BBW Jessica Steps Up (SSBBW, ~WG, Stuffing, ~Sex)

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aster

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I reached for the tube but she shushed me away. Instead she pointed toward her distressed tank top. With her two hands, she repeatedly pointed at the fabric and then up to the ceiling. Carmen and Juanita got the message first and raised the top over the crests of her mountainous breasts. I then realized that Jess’s biceps were caught in her top side folds, and couldn’t remove her top herself.

Carmen guided the fabric around the tube and let its massive circumference fall around the barrel. Jess’s breasts slid off her growing belly and tucked themselves under her arms. Jess moaned in relief and re-doubled her efforts in consumption.

Jess’s whole body glistened and turned shades of cherry red as the minutes ticked by. She leaned back until the cushions behind her were pancakes beneath her 12 inches of back fat. I swore I could have seen other parts of her getting fatter – her neck, arms, hips, and breasts – but it could had been a smooshing effect of her feeding.

When her belly’s skin became translucent and reflected the sharp florescent lighting above us, I knew her time was almost up. She gave the “OK” signal with her left hand and I pinched off the tube from her mouth. A desperate gasp escaped from her mouth, and was soon relearning how to breathe again. She asked for heated blankets and “light tummy rubs” to help her adjust to her new poundage.

Jess rolled her tongue around her lips, taking in the light pink residue. “What was the damage, hon?”

I glanced at the clear level strip on the side of the barrel. “I’d say about 10 gallons.”

She wiggled an arm free from her fat and wiped the sweat off her brow. “Woof, felt more like 20 to me.”

Jess’s last few minutes in the green room were spent getting her to the wheelchair and putting her tube top back on. She was practically her own construction site, with Juanita and I guiding each breast into the outstretched thick satin held by Carmen. It barely held the bottom half of her chest now, with the upper portion pushing over it by a good hand length. We prayed it would hold during showtime.

When Jessica was being introduced, she was backstage with us. Just as it seemed the presenter was dying down, she asked us all to help her up. She wanted to walk to the cattle scale on her own two feet. Her belly was so full that bending forward was a near impossibility; she had to slide out of her own seat while we braced her arms. The moment of truth came when she had to do a half squat with her own body to stand. Her thighs, now bigger than the barrel she was just drinking out of, quivered with exertion. With a grunting exhale, she rose.

She tugged a wedgie out of her shorts and winked back at us. “Wish me luck, guys.” She ambled into the spotlight, ready to put on a show.

And what a show it was. The audience saw her belly first, freshly powdered and egg-shaped from constant stuffing. Then came her bound breasts, jostling and crashing into one another for real estate. Her pressed onyx covered her back and flowed like a river down to the back of her calves. Even her hair couldn’t hide her ass though, easily the jiggliest part of her body. A 50/50 mixture of muscle and fat, it swayed exponentially with every sway of her hips, threatening to throw a lesser BBW off balance.

Jess gave no speeches and didn’t play coy; she went straight for the scale. It creaked and groaned as Jess backed into it; holding the side rails and she wiggled her way into the center. The LED screen was scrambled with numbers as it calculated my wife’s massive poundage. The screen first showed 853 pounds and then continued to shoot up from there. 900… 1000… 1100… my God… 1200… finally with a triumphant ding it settled on 1258. My wife was well over half a ton! My whole body was electric. I could only imagine what Jess felt.

Whatever she felt on the inside, what she did next was pure Jess. She looked up at the final number, then scanned down at her own body, as if for the first time. Then she gave a look of fake shock and held an outstretched hand to her mouth, as if to say, Oh my, did I do that?

The crowd burst into applause. Jess would have bowed then if she could, but instead put her hands on her hips and beamed. Then a voice rose out in the crowd, announcing that was his number. It was the boy from the pie eating contest two years ago! The crowd continued clapping, and Jess blew him a kiss from on stage. She then shuffled off stage and slumped herself back to her wheelchair.

We loaded Jess into the van ass-first. She had to scooch up to the driver and passenger seats in order for us to close the back doors. Her head almost lined up with my own as I drove us back. Periodically, she’d lean over and kiss me on the cheek and hum. She was more than full; she was content.

Or so I thought.

As I approached our driveway, she grabbed my shirt with her teeth and then stared at me sternly. “I don’t care how you have to do it, but when we get inside, you’re going to fuck me until I cum a million times. Then I want Juanita and Carmen to bring that barrel into the bedroom. I’m not eating another crumb until that thing is empty.”

Jess didn’t cum a million times, and it took almost two days for her to empty the barrel, but I didn’t hear her complain much. As I laid on the remaining portion of my side of the bed, I wondered what was to come for Jess and I.
 

aster

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Going on a Diet

What came next was best described as an explosion.

First was the explosion of popularity. Carmen had uploaded clips of Jess’s convention appearance, and they generated enough media attention for TV guest spots and mini documentaries. Eventually her size, appetite, and transport needs outpaced the media demand, but it was a good run.

This in turn led to an explosion of business. Jess was offered numerous affiliate links, sponsorships, and buyouts, but she stood her ground and grew her own online business. She created templates for new talent and reorganized them into their own channels, like alternate lifestyle, gaming-focus, and those that just wanted to gain. I hired on more back-end developers and social media consultants to keep up with the growing needs of the infrastructure. Jess was still the main attraction, but she was doing less work in front of the camera and she knew she would retire one day, so she made in-roads to keep the gears running without her.

Next came the explosion of home changes. All of her furniture was re-enforced with steel frameworks and cushions as thick as rubber. Six months later, Jess was still able to walk and feed herself, but was becoming helpless in numerous other aspects of her life. I hired on two nurses when Jess couldn’t even roll her own body from side-to-side in bed. One was a black woman training up from a CLN license, and the other was a chubby redhead that was a moderator in her forums. Every morning they would help her out of bed and into her specialized shower. One of them would join her, swimming around the massive expanse of her body and scrubbing off the 70% of her body Jess couldn’t reach. They would then dry off her endless expanse of hair and help her get dressed for the day. The nurses became fast friends with Jess, and she loved the easy access to massages and assistance they provided.

All of these elements helped fuel perhaps the greatest explosion of all: Jessica’s appetite. In the past, it seemed the only thing holding Jess back was her own physical limitations. Jess had stretched out her stomach to the point where it would take all day to get close to being full, and near unlimited money had solved any other problem that had came her way. So in Jess’s mind, there was never a reason to not gorge in every practical moment of her day. So that’s what she did.

I hired on a team of chefs to work eight-hour days in the kitchen. Their only duty was to stay ahead of Jess’s hunger and keep food within reach and ready for her. They certainly earned their paycheck. Jess would list out the kinds of food she was in the mood for in the morning, and then entrusted them to feed her mountains of it. She encouraged variety and was always happy to try new dishes, but never at the expense of quantity. At the end of their shift, they made sure to leave plenty of Tupperware meals for her to nosh on until the next day. The chefs would later mention to me that it was similar to working a Friday-shift at a restaurant every day. To assist them, more feed tube stations were installed around the house – over the shower, over the toilets, over the couch, over the dinner table, and even the hallways.

One evening, I was wheeling in a dozen pizzas to our bedroom as she was sucking down the last of her malted weight gain shake. Jess was always a sight there. Her upper arms were practically indistinguishable from her body, and her ass was like two worn-down wrecking balls. Her stomach, as usual, was the main attraction. Her naked breasts covered her hips as they flanked her black hole of hunger. Each one was easily 120 pounds each, but they seemed insignificant next to her belly. It stretched out 8 feet in front of her, covering her feet and perched near the foot of the bed. The top of her belly was now at her chin, and she often wouldn’t notice anyone entering the room until they were right beside her. A crane was now needed to make love to her or simply move her out of bed.

Jess rolled up her tube and clicked it into the wall when the pizzas came into her view. She licked her lips and winked at me. “How do I look, loverboy?”

“Like a giant jelly bean.”

She hummed as she settled into her own body. “Mmmmm, sounds about right. Get on top of my belly when you feed me those, Teddy. Helps with indigestion.”

In the past, there were times when Jess would scream if you touched her when she was stuffed, but now she loved having other people on top of her. Getting Jess past full was now a special occasion that had to be planned for days in advance. Plus, with the amount of real estate she took up on the bed, it was practically the only place I could sleep. Not that I was complaining!

Jess had two modes of eating these days. The first was decadence. She loved creating menus with certain themes, like Thai-French fusion banquets, or Christmas in July. On those days, she’d make it a goal to eat only those foods that sated specific taste buds, like all the different ways she could experience sweetness or spiciness. On those days her eating was curious and leisurely. Sometimes she’d have me or an assistant take notes on a new favorite, or revise a dish into a future rotation. Each course was a piece of artwork to be analyzed and enjoyed. One dish was enough to feed a family, but for Jess they were rather moderate in comparison.

But as mentioned before, there were other days when Jess had only one thought on her mind: “Feed me.” Nothing else would get done on those days. Sometimes the feeling would hit her on the couch, or in bed, or at the dinner table. Sometimes it would happen in the middle of a photoshoot. Sometimes it was planned for and Jess waited for the day like a kid’s tenth birthday party. But whenever Jess was in that mode, a never ending torrent of food would march its way into her waiting mouth. Deliveries balanced out food from the kitchen, and between those sessions Jess always had snacks, ice cream, and her feeding tube on hand. The chefs would set up her feasts while her nurses would clean up and massage her. She would always be naked for these days; Jess couldn’t stand the thought of slowing down for fabric. She would eat until the daylight left, and in the coming months she’d continue her binge into the twilight hours. Her belly was no longer an indicator of fullness or when she would stop. On her feasting days, would make a sound like rumbling waves in the storm. It would tighten and grow, but as long as Jess was eating, room would be found. She would pass out at some point, purring in slumbering contentment. In the morning she would awaken and ask for a mirror to survey the previous days gluttony: new curves, deepened folds, and the rising line of flesh around her collar bone. It would be easy to say she was now a slave to her hunger, but it wouldn’t be true. Jess’s will and direction was at the center of her unprecedented obesity; it was there from the beginning.

Ten months after the convention showing, I was overlooking the spread laid out on the dining room table. The chefs had packed it with various Italian cuisines: Hilltops of chicken parmesan, washing buckets packed with pastas laden with red and white sauces, a variety of foot-long cold cuts, miles of meatballs, and pyramids of cannolis for dessert. I dismissed them to go take their own lunch break and waited for Jess to finish up her photoshoot down the hall.

As soon as Jess entered the hallway, the photos on the house’s wall began their familiar jumps. Every laborious step sent small shockwaves through the house, heralding her arrival.

Jess was a walking landmass of a woman now. Gripping the wall railing, she turned the corner to the dining room as I laid down the last of her first course of subs. Her right hip bunched up against the corner of the room’s wall, and it took three more steps to release the adipose back to her body. A slow, powerful shudder traveled through her body in reaction.

Jessica was clad in her photoshoot costume, which was a massive chainmail bikini for a “Barbarian Queen” look. The photo/video set had two new models feeding her grapes and turkey legs as she basked in luxury. Other shots had the models ravishing her massive stomach, or being trapped against a wall from their wrathful queen.

Jess wiped her brow, shaking the half dozen gold bracelets from her forearm. The thinnest parts of her arms could match the thighs of a 200 pound woman. She was clad in oversized diamonds and jewelry, her favorite accessories. Even when she stomped around the house naked, you could hear the subtle undertones of thick golden chains clack against each other. Only her fingers would be un-accessorized.

“What’s for lunch, dear?” she huffed.

“A little bit of Italy, queenie.”

Her stomach growled in protest and she gave a dangerous smile. “Oh, I hope it’s more than that.”
 

aster

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She guided her hands along the outskirts of her breasts, only managing to touch their half way point. Under the care of re-inforced chains, her tits hung in the air like floating fat teardrops. Her fingertips glided up through the gold plated 2-inch thick chains, tapping against the flesh-colored shoulder padding that kept the pressure of metal from being too much on her skin. Her top was specially designed to clasp at the shoulders for easy access, and she yanked away at the metal clasps that held it all together.

Her breasts flooded outward from her body, making a fast, sweat-streaked sound as gravity re-asserted itself. They each measured 3 feet across at their widest point, and had furrows that could hold a small watermelon in each concave curve. Her areolas had grown so enormous that my two outstretched hands couldn’t cover one completely. The first time we made this discovery, her nipple pushed my hand away, hardened in excitement.

As she walked toward me and the head of the table, I fell into a routine wonder over her body. The top half of her face was possibly the “thinnest” part of herself, her eyes still visible and piercing among the inch-high fat that surrounded them. The rest of her face was like an exaggerated cherub. Her nose had become button-shaped as her face sought to reclaim it. I jokingly told her once that her cheeks looked like they were smuggling tennis balls. Like the rest of her body, her lips were plumped up and pushed outward, stuck between a permanent pout and sensual curiousness.

Her belly jutted in front of her, a proud, prodigious symbol of her gluttony. It drummed and slowly danced with the rhythm of her elephantine legs pushing against each other. At her widest point, Jess measured 9 feet across, and after a particularly fulfilling feast day, her belly would eclipse that measurement. On those days it would render her immobile for hours, or even the better part of a day, until it would finally decide to settle down. It loved to be as pert as possible, but as Jess walked, it revealed its reluctant, mountainous slope to the floor. Its bottom crest was even with her ankles, and it kissed the ground with every footfall.

As she came closer to her bench seat, I pushed myself against the right wall to make way. I laughed inwardly when I realized the futility of this gesture. Her left hip nudged the guest seats out of their spots, and her right covered my body from my calves to my rib cage. Her flesh hugged and crawled over my body, with her musk wiping off on my clothes. From the corner of my eye I saw a glimmer of her chainmail bikini bottom, sunken deep into her body. It didn’t appear again until the top of her buttocks, and only then when it was on the downswing. Those hips had overgrown and destroyed two couches in ten months, and while Jess sat, they rewarded her with even more space for her delicacies.

When she turned I caught sight of her raven-black hair, the back of which she never cut, and so it grew along with her. Straightened but otherwise untamed, it covered the back of her bikini bottom and splayed outward as she walked – a queen forever accompanied by a royal cloak. It covered the floor behind her like a trap door of infinite darkness.

I pulled out her bench as she lifted up her side of the table cloth. It revealed a cut out wide semi-circle. The table was cut and segmented so the circle could “grow out” when needed. Jess gripped the table’s corners and said she was ready. I pushed her bench forward and she grunted her way downward. She always leaned inward when she was seated at the table. For one, it helped her belly adjust to its surroundings. More importantly, it helped her be closer to the food.

Freed from most of gravity’s restrictions, Jess licked her chops and wiggled her fingers in excitement. She lurched toward a bucket of seafood scampi, and tilted the contents into her mouth. Riverlets of olive oil ran down her face as one hand shoveled the angel hair noodles into her mouth. She loved the wet, oily nature of pasta these days; it almost always went down easy which meant she could eat a lot of it fast.

In a matter a minutes she sponged up the remains of the bucket with her forearm and licked it clean. She shunted the container behind her and got to work stacking subs along her naked body. I moved to help her, but she asked me to cut up the meatballs into quarters instead.

“Do… Mmmmrr… fwee shtil haf dat gravy?” She asked between bites.

“The gravy? Sure, hon. We still have barrel of it in the third fridge.”

She instructed me to fill the previous bucket all the cut up meatballs and pour as much gravy as I could into it. She was ok with it being cold if she ate it early.

That was Jess for you. At her size, it wasn’t just what she ate but how. A few seconds wasted chewing her food definitely added up at this point. That’s why she got “tougher” foods like the subs out of the way early.

The rest of her lunch progressed at her normal whirlwind pace, with my one job to keep food within arm’s reach of her. I loved to see the euphoric bliss on her face as she poured her food into her waiting jaw. She got off on how much she had to eat, and how far she had expanded to be beyond basic human utilities like normal plates and silverware. Every time she heard a plastic bucket hit the floor behind her she would give a slight inhalation of excitement, knowing that the pasta inside was enough to feed a family of four.

By 2pm she was down to 22 chicken breasts balanced on a tray on her left tit and her untouched dessert. She ate the chicken parmesan like corn on the cob, biting one side until it was thin enough to be swallowed whole. She gave a slight burp and shook her head.

I came up behind her and rubbed the bridges of fleshed that connected to her sides and back. “You ok, Jess?”

“Sorry,” she huffed. “But where’s the pizza?”

I kissed her cheek. “I don’t think they made any.”

“But it’s a taste of Italy!” She jostled left and right and rotated her forarms in frantic circles. She turned her head as much as she could to me and said, “And don’t tell me pizza’s not really a big deal in Italy, or I’ll—”

I put another chicken breast in her mouth. “You’re cute when you’re mad. I’ll see what I can do.”

I set up ten deep dishes in the five ovens we used and got to thinking about Jess. She had eaten for hours and hadn’t broken her stride at all. Would ten pizzas really satisfy her? She was getting worse at lying at the end of meals and would often continue to eat full meals on the couch and the bedroom. I grabbed the wireless phone and started dialing the local pizzeria shop. Then I saw the collection of phone numbers and menus on the wall beside it.

Aw hell, I thought. Why not make a day out of it?

After I made my phone calls, I went to the photoshoot and told the girls it was a wrap for the day and to sneak out the back if they could. Carmen rolled her eyes and started disassembling her lens.

“Make sure she can be back in two days, Ted. We got deadlines to keep, here.”

I kept Jess at bay with family-sized bags of chips and malted pitchers, but she inhaled them like she was bored. I was going through cold cuts meant for the next shoot to keep her grumbling down.

As I watched the last minute on the oven timer turn to seconds, my phone vibrated urgently. My door bell app showed the pizza man with his bounty in three red boxes behind him. My app kept the ringer silent for surprises like this.

A few minutes later I put the two stacks of five pizzas each on her now draped tits. For food right out of the oven, we used an insulated sheet to keep any bowls or piping hot food from hurting her skin. She nabbed a top pie, folded it into gooey quarters, and chowed down.

When she finished one stack, I replaced it with another from the ones in the kitchen. She was so in the zone that she didn’t even notice until I did it a second time. She eyed the new stack and noticed the golden flour on the crust.

“Nino’s?” she said.

“My girl knows her Italian.”

“How much did you get?”

I winked and crossed my arms. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

It was one of my favorite little games to play with Jess. When she didn’t know how much food was prepared in the kitchen for her, it sent her appetite and libido wild. One of her most erotic dreams was being fed from an infinite conveyor belt as she laid on the ground, swallowing any treat that fell into mouth whole. Obviously, such a real life occurrence was impossible, but this was close to it.

She would demolish a stack, pound back a pitcher, and yell for more. She would always have an untouched tower of pizza on the other tit, but she demanded that the conveyor belt never come close to stopping.

And so it didn’t, until she got her 30th pie. She wiped the sweat off her brow and gave me a peck on the lips. “Sorry for getting grumpy with ya, darlin’. Guess I was just hungrier than I thought.” Jess leaned into her Southern accent when she got fat and cheery. It was adorable.

Jess surveyed the detritus of scraps that laid before the expanse of her body and her half table. She looked at the clock and sighed. It was time to get back to the shoot. She reluctantly raised her arms above the lift bars above her.

I smirked and shoved my hands into the deep folds of her armpits and made my fingers dance. She giggled and jiggled like a kid, and even gave out a few excited burps.



 

aster

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She leaned back into me and gave a slow exhale. “Staaahp, Ted. I gotta get back to tha’ shoot.”

I pulled my arms out from her and wrapped them around her neck. “Did you enjoy a little of Italy?”

She tilted her head into my arm. “Mmmmm.”

My phone vibrated against the crest of her ass. It made her metal bikini bottom dance.

I navigated around her and darted my tongue into her. For a second she recoiled back, but soon closed her eyes and reciprocated. She squeezed my ass as a sign of “thank you dear, but wrap it up please.”

I rose up and grabbed what I could of her chest and belly. “How about you enjoy a little of everything tonight?”

“What do you mean? Dinner’s already planned out.”

I pulled out my phone. “That’s the fourth time today that doorbell rang and it’s just getting started. I ordered in from everywhere, Jess. Pizza, Chinese, Thai, some greasy spoons, Mexican, a few burger joints, and more.”

Jess gave me a knowing smirk. “So I guess the shoot’s cancelled today, huh?” She smacked her lips and tore off her insulated cover. She jostled her way upward and took a bathroom break while I set things up.

At 3:30pm, she was back in action at the table. She scooped sweet and sour chicken into her mouth like she was at a buffet, and hummed with the sweetness her Italian meal was mostly lacking. Freed from her day’s responsibilities, Jess ate with what I knew was true abandonment. On a day like this, she was an explorer of gluttony. Every bite was another step to finding her true limits of expansion and pain.

I made sure to time my dining room entrances with my phone vibrations. The more it went off, the more Jess took notice. She would slow her chewing, and look at me with light suspicion.

“Don’t forget to swallow that turkey leg, dear.”

Jess took a hard gulp and burped. “How many places did you order from?”

I pulled a table half toward me and I gave Jess’s a playful tap. It was like throwing a stone into a lake and rippled to my touch. “What’s the matter, Jess?” I leaned in and massaged her breast. “Getting full?”

Game on. Being perpetually “not full” was both a point of sorrow and pride for her. Her look of concern turned to new resolve. Jess ripped into her turkey leg and made in naked in three bites. She threw the drumstick into the garbage can. “You wish,” she said and pulled in a blooming onion.

Jess feasted for hours on end. In the whirlwind of dishes that surrounded her, she was able to live as the concept of gluttony itself. In her mind, an endless parade of food came to her via of her lover from an infinite kitchen – a thought that would give even the most ardent feedee pause but one that Jess was determined to stress test to its breaking point.

While the doorbell gave its regular notifications throughout the day, I hedged my bets by keeping the ovens and microwaves warm with whatever was on hand to be broiled, re-heated, or nuked. I walked miles between the two rooms, setting up carts with proper entrees and my hands always filled with more refills for her malted pitchers.

Her stomach parted the segmented table with hourly regularity, inch by inch. Soon, there were less and less optimal areas to place Jess’s food. The table was becoming irrelevant by 6pm, as she couldn’t even reach the closest corners of it. Her own belly was bunching up on the linoleum floor and it created a greater curvature over her usable surface area.

Even so, Jess only stopped in her fervor to stretch what she could of her limbs and back. Even she was hardly used to sitting and feasting for so long, and she greatly feared cramps. Soon her face was reddened and she was coated in a constant stream of sweat that gave the top layer of her skin a sort of translucent gleam against the room’s lighting.

During one of her stretches, her breasts finally lost the battle with her belly, and her sweat made them slick enough to surrender to gravity. She seethed and grimaced, but wordlessly pushed an avalanche of dumplings into her mouth. I placed two stools under each of her tits to ease some of her discomfort.

As evening approached, Jess was looking surrounded. Behind her was a mountain of detritus that went as high as her neck, and it spread out so half the floor was covered in discarded bones, bowls, and buckets. Jess leaned back to the four food carts flanking her, pulling what she could into her waiting maw, but this caused her tits to pull in and her torso to bunch up, making even the downward motion of her arms a trying task. Her head was beginning to fall into the quicksand of adipose around her shoulders, but her jaw widened unimpeded anyway.

Her hips and most notably her ass poured over her bench, as if her body would consume even that for nourishment. I warned Jess that she was scooting back too much, but between bites she assured me she hadn’t moved an inch.

An insane thought crept across my mind. What if Jess’s body was expanding at a rate to accommodate all the food flooding into her system? What if every morsel was divided into her titantic breasts, her heaving hips, and acreage of ass as soon as it landed down her gullet? What if she truly was beyond satiation? I shook off the idea as medical science fiction, even in the face of her ravaging appetite on display.
 

aster

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Eventually the bundled up folds of fat on the underside of her belly gave way, pushing aside the table fragments half a foot outward. I expected some quip from Jess about her tummy making more room, but even I could see that that wasn’t case. Her stomach was becoming taut; it couldn’t afford to have more than one curve around it.

Jess finally tapped out at 11pm. She could feel her own stomach pushing against her, and was gasping for air between mouthfuls of lasagna. She took a leisurely 10 minutes to finish her tray and put up her hands in surrender.

“Okay *hic* jeez!” She made an ecstatic growl that turned into a burp. “You got me! I’m stuffed!”

I cleaned up and cleared a path while Jess sat back and recovered. Her whole body was slick with sweat and her face was leaned back taking labored breaths. Her head bobbed in accordance to her breathing – a buoy in a sea of fat she created. Her arms laid limp and perpendicular, unable to soothe her aching flesh.

After an hour, Jess was able to take the labored path to the couch. She was shocked at how quickly her belly kissed the tip of the indented cushions. With my guidance, she settled in to her dead-center spot of the couch. She groaned in unison with the steel-grade springs and regulated her breathing. I turned on a movie and nestled myself between her ass cheek and a couch arm. Her hot body thrummed with her heartbeat, pounding against the calories and my wife’s excitement.

Jess sighed and made small circles on the portion of her belly that pushed her tits aside. “It couldn’t last forever,” she said mournfully.

“What couldn’t?” I slid my arm behind her, feeling the dozens of inches of fat that separated my hand from anything close to her skeleton.

“I didn’t want to tell you this, hon, but…” she devishly licked her lips. “I’ve put on a few pounds.”

“You’re a bit chubby, yeah.”

Jess grunted. “Pretty sure my tummy’s going to hit the floor in the next few days.”

“That’s been reality for a while now, dear.” I hid my foot under her belly for effect.

Jess chuckled. “I mean while I’m walking, dummy. If I lean back any more I’d be a limbo star. I’m going to have to cut back and diet.”

I sighed. I knew this day was coming, and I promised myself long ago that I’d let Jess take the reins on her body, and she took it further than I ever thought possible. She turned herself in a beast of sexuality and obesity, but every human has their limits. Tonight was a good last hurrah. Even still, I felt heavy myself then.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll need to hold back until the belly board comes in.”

A jolt went up my spine. “The what?”

Jess explained how she commissioned a sleek stainless support board for her stomach a few weeks ago. It had its own mini-tank treads and had motion sensors to move when she moved. It could handle 150% of the circumference of her gut, and even had its own hydraulic lift to help her get to bed or go to the bathroom.

“I still have photo shoots to get to,” she explained. “And the occasional buffet to destroy.” A riverlet of saliva escaped her mouth at the thought.

“Maybe in the next couple hundred pounds I’ll get something to carry these bad girls.” She leaned back and tried to slap her asscheeks, but her biceps bunched and allowed no such purchase. I slapped her cheek for her.

“Thank you,” she huffed. “Maybe when those break I’ll get a scooter or a wheelchair. I don’t want to be immobile until I’m at LEAST a ton. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

“Jesus, Jess, are you sure? I thought you meant going on a, I dunno, a permanent diet.”

She scoffed. “You can’t be serious. Me, on a diet? You said it yourself, I’m chubby at best.”

Silence filled then room. Jess eyed me inquisitively, surveying my face to measure against her announcement. She tucked her chin into her body. “I love you, Ted. I love how you’ve supported me and all this craziness.” She waved her hands over what she could of her body. “If you ever told me to stop… I would, because I know you’re saying it for the best reasons someone like me could ask for.”

I squeezed out from her body and tore my shirt off. I pounced her side and climbed the mountain of woman I married. I hooked my arms into her shoulder mounds and clasped my lips her mouth. While her limbs could barely embrace me, she practically inhaled my tongue, caressing and tasting what she could of me.

I was the first to pull away, gasping for air. “Whoa!” I said. “I’m your husband, not a snack!”

Jess nustled her head back triumphantly, her eyes lowing into a relaxed doze. She didn’t know it at the time, but that night she had crested the 1500 pound mark – over three-quarters of a ton. “Mmmmm,” she purred. “Then how about some ice cream instead, lover?”

------------------------

Hey everyone, this is the end of the story! I may continue it some form in the future, but I figured this would be a good point to hop off before it gets repetitive. Thank you all for your likes and feedback. I have been a lurker since the early 2000s, and it was nice to finally give something back to this community.
 
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mumbo

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In my view, best story since SpeedRacer's stories about Janet! A new legend!
 

aster

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I'm a big fan of SpeedRacer's work, so that is very high praise. I just wanted to hop back and thank people for their kind words and many views. I will try to make another story soon -- probably a one-shot -- and I appreciate the support people have shown to a newcomer like me.
 

aster

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Hi everyone! I've decided to continue this story again. The updates are probably going to come slower than the previous ones, so please bear with me. As usual, thanks for the support.
Jessica Returns

Our guest buzzed the gate at 11:00am, a hour before lunchtime. After verifying her through our security app, I granted her access through our driveway. I crossed through the hallway and waited in the foyer; I knew I still about five minutes. I had gotten fairly accurate at timing out when newcomers would come up through the forested driveway and up the elevator from the underground parking.


The foyer was where we had planned to entertain guests when we moved into what Jessica called the “McMansion.” While the home was built in a sharp, contemporary style that the neighborhood of tech gurus all quietly agreed to follow, I always took a bit of umbrage with the term. After all, when we bought the property, I had gutted practically everything in it but the cement and windows that went from floor to ceiling. What few hallways existed were widened 17 feet to “give her some wiggle room” (which I thought was rather generous, but Jessica insisted was a future necessity), with all the prerequisite guardrails, snack stations with pre-installed air fryer toaster ovens, and feeding tubes. The new house was a way for us both to think bigger on how to accommodate her wants and needs, and I was proud of the many innovations I kept secret until the move-in day.

I slid my finger along the leather armrest of Jessica’s couch that she had planned to “rest on” when not mingling with the hypothetical guests. Behind it hummed a hydraulic system that was integrated into its carbon steel frame. On vocal command, it could assist Jessica in sitting down and standing up. It even had heating coils on the bottom to warm her up during the brisk months we had living 30 miles northeast of Dallas.

An aluminum glimmer between two arm pillows caught my eye, and I reached for it. It was a family sized bag of BBQ chips, three-quarters still full. I sighed and marched to the elevator toward the back of the room.


The lift was decorated in a rich velvet felt, and was built large and strong enough to fit Jess and a gang of her coworkers and friends. When the doors opened to reveal our visitor, she looked downright diminutive, which was impressive given her stature.

At 6’2”, she was taller than Jess and a notch shorter than me, but even at an average height, Valerie Andino would have still stuck out in a crowd. As a 2018 Ms. Olympia runner-up, she had a light bronzed skin that had sheens of light bouncing off her forearms. Her punctuated veins traveled out of a purple blouse that hugged her triangular body. Her custom-made slacks could not the tree-trunk thighs that she could make dance at her competitions.

She had dyed her hair platinum blonde when she arrived in America five years ago, and as a 20-something competitor, still kept her face away from that weathered, leathery look that so many of her fellow bodybuilders sported. She clutched her tablet as she came toward me and took in her surroundings.

“My goodness,” she said. “It’s like a palace built for a giant!”


I always enjoyed people’s reactions to the house. The spaciousness was always a bit disorienting to newcomers. “Well, I suppose it is, Valerie. Thank you for coming.” I led her down the east corridor, giving her an impromptu tour along the way. She was brimming with new hire energy and morbid curiosity, and she deluged me with questions.

“Do you keep an electronic folder of her medical records? I have Dropbox if that helps.”

“When was her last check up? I’d like to speak to her medical team this weekend, same with her chefs.”

“Where is that lady I spoke with on the phone? She had a Spanish accent and was really sweet.”

“How long have you lived here? I’m not seeing any doors around and – oh wait I get it – yeah that makes sense.”

I took her up another elevator that was closest to the bedrooms. Valerie looked at me quizzically as we ascended.


“I have to say, I’m pretty surprised a home like this, um…”

I finished her sentence for her: “Has a second floor? It has an attic too, but that’s mostly for old costumes and props.”


“Yes, wouldn’t a second floor be dangerous for someone like Jessica?”

The elevator opened and I stomped on the hallway carpeting. A light throng echoed. “You might have noticed all the archways on the first floor. This house was torn about apart and re-designed to handle Jessica as if she was well over a ton. Think of highway tunnels and bridges that deal with 18-wheelers and carry over some of those designs here. When we saw the house listed online, it had a wonderful open balcony that she wanted to use, so we worked from there.”

Valerie brushed way her bangs and smiled. “Who says money doesn’t buy happiness?”


I slid my watch across the IR reader to the master bedroom. The sliding door slid into the wall. “Well, it certainly solves a lot of problems.”

Valerie gasped at the sight of my wife. She was lounging in her easy chair, cup of tea in hand, staring out at the window. She was clad in only an older red fleece bathrobe, and it covered her frame well. She slid a glace at the both of us and then looked back out the window.

“Hey babe, Valerie’s here.”

“Great,” she said. “Just great.”

Valerie stepped in and put out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you! Your house is amazing, by the way.”

Jess sighed again. “Just say it already.”

Valerie frowned. “I’m sorry?”

Jess guided her mug to a coaster. “You thought I would be bigger.”


At this point, it was a common observation when new people met my famous wife. Over the course of 18 months, she had lost over 600 pounds. During the winter season, Jess was invited to a Michigan-based BBW convention as a star attraction. It would be all expenses paid, featuring eating contests, photo ops, and a grand finale show that would mark her weight in the Guinness World Record books.

Jess had never bothered with getting the World Record people to confirm her weight in the past for two reasons. The first was the fact that “administration fees” cost upwards of $800 or had wait times of 3 months. While she could definitely afford the fees, she said that by the time they made the announcement, she’d already be fatter by a mile. The second was that she kept track of her own stats just fine, and had dealt with conspiracy theories of faked videos and fat suits since her first eating competition. Still, if the convention was willing to pay for it, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Being able to bill herself as officially the World’s Fattest Woman wouldn’t be too bad for business either.

Jess loved to leverage one opportunity into others, and so she set up a meet-and-shoot with some of her new midwestern models a few days before. She wanted a “outdoor snow babes” theme, with them all wearing swimsuits under their parkas and nothing else. Rebecca and Juanita weren’t able to make it out, but was assured by a model that their freelance photographers could do the job.

For the most part, they were fine. They weren’t prepared to help Jess out of her modified 18-wheeler, but we were. This wasn’t her first traveling gig after all. A few dozen pounds short of 1600, she was lowered from the truck in a treaded wheelchair clad in a open cheetah-stripped parka, an orange bikini that stretched over her belly, and cats eye sunglasses. She waved the models to her with her right hand and held her 2-gallon margarita jug with the left.

When the four girls and two photographers formed a semi-circle around her, Jess began her speech:

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you all in the real world. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t a fan of each of your works. However, I need to establish a few notes for each of you to keep in mind.”

With a flourish, she turned her jug upside down and into her mouth. At first she gave a few strong sucks, like a determined toddler, but soon lifted it above her mouth and let the greenish liquid gush into her mouth. Within three minutes, the last of her drink was circling the drain and she began snapping with her freehand. I grabbed another margarita jug from the cooler and handed it to her.


Jess tossed the empty container behind her and put up the “just a minute” hand signal as she repeated the performance with her new jug. In just over five minutes, she had downed four gallons of tequila and lime mix. She gave a sharp inhale and burped petitely. She looked back at her audience and wrapped her fingers together.

“You see how my hubby had whatever I was consuming on deck when I snapped my fingers? That’s how I need you all to be today. If I’m eating one of those delightfully oversized donuts I see in that tent over there and my fingers are moving, I need the closest person possible to put another one in my hand. If I’m drinking a keg of hot cider, I need one of you to slug another barrel on your shoulder until I give you the word.” Jess hiccuped and snapped her fingers. This time I stayed still.

Jess cocked an eyebrow and snapped louder. A “petite” 250 lbs model stepped forward and scrambled to grab a jug from the cooler and passed it to her. Jess smiled, nodded, and then snapped her other set of fingers. After a moment of confusion, the model grabbed another jug from the cooler, jogged around her mass and handed it off. Jess popped both of them open and poured both streams into her mouth.
 

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Her stomach gave a slow gurgle that emanated from the top half of her stomach, and it was then that the group had really started to take in her size. It was pre-lunch and her stomach stuck out a solid 3.5 feet, its bottom crest resting in the fresh snow. As Jess continued to chug, her belly button began to peak out over the horizon of her “high waisted” bottom. Her parka opened up past her breasts as she tilted the jugs further up, revealing a twist-front style top with a red and yellow tropical print. Including the reinforced underwire, it weighed over 20 pounds, and while it gave Jess’s breasts the horizonal perkiness she liked, all the girls knew she couldn’t have put it on herself. Her arms would have to be twice as long to just touch the edge of her areola.

I could hear a familiar series of murmurs pass through the group.

“How can she drink that much without stopping? Is this a trick?”

“Where are her feet? Can she walk?”

“Forget walking, look at her tummy! I don’t think she can even stand. She can’t even touch her armrests.”

“I knew we’d all have to pose around her. What a diva. Why did we even agree to this?”

Jess finished off the last of her 1,024 fluid ounces and let the jugs drop. They bounced off her hips, kissed the edges of her bum, and finally spiraled slowly on the ground. “Ahh! Momma was thirsty! And, well, having a bit of alcohol helps me loosen up for a shoot. Among other things.” She glanced at her coat-covered models and winked.

“But anyway!” She rapped her fingers on the top acreage of her cleavage. “My point is, when I ask for something, sometimes my mouth will be full but I need it right away. I’m a big gal and I have to keep up my full figure. I can normally get these things myself, except for the fact that –” She looked at me and outstretched her arms.

We locked forearms and Jess began the toughest part of her day. Jessica strained against her body as I stabilized my footing. The moderate amount of liquor and the pushing was turning her face beet red. Finally the pressurized seat kicked in and began to help her along. The sudden push of the seat caused the outer layers of her ass to undulate, and I could tell that Jessica struggled for balance as she began to lock her knees.

The jug girl from earlier hurried over and wrapped her arms around her back and sides. She almost slipped into one of Jess’s folds and gasped at how deep her arms sunk into her. Jess seethed through her teeth and finally stood up. My wife wiped the sweat off her brow and wiggled her arms and torso as she adjusted to her new elevation. She tugged at her top and was glad to see her “girls” were still penned in. I pulled the wheelchair back and readjusted her swimsuit bottom.

About half of the bottom crest of her stomach was still laying on the ground; the rest pushed away from her and against her legs as she leaned back at a slightly unnatural angle. I stepped back into the truck while Jess continued with her speech.

“Except for the fact that I’m very fat, very lazy, and always hungry. But don’t worry, I heard your concerns. As you can see, my feet are still very visible for your foot fetish subscribers… they just have a bit of shade now.” She knocked on her belly and it grumbled back. She patted it with her palms and shushed it.

“Sorry, like I said, always hungry. But we got three photoshoot sets today, with lunch after the second. If anything, you’ll be keeping up with me. There might be some snowfall in the afternoon, and while that can look good on Christmas cards, it’s not great for cameras so we have to move at a brisk pace.”

I came back out with a red saucer sled. It was the kind I’d ride down hills with my childhood friends whenever we were able to hit the ski park.

Jess slid her fingers down her famously long black hair. “And while I might need a bench break every now and then, I assure you, I’m quite mobile.” She gave a guilty little cough. “With a little help of course.”

I jimmied the sled under her resting paunch. “Little help here, ladies,” I said, motioning to my wife’s stomach.” Everyone except jug girl gathered around and lifted what they could. She stood by Jess’s side as she chatted her up. She was 5’6” and one-fifth of Jess’s size, so it was doubtful she was doing much help, but my wife always appreciated a go-getter.

As I centered the disc under her, I could overhear the conversation.

“Oooh, such a soft belly! I wanna squish it all day!”

“Haha, oh it’s nothing special.”

“Don’t talk down about yourself sweetie. What do you weight, 290? 300?”

“Oh nowhere near that! I’m about 258. I’ve only started really, um, gaining a few months ago when I signed up. I was hoping some of it would go to my boobs by now but I guess not.”

“Oof, careful what you wish for, darlin’. I got boobs for days and they just get in the way and break stuff. I’ll be surprised if this new top survives the shoot. Besides, I’m sure your boyfriend likes ya just fine.”

“Pfft, no boyfriends here! He left with some twig a few months ago.”

“Mmmm, really.”

Her belly landed dead center and she clapped in excitement. “Thank you, girls! Camera time in ten!”

The girls scampered off and I began to set up her parka’s zipper. “How you doin’, hun?” I asked.

“Oh just awesome. Her name’s Brittany and she’s just out of college. Complete sweetheart and she’s got that great innocent Norwegian blonde look that drives me nuts.”

I chuckled. “I mean the sled, you piggie. I’m sorry that the tread board didn’t come in yet but this was the best we could do on short notice. It has rope inside it if you need help moving around.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, mom. No one’s dragging me around today.”

I got the parka’s zipper to click at the bottom and began its ascent. “Well maybe I’ll use it to drag you away if you don’t play nice with these young ladies.”

As if on cue, Brittany came back with a box of donuts in tow that was wider than she was. It was from a hometown favorite shop that made donuts and pastries “for giants,” which in reality meant one donut could feed three kids easily. For Jess they were a delightful pre-shoot snack.

“I figured you might be hungry,” she said. Truer words were never spoken.

She opened the box and handed a cruller the size of my neck to Brittany. “Gawd yes! I always need a little nourishment to get my fat ass anywhere anyway.”

“Well get moving, then!” I smacked her ass so hard it was still moving when she yelled back at me.

“Hey, that’s workplace harassment, buster!” Her cheeks reddened and she shoved half a strawberry donut in her face. Jess hadn’t been able to touch most of her ass a hundred pounds ago. Her arms would bunch up and her shoulders would fold into her back fat. A good butt smack reminded her of her limits, briefly humbled her, and she secretly loved it.

“Aw, don’t report me to HR, honey.” I reached my hand under her panty line and massaged the sore spot. I wrapped my other arm in the space between her breasts and stomach. She turned her head away, but eventually relented into giving me a goodbye kiss for work. She punched up my poor tongue with hers and made me pull away first. If for whatever reason she couldn’t get the Guinness World Record for her weight, she could definitely get it for lung capacity.

She spouted a quick victory raspberry at me and grew a goofy smile. “Mmmm, you and me are going to have a long talk in the hotel room tonight.” She scarfed the rest of her donut down in two bites.

Jess slid her belly left and marched forward. “Walk with me, Brit. Tell me your five-year plan and keep the donuts coming.”

While Jess came off a bit acerbic before the shoot, during it she was in her element, and knew how to how to have fun to keep the gears moving. During the first set with the parkas on, Jess would sneak in a compliment about a girl’s hoop ear rings, and then then thank her when she brought over a malted for her. When she found a blue-haired girl’s new rose tattoo peeking from her left cheek, she asked her to pull up her bottom and show it off for the camera.

She gave newer girls SEO advice while asking them to explain TikTok to her. She talked body ratio while giving others advice on how to get more stamina at the dinner table. A joke that talked up a girl’s skin there, a playful boob honk there, and soon Jessica had created a super-sized sisterhood out in the Michigan tundra.

After the first set was done, the girls rushed back to the break tent, which had two electric heaters and plenty of blankets and towels. Jess had timed out a pizza delivery as a snack break, so she relaxed on her bench out in the snow and chatted it up with Brittany as I toweled off her feet.

When the delivery boy came to the park, he was dumbfounded. Turns out, he was a fan! He was a yearly subscriber to her site, and was stuttering about how he was planning to get her autograph at the convention. He placed the six 20” pies on her bosom and scratched his head, frozen in nervousness.

Jess looked at Brittany and I and fluttered her eyes. She told him she would give him an autograph, a hug, and a big old smooch if he had any extra pies in his car. It just so happened he had a few prank deliveries and he’d be right back.

Twelve pies, three dozen breadsticks, four 2-liters of Coke, and two more margarita jugs later, Jess was rubbing her tummy and purring like a lamb. She looked at the dazed delivery boy and yanked him on top of her. She gave him a marinara soaked kiss and practically sucked him into her cleavage with the force of her hug. She held him overhead and gingerly placed him on his feet. As big as Jess was, people often forgot how much of her was actually muscle.
 

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“Sorry I don’t have any autographs for you, hun. Yours will be free at the convention, I promise.”

The teenager shook himself back to reality. “Hey, it’s fine, really! It… it’s been cool!” His voice broke at the end and ran off.

Jess cupped her hands around her mouth. “And if you have any delivery buddies, tell them they can come by at noon!”

The delivery boy gave the ok sign as he wobbled into his car.

I shimmied a towel up her calf and whistled. “You sure made his decade.”

Jess nestled into her own body. “I do it all for the fans, dear.”

Jess looked at Brittany nibbling on her fourth slice of cheese pizza and cleared her throat. “Brit, be a dear and reach into the middle of my top. I think half a breadstick rolled down there.”

With only a second of trepidation, Brittany leaned over and plunged her hands in. Jess jostled and giggled as the model’s cold hands explored the depth and curvature. She gasped as the size of Jess’s nipple, plumped up by the cold temperatures.

“Oh my god!”

Jess lowered her sunglasses and smirked. “That’s not a breadstick, dear. But I understand the confusion.”

“How are you so huge! I am so jealous, ohmygawd!”

“Check the underside. I can feel it there.”

Brit explored a few seconds more and then grabbed her prize. It wasn’t food but a laminated business card. It had Jess’s personal email and phone number. On the back was our hotel and room number. It was a first floor royal suite that was connected to ballroom doubledoors. Typically meant for newlyweds, it was the most accessible room we could find for Jess.

“We should talk more after the shoot, Brittany. You’re a real cutie and I think you have real potential.” Jess pulled back her hair over her ear and looked away. “Maybe get dinner after the shoot.”

Brittany stayed quiet while she inspected the card. When she was finished, she hid it inside her own top and bit her lip. She leaned on my wife’s mass and made wide, deep circles along her gut, grabbing and kneading her flesh. She did the same with the section of ass that protruded out from Jess’s bench.

Rhythmic, quivering sounds escaped from Jess’s mouth. Against Jess’s weak protests, Brittany started kissing the top crests of her left side, working her way down slowly. Brit gripped the rim of the orange bottom with her teeth and flicked the fold underneath with her tongue. Jess shuddered so bad I thought she’d fall off the seat.

Brittany sprang up with her hands triumphantly placed on her hips. “I warn you,” she said, “I was pretty wild in college.” She leaned into her ear and whispered, “I always wanted to fuck the fattest girl in the world.” She pecked her on the cheek and skipped over to the break tent.

Jess huffed as she rubbed her legs against her stomach. She looked at me with eyes half glazed over and half sparkling with sexual energy. “Oh god…” she said. “When the hell is lunch?”

After a quick bathroom break, Jess was rearing to go for round 2, which made her stand out from her associates. Shoot #2 started with the parkas slowly coming off as they went through their standard sexy poses. While they could keep their boots on for most shots, you could tell there was some apprehension with taking the parkas completely off. When they did their mid-air throw shot, you could tell most the girls wanted to call it a day then and there.

“Group hug shot, guys! Bring it in!” Jess motioned everyone toward her as she finished off an on-set donut. Three girls were on each side of Jess, with the taller girls standing beside her, the middle girls kneeling under the crest of her tits, and the smallest girls “trapped” under Jess’s belly with the sled removed. They all commented on how warm Jess was, and jokingly agreed to just nuzzle up to Jess instead of running to the heater. They did more snow ball fight scenes, booty shots, playful wrestling shots (a serious fan favorite), and finally a scene with a hilariously large chocolate fudge sundae that they demolished together, feeding each other and licking each other’s drippings along the way.

The lunchbell ringtone went off on my phone, and Jess immediately started shuffling over to the tent. The tent was fully catered from a local deli/butcher shop, and they went with a winter comfort food theme. The side tables were filled to the brim with chili pots, corn bread, slow cooked pot roasts, three kinds of potatoes, macaroni and cheese trays, and more.

With the regular models averaging 300 pounds, I thought the distribution of food would be an issue, but I turned out to be pleasantly surprised. As Jess readjusted her table bench to face the entrance, each girl lined up to set up two plates: one for themselves, and one for Jess. They placed each heaping dish within arm’s reach of the picnic table, or somewhere on Jess’s body.

They really turned around on Jess, and between bites Jess told the girls that this was the most fun she ever had on a shoot. Twenty minutes in, Jess had tossed her 18th plate onto the table, and she said they better move on to dessert before lunch was over. The girls giggled.

The blue haired girl dabbed some gravy off her chin. “Jess, do you normally have 30 minute lunches?”

“Oh god no.”

“Well neither do we, silly!” The girls left the tent and came back with fresh pots and trays of everything Jess had been noshing on. They had been hiding the second course in their cars as a surprise for Jess. And it was all for her.

Jess sniffled and wiped away a tear that got stuck at the top of her cheek. “I love you guys so much.”

This time Jess threw away all pretense of civility and ordered the entire trays put on her belly, and the least hot crock pot to be shoved in her cleavage. She tipped the container into her mouth and drank the gravy dry before gripping the pot roast inside and rolling it off her teeth like an apple peeler. When she was finished, she slammed the crock pot on the table and beckoned for more.

When the girls put down a new tray of cornbread for her, she asked me for the remaining four margarita jugs. They had been nestled in the snow outside for a chilled texture. That’s when I saw the cars begin to line up. Apparently that delivery boy did have friends and word got out. On the top of each car I saw had a light up delivery sign: Domino’s, Main Moon, Noodles and Company, and a few Doordashes. The drivers came up and said their bosses just wanted a pic with Jess holding their food and smiling for their local social media profiles, and maybe have the drivers in the picture too. For most of them, it was clearly just an excuse to see Jess, but I already knew what her answer would be. I grabbed the jugs and motioned them all inside.

Jess spoke while chin deep in the last baked potato: “Foh muh fod ob cord I dake a piffure!” She swallowed the last of it and crumpled the tin foil into a ball. “Bags on the table, one shot each, and if anyone gets grabby I’ll eat them.”

Jess put her friends’ dishes on pause for the photo shoot, which was probably her hardest shoot of the day since she had to stop lunch for a few minutes. But soon enough, they were gone, and Jess went back at it with a strong and steady pace. She would finish off one franchise, then drink half a margarita. She would go back to two of the catered meals, then drink half a margarita.

After the second margarita jug, I could tell Jess was starting to feel it. Her eyelids were at half mast and her lips were going into a full pout. Her cheeks were getting ruddy and her sides were starting to get slippery with sweat. It was a lot of tequila even for her, and I suggested she switch to water.

She stuck her tongue out. “That’s for after the shoot, babe.” She said the booze was like a nice little hug around her, and she’d need her warmth for the last shoot. “I don’t think that parka’s gonna fit me at this point anyway!”

When Brittany maneuvered around Jess for a drink of cider, she smirked and said it must be thong season. Jess’s waist high briefs were catching up to her gluttony, and as she adjusted herself on the bench, her bikini bottom started to ride up her butt. It was easy to see why. As her belly did its impression of The Blob, the rim of her briefs started to slowly stretch and expand. While the lycra fabric was triple-layered and only had to contain the bottom third of her torso, it still rode up her thighs and cheeks as her gut pressed onward and outward.

Jess shoved two sliders into her mouth, chewed three times, and swallowed. “Oh god, tell me about it! So annoying!” She stamped her right hand on the table. “Could somebody pull them down?”

“Pull what down?”

Jess burped. “My panties.”

“You mean your swimsuit bottom?”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

The girls rolled back the top rim from her belly as Jess poured a brown bag of cheese balls down her throat. As soon as the bathing suit escaped the concrete, it snapped back to Jess’s knees and her belly seethed forward.

“Oh… oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” Jess rubbed the portion of her belly under her tits and uncapped the second to last margarita jug. “Big mama got some more room now.”

A minute later one of the models noticed a shocking sight. “Holy jeez! You’re belly’s peeking out the door.”

Jess threw back the empty jug and belched. “That’s a tent flap, not a door.”

“Oh come on! You’re so big you’re outside now! What if you get cold!”

Jess tapped her chin in contemplation. “You’re right,” she said. “Better give me that last pot roast. Warm me up a little.”

I stepped outside to put some insulated blankets over her belly. It was easier than making her pause her feast, after all. Another car came by the bend, and I walked over to tell them Jess was full up on visitors and food. However, they turned out to be a local news team and walked right past me.
 

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The field reporter was a late 30s brunette who was no stranger to the treadmill. I asked her to walk around the blankets, and she obliged, not knowing what I truly meant until she entered the tent.

She dropped her mic in shock when she took in all of Jess. A collection of bibs were tucked into her bikini top to protect it from stains, but Jess’s chest was a collage of oils, grease, crumbs and gravy as she chugged away at the last jug. The corresponding burp lasted a solid 8 seconds.

The reporter composed herself and sidestepped herself to Jessica’s profile. She asked Jess for a brief interview, and my wife obliged as long as she could fix herself up a little. The models cleaned her up and combed her frazzled hair as Jess took long, meditative breaths.

Jess noticed a KFC bucket of white meat chicken tenders she missed and shoved half of it down before Brittany tore it away and gave her a jug of water. She chugged half of that before nestling it her chest. Jess gave a salute and said she was ready.

As drunk as Jess was, she flipped her switch for the interview. She had heavy sweats beading down her forehead and would take swigs of water while the reporter laid out the next question, but she was downright… normal otherwise.

“No, I think the only person that’s going to be disappointed on the Friday weigh-in is me. I told my hubby that if I ever did bother to get in the record books, I wanted to weigh at least a ton. I’ll get over 1600 in the next day or two, but there’s no way I can gain that much weight in a few days.”

“Michigan has been wonderful, in both its people and cuisine. If these girls keep treating me to your restaurants you’re going to have to roll me out of this state.”

“The secret to my success? Hmmmm….” Jess took a hearty gulp of water and shoved the now lighter jug deep into her bosom. This was the bridge too far for her top’s cross knot, and it ripped right down the middle. Her breasts slid halfway down the crest of her belly, with the left side knocking the reporter right on her ass.

“Oh no! Are you ok?” Jess tried to reach out to her and then inhaled quickly. “Cake! There’s cake under the table by her!” Jess pointed at the sheet cake’s plastic container with all due urgency. “Why didn’t you guys tell me? Oh man, put the chicken strips on it like birthday candles, and get me a malted from the truck please! Mmmmm oh god hurry!”


As the reporter and her crew rushed out the tent, Jess yelled out “My adventurous spirit!” as the answer to the final question. The girls all laughed at the silliness of it all and set Jess up for dessert.

Jess loved bog-standard birthday cake after a big meal. It was a palate cleanser and a final sugar rush to help metabolise her food into fat. As she shoved the last dollop of icing past her lips, she leaned back, sighed, and enjoyed a brief food coma.

When she jiggled herself awake a few minutes later, she said she had bad news and good news. The bad news was that she could tell her belly wasn’t going to work on the sled anymore. They had overfed her, which was very irresponsible of them on a photoshoot. She followed it up with a wink. But the good news was that she didn’t need it now.

“How come?”

Jess lovingly looked down at the hardened rock of dough that was her stomach. “Look at this bad boy! It’s so stuffed it was walking out the tent! That means it’s really taut, and it won’t hit the ground for awhile. Bad news is I’m gonna need to hang onto you guys for balance.” Brittany immediately volunteered, along with four other girls. The other two joked they wouldn’t touch her since she looked like she’d pop if they did.

“The final bit of good news is that I’m going to do the last shoot in the buff, so that photo set’s going to sell really well, ladies!”


“Not like you have much a choice!”

“Any other bad news to go with that?” Brittany asked.

Jess nodded and wiggled uncomfortably. “Um, yeah. My top snapped but not the underwire or the back strap. It’s caught under my tits and back and it’s really digging into –”

SNAP!

Two flat orange strands flanked my wife’s sides. Jess exhaled and smiled. “Never mind. False alarm.”

The next shoot took on some quick topless shots. Toward the end, the girls got to suit back up and have some fun for the grand finale. Jess would lay naked in the snow as the rest of the girls built up a giant snowman’s head around her belly. Her belly was covered in almost a footlong perimeter of snow, with a little extra on top so it would look like a full circle from a profile view. Each girl contributed something: coal, the giant hat, and a traffic cone for a nose. When the were done, each girl got a shot with them leaning against the snowman’s face. Some would pose cool, some would look shocked at the size of Jess, and some would make finger guns at Jess’s face, peaking over the expanse of her breasts on the other side of the photo.

After Jess was dug out of the snow, the girls helped wrap her in the remaining dry towels they had and guided her to her wheelchair. Her belly had “settled down” in the snow, so we had to guide her back to the truck backwards with the sled back under her.

The girls gave Jess a tearful farewell and told her they’d meet up at the convention. Jess waved the whole time she was being lifted into the truck.

As I started the ignition, Jess sighed and folded her hands behind her head. “Brittany’s coming over at seven. Better start calling the delivery in now.”

“Way ahead of ya, dear.”

When we arrived at the suite, Jess wiggled herself onto her double-mattresses that were laid out on the floor. She surrounded herself with 50 Five Guys double-bacon burgers, checking her stomach between burgers. She wanted to be full, but not stuffed.


Brittany knocked early, so Jess pulled her “lingerie” from the headboard and pulled the silk top over her head. Jess asked Brit to follow dress code and strip to her bra and panties. Ten burgers were saved for Brittany, and the two girls sat back, watched Netflix, and barked orders for wine refills from me.

As the night wore on, Brit slowed down on her eating, but was goaded on by Jess’s encouraging words and shoulder rubs. Finally, Brittany gulped down the last scrap of the tenth burger. Before Brit could lick her fingers, Jess grabbed her wrist and sucked each digit down to the knuckle. She never broke eye contact with the girl.

Jess pulled away, leaving a thin bridge of saliva between her lips and Brit’s finger. “Mmmm… delicious. If you’re not too stuffed, could you help a gal roll herself over? My nurses aren’t coming in until tomorrow.”


With my lead, we gripped what we could of Jess and started a back and forth motion to build momentum. Jess loved how it took multiple people to move her, and often said it was like being rocked in a crib.

Brittany spread her fingers against Jess’s torso. “How do you keep your skin so smooth?”

Jess started whipping her arms and bracing to assist us. “I get… hrmph! A lot of lotion… and a lot of massages… hup! From plenty of happy volunteers.” Jess winked as the side of her belly touched down between the mattresses.

As soon as Jess was laid prone, she directed Brittany to stand in front of her. With Brittany for reference, Jess’s enormity was made obvious. Her impressive belly bolstered her head to be even with Brittany’s crotch. For the first time all day, Brittany looked down as Jess, but no less in awe of her.

Jess smiled and began to slide Brittany’s panties down. She snapped her fingers and I began to disrobe. Jess pulled Brittany toward her mouth and thrust her tongue around and in her. I positioned myself behind my wife and gripped her ass, already in motion. I timed my thrusts carefully, making sure to match her rhythm lest I get bucked off. I tucked my feet under her stomach for extra stability all the same.


Seconds turned to minutes, and we each fell into Jess’s pull. Brittany’s shoulders smacked against the headboard as her breathing turned into staccato bursts. Jess managed to grip the tops of her tits and threw each to hug Brit. Jess’s ass checks covered and pushed back against my arms; she had been putting on a lot of her weight along her bottom half, and noticed I had to curve my spine more and more these days just to “fit.” Instead of being a hinderance, it was a fact that turned both of on to untold heights.

Brittany came first, moaning and gripping hills of Jess’s milky white skin. I soon followed, seething, shaking, and finally slipping off. Brit’s knees finally gave in, and she fell into Jess’s cleavage.

Jess looked down at the young model and gave a sleepy grin. “Good girl,” she said. “Good girl.”

Brittany and I recuperated against Jess’s mass for a bit, and then she asked us to roll her to her side again. She had had a long day, and she needed her beauty sleep. Jess was little help in the process – she was fast asleep by the time we finally finished.


Brittany cleaned herself up in the bathroom and I set up an Uber to take her home. She told me to thank Jess “for everything” and closed the double door behind her.

I crawled on top of Jess, tucking myself in under her barrel of an arm. I kissed her on the cheek and collapsed into her one last time for the night.

The following morning, Jess woke up coughing.

It seemed she caught a cold after all.
 

Djfex

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I never thought this would be continued at some point. This was a great surprise! thank you :)
 

aster

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Building a Better Jess


Jess barely lasted two days at the con before we had to take her to the hospital. She developed a fever the first day, and it never abated. Her body temperature was in constant flux, and she couldn’t finish any food challenges that were planned out for her. In the end, stepping foot in the con only compounded her problems, since conventions are notorious for spreading germs.


By the time we got home, Jess was having trouble keeping food down through all her coughing fits and I made the decision to take her to the hospital. The whole thing was a circus. Doctors were lining up to treat what was unofficially the world’s largest woman – the 1,500+ pound human whose body rebuffed all medical knowledge.


Half a medical wing was closed off for her as the medical team poked and prodded her. A cattle scale was required to weigh her: She clocked in at 1,588. She huffed and said that she definitely would have been 1,600 if they got to her a few days earlier. Of course, she was bed-bound at home so we couldn’t know for sure even then.


She was diagnosed with a community-acquired pneumonia and set her on a strict regimen of antibiotics, breathing exercises, and a low-calorie diet. As you could imagine, she didn’t take it well. Doctors had to set up guard shifts to keep from food getting snuck into her room.


When she was finally discharged from the hospital, she was 200 pounds lighter. The medical staff was ecstatic at this progress, but they also warned her that she had lost a lot of muscle as well, and set up her up with a star nutritionist to continue her weight loss journey. She immediately lost his number. She also refused to go on TV shows that offered her multi-season contracts to continue losing weight. She was excited to get home and get back to “eating like normal.”


But normal never came. It started with her livestreams, where she would take her milkshake funnel out early, spilling the liquid over her face and chest. She would nurse the same bucket of fried chicken for over an hour on camera, with her fans noticing in the chat. She would even skip home meals for these shows, but that only slowed down the problem.


Over the coming months, Jess began to deflate before my very eyes. Once she got under 1,000 pounds, she cancelled her photoshoots and premium subscription content. Her calves would slap her legs left and right with every footstep and sometimes catch under her feet, and her proud belly started looking like a half-filled bean bag. Her breasts began to look stretched and tired; and at 900 pounds they could each hold a watermelon in the concave spaces they made. Her upper arms would fold over her forearms and would become “bat wings” as she raised them. Even her cherubic face was becoming watery and wrinkly before its time.


I offered to bring her to a plastic surgeon, but she spat at the idea. She insisted she’d regain the weight; she wasn’t sick anymore, so she would gain it all back, no big deal. Jess still ate far more than the average man or woman would ever dream of eating in a day, but for Jess it may as well been rabbit portions.


So instead, Jess delved further and further into isolation, keeping business to the computer or a phone, and always making excuses to not see her friend Juanita. Instead, Jessica fell into a cycle of depression, losing her appetite and her forceful personality.


It was probably the loss of the latter that I even got Valerie, the world-class bodybuilder, up to see Jess in the first place. As mentioned before, Jess hated the herd of fitness experts that wanted to “fix” her, but she only gave me a shrug when I told I contacted an outside consultant to help out. Jess probably thought I was talking about a new chef, since the old guard had been laid off, and was too solemn to ask me further questions. I explained who Valerie was to her the night before she arrived, but it was difficult to tell if she was even listening to me in bed.


But now Jess was resting in her bedroom recliner, gazing into her morning cup of tea. “Just say it already,” she murmered. “You thought I’d be bigger.”


Valerie pulled up an ottoman and sat within arm’s reach of her. She unlocked her tablet and smiled. “You’re a real freak, you know that?”


Jess lifted her head up slowly, processing and chewing on the remark. “Excuse me?”


Val flicked her finger across her screen. “I mean, look at these photos. Here you are in a pie eating contest, just covered in cream. And here you are, pinning some poor top-heavy Latina against a wall with just your belly for a photo shoot. She looks like she’s having fun with you, though. And here you are at some BBQ convention, eating just a train of entrees like some kind of old timey cartoon piggy. How’d that poor blouse even stay on you?”


Jess rolled her eyes. “I have some very creative fashion designers.”


“I’ve seen fat clients at my gym, but they have a sense of shame about them. But you, you perform in front of dozens, hundreds, to thousands online. It’s like you get off on all the looks as much as you do stuffing yourself stupid. So you heard me: I called you a freak of nature, in every sense of the word.”


Jess took on a look of murder, and in the last sentence spilt half her tea on her bathrobe. “Who the fuck is this person you’ve brought to my house, Ted?”


Valerie shot her legs up and ripped off her shirt. Her torso was a bronzed collection of striated flesh and tight curvatures of thick muscle. Every fiber of deltoid could be seen underneath her sports bra, and her torso sported a six-pack with a one-inch pop for each bump. Her shoulders, sides, and biceps were so massive that her arms never rested completely. She flexed a bicep and it turned into a mini bowling ball.


Valerie grabbed Jess’s arm rest. “I’ll tell you who I am: Another freak of nature.”


Jess gave a quizzical look and gave Val’s body a once over. She stayed silent.


Val slapped her shirt over her shoulder. “Ever since I was a little girl, I was knew something was up with me. I liked helping my dad build engines in his garage and I liked football more than Barbie. But as soon as I touched a barbell in middle school, something clicked in me, and I knew what I was. I was always a big girl, and I loved getting bigger. By high school I clearing squat records, and when I came to America I was clearing deads that old powerlifter pros took years to do. Aesthetics, strength, pure power, I wanted it all, and my body was all too happy to take whatever I threw at it. It was made for all of it and more.”


Jess closed her eyes and inhaled.


“People called me a lesbo, then a she-male, and then a monster, but I never cared. I knew I was doing what I was made on this earth to do, and every day I celebrate being different from the rest of the herd.”


Val slid her shirt down her arms and continued while she buttoned. “I think you’re the same kind of freak I am. A bodybuilder of another stripe. And I think you’re wasting the great gifts that have been given to you.”


Jess slid her cup to her side table and looked at Valerie for the first time. “So you’re not here to get me to lose weight?”


Valerie chuckled. “I mean, if that’s what you want, it’s your dime. But is that what you think you’re meant for? To slim down and fit in a size 0 dress?” She lurched forward and grabbed the belly peaking out from her robe. It stretched like taffy in her palms. “Or do you want to return to greatness?”


Jess pushed off Val’s hands and turned away. “It’s not that easy. I’ve tried. I don’t have that kind of body anymore.”


“You do.”


“I lost it. My body, my appetite, my drive… I can’t.”


Val stomped her foot on the oak floor, imitating a shotgun blast. “You ran into a setback! Welcome to life! I don’t know if your hubby told you but I’m not a Ms. Olympia champion, I’m a runner-up! I got food poisoning two days before the competition and I looked sick as a dog up there. But you’re not sick anymore except in the head. And I’m here to help you with that as well as your body. So you can sit here and cry or you can get back to being who you are, the choice is yours.” Val leaned back and crossed her arms.


Time seemed to slow down when Val stopped talking. Quiet blanketed the room, with only the punctuated ticks of the bathroom clock filling the silence.


Jess covered her face and dragged her fingers down to her chin. Her fingers her moist with saline. And then for the first time in months, her lips curved into a smile. She let out an exalted gasp and cleared her throat. “Ok. Ok. So what’s the plan?”


Val brought up a PDF document on her tablet. “Well first there’s the matter of my retainer. After that,” she chuckled, “we can get into the real painful stuff.”

----------------

Valerie’s plan was to assault Jess’s weaknesses on multiple fronts. The first, insisted Val, was building up “her foundation.” In Valerie’s world, this unsurprisingly meant building muscle. In the weight lifting profession, there were three typical paths on the iron road:


1. Aesthetic body building – These people cared about the “look” of muscular bodies and typically did high reps for a good pumped up body.


2. Powerlifting – Focusing on explosive strength, these people traded reps for pure power, and would often compete in strongman competitions, or aim at doing one singular, astronomically heavy lift.


3. Functional Strength – The middle ground, where many pro fighters and military personnel trained in to keep up their stamina. While they weren’t as defined as body builders or as huge as powerlifters, their bodies were often much more flexible and healthy than the other two.
 

aster

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Val’s workout routines for Jess were a combination of paths 2 and 3. She noted that while Jess did lift weights in the past, she was actually doing too many reps and falling into path 1. While Jess was always a naturally strong farm girl, the muscles she was building at her home gym were “all show and no go.”


“No wonder you needed help getting your fat ass off the sofa!” said Val as she guided Jess through her squats. “I saw your ceiling grips all through the house, and I bet you made your poor nerdy husband help you too.”


“Well… *hurmph* I was also over a thousand pounds, dear.” Jess’s grey muumuu stuck to the trickles of sweat bunching up along her sides.


“Details, details. Aren’t you a strong independent woman who don’t need no man?”


“What I need… op!” She bucked the barbell back onto the rack. “Whew! Is lunch.”


“Ask and you shall receive.” Val handed Jess a gallon jug of a special whey-isolate shake. It was a mixture of vitamins and protein to help build up her muscles and bones after a workout.


And that was it for lunch. Jess didn’t eat actual food until dinner. Jess was on a liquid diet at breakfast and lunch, with no snacks in between. Valerie would talk about how she would have to choke down chicken breasts to bulk up for competitions, but she took a different tack with Jess. One of the biggest losses to Jess was her uncanny appetite, but Valerie told her that trying to “force it back” would never work for her. It had to come back on its own time.


With a regimented eating schedule, regular weight lifting, and cardio, Jess was arguably healthier than she’d ever been. She was now sleeping at regular hours and her mood was becoming brighter. While she wasn’t the boss bitch of the past, there was now an aura of quiet determination and hope that emanated from her.


On Val’s orders, Jess weighed in every morning, but she was to never know her numbers. That would be recorded by me and then uploaded to an excel sheet on Val’s tablet. It kept track of her weight, body fat %, and BMI. On the first day of Valerie’s training camp, Jess weighed in at 798. She would have been heartbroken to know how far she had fallen. After a month, she had barely risen to 803, and often it would settle closer to her original starting weight throughout the week.


I mentioned it to Val, and she put my concerns to rest. “Her body is recompensating. She’s losing some old flab, but she’s gaining muscle! Muscle’s denser than fat, and it consumes more calories.” She clapped her hands and smiled. “So you know what that means!”


I did. While dinner was her one real meal a day, it was starting to last longer and longer as the training went on. She would ask for another pot of chili after downing the original, and then pick up the pace without realizing it. One evening she ate five dry racks of ribs, and I had to heat up the next day’s keto lasagna for her. Her diet lacked the richness and sugars of her old meals, but the fat and proteins she consumed helped keep her full and filled her out a bit.


Jess was getting as mobile as she was at 300 pounds, with a few caveats. One of the reasons Jess became a shut-in was the excess skin that wrecked her self-esteem. Her arms would slap against her sides if she turned too quickly. Her feet would do a little upward kick before landing on the floor to keep from tripping on her ankles. Her stomach was the worse offender. It made a deflated foot-long diameter touchdown on the floor, and Jess would shuffle backwards whenever she wanted to get anywhere in a hurry. In the face of these problems, Jess kept up a good disposition. She said she could feel the progress in her body, and knew that she’d was slowly yet surely making progress.


On month three of Jess’s comeback regimen, Valerie pulled the rug out from under her.


Jess was covered in sweat, and collapsed her ass on her bench press set after a 20-minute power walk on the treadmill. Even while resting her stomach on a bench, the walk took a lot out of her. In one hand she poured a water bottle over her head, and in the other she sucked down a power shake.


“Explain it again,” she said.


“It’s a fast,” Valerie said. “You go without food, without calories, for a set amount of time.”


Jess threw the water bottled into the trash bin and shook her wet hair. “I don’t think you understand the deal here, Val. I’m supposed to gain weight. I’m only 819 pounds.”


Val gave a knowing smile. “Exactly.”


The shake bottle popped out of Jess’s mouth. Jess started stretching her torso. “Enough mystery, girl. Just spit it out.”


Val leaned against the bench barbell. “It’s been three months and you’ve gained about 20 pounds -- most of it muscle, thanks to me – but you’re not gaining like you used to. Granted, it takes a lot of eating to keep you at your current weight with our regimen, but still. What you need is a reboot, in body, mind, and soul.”


Jess sighed. “So you want me to starve.”


Val grabbed a handful of Jess’s hip. Even in her current condition, Jess still had a sizeable ass. “You really think a girl like you will starve? What do you think our fat stores are for? And besides, you can still drink tea, coffee, and water.”


Val handed her another workout shake and went into details. Fasting would do wonders for her condition. It would shakeout the lingering effects of her old disease and inflammation symptoms. Her metabolism would start to reset. Her body would go into autophagy and eat up weak and damaged cells. It would be a deluxe sauna visit, for free! Besides, since she basically only ate dinner and a few workout shakes, she was already doing short-term fasts anyway.


Jess scratched her neck. “So how long of a fast we talking about here, hon?”


“Five days. You start Monday.”


And so began what Jess looked back on and lovingly call “Hell week.” Valerie set up a few “tough love” parameters to keep Jess on the straight-and-narrow. For one, Jess was to stay locked up on the second floor. The stair doorways were locked and the elevator was deactivated. Jess’s old feeding pump was filled with water infused with electrolytes; it was her only source of consumption, since we never bothered to bring up her old snack fridge.


While I did visit and check up on Jess, she was moody to say the least, so I spent my nights on the couch downstairs. Those nights were punctuated with moans of frustration and floor stomps, which would eventually relent into silent slumber.


During my research, I discovered one of the biggest obstacles in fasting wasn’t the lack of eating, but the boredom. Jess kept up a slightly reduced workout schedule, but that only burned so much daylight. Eventually she got back into reading, especially on entrepreneurship and e-commerce.


By Wednesday she was glued to her laptop, getting in contact with her website affiliate models and asking them how was business. She normally had webmasters and me to keep track of her business, but Jess insisted on putting her hands on the helm a bit again. She started joining discord servers her models set up and chatting with her girls. Jess was only be internet social, but it was more social than she had been in over a year.


By Thursday she finally got the nerve to call Juanita, her friend-turned-secretary. She spent the first ten minutes apologizing, and the next two hours just catching up.


Valerie came back Friday at noon. I ran my keycard over the elevator panel and motioned her to follow me.


Valerie gripped her tablet and a black jug. “So how is she?”


“You mean when she isn’t cursing your name?”


Val coughed. “Yeah.”


I picked at my teeth. “She’s a lot more energetic, I’ll say that much.”


Val nodded. “Fat cells carry a lot of energy. When you’re in ketosis, you can get a bit of a boost.” The elevator stopped its ascent and opened.


I guided Valerie down the second floor hall. Outside the bedroom we could hear her deep in a phone call. I slowly cracked open the double doors.


Jess was still in her workout gear comprising of a red sports bra and spandex booty shorts. Her hair was in an elevated pony tail, creating an arc of hair that made her look three inches taller. She was doing her “cell phone waltz,” making frenetic laps across the balcony window.


“I’m telling you, Juanita, that Tiffany girl thinks because she hit 400 lbs that she’s too good to read out donations on her streams! Not only is that rude, it sets a bad precedent for newbies. She needs to get her act right or so help me I’ll cut her account myself.” She noticed us in her periphery and cut the call short.


Jess threw her phone on the bed and marched toward us. “So is it over? Am I out of fat girl jail? Can a gal get some room service up in here?”
 

aster

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Val smiled and nodded. “Ted says you’ve been following our workout routine. That’s really good to hear.”


Jess cracked her knuckles and started pacing. “I could eat a cow, I swear to god. Maybe I’ll make that part of my comeback stream. Just eating an entire cow.”


Val laughed. “I’ll make a note of it. Oh, and congratulations, by the way.”


Jess put her fists on her sides and pushed her chest out. “What, the fasting? I can do anything I set my mind to, Val.”


“Nope.” Val lightly kicked Jess’s shins. Her toes bounces off the chubby, taut skin. “You’re not tripping over your own legs anymore, dummy.”


Jess craned her neck to see. “Oh, that. I guess I didn’t notice. I’ve been busy.”


Valerie took a knee and palmed Jess’s stomach. It laid perched above the fabric of her shorts, her belly button even with her knees. Jess’s stomach rested at the top of her powerful calves. More importantly, it no longer rested on the floor.


Valerie shot back up and clapped. “Oh god, I wish I listened to mom and went to med school! I could write an entire medical textbook on you. You’re a scientific marvel, Jess.”


Jess huffed and grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know, hon.”


Val backed up and stared at both of us. “I’m serious! When I looked at your old videos, they didn’t make sense! No one should be able to eat as much as you!”


Val snapped her fingers. “But I knew you were a freak of nature, not in your lifestyle, but biology. Some people are born smart, some people are born to fight, but you Jess…” She put her hands on her own abs and expanded her arms outward. “Your body was born to adapt. Like you were gifted an extra barrel of stem cells.”


Jess sat on the bed and rubbed her belly, taking in Val’s words.


Valerie continued. “I bet when you were a kid, your cuts healed a bit faster than your parents expected. I bet when you got sick, you’d barely be out of school.”


She sat down beside Jess and slid her arm around her back. “And when you stuff yourself silly, your body says ‘guess we gotta get bigger.’”


With her left hand, Val grabbed Jess’s stomach and pulled the flesh outward. “And bigger.”


She released the skin and watched the ripples reverberate. She leaned into Jess’s ear. “And bigger.”


Jess’s eyes fluttered as she exhaled. There was a shift felt in the room, barely perceptible and hard to put into words beyond a tense sensation. My own heart accelerated at the feeling. It was like a yawning chasm to another dimension had opened.


The ripples on Jess’s belly reappeared, and a long-forgotten groan emanated from the spot. Her stomach percolated like a dormant volcano coming to life.


On cue, Valerie handed Jess the black jug she brought up with her. It was warm chicken broth, a common drink used to wean people off their fasts. Jess quivered as her taste buds tasted food for the first time in days. In the face of all her previous feasts, the salted and oily liquid was an exquisite meal of kings.


“Haaa!” A droplet of broth fell from her lips as she finished off the last of it. Jess tore off her scrunchie and shook her hair loose. She looked like a massive, ecstatic witch in touch with the elements and the core of her own soul.


Valerie stood up and brushed off her pants. “Still hungry?”


She burped. “Starving.”


Val nodded. “Good. You still have some loose skin and will continue fasting one day a week. But beside that…” she fanned herself. “It’s bulking season for you.”
 

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