The Dance Team
pt.1
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"Just tell me what it is, already!" Gwen begged as she collapsed her well-padded bottom into Marisa's well-worn sofa. It squeaked in response to the sudden weight, "Oh! Probably oughta be more careful on this thing!"pt.1
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Marisa stopped in her tracks to look at her friend, who was at that moment, pinching at her stomach, at the soft padding pooching proudly over her jeans, "You're joking, right?" She said, pulling her shirt up a bit to display her own thick, fleshy stomach, huge and heavy, hanging down over the front of her pants, "That couch is awesome. It can take me, you ain't got nothing to worry about, trust me!"
She walked to the side of the TV, where she stopped for dramatic effect, pushing her billowing bosom out, puffing with pride, a wide smile on her round face, "Okay, so you remember senior year, right, when my mom decided it would be a good idea to interview the dance team and record our shows?"
Gwen remembered, "Yeah?" She saw the grin on Marisa's face, "You didn't."
Marisa just grinned, pressed the play button on the DVD player, and returned to the couch, grabbing two large bottles of Captain Morgan Long Island Ice Tea on the way. She handed one to her friend as she carefully plopped her extra-large bottom down, conscious of how little extra room there was, squeezing into the seat beside her. She handed off a bottle, and they turned their attention to the screen, to the slim, pretty, 18 year old faces of Marisa and Gwen, as an off screen voice, Marisa's mom, was asking, "This is your last year in high school; do you think you'll do any more dancing in college?"
The plump pair on the couch smiled to themselves as their thinner versions speculated, so excited, and so wrong, in every possible way, about their futures.
Not once did anyone in the video suggest that when they watched this four years later, their slim, fit bodies would be a thing of the past, that they would be watching this, fattened beyond recognition, with their flabby, well-tended stomachs, unused to anything less than complete, painful satiety, bulging out over their pants as they drank down a full day's worth of calories of alcohol. Marisa began massaging her massive midsection, her chubby fingers disappearing into her flabby folds, looking down on the swell of her cleavage with pride.
Meanwhile, the flat-chested, past version of Marisa was going on, in her deep Mississippi accent, about the college teams she hoped to join, the coaches she was in conference with, and she kept talking, barely stopping to breathe until the off-screen voice stopped her, "Okay, honey, that's enough, now what about you, Gwen, dear, do you have anything planned for dancing?"
Past Gwen shrugged, her tan, angular face wrinkling up, "Eh, not really. Not like, official dance junk, just a bunch of going out and dancing places, you know."
Young Marisa laughed, "Meaning she's going to be a stripper!"
Past Gwen smacked her friend, but giggled as she did it, and on that frame, the video cut suddenly to something different, to a football field, just as the dance team was marching onto the field. The quality wasn't great at first, but then they zoomed in, catching a clear shot of the girls, their whole bodies in frame, wearing the familiar maroon and silver leotards of their high school dance team, and at that moment, current Marisa pressed pause.
"God, would you look at us right there!" She exclaimed, leaning forward in her seat, pointing her thick, meaty arm towards the women in the video, peak physical condition, slim, pretty, youthful, "Skinny, sexy, top of the fucking food chain." She chuckled, "Now " she fell backwards into the couch, the poor furniture moaning at her heavy body's weight, "We look like we fucking ate the entire rest of the chain." She sighed, falling backwards onto the sofa, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she kneaded the flesh of her soft sides, "What the hell happened to us?"
Gwen didn't even have to think, she knew the answer, "Hypothyroidism. And college. Then, you know, basically giving completely in to pure apathy and unbridled gluttony."
She took a swig, and chuckled, "At least for you. For me, it was like, all that shit happening to you, and you just dragged me down with you!"
Marisa shrugged, chuckling, "Yeah, because I actually had a minute where I was like," her voice changed suddenly, into a London accent with ominous intonations, "'Hmmm, yes, it would seem as though I've gotten rather hugely fat... evil plotting, evil plotting, yes, this much is clear to me... if I'm going to be fat, then my best friend's must become fat! I will be a devious scheming queen and through my tricky manipulative plans, I will transform this skinny little stick, Gwen, yes, this twig bitch will become my super-sized sidekick, mwahahaha!" She squeezed her lowest belly roll, returning to her natural accent, "Say what you want, I ate my way to where I am, you ate your way, too, straight up."
Gwen sighed, grimacing, "Yeah, yeah, it's just a lot easier to blame you than it is to actually admit my ass is fat because I actually have exactly no self control, and am a lazy little porker."
"Aww!" Marisa exclaimed, "First step is admitting you have a problem, Gwen, good job!" She looked down at her colossal bosom, grinned at the pale swell, and grabbed a juicy handful of belly flesh, "I'm really looking forward to step two, which is, as we all know, the part where we swallow our feelings and eat our weight in pizza so that we just keep on getting bigger and bigger, and never doing anything about it beyond bitching!"
"Clearly," Gwen answered.
They both took long sips from their bottles, then Marisa smiled coyly, "I totally called it, though."
"Called what?"
She gestured at the screen, towards the freeze-frame of their fit eighteen-year-old bodies, grinning hugely, "I said you were gonna end up a stripper. And you did. Boom, I'm psychic/you're a filthy, filthy little whore!"
Gwen sighed, a small smile on her face as she rolled her eyes, "Damn it, 'Risa, I'm an exotic dancer. I'm basically stripped down when I come out, there's like, 2% actual taking off the clothes total. It's about the dancing, not the stripping, a'ight?"
"Yeah, whatever lets your skanky ass sleep better at night, hoe-bag." Marisa teased.
"Oh yeah? And what happened to you, little miss, 'Oh-I'm-talking-to-college-coaches,' where's your college dance team record?"
"Eh, most likely the same place as my waistline and your self-respect." Marisa joked, "Long gone."
They went back to their drinks, pressing play and watching their fit, former selves marching out onto the field and performing, bending and kicking, in ways their current selves could never hope to. At the end of it, Marisa asked, "So, miss 'exotic dancer,' think you could do any of that now?"
Gwen put on a thoughtful expression, "Let's see, I haven't danced a regular routine without either a pole or some sexy, sexy props in three years... and I'm like, fifty something pounds fatter now, so, uh, by my calculations..." She struck a pose, hand to her chin, head tilting, a thoughtful expression, "Hmm, the math is difficult in my head, but... hmm, yes... AHA!" She exclaimed, "If we consider the growing rate of my giant fucking weight problem, count in my passionate love of donuts and literally any deep fried doughy sweets, and factor that out with my barely-existing exercise routine, and it all becomes clear! God, why didn't I see it! The answer is no! No way in hell!" She gestured to the soft ring of chub bubbling over her jeans, smiling at her own joke, and elbowed Marisa in her thick, doughy stomach, her elbow sinking deep into the flabby surface, "What about you, how would you do?"
"Oh, I could walk out there! I mean, probably!" Marisa declared, proud. She stood up, fast as she could considering the pull of gravity on her massive body, and began marching in place, counting off from one to eight, each step making a deep, loud *thump* on the floor. She paused when she finished, panting, with a proud look on her now-pink, rounded face, "See? Still got it!"
Gwen laughed, "Oh, yeah, eighteen year old you would be so proud."
Marisa laughed, "Eighteen year old me would be horrified, more like! Either that, or she'd just stare at my tits."
"Well could you blame her? Anytime you wear anything with cleavage, I feel like they're gonna fuckin' swallow me whole!"
"Ha ha, very funny. Eighteen year old you would probably get caught in orbit around your fat ass, be yelling fat jokes at you 24-7."
"Eh, maybe, but I'm telling you, eighteen year old me would be so okay with who I ended up as!"
Marisa poked Gwen in the marshmallowy bulge poking over the top of her pants, "And I just know she'd love the shit out of these love handles, I mean, look at 'em!" Her hand shot out, grabbing a generous handful of her friend's flab, "They're adorable!"
Gwen slapped Miranda's hand away, smiling as she did it, an amused gleam in her eyes, "Shut up and drink, chubby."
"Yeah, yeah. You want pizza? I'm starving over here."
"Oh yeah, you're totally wasting away, let me tell you. You've only got enough fat stores to live five, six years without food at the most! And duh, always. Medium supreme, you know the drill." She leaned back where she sat, grabbing the sides of her chubby tummy, talking to it in a high, childish voice, " You hear that, tummy? Gonna stuff you up, good and full, jus' you wait and see!"
Marisa raised an eyebrow at Gwen's little moment with her tummy, "I think, uh... I think you should give me that..." She said, taking the bottle from Gwen's compliant hands, "You've had enough, I think." Then she turned her attention to the rest of what Gwen had said, "You're absolutely right, though! if I'm going to ever be a great chunk of chubby, and let's be real, I'm not about to ever be anything else, I should go for a decade's worth of fat stores, right?" She paused and in an instant, her voice turned sinister, incongruous with her fat, grinning face, "Join me, Gwen... You don't know the power of the fat side! Join with me, and live a well-rounded, well-fed life!"
Gwen was definitely feeling the affects of the alcohol, and she was slurring her words a bit, "Oh, shut up! You've made me fat as fuck already! My job fricking works entirely on me being sexy as fuck, you think joining the fat side would help me with that? Fuckin' no, it would not, is the answer you are looking for!" She snorted huffily, "I happen to like my job, you super-sized sorceress, that's why I'm still sorta skinny! I promise you, I'm like 900% sure, if I wasn't for that, I'd be huge! I'd be more than fifty pounds fatter than you, no doubt."
"Yeah right," Marisa scoffed, a bit taken aback by Gwen's sudden passion, "you talk big, but you're nowhere close to being fat like me, I am a whole 'nother level of obesity! Like, you said you were fifty pounds fatter now than you were in that video, yeah, ha, fifty pounds, that's cute. Fifty pounds ain't nothing; I'm waddling around over here, good chunk more than a hundred pounds fatter. As in, ever pound you gained, I put on two. Fuckin' A, I literally weigh as much as the both of us used to, combined, so don't you even pose!" She grabbed handfuls of blubber, sending ripples and shockwaves all along her body, proving her point as she went in, "I can literally say that back when I was 'only' 200 pounds, those were my thin days, for god's sakes. Next to me, you're near enough a fuckin' stick figure, get some meat on them bones, how 'bout!"
The look on Gwen's face was almost offended, "Uh, first off you're like, eight inches taller than me, and second off, don't even joke about me getting fatter, the weight gain thing is actually a problem for a bunch of dancers. Girls like me seriously get fired all the fricking time, like, they start getting fat, and then they come in t'work one day, and boom, they get tossed out on their fat asses. So yeah, fifty pounds is a lot, actually!" She grabbed the bottle back from Marisa and glared for a few seconds.
"Wait, are you serious? Shit, I didn't know. Has anyone actually said anything to you yet?"
"Not exactly, but people just keep making little remarks, like I know what they want to say, but they can't come out and say it, you know?"
"Shit, that sucks."
"Not so much, i's all just talk. As it is now, I'm the number one best girl they got, even if I am getting fat!" She prodded her spare tire gently, and took another long swig from her bottle.
"Number one?" Marisa teased, "With tits as tiny as those itty bitty fuckin' mosquito bites you call boobies? How is that even possible? I want proof."
Drunkenly, Gwen pulled her shirt off, proudly showing off her large, bulbous breasts, "EE cup tits are not mosquito bites, you zeppelin-chested whore, they're fucking substantial!"
Marisa accepted the challenge, pulling her own shirt off, revealing her own mountainous mammaries, great globes of blubber a bit bigger than her poor, straining bra was ever meant to hold. She thrust her voluminous chest into Gwen's face, bragging, "Hmm, well, I'm the boobie queen, and I say you a flat-chested bitch! Now I'm telling you to prove you're a top dancer!"
"Okay fine, if it's gonna shut you the frick up, god!" Gwen took a step out into the middle of the room, "Okay, now, so, 's not gonna be 'xactly right, I usually have a pole, and I like to bring out a bunch of props and stuff, but I can still do most of it, I think. Just gotta get these jeans off, there we go!" She yanked her pants off, triumphantly tossing them at Marisa, proudly announcing, in the same voice she often used on-stage, "And this is it, I am finally kissing those tiny little size 22 britches goodbye right frickin' now, you will no longer torture me! Oh, yeah, this fat mama is ready to graduate into XXL territory, that's a whole 'nother extra large, that's right baby, mama's got herself a massive, and growing weight issue! Don't know how well you can see it, but I'm getting a little bit fat in the ass!" She slapped her voluminous rear. She paused to let the jiggling die down, and looked at her friend holding her cast-off jeans. She chuckled, saying in her normal voice, "I'd tell you you could have 'em, but there's the problem where you're such a fucking whale, you make Shamu look like Heidi Klum."
Marisa just rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're a fat little big-booty sexbeast, and I'm goddamn enormous, very good hype work. Now you gotta prove you got the goods. Go on, dance!"
In the middle of the room, Gwen rolled her eyes and struck a pose. She was exposed, stripped down to her insubstantial undies, all softness and tan skin, and an idea hit. She dropped the stance, "Mmph! M'Kay! So, here's the deal I do this, you do it, too. You want me to dance, you gotta drop the jeans, show me what you got!"
