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(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.

“OUR FOOD!”

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.

“Huff...hughnnn....Cam...Cammy?”

“Yeah...ooghph....hun....Chun?”

“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.
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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! Huff...urp...ummmm....so 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.

“Stop!”

“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.

PPPPPPPPPPPPUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAABBBBBBBBFFFFGHHHTTTTTFFFFFFFFFFFFGHHHHHHHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!

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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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)
Korra let loose a fatigued sigh as she finished her last kata of her evening training. Walking across the cool sand of the beach adjacent to the Sato mansion she was now living in. The owner of said mansion was waiting for her inside, a pleased smile on her face as Korra walked in, placing a swift kiss on her lips.

“Welcome home,” Asami said softly, her green eyes locked with Korra's. “It must have been a good session.”

“Yeah, it was fine but I'm actually-” a rumble suddenly cut off Korra's sentence, low and loud. “Well I guess my stomach can tell you better than I can. What's for dinner tonight?”

Asami smirked at the barely discernible blush on her lover's face and motioned towards the dining room. “I had some chefs prepare that rich stew you were such a fan of last weekend, along with plenty of specially seasoned bison meat and bread.”

“Going extravagant on me now?” Korra asked, moving towards the dining room.

“Well you said how much you enjoyed that meal last weekend and since I've seen where you grew up, I want to ensure that you have a happy, content life with me, however long that may be.”

Korra remembered their first time years ago, the then nineteen year olds holding each other underneath the cool sheets in Asami's bed.

“Stay with me,” Asami had asked, “For as long as you have left, stay with me.”

“I will.”

Peace had come early after Amon and Toralaq, Korra's abilities as a bender now barely needed. Tenzin, Lin, Mako, Bolin, and other allies and followers of the Avatar were now all busy aiding the world. Giving Korra and  Asami all the time Korra had left to be together. Asami still had Sato Industries, but more and more often she delegated from home as the pair moved about, finally settling in this mansion. By now in their mid twenties, both were done with saving the world.

Korra's blue eyes widened as she saw the spread Asami had provided for her, saliva pooling along her gums as she sat down, tearing a large chunk of bread in half and cramming said half in her mouth. Swallowing quickly, she dipped the other half in the first bowl of creamy stew she could reach, chewing with abandon.

“Mmmmmm...soooo gooood!”

Asami giggled at her lover's lack of manners, calmly sitting down to her own bowl of stew and bread, spearing a slice of bison meat for good measure. Taking a single, savoring, bite, Asami chewed slowly and basked in Korra's pleasure.

An hour later, both women were full, Korra venting a loud belch and chuckling at the volume of it while Asami just shrugged. “Better here than in bed.”

“That was one time!” Asami stared at her lover, Korra back-pedaling. “Okay, okay, well I'm an air bender and that's air. I'm just practicing my skills.”

“If you say so,” Asami replied, patting her own full middle. She wasn't looking forward to the extra hours of training she'd need to burn this off. But then she looked again at Korra, at the Avatar's giddy expression, the obvious pleasure as she rubbed her stuffed stomach. Opening her lips, Asami's mind started painting a rather exciting, decadent image. The kind that would have never existed before she met Korra. With the image fully formed in her head as she finally spoke, Asami couldn't hide her excitement. “Dessert then?”

Korra nodded.

///

Korra sighed. Then she grunted. But as much as she pulled or straightened, she couldn't get her belt to tie or her pants to button. Her middle was to blame, the toned abs she had a little over three months ago were now the property of her memory. Sitting back down on the bed, she winced as she felt her rear quiver just a bit with extra flesh and gnashed her teeth as she felt her thighs start to touch just a little.

Placing a hand on her right cheek, Korra huffed, before feeling her hand sink just that much more into the bits of chub now coating her face. There was no denying it, she was getting larger. She had always had a healthy appetite, often asking for seconds, but this was something else entirely.

Nothing had changed that she could recall. She still did her katas, still exercised when she could. The bedroom door opened then, Asami entering, a large covered tray in her hand. The early morning sun peeked in through the slightly open shades, the light reflecting off the silver of the tray and covering. Opening it, Korra's nostrils widened just a tad as a bevy of odors came to life. There was seasonings from Ba Sing Se, she was sure, a cherry sauce of some kind, and all of it dolloped on several large, chocolate-coated pastries.

“What are these?”

“Just some eclairs with a few extra bits added by the chefs.” Asami took one for herself and took a large bite, chewing carefully, and swallowing before handing the tray to Korra. “Better eat them before they get stale.”

Korra nodded, taking one bite and then another, watching as Asami's hand darted out to snag another eclair. As the two ate, Korra took stock of Asami's figure. Of course she had noticed the gradual change Asami's lithe frame had undergone, but she never really paid it much mind, loving her regardless of anything else. But now, framed by the sunlight, she clearly saw Asami's new shape.

The Sato Industries owner had a gut now, starting to droop into an apron of flesh. Her thighs were touching, her face round and with an extra ring of flesh around her chin, her breasts larger and starting to sag, all of her was far larger than Korra expected.

“Asami...you're-”

“Surpassing  my father in more ways than pure business acumen and morals, yes. Or just plain fat, if you would prefer.”
“Why do you sound so calm about this?”

“Because I am, dear, simple as that.” Asami finished her second eclair, gently moving the now empty tray aside and sitting to Korra's right, the bed creaking just a bit as she did so. “Look, I can tell that you're not so thrilled about this and for my part in your expansion I apologize.”

“You mean you wanted me to be like this?!”

“I just saw how happy you were eating, the joy you take from it, the pleasure evident from every bit of you after attaining a full stomach, that I thought you'd enjoy more of yourself.”

“Don't get me wrong the food's great and how much you're giving me is wonderful, but taking things this far? I mean don't you miss your training? Your martial arts skills?”

“Not particularly. Father pressed the training and the hand to hand exercises, which I've dutifully followed through with until you showed me just how enjoyable letting go could be. Do you think I'm hideous now, with so much of me quivering and jiggling about?”

Here Asami took Korra's hand and placed it on her stomach. Korra blushed and pressed into that soft surface, feeling just a bit of resistance from the pastries the industry captain had just consumed. “No, I'll always love you, no matter what, it's just your health I'm worried about.”

“Well don't, Korra, I have it well provided for. So will you be training again today?”

“Yes, care to join me?”

“I'll watch and work on my tan,” Asami replied.

///

Korra was wheezing after a second sprint down a quarter of the way along the shore, hunching over and taking deep gasps of air.

“Huff...hungh...aghaa!” Her lungs burned, her heart was pounding, sweat was pooling from every pore and she felt her body jostle this way and that as she turned around to stare at Asami, lounging on a beach chair, munching on some more eclairs.

Korra's stomach rumbled and she groaned. Putting one aching foot in front of the other, Korra made her way up to Asami, her shadow blocking her lover's sun.

“I'm not the biggest fan of training anymore,” Korra replied. “I'm going back to the house. Have you asked the chefs to cook lunch yet?”

Asami got to her feet as well, wrapping a tubby arm around Korra's wider waist and chuckled. “Of course, these eclairs were just an appetizer. I've got a feast planned just for us.”

Korra licked her lips, knowing that there would likely be no turning back from this decision, as she put one foot in front of the other, striding with purpose as Asami waddled beside her.

///

Korra opened her eyes from the hour or so power nap she'd managed to take, Asami's fat frame nestled beside her, the captain of industry wearing a pleased grin on her face.

“What's got you so happy?”

“This,” Asami replied, placing a hand on Korra's gut and shaking it. The vibrations rippling at the motion made Korra chuckle a bit before returning the favor, aiming a hard slap on Asami's right butt cheek. “Ouch,” Asami deadpanned, pouting a bit.

Korra reached out a tubby arm and grabbed some of their second lunch that remained on the cart, in this case half a hoagie sandwich crammed with meat, mayo, and various other sauces. Pressing it towards Asami's lips, Korra's blue eyes gleamed as she watched her lover open her mouth as wide as it could go. A large bite severed the sandwich, only a quarter remaining, as Asami's cheeks bulged while she chewed. Swallowing after half a minute, Asami breathed heavily as the mass of food traveled towards her stomach.

“Anything else on that cart?”

Korra looked that way again, spying the crock pot still thee fourths full of that thick, hearty stew she adored so much. Concentrating her power, fine trails of the stuff spiraled through the air, streamers of it all coalescence into one stream, heading towards Asami's mouth. Holding the liquid in place, Korra looked back towards the love of her life.

Asami nodded.

The broth was thick, hearty, and filled with spices and meats to promote high fat content. It was warm as it slid into her mouth, forced their by Korra's power, Asami swallowing with all due diligence. Gulp, gulp, gulp...on and on it went but at a slow pace.

So warm, Asami thought, so filling, I'm getting so-she cut off her observation as the last of the pot entered her. Had she so lost track of time? Bits of stew ringed her lips, joining the sweat and extra flesh found there.

“Huff...hngh...ugh...Korra that was...incredible.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. That gut of yours can sure hold a lot,” Korra replied, gently stroking Asami's engorged middle, the flesh there turning near scarlet owing to how turgid all that stew and food had made it. Korra moved from looking at that bloated middle to Asami's smaller thighs, round rear, and somewhat softer breasts. All of her was just getting bigger and bigger, what with Asami deciding to retire from active control of the company, running it through trusted subordinates and proxies who could do the legwork instead.

As for herself, Korra wasn't far behind Asami in size now. Oh she still kept up her bending training, but had forgone all exercise. Some muscle tone still existed on her body, but it was nigh indiscernible in the face of her gluttony.

Asami's hand on her chin drew her attention back to her, the woman bringing her face up to meet her eyes.

“Next time you're water bending a whole pot into yourself.”

“What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of being such a huge pig that you can hold an entire pot of stew in your stomach.”

“That won't cut it.”

Asami smirked then, placing a deep kiss on her lips before parting. “I'll just have to surprise you with something at a later date then. But only after you water-bend the stew, understood?”

Korra nodded, getting out of bed and waddling towards the cart, ringing the bell.

The cart was whisked away by the mansion staff, a fully stocked replacement before Korra before five minutes had passed.

“Care for some dessert, Asami?”

Asami's face paled and she shook her head. “Don't even joke about it!”

“But what fun is a porky princess if I can't tease her every now and then?” Korra replied, taking her finger and swiping up a dollop of frosting from an eye-catching chocolate cake, licking along the digit.

“Keep doing that and we'll need to change the sheets again,” the heiress muttered, drinking in the sight of so much Korra starting her fifth meal of the day, loins starting to secrete as her Avatar buried her face in the cake, grunting and snorting as she masticated away.

///

Korra did indeed water bend an entire pot into her body, leaving the skinnier woman bloated and gasping for breath all while Asami lightly tapped her fingers along her lover's engorged frame. From there they continued to feast every day, at whatever pace suited them. Lovemaking generally followed though sometimes the pair were content enough to hold one another, hands going to the flabby expanses that made up the majority of their figures nowadays. Asami preferred Korra's apron-like middle while Korra was enamored with her older lover's rear end, the constantly quivering mass of butt flesh now almost a quarter of one of the Sato Industries billboards.

Weeks passed, then months, the staff that served the mansion were given vacations as they needed them and one day, after measuring themselves in the nude, the pair sent everyone away. There was just Korra, now larger than Asami, and Asami, still by far the fattest woman other than the Avatar herself either could recall seeing. Korra smirked at the scale's readout, patting her middle and pinching Asami's rear.

“Don't look so sad, Asami, it's just forty pounds!”

“I'm not sad, dear, I'm just wondering how much larger we should be getting. We're close to needing custom made clothing, after all.”

“Well I'm fine with continuing,” Korra replied, moaning a bit as she pressed closer to Asami's backside, gripping the pudding that had been firm muscle months ago and kneading heartily.

“Then we'll be getting larger, since you love it so much.”

“What do you want?”

Asami turned around then, hips ghosting and smooshing along Korra's own before Asami's smaller, multi-rolled gut was pressing against the Avatar's. There was a fierce ambition in her eyes, nearly matched by the giddy grin upturning her lips. “I want to be much, much, bigger. That image your adorably full self gave me all that time ago makes the person you are now look positively waif-like. We've both got a lot of work to do, especially me.”

“Is it really work if we both love it so much?”

“Yes, now let's raid the pantry and fridge to see what our dear servants have left for us in the way of aiding our sedate lifestyle.”

There were bricks of frozen butter, wheels of cheese, bar after bar of dark and milk chocolate. Of course there were other, more tasty options such as the usual ice cream, burgers, and two foot long submarine sandwiches, but Asami took one look at the butter, cheese, and chocolate before her mind was made up. Securing  one of the many carts needed around the mansion nowadays, both women soon had the lot of Asami's choices rolling towards their bedroom.

Once inside, Asami lay herself on her bed, great gasps escaping her lips as she caught her breath from walking a taxing distance in her overweight body.

“Huff....hgnh...uff....ooooh....Korra?”

“Mghngh! Yeah?!” Korra asked, slumping to the carpeted floor of their bed as she finished pushing the cart through the doorway, the effort of actually exerting physical effort leaving her obese frame jiggling this way and that.

“Lift some cheese...and several blocks of butter....huff...over my face and melt them with your fire bending, please?”

“Of...huff...course!” Korra replied, steadying herself and getting to her feet, bending over, her gut blocking her feet from view as she vented several more wheezes before fully standing. Reaching out her arms, she grabbed as many cheese wheels and butter as she could, the stuff ice cold in her arms. Focusing her energy, fire danced along the flab of her arms, outlining her figure in an aura of deep orange and red. The flames didn't burn her skin, caused not even a cell's worth of damage to her vastness.

The same could not be said for the foodstuffs in her arms.

Drip...drip...Asami gaped at the flame-wreathed Korra standing over her, droplets of melted butter and gooey cheese landing on her lips. Opening her mouth, Asami gave a hearty noise of appeasement as the drops started to become a deluge. Korra focused more, the blocks now dwindling, the flame creating a flood of liquid butter and drooping cheese.

“Drop it,” Asami murmured, Korra doing so, the entire sloshy pile of melted calories descending on the  captain of industry. Asami opened her mouth as wide as she could, swallowing for all she was worth as the liquid bulged her cheeks, some dripping down her multiple chins as it continued to pour. “ORPH! ULP! ULLLLLP!” Asami roared out, spittle mixed with butter and cheese flying upwards like a geyser as she worked her way through the whole pile.

Korra could only watch with bated breath as Asami consumed the lot of it. Grabbing more, she sped up the process, dropping it even faster than before. Asami's face was red, her heart hammering, her body quaking as she swallowed and swallowed. Her gut swelled outwards as more and more cheese and butter cascaded past her lips.

“Add...huph...ulp...the chocolate now!” Asami belted out, a hand going to her glistening gut, nearly as much butter and cheese was coating her body as was digesting within her. She patted her stomach hard, wincing as the overfed orb churned but she steeled herself, focusing her mind and body to completing the task at hand.

Korra gaped as she realized there was no more butter and cheese. There had to have been at least eight pounds of the stuff on the cart before but now it was all in the woman she adored. Grabbing a mound of the bars, she focused the fire on her fingertips, the sugary bricks now globs of hot, liquid, heaven as it rained down on Asami, a slowly meandering river compared to the waterfall she had already consumed.

“Just take this nice and slow,” Korra cooed, Asami grunting as she licked around her lips.

“Gulk! OPH! MMMMMMM!”

Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp. Asami's eyes were now watery, having lost count of how many times Korra had come to and from the cart. There was just the liquid brown river flowing into her mouth, her swallowing, and her taste-buds soaring in ecstasy.

By the time the last bit had been swallowed, Asami tried to sit up; straining and struggling with all her might. Resigning herself, she looked up at Korra, her Avatar having dismissed the fire. Asami smiled, pained but mostly just sated. She looked towards her gut, the mass more turgid than anytime in her life before. It was churning, gurgling, making as much noise as she had in consuming the stuff. She couldn't even see over her taxed stomach to take in the total mess she'd made of their bed not to mention her own body. Every bit of her was now coated in either butter, cheese, or chocolate.

Korra's eyes darkened and she swiped a chubby digit along the inner part of Asami's thigh, the finger coated in a butter/cheese mixture. Slurping it off her finger, Korra giggled.

“It figures you're so fat you're bad for my waistline.”

“Well get to cleaning me up then, dear. We want bad things to happen to your waist. And your hips, and your butt, and your belly, and especially that face of yours.”

Korra nodded, soon going to down on the stuffed Asami's stomach and the tasty layer of melted indulgence that lay there. Asami giggled at the ticklish probings of Korra's tongue and lips, lightly spanking her on the rear at a piggish snort.
“Manners, Korra.”

Korra just responded with a louder snort as she made Asami squeal once she got just under her multiple chins.

///

The private beach just outside the mansion, two days after Asami had reclaimed her position as the fattest of the two, this time a good sixty pounds heavier than Korra. The summer heat is blistering, the sweat oozing out of the two as they trudge along. Asami's wincing as the stench of her own body wafts to the forefront of her nostrils, a deep inhalation driving her stink into the depths of her lungs. Coughing, plopping down with a heavy thud in the sand, Asami waves her hand at Korra.

“No...don't huggghhh-ah...don't help me up. Let's have our picnic here, right here....ack-hagh!”

Korra nodded, stretching a bit and paying no mind to her own funk and Asami's mingling together. Her lover kept on coughing and wheezing, now on her back and staring up at the sky.

Suddenly, the earth lowers beneath her and Asami's in a bit six feet deep. Korra's chubby toes wiggle back and forth at the northern edge of this makeshift pit. Asami can only stare and enjoy the shade provided by the hole she's in, Korra lowering herself down with a set of soil-made steps.

“Where's the food?” Asami finally asked, rubbing her stomach. Her belly was gaining on Korra's, now made up of multiple aprons of flesh, all wriggling together and trapping an increasingly large amount of her BO. Her hips were dotted with cellulite, thighs stuck together like soul-mates, and her rear end. She was close to needing three chairs to comfortably sit at the dining room table. Still there was food to be had and her stomach rumbled for sustenance.

“It's coming in a little bit but there's not going to be any variety, I'm afraid.”

“What do you mean?”

There are more figures looking down at them now, giant bowls carried by two pairs of hands ringing around the pit. The most sturdy of the servants, muscles bulging as they lifted all the bowls at the same time following Korra's nod.

The liquid that flowed out had a pinkish hue, darker chunks of red spread throughout the bands of pink as they coated the floor. More soon followed until it was up to either woman's shoulders, the stuff sticky, and as Asami slurped a bit off her fingers, sweet.

“Strawberry ice cream!” Asami blurted out, Korra nodding and diving under the surface, scarfing down gulp after gulp. Asami, for her part, was content for the moment cupping as much as she could between her palms and burying her face in the stuff.

Asami was full by her ninth palm-full.

She was sated by her twenty fifth, Korra rising the pit up until the pair are level with the beach again. A stain of melted ice cream on the beach, the two stuffed women taking in the sea breeze and the heat.

“That was the best picnic I've ever had,” Asami murmured a few minutes later, “But we both need showers now.”

“I'm bending some water over here soon. Just stay and save yourself the walk,” Korra replied.

“Okay...”

Asami reached out her hand and squeezed Korra's own gently, looking into her eyes as the Avatar washed the sticky remains of their picnic from their ever expanding frames.

///

Korra rolled over onto her stomach in bed, taking in the cool white sheets recently changed during her third lunch of the day.

Or at least she tried to roll over. There was something restricting her movements and when she became fully cosignant after her nap, she realized just what it was: a pair of metal arms, one on either side of her.

“Ah, glad to see you're up darling.”

“Asami, what is this?”

“This, Korra babe, is your reward for eating that pot of stew all those months ago.”

“How is this a reward?”

A whirring sound came to her ears then and a third metal arm appeared right before her face. A large slice of chocolate cake was held by the arm, the rainbow of lights just above the front of the thing making beeping noises.

“This machine was built with the goal of helping the elderly getting to and from bed and aiding them during mealtimes. It has sensors that can accurately tell when the subject is well and truly full. Of course this is just a prototype but the work was so promising that I snagged one for our own personal use. I modified it a bit and now it won't stop until you're stuffed to your utmost limit. I have all your favorites here, just waiting to be fed to you. All you have to do is nod your head and we can begin.”

Korra felt desire expand low in her stomach, licking her lips as she realized just how good she was going to have it in a few moments. The past few months had seen her capacity increase a staggering amount, matching and sometimes eclipsing Asami's own gluttonous gains. While Asami certainly enjoyed eating until sated, Korra had started really getting into it these past few weeks and was finding that Asami's stamina for feeding her with her own hands was faltering the more and more fat was added to the sagging bunches of flab drooping around her lover's limbs.

Nodding, Korra barely moved her lips before the cake was inserted.

The arm didn't just shove it in though. It crammed the slice just so that she could take her largest bite, chew, and swallow before it placed the rest in.

Meatballs, bison stew, eclairs, sandwiches, mint ice cream, and more came and went, the arm never tiring, never stopping to wheeze or catch it's breath, or fan around the nose owing to the buildup of odor from Korra.

Asami marveled as Korra ate and ate, stomach turning red, then her face, then her entire body as the last bite of a hot dog loaded with onions was slid into Korra's mouth. The restraints holding her in place were cutting into her sides, squishing them inwards a bit and causing her gut to surge upwards. Removing them with a press of her remote, Asami watched as Korra let loose a heady sigh, a large belch following shortly thereafter.

Asami's nose wrinkled but she still approached her stuffed to the gills soul-mate, smiling warmly.

“I take that gas coming out was a sign of contentment?” Korra nodded, trying to speak but just belching once more. “Charming as always, love.”

///

All their fans were broken as summer rolled around once more, a year since their beach picnic. Sweat often coated Asami these days, struggling to just get around exercise enough for her. Still, with the fans operational her sweat was something she could tolerate. With all that wonderfully cool air gone she was left with the slick feeling of her own perspiration coating every jiggly inch of her.

Her stench was also becoming worse and worse, the shower harder and harder to get into.

Korra paid any stench no mind, either from herself or Asami. The head of Sato more than once having her lover take deep sucks from her belly button to fish out a few crumbs of cake or an onion ring bit that had fallen down there during their bedtime sessions, the Avatar always smiling, always pleased as punch.

“Korra, it's too hot,” Asami whined, not caring that she sounded like a five year old throwing a temper tantrum, “Cool us off, please?”

A gust of air traveled over Asami's nude figure then, the air not cold yet but soon enough more gusts followed, each one cooler and cooler until Asami was comfortable once more.

“Thank you darling, I love you,” Asami cooed.

“Love you too, Asami, but it's time to acclimate yourself to yourself.”

“What are you talking a-” but then the cool gusts were replaced by sun-downers, the wind combined with the scorching day causing more sweat to accumulate, her pits gushing stench. All of that foul air was being collected into Korra's mouth, her cheeks expanding to a nearly inhuman size as she filled herself with it.

Asami blinked dazedly as Korra pounced on her, bringing her lips in for a deep kiss and unleashing all that air into Asami. The air filled her, not at all like the food she'd gorged on day after day, month after month in their home. She felt like all of her sweltering funk was coating every last bit of her, even as Korra broke the kiss, gently patting the inflated roundness that was her stomach, all rolls rounded out of her under the air's onslaught.
“Oooohff!” Asami moaned out.

“That's it, Asami, just hold it in.” Korra raised a few fingers, the air coiling around and around inside the stretched out flesh that was Asami. More and more it roiled before Korra finally directed it towards the highest point of exit from her love's body.

Green eyes widened as Asami eructated her stench.

“UUUUUURRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHUUUGGHHHH!”

Korra swore she felt the room shake and waited for Asami to wipe the dazed expression from her face, bracing herself for yelling or even worse eating all the dessert that was left on the cart.

The businesswoman got on her feet then, feeling her rolls and the heavy, dragging weight of her entire stomach. Her hands moved to her rear, feeling the titanic expanse as she kneaded herself, a tiny squeak flitting into existence before snuffing itself out.

Asami's cheeks were red but her eyes held nothing but pride as she waddled towards Korra, moving her hands from her rear to either side of her lover's face.

“I reek and honestly...I shouldn't be worrying about it,” Asami said softly, kissing Korra lightly on the lips. “Berp!”

Korra drew back a bit, swallowing the tiny belch and smirking as she looked at Asami, hunting for a trace of shame.

She found none.

///

The servants were given paid leave and stellar references courtesy of Sato Industries. The beach was sectioned off, a high wall built around the mansion. Seclusion reigned supreme and silence was the majordomo.

Until it wasn't, Korra nuzzling closer into Asami's middle causing the green-eyed woman to vent a hellacious belch, waking Korra up.

“Wuzzit...Asami?” Korra grunted out, sitting up as best she could, feet meeting the trash-coated floor, a graveyard of plates, crumbs, delivery wrappers, and fine silverware all around. Yawning, raising both arms above her head, Korra soon dropped them, a sniffling noise coming near her left armpit.

Asami was there, taking great snorts of the odor found there. Bits of food and sauces coated both women as they embraced, Asami moving from Korra's armpit to her lips as the two kissed.

“Mmmmm...delightful,” Asami sighed out. “Good morning, Korra.”

“Morning,” Korra replied, reaching out a hand towards the fridge door. The room now part bedroom, part kitchen. Delivery men kept the many fridges all around the room stocked. Korra soon drew her arm back, hand filled with one of the fruits of these tireless men and women's labors: a donut coated with a light cinnamon glaze. Taking half of it in her mouth at once, Korra munched away, crumbs and spittle flying as she messily ate, taking in Asami's body.

What was the scale's limit again? But Korra soon shook her head. Numbers weren't important. There was just the current meal, the next digesting period, and the sex in-between. Asami was rooting around the edge of the bed, a cry escaping her lips as she lowered her head just a bit, the front of her vanishing from Korra's view as Asami's rear dominated everything before the Avatar.

Cellulite seemed to twinkle here and there along that vast crevice, Korra squealing as she spied a bit of  dried ice cream along the outer edge of Asami's butt cheek, driving her face forward. She nibbled a bit on that piece of dried sweet treat, Asami's laughter coming to her lips before another noise entirely came forth.

PPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFRRRRRATH!

The flatulence burst out of Asami, sending Korra's hair flying back a bit, the Avatar getting closer, inhaling the stuff like it was her favorite perfume. Suddenly, Korra was squashed under the weight of Asami, her lover's heavy breathing coming to her ears, muffled.

“Huuffff....hah....got another one brewing for you, love...URRAPP! Oh, it's a good...ulp...one!”

It was, Korra decided, as Asami finally rolled off her a few minutes later. Asami was drooling a bit, reaching out a pale arm to swipe up a few crumbs from Korra's gut.

“You're so close to the image,” Asami whispered.

Korra just blinked her blue eyes, looking confused before remembering. Panting heavily, hair sticking wetly to her scalp and shoulders, to say nothing of the perspiration, Korra would have taken up two of their old beds before this recent renovation. Asami was no slouch either, the second fattest woman in the world the reputable publications called her, but she was still no match for Korra.

“So beautiful, so big, so...encompassing, oh Korra!” Asami was hugging her then, licking up bits of sweat and still more crumbs, tasting Korra and their favorite foods all at once, inhaling Korra's foulness, flesh against flesh, hearing the labored beats of Korra's heart, the ragged breaths as she panted and wheezed. All of her was filled with Korra yet she still wanted more. “How do you see me?”

Korra closed her eyes, opening them after a few seconds to reveal an eldritch glow emanating from deep within them. She saw Asami, pierced the wobbling bits of her flesh to the spirit gobbling up more and more of it's own stench, it's own flab, it's own favorite meals. What lay behind Asami filled Korra's spirit bending vision. Korra could see gas waft out from between Asami's butt once more, but so much more than that. The spirit produced it and inhaled it at the same time, an oroborous of slovenly desire. Korra felt malnourished next to the sight of so much Asami.

“Korra?”

Asami's voice caused her to stop her spirit bending, seeing Asami only in flesh once again. “You're so much more than I am,” Korra cooed, “Allow me to expand that part of you that only I can see.”

Asami nodded, allowing herself to be pushed onto her back, Korra's rear covering the entire upper half of her body, her nose right in Korra's smelliest canyon.

Sound was muffled, her heart pounding again and again, but she heard Korra's voice clearly.

“You have so much more growing to do.”

The walls of Korra's rear started to tremble and soon enough Asami was filled once more with her lover's air, Asami feeling it being directed throughout her body.

“You mean we have so much more growing to do,” Asami got out, tasting the flatulence on her tongue as light returned, Korra scooting off of her.

Asami beamed as she looked up to the image her mind had supplied over two years ago, her contentment now more filling that any meal she had enjoyed.

Until her stomach reminded her of all the expanding that lay ahead, however long that would be.
Korra and Asami's Expansive Life
Story written for a friend. Legend of Korra and all characters belong to Nickelodeon.
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:iconthedrifter91:
TheDrifter91 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014   Writer
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!:D
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Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thanks!
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TigerDude51087 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Happy Birthday!

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Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thank you.
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WilfordBrimley Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Happy birthday!
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Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thank you.
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Borin23 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday!
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Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
Thanks!
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Borin23 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hope it went well
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Johan25 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014
It's going great.
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