenty minutes later by moving her chair back a bit and resting her hands on her full stomach.

“Oooof, compliments to the adorable chef,” she said, idly patting the taut plane of flesh her abs had become after ingesting so much.

Cammy's smile got a bit wider, cheeks a bit more crimson owing to the wine, and gently moved her right hand to rest just under Chun Li's entwined ones on her stomach. “Compliments accepted but don't forget about dessert.”

“Just let me digest first and I'm all over it!”

Cammy beamed and nodded her head, a hand going to her own full stomach and feeling the solid glob of food just waiting to digest.

Months passed as Cammy cooked more and more meals, more and more desserts often following those meals, Chun Li's encouragement of her cooking talents all the drive she needed to press on. Of course Cammy taste-tested her concoctions before giving it to Chun Li and very rarely did she scrap a recipe. The hobby became a passion thanks to Chun Li's earnest love of what Cammy was making and soon enough she was the one doing both the taste testing and devouring all the finished products.

Tournament invitations were ignored, vacation time was used for the first time in years by either woman, and they rarely left their home. Parts of the house gathered dust, namely the custom-made gym  complete with sparring mats and weights Ken had given the pair as a moving in present over three years ago.

Until one day, Cammy goaded Chun Li into having a spar for old time's sake. Chun Li was also feeling a bit competitive with her rival, though more often that undying side of their relationship manifested itself through eating more than Cammy, she figured it was a good time to duke it out.

By the time both woman faced one another in their recently tailored sports bras and yoga leggings, they were breathing heavily. Chun Li adopted her usual fighting stance, her thighs that had been pressed together now positively grafted to one another. Cammy's own stance was much wider, needing the space to facilitate her doughy rear end.

Chun Li started her Spinning Bird Kick, making it a little over halfway to Cammy before landing on her knees, butt facing her love and venting a rich roar of a fart, Cammy coughing a bit but going for a Cannon Drill anyway.

The technique connected with Chun Li's thighs but barely moved her, Cammy's momentum halted by the Brit's own heavy frame. Their breathing had become pants and wheezes, sweat and body odor cascading from their pores in equal measure.

Chun Li's heart felt like it was going to burst as she got to her feet, helping Cammy up, a pair of soft, apron-esque guts touching and sinking into one another.



“We're...oooofff....going on a diet!”

“Sounds...huff...good but tomorrow, right? I've got that cheesecake in the fridge.”

Chun Li nodded, licking her lips as she headed towards the kitchen, Cammy following behind, stomachs rumbling, appetites flaring up as the pair exited their former lives and entered into a double impact of gluttony and sloth.
Slob Drabbles
I own nothing in this story. All characters belong to their respective owners. Expect more drabbles in the future.
Mature Content Filter is On. The Artist has chosen to restrict viewing to deviants 18 and older.
(Contains: nudity, sexual themes, violence/gore, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
Ada Wong's skill was told in various clandestine meetings and various bars with faded names, frequented by men and women who had long since ceased to exist in the eyes of the world and it's various governments. High class, low class, and everything in between, Ada could adapt to any role, any situation. Her abilities came at a high price but all of her clients would have gladly hired her for double her going rate if pressed.

Not that she ever did.

For most people surviving Osmund Saddler, Jack Krauser, Raymond Salazar, and the Las Plagas that followed them would entail months if not years of therapy. For most agents involved in an operation like that, it would be a long while until they would feel ready to go back into the field. But Ada Wong was not just any person or any agent.

Wesker had his sample, Leon and Ashley were alive, and she was on the lookout for the next bit of work coming her way.

Said work came walking towards her in a Michelin four star eatery in Paris, all long legs and firm body. A manila folder was in his right hand and he offered it to Ada as he sat down. Ada sipped at her glass of wine as she opened it, poring over the photos of a statuesque brunette with rapid speed.

There was a single woman in all of these photos, a careful, alert woman by the looks of things, save for how her eyes strayed whenever a rotund, stout, or simply obese woman was around. In one photo it looked like the woman's eyes had become black holes, devouring every bit of a fat woman's appearance.

“Madeline Fariv, a noted pillar of her community, a mix of old money from her mother and new wealth  heaped on her by her father and her own business acumen. She donates to various charities, is patron to a number of galleries in the various cities she routinely travels to, and a prominent spokeswoman for the homeless.”

“What's she really like?”

“As you've no doubt noticed she has an eye for the rotund but that, of course, is not anything too out of the ordinary. No, what Madeline Fariv does in her private life is nothing less than the exploitation, torture, and murder of young women with nowhere to turn.”

Ada finished going through the photos, the last one in the folder that of a corpse washed onto a beach. The body was horrendously bloated but even with the damage caused by the water, the woman was enormous. She looked like she would be immobile if she was still alive.

The man slid his phone towards Ada, the spy looking at the smiling, slim young woman on the screen and then back at the obese corpse, noting the similar eye color and skin tone.

“Madeline Fariv did that over a year and a half. My sources indicate she's done this to dozens of women but this is the only body we've been able to find. We want you to become the type of woman Madeline Fariv desires, recover any evidence about her private activities, and return them to me at the following address.”
Ada snatched up the scribbled paper, memorizing the coordinates before giving it back to the man. “You will be paid in full right now, if you desire.”

“I do and I'm sure your group will provide surgery in the case of an excessive amount of difficulty in this assignment.”

“Of course as well as provide the best personal trainers and training facilities in the world once the job is completed.”

“No time-table?”

“None, take as much time as you need, do whatever you like to ensure that this woman's crimes are dragged into the open.”

Ada opened her own phone, ensuring that the funds were transferred, eyebrow quirking as she saw that it was triple her going rate. “Why the heavy spending?”

“Think of it as an apology asking a woman in your line of work to give up her figure.”

“It's not needed and you have my guarantee that this woman will be exposed. Before we conclude our business here, I have to ask for a few concessions.”

“Name them.”

“One, my grapnel will need to be reinforced to hoist and hold over two tons of weight. Second, I have a red dress I'll need specially tailored and ready to deliver at my order to Madeline Fariv's location. I assume you can handle these requests?”

“Of course and on the behalf of the parents of this murdered young woman, thank you for accepting this assignment.”

“You're welcome,” Ada replied, placing the manilla envelope in her white purse as she sipped some red wine and watched the man leave the bar they had agreed to meet at.

Taking in the sight of the lush restaurant, the lavish service, and the decor, Ada gave a light chuckle.

“Goodbye high society.”


Ada paid in cash for a dilapidated-looking apartment a good twenty two miles from Fariv's North American estate. Her classy wardrobe was replaced by blue jeans, sweatpants, sweatshirts, and the like. She had a bad dye job done to her hair, turning it a cruddy shade of brown, her usual sultry strut now a simple stride, her posture hunched over most of the time and timid. Her new name was Ava Loring, third generation Asian American, with debt up to her eyeballs from old student loans, bad checks littered all over her bank statements, and no credit. She had just been fired from a job at a McDonald’s five states over and was looking for a fresh start.

Ada reviewed her new life in her head time and time again until she had it down to her soul. That done, Ada spared one last glance at her figure in the slightly cracked mirror in her new home. The lean muscle, the toned thighs, the softer bits of her that would only increase as this assignment continued. She wasn't wistful as she looked at her reflection, didn't hesitate as she picked up the flip phone, placing an order for three pizzas, all large with every meat topping available, plenty of crazy bread and three two liter bottles of soda to wash it all down with. Hanging up after reading off her debit card with just four hundred dollars to her name, Ada looked again at her body, rubbing her middle as she smiled.

“Goodbye Ada Wong, hello Ava Loring.”

A few hours later, Ada returned to the mirror, belching a bit as she gently patted her stuffed stomach. Her skin was quite red around the outer edges of her belly button, the gorged dome there taut to the touch. Ada upended the half-full two liter that remained and chugged, stopping after six gulps, breathing heavily afterwards.

“Haaa! good,” Ada said, taking in the grease stains, bits of melted cheese, and some pizza sauce that had dripped onto her.

This was a good start but she still had her whole checking account to go.


A good seven months later, Ada Wong grunted as she got to her feet, answering the insistent pounding at her door. It was her landlord, the permanent scowl marring his features deepening as he took in his tenant.

Ava Loring was a pig in human form, a far cry from the skinny woman who had paid her security deposit, first, and last month in January. Ava's middle had become a beer belly, just starting to droop into a little apron gut. Her breasts were coated in sweat and sagging a little. From what he could see of her hips clad as they were in a ratty pair of sweatpants, they were wider than his own and her rear was taking up even more room than the last month he'd seen her.

“Rent,” the man muttered.

Ava nodded, handing him several crumpled hundreds.

He counted the amount. “You're short.”

“It's all I've got,” Ava replied.

“Then you've got no place to sleep anymore. Get out of here by four or I'm tossing you out, got it?”

Ava nodded, shame written clearly on her face.

By the time the landlord returned at three fifty eight, Ava Loring was gone, leaving behind nothing but a crumb coated floor. Rolling up his sleeves, the man got to work getting most of the crumbs off the floor.


Three weeks later, a digesting Ada Wong sat at the booth of a McDonald’s clad in her now ratty sweats. Stains dotted the grey clothing, both food and sweat varieties here and there, visible for all to see. Showers and basic hygiene were excised from her life and she spent whatever she had on more food, giving her a new reality to present to her target.

Ada's middle was protruding further, in the liminal stage between a beer belly and a full on fat person's gut. Her hips and rear were wider still, by far the biggest part of her body. Her face had also puffed out, all of it almost cocooned in flab.

She left the restaurant, cardboard sign in hand, ready to go resume her begging at one of her ten different spots she made regular use of. As she walked, her normal stride now starting to waddle bit by bit, thighs gently pressing against one another, Ada felt the eyes on her. It was the beige minivan she had spotted just over three weeks ago rolling out of the same street containing Miranda Fariv's estate. She had also seen it five days ago at her stoop near the cheap buffet. Staring ahead, Ada paid the vehicle no mind as she came around the corner, sign going up to signal her need.

Miranda Fariv was a few inches taller than Ada, appearing almost gangly save for the slight buildup of muscle in her arms, thighs, and middle. Her skin was olive-tinged and meshed well with her striking blue eyes. All in all , clad in a gray business suit ending in a shirt a few inches beyond decent, Ada's target was a composed, put together figure.

“Ms. Ava Loring I presume?”

Ada nodded. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

“Miranda Fariv is my name and I make it my concern to follow the plight of the homeless and destitute around me. I'm putting together a campaign raising awareness for the plight of the homeless in our fair city and wanted to inquire if you would be willing to aid me in this endeavor.”

“I don't do charity,” Ada replied.

“You would, of course, be provided handsomely and be given shelter and all you can eat at my home.”

“No catch?”

“No catch,” Miranda replied.

“As long as it keeps me off the streets and with a full belly, I'll take it,” Ada said.

“Splendid, splendid, just follow me and we can begin.”


Ada was expecting to be knocked out or injected with a sedative, something to get her pliant and make her unable to resist whatever fattening plans Miranda had up her sleeve. Instead she was whisked away to Madeline's mansion, a three story, from the outside anyway, Baroque-style home with an enormous veranda around the rear of the house, overlooking a few miles of pine and conifer trees. Ada also knew there were plenty of security cameras all around the grounds, some visible, others not so much. She had much of the floor plan of the building, save the bits that Madeline used for her less than savory activities but Ada had no doubt she'd be seeing those up close and personal before this job was done.

Past the double doors, two rights and one left opened up to the dining room and it was loaded with food. There were several exotic dishes, all of which Ada could name, and some covered items, though judging by the buildup of salt and bits of grease the spy was able to spot, they weren't at all healthy.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty of my awareness campaign and any insights you could offer, please by all means have your fill.”


Miranda watched as her latest victim began the process of becoming her personal sow. It was always this moment, not the degradations, stuffings, and humiliation that followed that turned her on the most. This time, she had chosen a heftier woman than usual, impressed by Ava's gain. Of course she had been following the woman for over a month, stealthily taking care of her debts, erasing the chance of anyone from any organization calling about her or checking up on her well-being. Ava was alone, with no friends and deceased family save for a few distant cousins. No one would miss her and that was exactly what Miranda needed.

Lily, or had it been Josie, four or eight women ago had been a mistake; prey to a whim to fatten up a girl from a stick to glorious immobility. Plus she hadn't been as thorough as she usually was, her desires getting the better of her but in the end things worked out. No one asked after her, no one would ever connect the pair together.

Ava was making good progress, on her fourth plate or so, Miranda's eyes glinting as she watched the woman stuff herself.

No, not a woman, Miranda thought, just another sow, fit for fattening and discarding.

But her newest sow only managed a plate and a half more before shoving herself away from the table. Better than most but far from the best Miranda had chosen.

“You sure can eat, I'm impressed!”

The sow grunted in reply, a little groan escaping her lips as she rubbed her stomach. “What was that for?”

“Well we need to establish a baseline.”

“Baseline for-” but the drugs took effect, sending the sow off into unconsciousness and letting Miranda take a far more detailed look than her photos and videos had given her so far. Moving slowly, savoring the moment, Miranda reached out a hand and pushed as deeply as she could into her sow's turgid middle. The stomach was round now, owing to the food, but was developing into a multiple-rolled apron. She could just feel the packed stomach, shivering at the sensation, before removing her hand and pressing it against her sow's face. Here there were some nice starter cheeks, a bit soft and very round, but they could be, would be, so much more. Not much secondary chin development but Miranda could tell that her sow would not be a belly or face heavy woman. Her sow's breasts were big, starting to droop, but they weren't the magnum opus. No, her swine's crowning achievement was found in her rear, filling, but not eclipsing, the chair nicely. Madeline squeezed for all she was worth before pulling the swine's pants down and licking along the upper half of the right butt cheek, tasting the sweat and body odor.

A fine taste.

Miranda moved to the thighs, pleased they were touching already but only just. From here she moved to the extremities, the slightly softer hands, the surprisingly round toes, tubby feet, and sausage-lite fingers.

Yes, her newest sow was a fine foundation to start with but there was a lot of work ahead. Standing back to take in the full picture once more, Miranda nodded to her staff to begin, moving further back as they swarmed in on her swine.


Ada woke up.

She moved her right arm. Bound by a restraint. Same with her left and her legs. There wasn't much tightness, just enough to ensure that she couldn't move. There was something against her throat, almost plastic like. Her clothes were gone, body nude.

Ada screamed, thrashed about, started to curse and then plead after her noises went unanswered, sobbing by the time an hour had passed by her internal clock. Her stomach had rumbled a bit in the time since she regained consciousness but Ada ignored it, focusing instead on selling her fear.

It roared by the time she stopped her final bout of crying, the sound reminding her of some of Umbrella's larger bio-weapons. She was being bludgeoned by hunger, the growls growing louder, sweat starting to drip faster from her pores.

“Someone...anyone, please give me something to eat!”

A door opened beyond Ada's field of view, a pair of heels hitting the ground following. Miranda appeared at her right, a burger held in her left hand.

“Finally you say the magic words.”

“Miranda, what's going on?! Why am I chained up? Why am I-” The burger was shoved into her mouth, Ada chewing swiftly and licking what fell past her lips and into her captor's palm up with a slobbering tongue.

“Eat your food swine. You're going to get big, piggy, so very, very big and smelly, disgusting really. Then I'll dress you up very nicely, more than you deserve and then....well I can't spoil everything right now.”

“I'm still hungry,” Ada replied, adding a crack into her voice for good measure, fear ruling her tone.

“Of course you are. You're innards are adapting to a wonderful compound I've cooked up, one that will have you eating more than you thought possible, piling on more of that delicious fat. The chains are just for now, until you've adapted to being my sow. Then I'll let you have a bed and move around a bit. That will be a fun memory for you when you can't move anymore.”

“Why do this to me? I've never done anything to you.”

“But you did, piglet, you did. You thought you could just walk around spending what little you had on fattening up that belly of yours and no one would notice? No one would care? Well I care and when I'm done with you you'll be loving every new bit of yourself. Now open your mouth, little sow, and go to sleep!”

Miranda then punched her hard in the gut, Ada vomiting out the burger, bits of it landing on Miranda, the woman just smiling as she walked away, whirring coming from above the chained woman.

Looking up, she saw a tube lowering, her mouth opening as her throat was shocked by the device around her neck. The tube entered and a rich, creamy liquid entered, filling and tasty.

Ada swallowed as fast as she could, grateful that the flow wasn't overpowering. She was able to set a pace after a little while, mind whirling with the information she'd gleaned. There was nothing to do but what Miranda suggested, go to sleep, the flow continuing even as she lost consciousness once more, the device at her throat vibrating a bit, stimulating her to swallow.


One hundred and thirteen days on the tube.

Ada's internal clock was never wrong. She was brought down from the shackles every day and a half, walked around for an hour, and then back to the wall. She was given a mirror to observe the changes all this feeding was doing to her. Her belly was a full apron now, nearly covering the upper half of her privates, multiple rolls making her stomach up, sweat secreting from each under-hang regularly. Her face ballooned, and she now had a second chin underneath her first, joining the ring of flesh ringing around her face. Her breasts were sagging, almost looking like another roll of stomach fat. Her hips swelled, her rear larger and larger, great sacks of soft flesh, pooling all around when she was allowed to sit down. Her thighs were now permanent invaders of their own personal space. Her stamina was severely reduced, having to hunch over and wheeze for all she was worth after a good thirty steps. Her innards were constantly producing gas, often in the form of noxious farts that had Ada coughing and sputtering, her belches nearly as bad. Body odor hung around her like fate around Raccoon City once the news got out about the outbreak.

But she did have a room now, a bed, access to a toilet, though she often had to go with Miranda watching. She was allowed an hour of free time, to walk around the mansion, no room off limits, just the outside. All the blinds were drawn, no glimpse of the sky or breeze allowed.

She was still nude, given no showers, her smell increasing as the days passed and the pounds progressed. She wasn't idle but gave off the appearance she was. She walked, always the same route, always passing the staircase, always picking up her pace the closer she got to the turn leading to the kitchen, to food. Day in, day out, routine followed routine.

Miranda would come in the evening, her public mask removed and she had her way. She had Ada eat off the floor, off her body, stuffed while being whipped, spanked while gorging. Always insulting, always dehumanizing.

Ada did what she was told, she put up small resistances at times, to show she still had some fight, only for it to be stuffed away. She finally stopped resisting altogether, becoming placid, appearing to be ruled by her gut.

The operative knew this couldn't continue, knew the possibility existed for her to give in, if just for a moment. She knew that moment was failure, a little death before her real one. Her willpower was fraying, as she was expecting it to. She was only human after all.

Then she was given a phone book and told to pick out her tailor just over a year after her first day of tube feeding.

She smiled dozily, giggling and snorting as she snacked on a few cupcakes, staring blankly at the phone book before Miranda opened it towards a page.

“Pick sow or else no lunch today!”

Ada nodded slowly, pointing a fat finger towards an option.

Miranda nodded at her choice and called the establishment after asking one more question of Ada.

“What color does my sow want her dress to be?”

“Red,” Ada replied.


Ada had her dress, she had the location of the evidence, more like trophies, Miranda kept of all her victims. She even had her grapnel, the beloved item stuffed under her lowermost belly roll, Ada transferring it from the secret pocket in her modified dress along with the dampening fabric it had been wrapped in. The fabric also doubled as a scarf, one she wrapped around her neck as she reviewed her objective.

A dress she was allowed to wear as soon as it arrived two days ago, the dress and the panties that came with it stained with sweat, food crumbs, and in the case of the panties brown and yellowish smudges. The special occasion it had been made for was nearing, less than seventy two hours away in fact.

Now was the time to put all her preparation, all her waddling and memorizing, to use.

There was just one last opponent between Ada, the information, and her ex-filtration: the western staircase. The cameras were looping footage of an empty hallway, courtesy of the special bit of tech disguised as a faulty root canal in her lower right wisdom tooth. The motion and noise sensors for the entire building likewise feeding false information owing to the same device. She had time to make this climb, all she had to do was begin.

Steeling herself, Ada lifted one hefty foot in front of the other and began her ascent.


The fifth step has her sweat start to course it's way down her back, the twelfth bringing along the first rumbling that signals a mighty fart, Ada clenching for all she was worth, earning minute squeaks. Her control wasn't needed, aided as she was by her technology, but Ada was never one for relying entirely on machinery. A wayward burp managed to escape, but she soon had it transfigured into a little one thanks to her swift closing of her lips.

The twenty-eighth step brings quivering, the tubby bits of her that had been muscles spasiming for all they were worth. She ignores the pain and takes another step and then another, plodding on. The dress is completely soaked in Ada's stench and sweat by the forty third step and she's getting a bit light headed. Ignoring it, she strides onward, finally stopping at the top and giving a few gasps while she works the lock on the door after allowing ten minutes for some of the quivering and jostling of her figure to stop.

The lock is child's play for Ada, the walk across the floor to the bust of Pallas Athena harder.

But she manages, running a tubby finger on the underside of the sculpture's chin, revealing the display. She plugs in the flash drive after unhooking it from the butt of the grapnel, all the data uploaded, Ada triple-checking and sending a small prayer towards the victims and promising an end to this cycle of torture and violence. Once secured, she moves the evidence to her left hand, cupping it with tubby digits.

Waddling towards the veranda, Ada opens the doors and steps out into the night.

She readies her grapnel when the sound of sprinting footsteps comes to her ears, Ada turning her head and placing a sly smirk on her lips.

Fariv enters, a look of shock carved into her very soul if her face is any indication, thin hands stretched in supplication.


“Here's something to remember me by,” Ada replied, keeping her smirk in place as she cedes the tight control she'd been placing on her ass since the moment she'd opened her bedroom door that night.


Her entire lower half jiggled and jostled, the rolls that now made up her back joining in, the stained panties ripping and tearing. Ever the professional, Ada loosed her grapnel without looking, knowing she'd lined up the perfect shot, whisking away as she left Miranda Fariv to marinate in her flatulence but not before inhaling her foul stench as deeply as she could.

This would be the last time she'd get to enjoy the smell at this level of rankness, after all.


Miranda Fariv was arrested trying to leave the country, her social, civic, and professional life ruined as the details of her crimes came to light. She was sentenced to life, and after a few weeks, into solitary, left with only her memories for company.

Ada Wong's final weight in the course of her latest mission totaled four hundred and eighty seven pounds.

Her employer for the mission rested his eyes on this total, looking from it, after a few silent moments, to the now three hundred and twenty six pound Ada Wong. Her fat figure was framed stunningly in a white, custom made, Vera Wang sequin number, and, married that he was, the man couldn't help but admire her beauty.

“I see you're using the facilities provided to you. I am surprised, however, that you haven't opted for surgery.”

“Let's just say I'm getting in touch with the American side of my heritage,” Ada replied, smiling coolly. “I also want to insure that my work has met satisfaction.”

“The utmost, Ms. Wong.”

“Good and feel free to reference how much I gained to any of your associates who require my services once I'm back to my normal weight.”

“What on earth for?”

“Free publicity, so to speak,” Ada replied, getting to her feet and waddling out the double doors, leaving behind the scent plum perfume and the tiniest hint of body odor and flatulence.


Ada sighed as she lounged on her beach chair, smirking as she heard the metal groan just a bit under her hefty body. She was dressed in a muumuu, cartoon cows and pigs dotted over the fabric, a two liter soda in a cooler by her right, a sandwich in her left hand.

Just another fat American enjoying some vacation time, Ada thought, easing into a moderate fart that drew disgusted stares and more than a few giggles from the mishmash of adults, children, and families all around.

There was still a lot of training left and she would complete it, regain her figure, maybe even undergo some lipo if she wasn't satisfied with the results, but for now she could relax.

Even spies needed vacations, especially the very best.
Ada's Guarantee
A story based off of a friend's drawing. Capcom owns Ada Wong, Resident Evil, and all related characters. I own nothing.


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OfaMightDivine Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch c:
Johan25 Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2015
You're welcome. Hope to see some Lightning/Tifa pictures from you in the future.
OfaMightDivine Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I loved drawing Tifa :'3! So maybe there's a bit of hope if time gives me a hand c:
Johan25 Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2015
Sounds great!
TheDrifter91 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014   Writer
Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
TigerDude51087 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Happy Birthday!

:party: :cake:
Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thank you.
WilfordBrimley Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Happy birthday!
Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thank you.
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