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(Contains: nudity, sexual themes and ideologically sensitive material)
Slob Drabbles

I. Tifa and Lightning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like now, for instance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not hungry, just gonna nap.”

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

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

II. Lara and Sam

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a pig you've turned me into!”

“You agreed, remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

III. Cammy and Chun Li

Dinner was a simple affair.

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

“It's all wonderful Cammy!”

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

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



“We're...oooofff....going on a diet!”

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

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

Not that she ever did.

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

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

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

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

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

“What's she really like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No time-table?”

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

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

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

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

“Name them.”

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

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

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

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

“Goodbye high society.”


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

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

“Goodbye Ada Wong, hello Ava Loring.”

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

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

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


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

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

“Rent,” the man muttered.

Ava nodded, handing him several crumpled hundreds.

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

“It's all I've got,” Ava replied.

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

Ava nodded, shame written clearly on her face.

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


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

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

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

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

“Ms. Ava Loring I presume?”

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

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

“I don't do charity,” Ada replied.

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

“No catch?”

“No catch,” Miranda replied.

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

“You sure can eat, I'm impressed!”

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

“Well we need to establish a baseline.”

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

A fine taste.

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

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


Ada woke up.

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally you say the magic words.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


One hundred and thirteen days on the tube.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pick sow or else no lunch today!”

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

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

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

“Red,” Ada replied.


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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


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

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

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

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

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

“The utmost, Ms. Wong.”

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

“What on earth for?”

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


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

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

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

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


“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.


“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.


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.


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.


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.


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.

“ another one brewing for you, love...URRAPP! Oh, it's a!”

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.


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.
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)
Celeste Frost lightly chuckled as she watched the most loathsome student in the school fail to take over a single target in under a minute. Surely this couldn't be the esteemed, legendary, Jean Grey? She knew about late-blooming but this young woman was a year older than her own 17 years of age!

“Alright, that's enough class.” Emma Frost offered the assembled young women a pleased smile. “Jean, good work but you need a bit more practice with your powers.”

“Understood, Ms. Frost and thank you,” Jean replied, all manners.

It made Celeste sick just looking at the brown-nosing redhead. She felt prickles of concern at the edges of her brain from her sisters, Irma and Phoebe.

Sister, stop being so concerned with Grey. Sister, calm yourself. Mother will be angry if she finds out how much you despise her. If Mother can look past her feelings about Grey, surely you can as well.

On and on little nudges like this filled her, Celeste ignoring them until lunch time an hour later, finally verbally responding to her dear siblings.

“That little slip of a psychic vexes me. How long have we been in the shadow of the great Jean Grey, the poor, sad, Jean Grey, the woman can't even decide if she should stay dead or not!”

“Why does she bother you so much? She's friendly enough, with some talent in projection and telekinesis, if not the best telepath.”

“It's every little thing about her that aggravates the mind,” Celeste replied, blue eyes narrowing at the woman sitting at a table with the new student Tempus and Katherine Pryde. The redhead was eating a simple salad and drinking some fruit juice concoction.

Jean noticed her staring and offered a slight narrowing of the eyes but eventually ended up smiling at Celeste before resuming her conversation with her new friend.

The legend needs to be shoved off her pedestal. Aid me in this, dear sisters, and I shall give both of you unlimited shower access in the morning, a copy each of that first edition of Candide for Christmas, and your choice of clothing stores on our shopping sojourns with mother for a month. Celeste felt the hesitation from her siblings, the self-doubt, but smiled warmly as she heard confirming replies.

She placed either of her hands in her sisters grips, squeezing gently.

Thank you sisters and now let us focus on Jean Grey over there, let's dive deep into her mind and flood her with a desire for heartier meals. More meals, a lax, if totally nonexistent attitude towards exercise. Let's put some meat on that stick of a young woman.

Phoebe and Irma responded in the positive, all their power focused on Jean Grey's mind. It was subtle, more scalpel than hammer, tweaking brain cells, altering memory, playing on all the pent up teenage angst Jean had not yet gotten past regarding her figure, her loneliness from missing her time-line’s Scott Summers. All this and more they did, adding a slight positivity to the growth she would experience in the very near future. Not enough to make her accept it, as Celeste's dominant anger at the young woman didn't want acceptance from the start of this little prank. Just enough to make her sedate in her ways once she started and to make her want to eat a bit more as she would start to feel underweight for her age.

From there, the Cuckoo's moved to the other minds across campus, just slightly pushing a fat and growing Jean Grey as something normal and nothing to raise any concerns about.

Jean Grey was still a growing young woman after all, they pulsed, it was natural for her to be fat.

A slight bit of perspiration coated Celeste and her siblings as they finished, watching as Jean got up from the table, going back for more and coming out with two to three plates loaded with hot dogs, hamburgers, and other empty-calorie junk food.

They heard Kitty's approval at Jean's healthy appetite, as she was a bit worried about Jean usually eating nothing but healthy greens. They smiled as Jean replied that she was feeling a bit tired of watching her intake.

Irma and Phoebe soon turned to their own meals, intrigued but a tad worried about Celeste's plan and the wide, giddy, smirk on their sister's lips.


Jean sighed lightly as she struggled to pull up her largest pair of jeans past her middle. A middle that had been toned just over a month ago. A middle that represented her current adoration of food in all it's forms. It wasn't a lot and certainly nothing to be really upset over, Jean thought as she observed her reflection.

Her cheeks were a little puffy, her breasts softer, somewhat larger, her shoulders and arms a bit thicker. Her stomach rounder, her abs looking more like stuffed croissants than pure muscle. Her annoyance vanished as she got her button through the hole, ignoring the slight twinge of pain as it pressed into her stomach.

She was ready for a day of shopping with Kitty and the Stepford Cuckoos. She was thrilled to be going with her mentor. Not so much about going with the others. Oh sure Phoebe and Irma were nice enough, generally leaving Jean alone, but Celeste was constantly looking at her, shooting little barbs her way, gloating about her superior abilities. She didn't outright hate Celeste. Well, she sometimes found herself wishing she'd taken Bobby up on his offer to freeze her undies to her backside, but that was a harmless fantasy. Kitty said she should stick up for herself more but Jean didn't want to cause any trouble. She just needed to focus on her studies, on the friends she had, and how she was still growing both as a mutant and her general size.

A knock soon drew her attention away from her reflection.

“Hey Jean, ready to go?”

Jean spared a glance towards her larger figure and nodded. “Sure thing!”


The food court, Jean figured, was one of the greatest inventions she'd come across in the future. No, not the future, Jean reprimanded herself, this is the now. Still, she wished they had had this back in the '60's. Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath of all that yummy food, the hamburgers, the ice cream, the nachos and melted cheese, the Chinese food that was more American than Chinese, glutted with unhealthy oils and fatty meats.

“Careful Grey or you might grow a snout,” Celeste said, her lips curling into a smirk.

“All the better to tell you that you put on too much perfume today,” Jean replied, winking a bit for extra measure.

“Girls, that's enough,” Kitty said, looking first at Jean and then at Celeste. Kitty got out some money and handed it to Jean. “Try the Baconator, it's delicious.” Jean nodded and walked towards the waiting fast food worker.

Kitty's dark brown eyes glared at the young woman before her. “You need to stop picking on Jean. She has been nothing but kind to you and you've repaid it by being a bully. I know it's hard for you, owing to Emma's feelings about the old Jean, but Emma's gotten over that so you need to get over it too. If you don't stop I'll be forced to tell Scott and Emma about your treatment of her and you know that won't end well. So let whatever petty issues you have with her go, understood?”

“Understood, Ms. Pryde.”

Kitty nodded at that and soon left to join Jean at the table, the softer, larger, redhead munching on a large handful of fries.

Celeste was soon flanked by Irma and Phoebe, the trio getting a seat three tables to the right of Kitty and Jean, sipping on some smoothies.

Jean needs to retain her mentor, correct?

I do find Pryde quite annoying in classes and she did fail me last semester.

What are you planning Celeste?

Follow my lead and find out Irma.

Celeste dived into Kitty's mind, setting up what she'd done with Jean, only increasing her passivity and need to eat on the unhealthiest foods, driving up her feelings of pleasure with her gain. The bigger she'd get, the happier she'd be. She focused on her love for Jean, her desire to help her through her abilities, ensuring that she'd push Jean towards embracing her love of food and her size. Her sisters reinforced what Celeste did, making what she'd done permanent by focusing on Kitty's sweet tooth and her desire to lead a danger-free life.

Finishing and retreating to their own minds, the Cuckoos held hands and smiled at one another.

Suddenly, a loud gurgling rang out, Kitty's hand going to her stomach. She licked her lips as she spied the greasy, delicious-smelling burgers and fries Jean was eating. Why had she decided on a smoothie and a wheat sub again? Getting to her feet, Kitty readied her wallet and walked as fast as she could towards the burger joint.


Emma Frost frowned as she took in her middle. Her abs were gone but that wasn't what worried her. Her stomach was far rounder than she could remember it being, but that wasn't what bothered her. In fact all of her was softer, just a bit, of course. Nothing to fret about. She observed her clothes and finally realized just why she was feeling upset.

“Damn high-class boutique, my foot!” the telepath muttered, turning to leave her room and towards the school's garage. She'd show those lummoxes how to correctly measure her size. After doing that, Emma decided, she'd treat herself to some ice cream. She deserved it, after all, helping Jean and the other students learn to control their powers.

Wait was that right? Emma pondered to herself as she sat down in the driver's seat, pushing it back a bit. She often rewarded herself with little baubles or a manicure, but ice cream? She replayed the decision in her head before rolling her eyes.

Of course it was weird, she needed to get much more than just a single cone.

Pulling out towards the gate leading to the city, Emma licked her lips as she thought of her reward and putting those miscreant clothing store employees in their place!


A few days later, again at the cafeteria, Celeste  observed what she had sowed. Her dear mother-figure was currently plowing through the unhealthiest glob of junk food the Cuckoo had seen, while Jean Grey was placidly munching on her second helping of fries. Kitty Pryde was looking at her empty tray and the crumbs that had once contained her healthy salad and apple slices, her gaze soon going towards Jean's mountain of fries, consternation discernible to anyone with a pair of eyes. After a few more moments, Kitty grabbed a few, thanking Jean as she plopped a bit into her mouth.

Everything was going swimmingly and Celeste noticed that Tempus was even sporting a sizable lunch from her usual fare, the Aussie sitting next to Jean and chatting away, idly munching now and then. Celeste thought about targeting her but changed her mind as she noticed Tempus get up for seconds, following after Jean, leaving Kitty looking anxiously at their empty trays and her own once more.

Her talents were not needed in this situation.

But they would be needed and sooner than Celeste thought, later that day.


Magick cursed in a combination of Russian and some demonic tongues her latest familiar was teaching her. Those damned Cuckoos were staring into space again, probably communicating in their hive-mind about how best to gain the perfect tan or something. Such mundane, stupid things the mortals around her thought about. Of course not all of them could be a ruler of their own pocket dimension like Magick but she didn't care.

They were annoying her so she raised her voice, roughly pushing past them, the cursing booming from her lips before slamming the doorway to her room hard.

That'll show those creepy sisters not to get in her way!


Celeste, Phoebe, and Irma were all agreed as they parted neurons and gray matter to reach the heart of Magick's mind. There was a darkness nearly all-consuming there, filled with thoughts of conquest and slaughter, fought off by a more nobler side, the best part of Illyana Rasputin that often focused this demonic part to aiding in battle with the X Men. The sisters dove past even these controlling influences, towards the primordial core of Magick's brain, that happy medium between imagination, logic, and reality.

There they brought the simple pleasure from eating to the forefront.

Images of junk food replaced desires to rule, thoughts of stuffing and gaining, becoming an Empress not of souls or power but gluttony instead. The noblest part of Illyana was now devoted not just to helping the X Men and her fellow mutants, but to show that size was no obstacle to a mutant's ability to use their powers. She would become the largest icon for this new movement. On and on this inception spiraled, dwarfing Magick's mind.

Breaking their hold on Magick, the sisters glanced at one another.

“I'm not sure that fattening another woman up was the right play here, Celeste,” Irma said.

“Yeah, it's just getting boring now. Why can't we just fill Magick's book-bag with dog shit? That was fun when we did it to Jean three months ago,” Phoebe put in.

“Well this will be it since you two are being such whiners,” Celeste replied, moving away from her siblings with her head held high, neither Phoebe or Irma following.

“Still, it'll be neat seeing that bitch Magick fatten up,” Irma said after a few silent moments.

“Whatever, I'm just going to go read.”


Magick grunted heavily as she moved a bit in her opulent throne, a snort escaping her fat face as she leaned closer towards the mounds and mounds of junk food several demons were pressing towards her. A swift chomp had half the mound falling all around her, coating her jiggly frame with crumbs, sauce, and various meats, to say nothing of the sticky ice cream and pastries. Magick didn't care, slurping the bits off her that she could reach.

Finishing her meal, she vented a mighty belch, one that echoed all throughout her demonic plane. She was immense, the largest being here and nearly immobile. Her body was soon to be her prison but she didn't care. She could always make her minions move her. Eldritch energy gathered as she summoned up more food, directly above her face, the stuff dropping and colliding with her fat figure.
Nose twitching as it was assailed by all those lovely smells, Magick went to work scarfing and masticating, swallowing, gulping, more snorting. A mighty pig she was and she grinned at the thought about how much more of her there was going to be.

A lesser ruler would have considered magically fattening themselves up, as if sheer size and rapidity was the best course. Not for her, better to be focused on how much one could eat than purely getting big. Besides, if she used her magic to fatten herself up, she'd deny herself all this lovely pleasure.

The foes Summer's X-men fought, or at least a few of the disposable henchmen and henchwomen, usually found themselves here, their bodies warped and twisted, several of them cowering before her now, little imps, stout hog and sow demons, and a menagerie more slurping up the crumbs that fell off her body. What remained of their human selves wished for jail or an eternity of solitary in the Vault or the Negative Zone, anything but this torture. But then their demon sides would overpower them, returning to sucking up what they could, expanding themselves, but always mindful to make sure not to overshadow their grand empress.

Glutted, and a good four hundred pounds heavier than when she'd started eating this eon in her realm, Magick returned to the normal world.

Sighing heavily as she woke up in her room, Magick got out of bed and padded towards her mirror.

There was none of her glorious frame reflected back at her, though the food here was still filling. She had gained a bit, maybe eighty pounds. The majority of her figure in this dull realm was focused primarily on her rear and thighs. There was none of her blob-like beauty to be found now, just a fat rear and touching thighs, along with a bit of softness around her stomach and face.

Still, at least she looked larger than yesterday, her realm-gorging having added eight pounds in the mortal realm according to her scale.

A fine feat for a day's work, but she preferred the eternity she had in her realm, and her size. Still, she couldn't just leave the X-Men. Her family, dysfunctional as it was, needed her. Besides, her darker half rationalized, she could gain more servants for her realm the longer she stayed tethered here.

Smirking at this thought, Magick left her room after finishing her morning routine and applying what makeup she enjoyed using, thighs jiggling together and rear wiggling with all it's extra adipose.


Tempus observed the large figure that was Jean Grey, the young adult clearly pushing the mid-300's. All of Jean was soft, from her plump face to her chubby ankles, but it was her breasts and her stomach that was taking up the majority of the real estate on her body. Even just walking towards the table as she was, Tempus could tell that Jean was struggling to keep herself from hunching over at the sheer weight of her breasts and middle. But she didn't look concerned, or alarmed, instead she had the happiest expression on her face Tempus could recall seeing.

Jean's tray was loaded with food, but that wasn't any surprise to Tempus. She had a big appetite, an appetite, if Tempus was being honest with herself, that was finding its way to her. Did she really need three burgers and two orders of chicken strips? Not to mention the third cola she was working on.

But Tempus dismissed this slight worry. She was enjoying eating and if she was verging on chubby to fat right now, it wasn't effecting her powers.

“Got enough food there?”

Jean nodded, sitting down and digging in, before motioning to Tempus's tray. “Glad to see you've got a heartier diet now.”

“Of course, can't let you Yanks outdo an Aussie when it comes to putting away grub.”

“Clearly not,” Jean replied, smiling warmly as she used a bit of her telekinesis to poke Tempus's beer belly.

“Oi, cut that out!”

A moment later, or at least what appeared to be that length of time for Jean, found the entirety of her plate cleared and her stomach painfully full. Tempus raised her index finger and waved it back and forth.

“Now are you sorry for poking my stomach, Ms. Grey?”

Jean nodded, though pressed onward with a light slap on Tempus's rear, smirking all the while. Raising some chicken strips and what remained of the Aussie's burger, Jean locked eyes with her friend. “Fair's fair, right?”

“I suppose so, besides it's all good fun.”

The food then flew towards Tempus, the Aussie eating as fast as she could. Once it was all in her stomach, Tempus let loose a belch and hunched forward a bit. “Good one, Jean.”

“Likewise, though if we keep at this we'll be needing another trip to the mall.”

“Yeah, you're right. Let's just digest and nap a bit.”

“Sounds fun,” Jean replied, her creeping doubt about how big she was getting diminishing in the face of her friend's optimism about her own size and the friendly stuffing they had just engaged in.


Emma grinned as she felt Scott trail a hand along her rear end, goosebumps springing to life at his touch. She felt him dig into the softness her rear was before pinching with his other hand along her gut. A moan escaped her as he pressed his fingers into that soft expanse before he lightly spanked her butt with his other hand, her right cheek wobbling and jiggling to and fro.

“Oh Scott,” Emma groaned out, nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of cake in the air.

“Still hungry?”

Emma could only nod as he started to kiss along the right side of her neck, pressing into her so that she fell heavily onto their reinforced bed. Her fat figure quaked this way and that as she jostled about before stopping all motion save for her rapid breathing. Scott soon had a massive slice of cake in both hands, lowering it towards her mouth.

Emma nodded once more even as she opened her mouth to it's greatest extent, taking as much as she could in a single bite.

She was a total cow, a pig that liked to read Dostoyevsky and ponder the meaning of Pollock's masterpieces, and close to three hundred and fifty pounds. But she continued eating this cake and the slice after that, until only crumbs remained on the cart Scott had brought in.

Thirty minutes later she was sated in another way entirely, stomach a rosy red and taut, wheezes, pants, and sweat eking out of her nude form.

“URRAPP, oh Scott, I love you so.”

“I love you too Emma, every bit.”


Kitty Pryde hadn't seen her neck in eight months. Or at least that's how long she estimated it to be. Jean was still growing, both in power and size, and that was a lovely thing to see. But her own growth, her gut that was starting to sag like an apron stuffed with cheese, the flab on her arms and face, it was all becoming a bit much for Kitty.

She had tried to work out, when she had first spied the upsetting adipose, heck she'd even managed to make it a mile into a good run. But her hunger soon devoured any will to get in shape. She was becoming more and more ruled by her stomach as the days turned into weeks, then months. Now, waddling along the cool kitchen tile, Kitty felt a prisoner in her own body. Oh sure she could feel and make the decision to put one foot in front of the other, she could choose to turn around, go back to bed, and not indulge. But the moment she thought of all that delicious food that was waiting for her, waiting for chewing and swallowing and tasting, well that was when her globe of a gut took over. Opening the fridge, she licked her lips, grabbing as much as she could, phasing through a few containers in her excitement, drawing back spaghetti-sauce coated fingers, a few tiny meatballs reflecting the dim light like dew on the grass. She slurped up what she could on her fingers before taking a firmer grip on the sandwiches, ice cream tubs, and whatever else she deemed edible. Her stomach roared for more and she cringed, setting what she could down and munching on something to take the edge off.

Six cookies helped, a swig of milk calmed her appetite down a bit, but these were band-aids on a bisected man. Sweat slid down her back at the thought of eating all of this and knowing, knowing, that even all that she saw before her wouldn't be enough.

She felt in control as a tingling started low in her gut, arousal dripping lower, a tubby hand covering her mouth to mask the low moan that escaped her. She was going to eat all of this and more. She was disgusting, to eat all this, she thought to herself for what felt like the billionth time. Then she shoved what she could into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and went back for more.

Eventually she returned to her room, to the discarded tubs of ice cream, the fast food wrappers, the empty pizza boxes, dumping more onto the floor as she crawled into bed in stained panties and sticky, sweaty flesh.

She slipped her hands past her online-ordered panties and moaned into her pillow as she set her vast body to pleasure. Full as she was, exhausted and massive as she was, she couldn't help but gush again and again at the thought of eating twice as much during her next snack run tomorrow night.

What had started as recrimination all those months ago had morphed into something so much better, she decided.

“So...huff...much...better,” Kitty gasped out, tongue licking around her lips for stray tastes and crumbs from her most recent binge, cooing a bit as she tasted a bit of chocolate sauce she'd missed earlier.


Celeste hummed to herself in total satisfaction as she observed the recently renovated, expanded, and reinforced school cafeteria. There was Tempus, the temporal-wielder quite the butterball, all gut and butt eating and talking with her mouth open, flecks of chips jetting out into the air. Celeste blinked and all of Tempus's tray, plus a few bits from her dining companion's vanished, the Aussie looking stuffed to her limit but pleased beyond measure. A warm smile lit up the Cuckoo's face as she spied Tempus's rear nearly hanging over either edge of the two chairs she was sitting on.

Her dear surrogate mother was being fed by a doting Scott Summers. Emma Frost's weight was distributed evenly, nothing really exceptional about any part of her. She was just huge, all around, and probably looking at the big 380 if she didn't slow down on that second sloppy Joe, Celeste thought. Though honestly she pulled off big well.

Then there was Magick and her rear end. The rest of her was certainly big, definitely not skinny by even the loosest definition, but it paled when compared to the mass of cellulite she called her butt. The sheer size of it made determining the number of chairs she was devouring with her rump near impossible. The mutant's eyes had a faraway look in them, a conqueror's smirk on her lips as she shoved mashed potatoes into her mouth efficiently.  A fitting fate for one so rude, the blond thought, turning her attention towards the largest woman here.

Kitty Pryde looked as near a cousin to the Blob as anything else, a lustful look in her eyes as she attacked her third tray of the hour. Messily eating, seemingly not caring about any stains or manners, she plowed through the food before grunting as she struggled to her feet. Waddling, puffy face red and ringed by two chin flaps of flesh, Kitty deposited an even larger amount of food on her tray before returning to her seat. Plopping down, she rubbed her apron of a gut and turned her attention towards the original target of all Celeste's rage. “Jean, eat up. There aren't many of those donuts you love left.”

“I'm digesting, Kitty, trust me I'm still hungry.”

“That's my girl,” Kitty replied, patting Jean on the back before her stomach rumbled and she was stuffing her face once more.

Celeste watched the disgust that marred Jean's pretty face as she watched her closest mentor make a pig out of herself, but then saw the resignation as she followed her lead with what remained on her tray. Jean Grey had to lean over her breasts in order to reach the farthest ends of her tray with her hands, her middle reddening by the moment as she ate. Like Kitty, Jean was a messy eater, not as much as her mentor, but still far from cultured. Celeste knew, owing to some quick scanning of the school nurse's mind, that Jean was nearing the middle half of four hundred pounds. She looked it, with her sagging, cellulite-stuffed, breasts, her multiple rolled mass of a middle, and flaring thighs that were approaching Tempus's size. Jean was far from content, Celeste noted as she dove into her surface thoughts. She felt frumpy, ugly, and ruled by her base hunger. Still, Celeste felt this depression fading owing to Kitty's example of letting go and enjoying food, no matter what anyone else thought. Returning more fully to her own mind, Celeste waved at Jean, offering her the kindest smile she could. Jean returned it, Celeste feeling Jean's depression fading just that little bit more.

Now fully in her head again, Celeste looked at her dear sisters, noting consternation plain as day on their faces. “Going to lecture me again?”

“No, it's not that, I'm just...I mean we're concerned that you're getting way too into fattening people up. Isn't this enough?” Phoebe said.

“Of course this is enough, Phoebe. I got what I wanted, who could ask for more? Read my freaking mind if you don't buy what I'm saying.”

Celeste felt their probing not two seconds later, their worry lines smoothing out as they stopped a minute later. “I'm glad you're satisfied. Oh and Irma, nice hickey there. Never figured you to fall for our resident Australian.”

Irma blushed but didn't deny it. “Since I think that's all I'll get positive-wise out of you regarding Tempus and I, thanks.”

“Don't mention it, now, how about seconds for you two?”

Both of her dear sisters nodded, getting up with Celeste not far behind. A warm, satisfied grin settled into place on Celeste's face as she trailed after her siblings and the expansive future ahead.


No journal entries yet.


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ElloChappy Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch! I was surprised to see I recognized a few of your stories, but never got around to watching you.

Which I immediately did, your stories are great
Johan25 Featured By Owner 3 days ago
Thank you and you're welcome. Looking forward to your gainerverse story. Any plans for specific female characters getting fat?
ElloChappy Featured By Owner 3 days ago  Hobbyist Writer
To be honest, it's probably going to be whatever I feel like writing at the time. And since I've been in a Final Fantasy mood lately, I'll probably start with that. If you have any ideas or requests for female characters you'd like to see, I'm open to it, as I want to cover a wide range of genres and forms of media.
Johan25 Featured By Owner 3 days ago
Well I love Tifa and Lightning from Final Fantasy, so anything involving them together, preferably as a couple if you want to write that, would be awesome but they could just be friends. Also, from Resident Evil Helena Harper and Ada Wong would be fun. From Street Fighter Cammy White and Chun Li.
(1 Reply)
clonewars131 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave! :)
Johan25 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014
You're welcome. Let me know if you're up for another request from me.
clonewars131 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I'm up for it, but like the others it'll take time to do because of other things, but feel free to send it my way :)
Johan25 Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014
Alright, I'll send it to you in a note.
bear-funny Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2014
Hey, thank you for the watch! I didn't know you had a DA but I loved your stuff on!
Johan25 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2014
You're welcome! Feel free to check out my stories on here and if you want a story written for you, let me know.
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