The Mountain of Geneva (conclusion)
by the Studio

Because of Gen's insistance, we got there ten minutes early. I was so impressed at the size of Maitland's house that I almost forgot to help Gen out of the van. Accomodating Gen's size, we slowly made our way to the front door and rang the bell but no one answered. As promised, it was unlocked. Fortunately, the doorway was oversized and there were no stairs, so Gen got in with no problem. As we entered, an echoing voice came from a room down the hall. I made my way toward it, letting Gen come at her own pace. Their was a handrail attached to the wall and she use it to help her along. I came to a dimly lit archway to my left. Rose's voice spoke to me out of the darkness and asked me where Gen was. I said she was right behind me. She sounded pleased and said that she had something to show us that she thought we would appreciate. The lights came on in a flash and, seated in the middle of a vast dining room, was Rose wearing nothing but a sheer white night gown. I had her in profile but could see that it took an industrial sized chair to contain her gargantuan ass cheeks. Her legs spread wide as a monstrous stomach hung down between them, forcing them apart. Her immense, stretch marked breasts were laid out on the banquet sized table in front of her. The table was every bit of fifteen feet long, eight feet wide, and was covered with a feast fit for two queens. Gen appeared beside me and stopped in her tracks. To have put on so much weight, Rose must have been on her great-grandmother's diet of butter and lard since the day she vanished. She asked us to take our seats and motioned to a chair across from her that was large and sturdy enough to hold Gen.

We stayed where we were, frozen to the spot. Rose giggled and asked us to forgive her lack of manners. She began the complex operation of getting to her feet by dragging her gargantuan tits off the table and dropping them on her elephantine belly with a resounding smack. The floorboards groaned as she lifted her undulating mass up from the chairs, steadying herself on the table. She tried to make it look easy but it was obviously an immense strain. When she finally got to her feet, she asked us to excuse her casual dress, but said that it was the only thing in the house that fit her. At her size, it wasn't hard to believe. Through her tight fitting, semi-transparent gown, I could see that her bloated stomach hung down past her knees as it pushed her titanic udders to either side. During her time in seclusion, her tits had taken on the lions share of the fat storing responsibilities. Her areola were stretched to the size of garbage can lids, accenting the fact that her expansive jugs stretched down to her calves. Those calves were twin columns of fat that quivered as they supported the load above them. I was too awestruck for words. She smirked and chuckled and then began a formidable journey toward us. There was a heavy duty handrail heading straight toward us and she used it to steady herself as she plodded along. I glanced around and saw that the rails had been installed throughout the room and that they seemingly extended into rest of the house. She definitely needed them. Like Gen, she was so wide and heavy that she could barely lift her feet from the ground. She managed an imitation of waddling by swinging her colossal mammaries and stomach from side to side and shuffling her bloated feet forward a few inches at a time. Each time one of her feet moved, her entire body shook with the effort. It seemed to take minutes for her to make her way across the room. When she finally stood before us, her udders kept swaying and the rest of her body wiggled and jiggled for many long seconds. She cocked her head to the side and gave us a sheepish grin. She said that she hoped we would accept her titanic effort as a proper invitation to join her for dinner. My dick was pounding so hard in my pants that I could feel each beating of my heart. Gen pushed beside me, grabbed the rail, and told Rose to lead the way. Between the two of them, as they struggled toward the table, there was more than a ton of flesh on the move.

Rose took her seat, I helped Gen take hers and then sat down beside her. Rose made polite small talk for a while and then began to tell why she'd invited us. Her tone was different than any I'd heard her use before. She wasn't biting or caustic, merely sincere. She said that the two of them needed to settle this rivalry once and for all. She'd been keeping track of Gen since their last meeting, noting her progress toward the thousand pound mark. Rose had been taking measures over the past few months to catch up with her. Sitting there before us, she said that she weighed every ounce of 1000 pounds and then some. Comparing masses between her and Gen, it was easy to see that she was telling the truth. She proceeded to present Gen with her proposal to end their conflict. They would battle it out in much the same fashion their ancestors had. Since they were so much larger than their great-grandmothers, however, she felt that certain adjustments needed to be made. For one, she wanted them to battle it out in her house since she it had been modified to accomodate women of their bulk. Their were two oversized bedrooms with full bathrooms adjoining the dining room. Gen would take one, she'd take the other. On either side of the dining room, there were also two full kitchens. Gen would bring in her chefs, Rose would bring in hers and, for one month, they would gorge themselves head-to-head. At the end of the month, they would weigh themselves and the heaviest woman would be dubbed the victor. If either of them was unable to continue moving under their own power, that is to say if either one became totally immobilized by her weight, the one still able to walk would be the winner. The loser would renounce all future claims on the feud. Rose added that Gen had earned her full respect and that she just wanted their controversy to end honorably. They were, most likely, the two fattest women on the planet so it should end no other way. Rose wanted to cement the agreement with a feast in both their honors, the feast on the table in front of us. She sat back and waited for Gen's reply. Gen raised her brow, took a deep breath, looked Rose in the eye, and gave her answer. She said that toting around all their weight really didn't leave much room for grudges anymore. She agreed to Maitland's proposal. Rose tore a whole leg off a turkey in front of her and took a gaping bite out of it. There was a turkey in front of Gen and she did the same. Thus the final battle began.

Edna arrived the next day. My responsibility was to keep a steady stream of deliveries coming from the bakery while she worked her magic in the kitchen. In no time, we were feeding Gen food by the bucketfulls. What ensued was a feeding frenzy the likes of which even Gen had never experienced. Rose had hired her own chefs, two big black women who knew how to work their own miracles. Plate after countless plate of delectable treats were sat in front of the two women and they shoveled them down like they were posessed. After just a few days of their unparalleled gluttony, neither of them could fit into any of their clothes. They both agreed to continue in the raw, a primal expression of their gluttonous powers.

The two were reeling under and unimaginable assault of the most fattening foods in their chefs' arsenals. Everything they ate was loaded with heavy cream, butter and lard. Gen said that it felt like every bite turned into fat somewhere on her body. They ate poundcakes by the ovenfull, sausages by the bucket, and drank milkshakes by the barrel. After one week of glutting through the acres of fattening foods, it was beginning to look as though both women had bitten off more than they had bargained for. Their bodies were so used to storing away fat, that they were putting on weight like there was no tomorrow. As they expanded, their massive arms got so heavy that it was like work for them to lift them to feed themselves. Between the mass of their bellies hanging all the way to the ground when they were standing up, the monumental cheese filled stockpiles of flesh that were their asses, the lard loaded twin oil barrel sized legs, and the mastodonic orbs that were their tits, they could barely even move. Their immobility didn't affect them that much since they only went to three places: the bedrooms, the bathrooms and the dining room. Certainly, the incapacitating consequences of their untempered appetites certainly didn't curb their gluttony.

After two weeks, Rose brought in a cart that she'd had designed for her situation. It was constructed of heavy guage steel, had special tires on the bottom and a jack that could lift over a ton. When she needed to go to the bathroom, she would sit her stomach and tits on the cart, jack it up off of the floor, and waddle on her way. By supporting a monumental part of her mountainous weight, she could still move unaided to the bedroom and back. Honorably, Rose produced a duplicate cart for Gen. She did, indeed, wanted their battle to end fairly. She said that they would still be moving under her own power, as they had agreed.

By the third week, my wife was literally becoming a mountain of fat. When she was sitting up in her queen-sized chair, her stomach was so vast that it extended well past the huge marshmallows that were her feet. Her breasts must have weighed over 100 pounds apiece as they sprawled out on the table in front of her. Her nipples were as big as sausage links and the dark areas that surrounded them were stretched into circles the size of manhole covers. As she continued further into phenomenal obesity, Gen's body was reeling under the effects. She had been fighting a war against the force of gravity, with middling success, since her race into obesity began. At the1000 pound mark, that force had taken great tolls on her physique. As the half ton mark fell farther and farther behind, gravity was claiming absolute victory. When she was standing, even with the cart's help, it was almost impossible for her to move. Her cheeks were so swollen that they had turned into balloon-like jowls that hung from the side of her face. What had once been her rolling chins turned into a huge bloated sack that encircled her neck. Her arms looked like two huge, veinladen mounds of dumplings hanging down from her heaping shoulders. She no longer had distinguishable elbows or wrists and her fingers were so fat that she could barely use her hands. Her girth around her chest and waist was so immense that her bloated arms stuck out at 45 degrees as they rested on the massive rolls of fat beneath them. Their great poundage forced those rolls outward and earthward inspite of the vastness of her hips. Her tits and belly were striated rolling masses of fat, so wide and taut at the bottom that they looked like enormous, pebbled water balloons ready to burst. Her ass had grown outward to the point that gravity even made it succumb. By the middle of the last week, the only movement she was capable of without the cart, was lifting her hands to her mouth. It was her only form of exercise so she did it constantly. Every time she did it, though, there was food in one of her hands. Her stomach had gotten so stretched out that even the tide of food that we stuffed her with never satisfied her. As a result, she was constantly hungry. Gen was used to gorging herself out of sheer gluttony but the hunger drove her crazy. She started stuffing her face like even she had never done before. It got to the point that even Edith and Edna couldn't keep up with her newfound vigor. We resorted to ordering out to supplant the already massive amount of food that Gen required. It got to the point where she could consume an entire large, deluxe, deep dish pizza in about ten minutes and follow it with countless more. She had consumed a whole poultry farm worth of fried chicken. She had eaten a cattle farm worth of burgers and acres of french fries. Her mother and aunt almost put the bakery out of business because Geneva was eating just about everything they made.

Rose kept up with Gen every pound of the way. It was impossible to tell which one weighed more since, at their awesome sizes, a difference of a few pounds was undetectable. In the last week, though, Rose actually had the harder lot of the two. Gen's body had stored away a vast amount of her fat in her tits throughout the earlier stages of her obesity but had shifted to storing the fat heavily in her ass during the contest. Her butt cheeks looked like two colossal bellies that hung from the fat rolls of her back and bloated downward toward the floor where her feet were barely visible beneath the elephantine, furrowed masses that were her legs. The hugeness of her ass actually served as a sort of counterbalance for the mass of her tits and gut. Rose, on the other hand, had continued to store away a massive amount of her fat directly in her mammaries. When she was standing up, her tits actually reached the floor. When she was trying to move using the cart, her tits were constantly rolling off the side and dragging on the floor. She couldn't bend over to pick then up, so she was forced to reel then in, like a fisherman pulling in a net, and to hold them in place. By the end, she'd been forced to tie her huge nipples together with a piece of rope just so her tits would stay on top of her belly as she struggled to the bedroom.

During that last week Gen resorted to drinking bucketfulls of buttermilk to increase her calorie intake. She'd have Edna cook her pounds of the fattiest bacon and sausage they could get her hands on. It had reached the point where what she was eating barely even mattered anymore, all she was interested in was the weight. She absolutely consumed by the urge to get surpass Rose's weight and claim her victory.

On the last day, Rose produced a couple of beautiful dresses that could fit the two. She lumbered slowly over to the scale she'd had brought in. Pulled the mass of her belly and tits off of the cart and watched as the digital readout decided its verdict. The light flashed 1258 pounds. The two women who had been cooking for her helped get her situated back on the cart and cleared the way for Gen. She barely made it over to the scale under her own power. The journey of fifteen feet took her as many minutes. She plopped down on the scale, panting heavily from the effort, and managed to slide her gut and jugs off of the cart. The readout blanked off for a few seconds and then flashed on again. Gen let out a heartfelt sigh and began to cry. She asked me to bring her a mirror, having realized that she hadn't really looked at her body since she'd began the duel a month ago. The mirrors in the bathroom wer purposefully small so that they could only see their faces. Rose told me where I could find a full-length mirror in a closet down the hall. I got it and positioned it where Gen could take a good, full look at herself. It was then, and only then, that she truly realized what she had just done to herself. She surveyed the mound of fat that she'd made herself into and even she couldn't believe what she looked like. She described her feeling as a strangest combination of pride and revulsion. She was proud of the fact that she'd reached a seemingly impossible weight and yet couldn't believe that she'd distorted her body to such gross proportions to do it. She leaned over and read the display one more time to make sure she had it right. Once again, her obese ambitions had taken her to new heights of fatness. My wife Geneva, weighed 1312 pounds. The readout flashed pounds. She was the absolute victor.

That was almost two years ago. As I write this, Gen and Rose are in the living room watching T.V. and gossiping. Since the duel, they have been the best of friends. Richard Simmons actually came down and put them both on diets that shrunk them down like deflating balloons. They both keep their weights at around 650 pounds they feel just fine. They have, however, had to pay a few prices for their indulgences. Both of us ended up spending a bundle on surgery. When they shrunk down, they had to have their skin nipped and tucked a number of times to keep them from looking like deflated baloons. We hired the best surgeon in the country to do the job and he did it right.

Having gained and lost so much weight still left its traces behind on Gen. The fat that was once thick and firm now has a almost water-balloon consistency. Her tits are huge floppy udders and are so long that she can throw them over her shoulders with ease. The huge ass that used to quake and shake when she walked around now sways back and forth like a boat at sea. The belly that once wiggled in place now lurches up and down when she moves. The legs that used to be locked in tremors with each step now sway back and forth like barrels of gelatin. When she's walking naked around the apartment, every part of her body pitches one way or the other. It's a different body than she had before but I still love every inch. She's still my beautiful Geneva and she just looks different than she used to. She still has a body out of this world. Variety is truly the spice of life.

Recognizing that future, both of us have tried to gain greater control of our appetites. We've been talking about children and realize that Gen will have to lose even more weight if we want any. I hate the thought of losing my 650 pound goddess, even for a while, but it may be our only choice. It's still very difficult, remembering how good she looked at over 700 pounds, to keep from wanting her to be that big again. We've learned keep the situation under control by occasionally submitting to the temptations. This morning at breakfast as she leaned forward to grab a biscuit, three hooks broke on her custom made 84GG brassiere . She just laughed, took it off, and hoisted her enormous tit-sacks on to the kitchen table with a thud. Sitting there, naked except for her underwear, she informed me that she was starving and wanted me to feed her she begged me to stop. I called her mother at the bakery and told her that her daughter was going to be a little late for work, repeating what Gen had said to me. Her mother laughed and said that she should just take the whole day off rather than doing a half-ass job of it. I thanked her and then spent the rest of the morning stuffing my wife with platters of scrambled eggs covered with cheese, stacks of pancakes, platters of fried potatoes, baskets of buttermilk biscuits and loads of bacon and sausage . She'd had enough after about three hours. She leaned back, stretching her mammoth teats across the table, belched and then gave me a devious smile. She said that she was still hungry. I asked her what she wanted, and she said had a craving for some cocksausage. She slowly rolled herself away from the table and got down to her hands and knees in an avalanche of woman. The floorboards creaked loudly. Her bovine breasts and hippo-sized stomach spread out on the floor, anchoring her with her own fat. Somehow she managed to pull herself toward me. She looked like a beached whale struggling to get back into the ocean. Great waves crashed underneath her skin as she stopped in front of me. My dick sprang free when she unzipped my pants. I gazed upon the expanse of her ass and the folding hills of fat that covered her back as she took my throbbing dick in her marshmallow hand. She looked up at me with her chestnut eyes, licked her glossy lips, and smiled. She took me in her mouth and I clenched my teeth, losing myself in the mountain of Geneva.

finis