As Seen on TV (SSBBW, Eating)

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Well-Known Member
Jan 30, 2006
Here's a story I wrote based on an idea by Football123 on Deviantart; Marsha is a fat lazy housewife who loves to stuff herself with ice cream while lazing around the house, her big fat bottom wearing a hole in the couch as she rots her brain watching daytime TV. A woman of her ample attributes always seems to have trouble finding clothing that fits -- buttons always pop, seams always split -- so when she sees an infomercial promising a brand new fabric that never rips no matter how much stress it's put to, she's understandibly suspicious. Until she sees it put to the test that is...

Let me know what you think! And If you enjoy my writing, you can see more of my work on Deviantart or please feel free to check out more at my Amazon store or my Patreon!

Marsha was used to indulgence. Spoiled as a child, she had only left home for college in hopes of landing a husband. While other girls were hard at work at their studies, Marsha was more interested in organizing social events at her sorority to try and snag a willing man. Luckily, Marsha was gifted with several important assets in her quest – lustrous blond hair, knockout curves, a bubbly personality, and, most important of all, a big bouncy bosom. Her massive chest had earned her the nickname “Marsha Melons” among her sorority sisters, who giggled at Marsha’s difficulties at keeping her twin orbs restrained whenever she found herself talking in her usual animated manner to a prospective suitor. But, giggle as they might, they’d worked. Marsha started dating Pete, a serious and independently wealthy business major, in her Sophomore year and dropped out to get married and start a life as pampered housewife before the end of her Junior year.

Over a decade later, Marsha was still a pampered housewife – if anything, she was more pampered than ever as Pete’s increasing salary meant that the couple could hire more domestic help to take over all the household chores, leaving Marsh more time to rest on her growing backside, watching daytime soap operas and enjoying ice cream from the carton. Marsha still had the same bubbly bimbo personality and giant boobs, but her curves were long gone. Her love for sweet fattening treats had added inches to both her waistline and her bustline. By 30, Marsha had eaten herself nearly round, her big round belly giving her plush pontoons an extra wide shelf for support. She was 500 pounds of grade-A pork, soft and pillowy from years of easy living and never having to lift a finger for anything.

Constant gorging meant that Marsha was way too fat for most stylish clothes. Most of her fancy dresses were tailor-made to accommodate her billowing bulk, but day to day she mostly just wore sweats and leggings. But even those were becoming a problem as Marsha’s inflation continued unabated; nothing dissuaded the overweight housewife from her daily ice cream and cupcake binges, so that she just grew rounder and rounder and wider and wider. She couldn’t bear to deny herself, but she lived in constant dread of the tell-tale popping sound that alerted her that she’d finally defeated yet another mega-sized garment.

During the day, when her husband was at work and her daughter at school, Marsha spent most of her time lazing around. Rousing herself just after noon, she struggled into a T-shirt and sweatpants that were already becoming too snug around her growing belly and swollen knockers. Marsha’s massive mammaries had ballooned to the point that they were nearly obscene; once upon a time any man would have drooled at the sight of her cavernous cleavage, but now she was so busty that some men might actually find her ridiculously giant juggs off-putting. Pete never complained, though. She had guessed right when she assumed, upon their first meeting, that he was a breast man. No matter how big she grew, he still seemed to relish playing with her oversized hooters and pinching her swollen, cork-sized nipples. Outside of the bedroom, Marsha’s melons were becoming a bigger problem, since she didn’t currently even have any sports bras that could stretch far enough to carry that heavy load. She would need to talk to Pete about that. Today, she felt her bloated boobs sloshing back and forth inside her T-shirt as she waddled her way downstairs to the kitchen for her usual breakfast.

Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, so Marsha never skimped on that. One of the maids was responsible for getting her daughter ready for school in the morning and making breakfast for both Pete and Melodi, so Marsha didn’t need to worry about getting up early. Normally, Josie would still be around to make Marsha her breakfast as well. For a moment, the marshmellowy housewife felt a twinge of annoyance at Josie’s absence before remembering that Josie had asked to leave early today to attend her sister’s wedding. Oh well. No big deal. While Marsha preferred someone else to prepare her food for her (Cooking was such a bother after all!), she wasn’t so helpless that she couldn’t make herself an omelet. She pulled cartons of eggs from the fridge and then some bacon from the freezer.

She threw a few eggs in the skillet and a side of bacon on the grill. She licked her plump lips as the heavenly smell of cooking food reached her nostrils. She gobbled the omelet and bacon as soon as they were on her plate.

After a hearty breakfast, it was time for her mid-morning snack. Marsha usually sat on the couch watching TV and eating junk food until noon, when she would break for lunch.

She grabbed her daily tub of chocolate ice cream from the freezer. She smiled, imagining yet another easy, luxurious day on the sofa. What could be better than a big helping of chocolate ice cream while she enjoyed watching her favorite cooking show? Actually, there was one thing! She cracked open the fridge and let her eyes fall on the tray of cupcakes shoved to the back of the lowest shelf. These were, technically, reserved for her daughter Meloni’s girl scout bake sale. Marsha hadn’t actually baked the cupcakes herself; that was her maid Josie’s job. Marsha was totally happy to take credit for it, though, since she’d TOLD Josie to bake them and that was just as good as having baked them herself.

Marsha grunted, leaning one hand against the refrigerator for support as she slowly lowered her prodigious bulk. Her weak knees popped and cracked, her legs shaking as she reached her chubby fingers out to grab a tray of cupcakes.

Meloni wouldn’t be home from school for a couple hours, though, and she probably wouldn’t even notice if just one was missing.

Marsha strained again, her chubby fingers just brushing the tray. The hefty housewife was so intent on grabbing that tasty treat that she wasn’t paying attention to her how her tubby tushie billowed out behind her, stretching the seams of her sweatpants. Finally, with a piggy squeal of glee, her manicured fingers hooked onto the edge of the tray, allowing her to pull it toward herself. At the same time, she moved too suddenly, stretching the seat of her sweats too far beyond its limits – and the seam running up her rear split apart with a jagged RIIIP!

“Oh dear,” muttered Marsha, struggling to peer over her softening shoulder at the massive lobes sticking out behind her. “My sweats are ruined! Good thing I wasn’t planning on going out today, but I’m going to have to ask Pete to raise my clothing allowance.”

Snatching a cupcake from the tray, Marsha lugged herself back to a standing position and paused to inspect her split sweats. The tear perfectly followed the curve of her overstuffed ass, leaving a lot of booty – both skin and panties – on display.

She sighed, holding the frosted cupcake to her mouth and taking a hearty bite. “That’s so annoying!” she mumbled through a mouthful of sweet pastry. “I wish that wouldn’t happen all the time. Why can’t they make sweat pants that actually last?”

The double-wide piglet waddled to the living room, her arms loaded with ice cream dn cupcake, before plopping her wide bottom down onto the couch and tucking her chubby legs underneath her. She tapped on the remote control, scrolling through channels as she shoveled ice cream into her eager maw and tried to forget about how her growing ass had just blown out the seat of her largest sweatpants.

It was almost time for ‘Cooking with Olivia,’ Marsha’s favorite cooking show! Marsha didn’t cook very often herself, but the show often gave her some good ideas that she could pass on to Josie.

As the show opened, the camera panned across an audience of hefty housewives, all clapping thunderously. Every single woman in the bleachers was overweight, ranging from merely plump young newly weds just settling down to married life to hippopotomus-sized MILFs grown vast after multiple pregnancies and too many good meals.

“Good morning, chefs!” crowed Olivia as she appeared on stage. The audience cheered. Olivia was a big woman. If you believed that you should never trust a skinny chef, you would think Olivia was the most trustworthy woman in the entire world. One of the reasons that Marsha liked Olivia so much was that the TV chef was just as fat – if not fatter – than Marsha herself was. While Marsha’s steady expansion had gifted her with giant breasts and a fat behind to go with her swollen belly, Olivia was nearly entirely round. The olive-skinned woman looked like a big bouncy bowling ball as she wobbled on stage, her bulk straining the double-breasted buttons on her pure white chef’s outfit. Her toque sat on a jaunty angle atop her short black bobbed hair. Her round face was always smiling, another reason that she was so popular – she always seemed happy to see everyone!

“I’m really excited that you’ve ll come to see me today! Because I’ve got a special treat for you. I was talking to my good friend Malcolm Sales the other day – you all remember Malcolm, right? He’s the man who invented the Sales Super No-Stick spatula – and he told me about something so exciting that I wanted to share it with all of you right away! Come on out, Malcolm!”

Marsha was about to heave a sigh of disappointment – it looked like today’s episode wasn’t going to be teaching a new recipe at all, but rather just be an extended infomercial for some new kitchen product – but then she saw Malcolm come out on stage. The assembled housewives immediately started cooing as he waved and smiled at them, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why – he was a veritable Adonis! Tall and muscled with a full head of hair and a radiant smile, he was stunning!

Marsha was so transfixed by his godlike appearance that she froze with the latest scoop of chocolate ice cream halfway to her mouth. Wow, what a hottie! Sure, Marsha still loved Pete, but there was no denying that he was aging even faster than she was – he already had a drooping paunch and a thinning hairline. So she could be excused for staring at this sexy hunk for a few minutes. Marsha could feel a growing tingle between her legs as she watched Malcolm stride up beside Olivia and give the rotund chef a quick peck on her chubby cheek. What she would give to be in Olivia’s shoes right now!

“I’m so glad that you could join us today, Malcolm. I’m so excited, because when I heard about your new invention, I just knew I had to tell everyone!”


Well-Known Member
Jan 30, 2006
“That’s right, Olivia, this invention is going to change the way you live! As a cook, I’m guessing you’re probably a woman who likes to eat!”

“How did you know?” said Olivia in mock surprise, patting her ample belly and drawing laughter and applause from the audience.

“But you probably know how difficult that can be when you don’t have the right wardrobe!”

“Absolutely! Popped buttons, busted zippers, and don’t even get me started on split seams. You ladies know what I’m talking about!”

The studio audience whooped and hollered in agreement. On her couch, Marsha nodded in sympathy.

“And what about tights or sweats Olivia?”

Olivia waved her chubby hands dismissively. “You men think those are a solution! But what about those unsightly red welts elastic waistbands leave around your middle?”

“They don’t stretch nearly as much as you’d think either,” mumbled Marsha, self-consciously moving her hand to her bulging derriere as she remembered her own torn seat.

“The worst part is, how am I ever supposed to get enough to eat?” continued Olivia. “I can’t even get halfway through a meal before I have to quit just because I can’t breathe with my waistband strangling me!”

“What if I told you that what I have here today could solve all those problems?”

“Why, I would say you’re crazy! There’s no way!”

“Well, then prepare to be amazed! Presenting: The Super Sales Super Stretcher!”

Malcolm pulled out a garish pair of bright yellow tights. Marsha rolled her eyes. People always though that tights were the answer when you had a little extra junk in the trunk or a little extra pudge around the middle. But when Marsha wore tights, she always felt them start to slide down around her hips because she jiggled so much when she walked. And when she sat down to eat, she couldn’t rely on them at all. Marsha couldn’t even count the number of times when supposedly stretchy tights would bust or split as she was mid-way through one of her characteristic binges.

Olivia also seemed skeptical. “But Malcolm, these are just tights? How will these help me out?”

“Olivia, these aren’t just any tights! The Super Sales Super Stretchers are made from a unique new polymer blend (patent pending) that have infinite stretch! You simply can’t tear them! The Super Sales Super Stretchers promise the ultimate comfort for the perfect meal!”

He turned to the audience. “Ladies, the Super Sales Super Stretchers will finally let you eat without fear! Have you ever imagined a world where you could just eat and eat and eat?”

The audience fell oddly silent as the assembled women pondered the possibilities. Even Olivia looked slightly dazed as her mind reeled at the thought. A thin trickle of drool dripped from the corner of her mouth, glinting in the harsh studio lights, before she wiped it away. The idea that she could, finally, truly eat to her heart’s content…

Back in her home, Marsha rubbed her legs together. She could barely hope to think that this might actually be the solution to her constant wardrobe issues! Malcolm’s words, combined with his alluring physique, were honestly getting her a little hot and bothered!

“Now you can!” crowed Malcolm, yanking on the stretchy pants to demonstrate their elasticity. “Could I have a volunteer from the audience to test these out?”

Instantly every flabby arm shot to the sky.

“Gosh, Malcolm, it looks like your Super Stretchers might be a hit!” said Olivia. She pointed into the audience. “How about you, right there on the aisle? Come one down!”
The plump young woman stood up. She was a young thick-hipped black woman in her mid-20s with long frizzy hair, wearing thick plastic glasses and a pink sundress straining around her curves. She might have weighed almost 500 pounds, making her probably one of the biggest women in the entire studio audience – although she’d only just started rivaling Marsha in size.

“What’s your name, darling?”


“Monique, I bet you feel the same problem that I feel. Stretchpants that just won’t stretch, right?”

Monique nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Monique, I feel like I never get enough to eat! Before I get full, I’m always dealing with some annoyance forcing me to stop: a popped button, a busted stitch. Do you know what I’m talking about, Monique?”

“Yeah, I was out eating with my boyfriend last week and he took me to the Megamart Chinese buffet…”

“Oh, I love that buffet!” squealed Olivia.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t even finish my third helping! The button just blew clean off my slacks!”

“So annoying! Why is it that they can’t make clothes that work for us, Monique? I’ll bet you weren’t even half full either, right?”

“That’s right, Olivia!”

“But Malcolm promises us that, in the new Superstretchers, we should be able to eat until we finally get enough. Can you believe that?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Olivia.”

“We’re going to get you all suited up in some superstretchers behind the curtain. And then we’re really going to put the stretch to the test!”

The audience applauded as a production assistant escorted Monique behind a partition.

“So Olivia, while Monique’s getting ready, why don’t you tell us what dish you’ve prepared for this test?”

“Just last week, I was out at dinner with my husband at my restaurant Chez Olivia, enjoying a good meal, but I just couldn’t get through dessert. You know my favorite dessert… cheesecake! Oh I just looove cheesecake. Especially since we make the cheesecake at Chez Olivia according to my own recipe! I could just eat cheesecake alllll night long!”

“Mmmmm,” Marsha mumbled, closing her eyes and licking her lips. She could just taste that delicious treat! She had to tide herself by shoving the remaining portion of the cupcake into her mouth.

“But would you believe it, I couldn’t even finish the first bite before the zipper on my dress busted! It was so embarrassing! So to make up for that missed opportunity, I’ve prepared my favorite dish… my deep-dish super sweet chocolate strawberry topped cheesecake!”

The audience howled in excitement. Olivia’s cheesecake was famous amongst her fans as her richest, most decadent dish.

When the production assistant escorted Monique back out from behind the screen, she looked completely different. Gone was the pink sundress! Instead, she was dressed in stretchy yellow tights and top that made the bottom-heavy girl look like a bijou pear.

“Wow, Monique, you look great!” gushed Olivia, steadfastly ignoring the fact that, packed into the skintight material, Monique actually looked even fatter. “That outfit is so slimming!”

“That’s right, the Super Sales Super Stretcher isn’t just stretchy! It simultaneously helps control all those problem areas, like a little fullness in the tummy or hip region!”

Marsha squinted skeptically. It didn’t look like the outfit was helping control Monique at all; in fact, it just emphasized how much the tubby young girl wobbled and bounced when she moved. But Marsha’s attention pulled away from Monique’s pudgy tummy and thick thighs as soon as the Pas wheeled out the massive cheesecake that Olivia had prepared for this demonstration. Monique’s eyes bulged from their sockets, and Marsha could tell that the young plumper was having the same thoughts she was.

“Cheesecake…” mumbled Monique, licking her lips as Olivia placed a fork in her hand. “I love cheesecake!”

“Dig in, Monique!” prompted Malcolm, “Don’t hold back! We really want the viewers at home to see how the Superstretchers work!”

Malcolm and Olivia guided Monique over to the counter, helping heft her ample bulk onto a bar stool. The stretcher-clad chubbette settled her pumped-up rump onto the stool, the soft spongy flesh of her chubby cheeks spilling over the seat on all sides. Even though Monique wasn’t even particularly fat by the standards of Olivia’s viewers, the tights still looked painted onto her rounded buttocks, the outline of her jumbo granny panties visible through the thin material.

Olivia placed a slice of cheesecake in front of the obese young woman. Monique stared at it for a few seconds, before tentatively bringing her fork down to slice off a sliver and bring it to her waiting lips. That was it. It was almost like the flood gates opened. Maybe Monique was conditioned by a lifetime of snide remarks and unforgiving glares to become ashamed of eating in front of an audience, but all those inhibitions seemed to fall away as soon as that cheesecake touched her tongue.

Marsha watched intently as Monique attacked the cake with gusto. Sitting at home on her couch, Marsha couldn’t help but feel jealous of Monique – that lucky bitch got to have an entire Olivia cheesecake all to herself! Marsha lifted another spoonful of ice cream to her own mouth; suddenly ice cream seemed like a poor substitute for the delicious treats that she saw onscreen, but that didn’t stop her from eating along in time, shoving a new scoop of melting ice cream into her eager maw for every forkful of cheesecake that Monique popped between her lips. One then another, then another. Marsha felt herself slipping into a food trance, mesmerized by Monique’s eating. She couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to.

On screen, Monique’s eyes glazed over as she glutted herself. The euphoric glutton looked like she might slip off her stool and fall to the floor if Malcolm and Olivia hadn’t been there to prop her up.

“As you can see, the Super Stretchers are made to handle even a severe distention of the tummy!” crowed Malcolm, spinning Monique’s stool so that her bloated belly was pointed toward the nearest camera. Monique didn’t react, too bust licking up the last crumbs of what must have been her fourth slice of cake. By now her gut was surging into her stretchy pants, forming a small bulge at her waistline. Malcolm rubbed her potbelly for emphasis. “Look at that stretch! Ordinary stretch pants would be testing at the stitches, but our secret polymer blend will grow with you!”

Marsha nearly groaned at loud at the sight of that handsome hunk patting Monique’s gut. Ohhhh how she wished that was her on screen! She would love to have Malcolm patting her stuffed belly, kneading her soft blubber with his big strong hands. She shifted in her seat, feeling the tingle between her legs grow more intense as she continued to fantasize about that gorgeous inventor. She didn’t pause in her eating, and the combination of watching that sexy hunk and feeling her tummy fill with delicious treats was making her even more excited. Poor Marsha! She rarely pleasured herself these days, just because she was so round and fat that she had trouble reaching between her legs on her own. Usually she had to use her specially made vibrator or wait for Pete to help her, but she was realllllly feeling horny right now! Unfortunately, she was also too stuffed and lazy to waddle into the bedroom to try and find her special vibrator. She also didn’t want to break eye contact with the onscreen Malcolm. He was sooo dreamy!

More more more… eat and eat and eat…

Marsha’s belly was cold to the touch and covered in goosebumps; the chill of the ice cream inside her made a delicious cold jolt of sexual electricity jolt through her. Subconsciously, she squeezed her legs together, unaware of the quiet popping sounds that indicated she’d just busted a few more threads in that tear over her butt.

On screen, Monique was looking just as round. Her stomach continued to swell as she ate, but, unlike Marsha, Monique’s gluttony was not accompanied by the steady pop pop pop of tearing threads or the subtle groan of straining stitchery. The Super stretchers just kept stretching and stretching and stretching as Monique ate and ate and ate. Olivia and Malcolm continued to talk, chattering about the unique properties of the Super Stretchers, but Marsha couldn’t hear them. Like Monique, she was focused entirely on her food.

The Super stretchers just kept stretching. Normally, Marsha would have expected that the pants would be stretched so far that they’d start to lose their bright yellow color and turn slightly transparent as Monique’s chocolate-colored belly became visible through the overstretched fabric. But they didn’t! They just kept stretching!

And stretching…

And streeeeeetching…

And streeeeeeeeeeeetching….

How far could they stretch?

Marsha could barely contain herself! Her pussy was on fire and her belly was freezing cold, creating an exciting, tantalizing contrast. She knew it was futile, but she couldn’t help herself; she still tried to reach down between her legs, rocking back and forth on her plush tushie. She looked like an inflated punching doll. Her chubby fingers could barely even reach the crease in the middle of her gut where her navel was flattened between the two jelly rolls of her upper and lower bellies.

It didn’t help that the camera kept cutting to Malcolm. He was such a total hottie that his face made Marsha want to squeal in delighted, piggy glee. She could only console herself by stuffing more ice cream into her mouth, dribbling some melted cream down her chubby double chin. Eating was just as good as masturbating for her, after all. That was probably another reason that she’d grown so obscenely fat over the years.

It was an open question whether Marsha or Monique was eating faster at this point. Both women were gulping food as fast as humanly possible, so intent on filling their already full guts that they barely paused to even taste the rich, decadent desserts that passed their lips. Marsha felt like a balloon being inflated, filling up bigger and bigger to the point that, had she actually been filling with helium rather than ice cream, she might have just floated away. As it was, Marsha’s gut just kept growing, puffing out as it filled, buoying up her massive breasts like an inflating air mattress. On television, Monique was steadily blowing up at the same rate as she chowed down on the enormous cheesecake.

Monique pants kept stretching, but Marsha’s were falling apart. The split across her tubby booty grew wider, more threads breaking as the tear traveled southwards down her backside and between her legs. If she kept eating, her pants were going to be in tatters. But Marsha didn’t care. All she cared about was eating, filling her hungry hungry tummy.

Could Monique stretch as much as her pants? Her belly was obscenely bloated, sagging out into her lap like a billowing, fleshy balloon, but Monique just leaned forward, grunting as she struggled against the pain of her overstuffed middle, to force more cheesecake between her mascarpone-covered lips.

Marsha felt her spoon hit the cardboard bottom of her ice cream tub, the unwelcome sound rousing her from her own gluttonous stupor and reminding her, painfully, of just how bloated she had become during her ice cream binge. Wincing, she rubbed her overfull abdomen, her fingers running along the snug elastic waistband of her sweats where it cut painfully into her soft flesh. She knew that would leave a nasty red mark! If only SHE had her own pair of Super Stretchers…

Monique gasped, leaning back. Could it be that the enormous blimp was finally defeated? Monique had left a sizable dent in the cheesecake, but there was still plenty left. Even for a giant behemoth like her, that was a big cake after all.

“How do you feel, Monique?” asked Olivia.

“That’s amazing,” huffed Monique. “Usually I have to stop eating because my pants start cutting into my waist and I feel like I’m gonna choke! But in these pants, I feel like I’m wearing nothing at all! I feel like I could keep eating forever!”

Olivia hooked her thumb under the waistband of Monique’s tights and pulled, revealing that the garment still had plenty of stretch left in it.

“Wow, Malcolm! I can’t believe it! It looks like there’s still lots of room to grow! Why, I think Monique could keep eating if she wanted to!”

“I could… keep eating?” said Monique, her voice quavering slightly. Her face betrayed her thoughts. Her mind was reeling with the possibilities of extreme gluttony. Like her fellow five hundred pounder Marsha, Monique was a greedy piggy who would literally eat as long as food was available. She was like a goldfish who would ignore the warnings of her own body if it meant that she could experience the painful bliss of gorging for just a little while longer. Without the subtle hint of a tight waistband to slow her extreme binging, she might literally not know when to stop eating.

“Don’t even try to outeat these pants!” said Malcolm. “I guarantee you’ll burst before they do!”

Apparently Monique was taking that statement as a challenge. Her hands trembling, Monique plunged her fork back into the decimated cake to scoop up yet another forkful, which she slowly brought to her mouth. Marsha watched in rapt interest, amazed to see that Monique was still eating. Without the familiar discomfort of her tightening clothes, the greedy girl was reluctant to stop eating. It was almost as if she had been conditioned to only recognize that binding feeling around her waist as the signal to put down her fork and the pain of a full belly meant nothing to her.

A PA started to pull the ruined cheesecake away from Monique. The overstuffed piggy continued to stab weakly at the cake, too bloated to keep eating but too greedy to stop.

“Monique, for being such a good sport and helping us out, we’re sending you home today with a complimentary pair of Super Sales Super Stretchers!”

The audience cheered but Monique was so painfully stuffed that she could barely react other than to lick her lips to pick up the stray crumbs of cheesecake still clinging to her face.

“What do you say to that, Monique?”

Monique opened her mouth to say something but only an enormous belch erupted out. The audience laughed in good nature, but Monique was so far lost in a gluttonous haze that she could only blink dumbly.

“Call now and order your Super Stretchers today!”

Marsha nearly toppled off the couch as she leaped for the telephone.

Mr. Jigglesworth

A true Meatierologist.
Oct 15, 2005
Orlando, Fla.
Man, that's it, gonna leave us hanging? I personally would love to see Marsha and Monique each taking it further & further to really stretch the limits of the super stretchers and see how fat they up.
But way to go, starting out with 500 pounders first out the gate with only upwards to go up the scale😜

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