BBW The Superheavyweight Champion (BBW, XWG, Stuffing)

[Vongola27]

“Well, even if I can’t do what I used to do, I’m still going to get into shape,” KC contested. She gave her gelatinous middle a pat and mused, “If I can’t soar through the sky like an eagle, then I’ll just have to be some other badass bird of prey.”

“Maybe an ostrich? They’re pretty mean from what I’ve heard,” Agatha replied when they reached their car.

“Since when is an ostrich a bird of prey?” KC scoffed as she slid into the passenger’s side. Now that she was no longer limited by her cast, she was free to move the chair as close as she wanted, though she still had to contend with her hips squishing up against the door. “No, I was thinking a secretary bird. They’re these awesome birds that kill their prey by stomping—how badass is that?”

“Pretty badass, except for the name,” Agatha chuckled. “You go around calling yourself a ‘secretary bird’, and everyone’s going to think you should be answering the phones and picking up coffee for the crew.”

“And the first person to do that gets a taste of my killer stomp,” the excited wrestler smirked as she stamped down with her good foot for emphasis. So caught up was KC that the ripple that coursed through her legs did not register to her.

Her cousin laughed at that and told KC, “Well, you can get practicing on that in a few days. For now, just take it easy and we’ll get you back to shape in no time.”

***​

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing and tending to KC’s leg, ensuring that it would be back to normal as soon as possible. She wore a sleeve full of lotion over her pasty, flabby calf to cut down on the craggy skin, and she did little exercises that a few other wrestlers had sent her. It was nothing major, but it was enough to take the edge off the increasingly restless feeling that had been building inside her since her injury. All this, KC did under the watchful eye of her cousin, who knew better than anyone just how impatient she could be.

Eventually, the fatigue of the day caught up with her and KC had to take a seat to rest her leg. It was a lot stiffer than she was used to, and she could not do any of her normal stretches to unwind her muscles, lest she damage herself all over again. At least Agatha was happy, now that she did not have to keep one eye on her at all times; she could go back to watching Christmas movies until it was time to heat up dinner.

“You sure you’re going to be all right, Cassie?” asked the older woman as she got up from the couch. “Need me to get you anything?”

“Just the remote. Any more of this dreck and I’ll probably break my bones again just to watch something different,” KC teased.

“Help yourself, Ms. Grinch,” Agatha smirked as she tossed the remote to her baby cousin.

KC tried to catch it, but the control slipped right through her fingers and bounced off her chest before falling into her laugh. Agatha did her best not to laugh as the widened wrestler bit her lip and growled, “Not a single word, Agatha.”

Once she was sure that her cousin had left the den, KC lifted her sweater up and grimaced at the roll of flab that flopped over her waistband. She pinched at her muffin top and rolled it around in her fingers as she wondered why it was that Mickey and Shinobu liked this so much. What was so great about outgrowing all her clothes, readjusting how she walked to avoid bumping into things, and feeling herself wobble with every step? Sure, expanding her diet sounded like a sweet deal, but was it worth it to get so big that she looked like a completely different person?

Then again, it was not like either of them were any worse when it came to looks since they started to blow up. Mickey had sent her updates now and then over the course of the year, and she looked like a giant, fluffy teddy bear—the kind that you won at carnival games. And Shinobu…it was hard to believe that she had been shredded just a few months ago. Now, KC could only imagine her as the cuddly butterball she had grown into over the past year, with a chubby belly and cheeks that were just ripe for pinching. If only she had gotten fat like either of them, instead of becoming an overfed parody of Jessica Rabbit.

The thought of Shinobu made her glance back at her phone, which had blown up with responses from countless fans and friends after she revealed she had gotten her cast off. Mickey and Ray had chimed in on her private messages, and she had even gotten a reply from Maxine—poor girl was still beating herself up over what happened in Philadelphia. As nice as it was to hear from so many people, there was only one person that she really wanted to hear from…someone who had been deathly silent for the past month.

“What are you up to, Shin-chan?” KC whispered as she reached for her phone again.

Before she could send yet another message to Shinobu, her cousin called out, “Cassie, soup’s on! You want me to bring it in to you?”

“Nope! No more TV trays for me,” KC called back while she set her phone to the side again. “I could use the exercise, even if it’s just getting up from the couch and walking to the table.”

“Baby steps, Cassie,” the older woman hummed as she served up their plates. “Baby steps.”

Dinner was, as usual, a sizeable affair, with Agatha making far too much for the two of them; the only difference was that these were the leftovers from Christmas dinner the day before. KC had reluctantly gorged herself on her cousin’s feasts over the last several months, not wanting to offend and being legitimately hungry from the painkillers she was prescribed. Now that she was going to start losing weight again, she figured it could not hurt to have one last blowout.

“God, I’m going to miss this,” KC mumbled around a mouthful of honey glazed ham.

“Well, no one says that you need to starve yourself when you’re trying to get back into shape,” Agatha reminded her cousin as she tucked into her plate. “And I’d be happy to help make up some meals for you—I’ve got an amazing cookbook full of recipes for dieting!”

“No offense, Ag, but I find that a little hard to believe. If you’ve got recipes for losing weight, I’ve never seen them, and I’ve got the belly to prove it,” KC replied with a poke to her stomach.

“Like you ever turned your nose up at anything I made,” replied Agatha with a smirk. “But do you really need to lose a ton of weight? I honestly think you look pretty good.”

Her baby cousin rolled her eyes at the compliment and retorted, “I look like a blow-up doll someone forgot to stop inflating. The sooner I lose these tits and this ass, the better.”

Agatha pointed her fork at KC’s assets as she told the wrestler, “Your problem is that you see them as a burden, but think about it—how many wrestlers have used their looks and wiles to win matches? This could be the start of a whole new KC Skye!”

Much as KC wanted to argue it, her cousin did make a good point. Cocky, attractive wrestlers were as old as the sport itself, and there had been tons who made a whole career based on their looks. The only problem was that, save for one or two, none of them were as heavyset as she was, and those that were on the fatter side were treated more like a joke. She was already going to have trouble as it was winning the crowds back when she made her return; the last thing she needed was to give them fuel for mockery.

“I’ll work on my gimmick as I’m getting back into shape,” KC replied as she returned to her meal and tore into a biscuit. “I’ve got a lot of work to do before I give Sadie Storme a receipt for breaking my leg, and I want to make sure she never forgets this ass-whupping.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see that,” Agatha remarked with a smirk. “I just wish I could be there to watch it happen in person, but I’ll settle for the TV.”

As dinner went on, the cousins worked out what KC could do to get back into wrestling and what her goals would be when she was on the roster again. It would be a long road to recovery, but sheer determination had gotten her this far; KC was going to do everything in her power to get back before the next Showdown Supreme in April. And when she did, she was going to remind Sadie Storme that she was not someone to fuck with. She just wished that Shinobu would be there to back her up.

And as the chatter continued, KC missed the familiar ping of her phone going off. If she knew that her favorite Osakan was texting her for the first time in a month, she would have rocketed out of her seat to reply, but she would have to wait a little longer. As soon as she got the green light though, KC would be done waiting for anything and anyone—she was back, and no one was going to stop her…

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 71

‘Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?’​

“Happy New Year!” Maggie Torres bellowed as she stumbled down the street, leaning heavily on her tag partner for support—emphasis on heavily. The chubby diva had imbibed a bit too much before their promotion’s New Year’s party, which left her little more than dead weight for Sharon Goode.

“It’s not even midnight, you boozehound,” the redhead sighed as she hauled Maggie along, the lush Latina’s arm draped over her shoulders. “Seriously, no more pre-gaming for you.”

Maggie blew a long raspberry into the air and droned, “Boooo, Sharon. Where’s the fun in that, you teetertotter…teetotes…tee tells seashells.”

“Yeah, well, without this teetotaler, where would you be?” Sharon grunted, even though she knew that there was no place she would rather be. Even when she was a drunken mess, Maggie was her closest friend in the world, and carrying her home had gotten much more entertaining ever since she developed a thick beer belly, though beer was not the only factor in her recent fattening.

As she stumbled along, Maggie sniffed the air and pointed to a pizza parlor across the street. “Sharon! Oh my god, Sharon, can we stop for pizza? I haven’t had it in forever!”

Sharon might have argued that Maggie had pizza just the other night, but between wanting to sober her up and letting her gorge, she held back. Instead, she said, “All right…just this once.”

‘Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne?’​

Theresa Hartley had done a great many crazy things in her time as a wrestler: jumping from the fifth floor of a hotel into the pool, fought a pop star that insulted her backstage, and went flying into a pile of thumbtacks, to name just a few. She thought that she had put her days of insanity behind her when she hung up her boots almost ten years ago, but being with the up-and-comers in Rose Manson’s wrestling school brought out the crazy in her. Why else would she be buck naked in the middle of the snow on New Year’s Eve?

It began, as things so often did, with a taunt from her most rebellious student, Nina Neverland. The pudgy punk had the audacity to insist that Theresa had gone soft since retiring to become a full-time mom, and she might have been right once upon a time, but that was before she found her spirit again. Of course, no one had specifically told her to strip and run out into the snow; that had been the first thing that came to her admittedly buzzed brain.

“What’d I tell you, Nevinger? I’m tough as steel under here!” Theresa boasted as she slapped her mammoth belly like a Ugandan giant.

“Yeah, that’s great, b-b-b-but why do I have to do this shit with you?” Nina whined as she wrapped her arms around her pale, shivering form.

“Because if you want to talk shit, you need to back it up,” her coach declared. “Wrestling Rule 37—learn it, live it. Also, you still need to pay for stealing all the cookies at the Christmas party.”

Nina turned a bright red at the reminder of her yuletide thievery and turned her back on Theresa, allowing her to see just where all those cookies had gone. Despite her assurances otherwise, Nina was putting on pounds at a breakneck pace—not that she did not deserve every one of them.

‘We two have run about the hills and picked the daisies fine…’​

Maxine Kuhn picked away at a mostly full plate, rolling a piece of broccoli around with her fork as she rested her chin in her hand. A long sigh escaped her lips as she glanced back at her bedroom, where her girlfriend, Rea Rider, was sleeping soundly. It was New Year’s Eve, and they had big plans to stuff her belly until the ball dropped, but the redhead had shown up with a mostly full stomach. She ate a fair bit so as not to disappoint, but when she turned green around the gills, Maxine called it quits and led Rea back to sleep off her feast.

“Happy New Year to me,” the giantess sighed, dropping her fork to the plate.

As she got up and walked over to the window to watch the snow fall on the streets below, Maxine sipped on a cup of mulled cider and thought back on the last year. The first two-thirds had been absolutely miserable, as her work rate declined and her spot on the card was bumped down to being her ex’s hired muscle. Then came the incident in Philly, where Sadie Storme forced her to let KC Skye fall and break her leg, which led to her staying on the East Coast to work in Youngblood Wrestling. In the last few months though, she found a close friend, a lover that adored her for who she was, and most importantly, the woman she used to be.

For the first time in two years, she looked good and felt better, so why did she feel like there was something missing? Maxine wracked her brains for an answer and came up with nothing, which meant one thing—call a friend. She just hoped Kat wasn’t too busy for her…

‘But we’ve wandered many a weary foot since auld lang syne.’​

Kat Donna was busy, but not quite in the way that Maxine might have imagined. She was spending her New Year’s Eve with her family to ring in the new year and celebrate getting her brace off. Her ribs had healed nicely after being broken earlier in the month, and with another week or two of recuperating, she would be good as new. This had been fantastic news for the busty blonde, who missed the ring and desperately wanted to be back in the action, and all but one of her family members was over the hill for her.

That one outlier was her cousin, Cassandra Burch. Ever since she was a kid, the Donowitz Twins had poked fun at her for being overweight—Natalie more than Kat, but since her main tormentor had been unable to make it back home, she made do with what she had. When Cassandra found out that her cousin had put on some weight just as she had been steadily losing some, she was ecstatic, but her delight was taken to another level when she found out that the formerly sporty Kat had developed a gluttonous personality that focused on nothing but food. Since then, the former Fat Cass had done nothing but exploit that at every turn, baiting her cousin with good eats and luring out the beast within.

“Hey Kat, I got some more pigs in blankets for you,” Cassandra cooed as she snuck into the den where she and Kat were allegedly watching cheesy movies.

“Gimme,” Kat muttered as she shoveled chips down her gullet. “Starving.”

Cassandra found that hard to believe, considering how much Kat had eaten even before she slipped into another trance. Not that she was going to argue: if it meant getting the now chubby blonde to eat more, she would happily oblige. Cassandra set the dish down on the shelf of Kat’s belly, amazed at how big it had grown over the last month and thinking how much bigger it could get before Kat left…

‘We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun to dine…’​

When she found out that Sadie and her other tormentors would be out on the town for a New Year’s party, Notapig thought that she might have the night off. So many of her nights were spent eating until she could not fit another bite in her stomach, it was easier to count the times when she went to sleep with a pleasantly full belly. She thought she might get a reprieve, especially after spending her entire Christmas Eve in a sexual haze, but there was no rest for the thickened.

“More cake, Notapig?” asked Anzu Bonny, who had cornered her earlier in the evening. She held up another forkful of thick chocolate cake that Notapig dared not refuse.

“Buu-buu,” the blonde mumbled blearily.

Once upon a time, she might have put up a fight somewhere in this chain of events. She could have verbally torn Anzu a new one or even slapped her around when she approached her. Her tormentor was easily the better fighter between them, but she could have resisted and not wound up naked and hogtied with a vibrating egg inside her. All her aggression and fury was buried under dozens of pounds of blubber—a prison of her own design. Natalie Donna would never have stooped this low, but she was no longer Natalie Donna, the Queen Diva of the Global Wrestling Federation. She was simply Notapig, a willing and subservient fatty for anyone and everyone.

“Good girl,” Anzu cooed as she tickled Notapig’s upturned nose, stretched back by hooks. “We’re nearly done with this cake, but don’t worry—there’s plenty more.”

Notapig snorted an accepting oink that turned into a throaty groan when Anzu cranked up the speed of her vibrator. One day, she would fight back…one day…

 

[Vongola27]

‘And there’s a hand, my trusty friend! And give me a hand o’thine!’​

“God…how do Ayano and Miyuki do this?” Shinobu Misawa moaned as she lay in her hotel bed and digested her enormous breakfast.

After stopping by Shitennoji Temple to make her New Year’s prayers and purchase some charms for family and friends, the diminutive doughball left with her heavyset friends for an early breakfast. She thought she had been a big eater before returning to Japan, but after seeing how big her old schoolmates had become, she realized just how small she was in comparison. Though GWF management thought she was too fat to hold a title belt, Shinobu was like a sapling compared to a full grown oak tree.

She had been stuffing her belly full to the brim day after day, especially whenever she got together with Ayano and Miyuki, and though her waistline suffered for it, Shinobu only embraced it. The fear that she was growing too big after losing her title were tossed aside as she reveled in gluttony, happily going down the fatty path that lay before her. Thoughts of big, beautiful women filled her head as she closed her eyes and imagined herself right there beside them.

“I want to be fat,” Shinobu murmured to herself as her plump fingers massaged the swollen globe of her stomach. She could practically feel her massive omelet breaking down, releasing a flood of calories into her pillowy body, and the thought sent shivers down her spine. “So fat, even Mickey looks skinny next to me…”

‘And we’ll take a right good-will draught for auld lang syne.’​

Amanda Ericson loved playing in the snow, whether it was making snow angels, having snowball fights, or building snowmen, and that love only grew when she had kids of her own. There were so many photos of Nicole, Josie, and Grace riding on toboggans, catching snowflakes on their tongues, and even building a snow fort with a little help from their father. Her pregnancies hindered just how much frolicking she could do, but she would have still done what she could to play with her girls and enjoy the winter wonderland just outside her house.

Unfortunately, her latest pregnancy had taken that from her, forcing her to sit on the sidelines and watch as Levi played with the girls in her place. The matriarch was so weighted down by babies and blubber that just standing had become exhausting for her; there was no way she could chase after Grace or lift the pieces of a snowman into place. She could only watch from beside the firepit as she drank her third hot chocolate of the hour, her chubby cheeks turning red as frost nipped at her sensitive skin.

“Mama, come look at our igloo!” Nicole called out from across the yard.

Amanda craned her neck around to catch a glimpse of the structure the girls had been working on for the last day or so and gave a thumbs up. “Looks great, Nicole! You did such a good job!”

“Mama, you need to get up to see it!” Grace added, oblivious to why her mother could not simply get up and walk across the yard.

Thankfully, Levi was quick to answer and save her some embarrassment, though not entirely. Her burly husband gave Amanda a quick wink before telling their youngest, “Why don’t you get Mama her lunch from Heidi, and you can tell her all about it over some grilled fluffer-nutters?”

‘For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne…’​

Eight seconds—eight measly seconds was all it took for Sadie Storme to dethrone Ananya Patel as the GWF Women’s World Champion. The ‘match’, if it could even be considered that, consisted of the blonde smacking her opponent in the face with a chair, toppling her to the floor and making for an easy pin. If management hoped that she would be cheered for defeating the wildly unpopular Patel, those hopes were crushed when she was showered with boos by the fans.

“Fuckin’ ungrateful marks,” Sadie growled to her lady of the night as she stuffed pizza into the ebony waitress’s mouth. “Can you believe that? They were about ready to kill Patel, so you’d think they’d be happy to see me whup her ass. But no, they just love to shout ‘this is bullshit’ at the top of their lungs…little bastards.”

The waitress gurgled around the mouthful of cheese and sauce, too full to tell the sadistic champion that she could not fit another bite in her stomach. Then again, she had been saying that for most of the night, and Sadie had found a way to free up a little more room. Of course, that was before she got into this tangent about her job, at which point she seemed to forget that she was stuffing her full of pizza. She swore that she felt her stomach creaking, teetering on the verge of maximum capacity and just about to pop, when Sadie finally relented.

“Sorry about that, Bessie,” the blonde purred as she picked an errant slice of pepperoni off the waitress’s bloated udders. “Guess I got a little carried away. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. All you need to do is lay back and moo for me like a good little heifer…”

‘We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne!’​

“I swear, I could use your belly for reps,” Raymundo Valdez grunted as he lifted the apron of flab that covered his girlfriend’s nether region. “I’ll bet it weighs as much as you used to.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mickey Ramone hummed in hedonistic bliss, mowing through a pizza while her lover nibbled at the bounty of blubber between her thighs.

Even though Mickey had only started on her road to fatness back in the spring, the two of them were hard-pressed to remember a time when she was not a tub of lard. This time the year before, they had been in Times Square to watch the ball drop and party; now, Mickey was so big that she would take up two airplane seats on her own. She had been waddling for so long now that she almost forgot what it was like to walk without her thighs getting in the way of each other or having to make sure she gave herself plenty of room. So many things she had to change in her life, and if she was offered the chance to start over, she would not have it any other way.

Ray’s beard tickled her caramel skin as he nestled between her mattress thighs, and she trembled with pleasure when he found his way to her panties. Though his voice was muffled by the sea of blubber around him, Mickey heard him remark, “Better be careful, gordita…you’re going to tear right through your underwear if you’re not careful.”

“Why do you think I wore an old pair?” the heavyweight asked as she wiggled around on her couch-filling backside. It was not the first time she destroyed a pair of old clothes, and the bigger she grew, the more there was to destroy. “If I’m never going to wear these again, I can at least send them off and start the new year with a bang!”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 72

After watching the ball drop at midnight, Levi Hunter put his daughters to bed; Amanda would have helped him, but she could barely get past 9. It was a surprise to see his wife tire out so easily, especially since she often got only four hours of sleep throughout the year. Her pregnancy was taking a lot out of her, and the medication her OBGYN had prescribed did not help—at least, if you asked Amanda. Levi, on the other hand, was pleased to see that the chemical imbalance that caused Amanda some problems early on had corrected itself; that it had some lovely side effects was icing on the cake.

For as long as they had known each other, Levi only ever saw this sharp, strong-willed woman who commanded a board room like a queen. Amanda had inherited a lot from her father when it came to work ethic and attitude, crafting a domineering attitude that made her a figure to respect and fear—mostly the latter. Since she started taking this new medication though, she had softened into a marshmallow of a woman, both emotionally and physically. Her drive had come to a screeching halt, and even though she whined about wanting to do more, she was simply far too tired to do much of anything. That iron will she was so proud of crumbled into nothing, making her as meek as a mouse; if she did not have Levi and their housekeeper to help, her kids would be running the house.

This new, weak-willed attitude had carried over to her body, as the former gym bunny had swollen up bigger than she had in any of her previous pregnancies. In fact, according to her most recent trip to the doctor, she had gained more than she had in all three of her previous pregnancies combined, sitting plush at 220 lbs. Amanda’s strong jaw was slowly being swallowed with pudge, and little dimples had formed in her chubby cheeks. Her breasts, already large from the implants she got on her 21st Birthday, had bloated into zeppelins that only retained their shape thanks to the silicone inside. While she used to have a booty you could bounce a quarter off—as she had proven in a promo once—that booty was spongy, pale, and pocked with cellulite.

But did that stop her eating a lunch for two when she got back home? Hardly. Amanda made a beeline to the kitchen and sat down to a Cobb salad courtesy of their housekeeper, Heidi Gati. She wolfed that down along with a club sandwich and a half a bag of chips, then made her way to the living room to finish the rest of the bag while watching cartoons with her youngest daughter, Grace. Levi had a clear mental picture of how much her yoga pants strained around her backside as it wobbled to and fro with each heavy, sluggish footfall.

It should have been bliss for the closeted fat admirer, who had been watching his wife’s expansion with bottled delight, but without coming clean to Amanda, it was much more trying than Levi expected. Every time his butterball wife whimpered about how full she was, Levi’s heart skipped a beat; when her maternity shirts clung to the jelly rolls at her side, he fought back the urge to give them a jiggle. He had a few brief instances where he let his façade drop, but he quickly dropped it and pretended as though nothing had happened. Amanda had not said anything about those rare moments, and if she was willing to keep mum about it, so was he.

That said, he had a lot of fantasies and desires pent up inside him, and he needed an avenue to release them—one no one knew about. Levi pondered his options and perused his usual websites for inspiration before finally coming to a realization just after Christmas. If he could not live out his fantasy, why not write it out? There were so many different stories on these sites, and so many of them touching on the feelings he had about his expanding wife. Thus, when New Year’s rolled around, he made a different sort of resolution for himself.

“I’m going to write my own WG story,” Levi promised. And that night, when the house was quiet, he decided to get started on his vision.

After leaving some leftover dessert on Amanda’s nightstand should she wake up with a late night craving, the executive made his way to his office and sat down at his computer. He had pondered what sort of story he wanted to tell for the last few weeks, going back and forth on topics and characters. Ultimately, he decided that he would just start writing and see where his inspiration took him. After all, how hard could it be? He helped write the weekly programs for GWF—this should be a cakewalk compared to that.

***​

‘Stephanie von Erich was on top of the world. she was the head cheerlaeder at her school,was dating the quarterback,and weighed 115 lbs. soaking wet. She had long brown hair, green eyes, a deep tan and always wore deziner clothing. She had movie star looks, C cup boobs, and a tight little ass she liked to tease her boyfriend with. But while she had good looks, she was absoluteley spoiled rottena nd mean to everyone.

She was nasty to her teammates and ruled the squad with aniron fist, made out with half the guys on the football team. and bullied the girls she considred uglier than her…and since she knew she was hot; that meant most every girl in school! It got so bad that there wasnt anyone at school that really liked her, and soon people were calling together a meeting on what to do with the bitch.

“Shes always barking at us and making us work to death!!” one of the cheerleaders yelled.

Her boyfriend, Lance said “Yeah, and I find out from my buddy that shes been doing with half the guys on the team! She’s such aslut!”

“Um, big sruprise there” said Lauren who used to be friends with Stephanie until she deciedded that she was 2 cool for her. Stephanie’s been like a huge slut since she first got boobs”

Lots of people had things too say a bout Stefanie, but they shutup when someone whistld. It was Morgana, the queen of the goths and one of th fattest girls in school and proud of irt; she wore lots of clotes that sheowed off how fat she was and she loved to shopw how much she jiggled. She and stephanie hated each other, because Stephanie thought Moragna was too ugly and Morgana thought she was too thin. Now, the goth was going to get her payback!

“Listen up! I’ve got a plan to make that bicth as miserable as she’s made the rest of us” Morgana told the crowd of people. “Ive got an spell that will make Stephnaie so fat that she makes me look skinny, but its going to take all your help.”

Some people doubted that Morgana had real magic, but there were plenty of people who knew better. The y had seen her do things that no one else could do…and they knew that if anyone could take Stephanie down a peg it would be her. “Yeah, let’s put a curse on her! She deserve it!”

“Hahaha..,Then everyone, come closer and ill tell you how my spell works,” morgana told the students. She knew that with this many people, Stephanie would be fat in no time!’

***​

Levi looked over the page he had written so far, scowled, and then held down Backspace until every last word was gone. While he had only been into this for a fairly short amount of time, he knew that this sort of storyline was cliché. If he was going to write something, he wanted it to stand out among the others in the world wide web, not just sink in with the rest. He was Triple Threat, after all, and he was nothing if not a trailblazer.

“Let’s maybe not do a revenge story,” he mused as he thought about some of the other sorts of stories that enticed him. “Especially not set in high school. That just doesn’t feel right.”

Looking for some inspiration, Levi went back through some of his usual haunts for material that he might use. Curvage, Deviant Art, Dimensions, and more were all perused in the search of inspiration, but it was not until he went to Fantasy Feeder that he found his muse again. Why not keep it simple and just make something more familiar? He could write a story about a couple where the wife starts going through some changes, perhaps aided by her husband—Lord knew that he had plenty of material there.

 

[Vongola27]

‘stephanie and Lance were an amazzing couple. She was the number on interior desinger in the city, and he owned a chain of successsful gyms. They were also good looking; thanks to the time they spent in the gym. Stephanie was built like a suopermodel with DD breasts, washbord abs, and longlean legs with a nice thigh gap. Lance looked like a greek God with big muscles and long hair that stefanie lovedto run her fingers through when they had sex. They were sucesful, goodlooking, and had a big penthouse all to themsevles...so why were they unhappy?

Well, they both had secerets they couldnt tell each other...lance liked fat girls; and Stephanie wanted too be fat! They wanted to live out these fnatasies, but they worried about what they’re friends and family would say/. Lance still remembered his frat bros making fun of him for scoring ith a big blonde back at junior year homecoming, and Stephanie’s parents fatshamed her when she was a chubby little kid. They still kept these fantasies for years, and thought about it all them time with each other.

Oone day they got the chance they were looking for. Amanda was working out aftera long day at the office and sliped on the treadmill. “Its pretty serious” they doctor said when he took a xray. “she’ll need to be in a cast for the next six months. no exercising, young lady.”

Lancean d Stephanie were both really csared but also really excited to. This was the chance they werre looking for! Stephaie had a good reason for outting on some pounds and lance had ther perfect opportunite to get thefat girl he hadbeen wanting for years.

“you want ome lunch, baby?” asks Lance on the way home from the hosiptal. Stephanie asked “um yeah.....could i get a ruben? with fries and a root beer.” “sure thing.lets make a stop at the deli”

They stoped by a deli that was right buy amanda’s favorite gym-----it was a place she alwasy wanted too try but never could i she wanted to watch her waistline. Hear she was getting a big meety sandwich greasy fries and a ice cold soda. And it was good; so good she couldnt help making a pig of herslef as she ate. And all Lance could think when he watche dhis girlfriend pig out was that was it the hottest thing he had ever seen!

***​

No sooner had Levi hit the exclamation point than he deleted the entire page he had been working on. It still was not to his liking, and the more he worked on it, the more he soured on the whole concept until he decided to start from scratch. He rubbed the back of his neck as he wracked his brain for an idea that appealed to him and would not seem so hackneyed to a community that had so many different concepts bouncing around. Despite his earlier confidence, the burly businessman was quickly realizing how tricky it truly was to write.

“Maybe I’m overthinking this,” Levi assured himself. “I just need to find a better base for a story, and then it should just flow from there.”

Despite his confidence, the father of three—soon to be six—puzzled over a blank screen for several minutes as he cycled through idea after idea. He wanted so badly to create, but nothing was coming to him—nothing that he was happy with, at least. For all his time spent trawling through weight gain forums and websites, he could not cobble together an idea that worked for him. All of the good ideas had been taken years ago, and he would be left looking like a Johnny-come-lately.

Then, as he did another dive through the Dimensions forum, an idea came to him. There were so many stories out there, some of them over a decade old, that surely they would be new again if he put a fresh coat of paint on them. It was an idea so delightfully devilish, Levi could not help but smirk as he highlighted an entire page and copied it to the blank page...

***​

‘As the plane descended to the runway, Stephanie wondered about her new job. The ad had stated simply: "Personal assistant wanted. Must be willing to travel."

At first she had thought it was a hoax, but, after calling the number, this had turned out to be a job for some rich lady at a private island in the Bahamas. Stephanie had worked briefly as a maid one summer in college and hadn't found any job since graduation two months ago. She had sent in her resume and was interviewed a week later by some fellow named Mr. Patterson.

It sounded too good to be true. Stephanie would have minimal duties as the personal assistant to the owner of a private island in the Bahamas. All room and board would be covered and she would be earning $900 a week, not too bad when you considered she didn't have to pay rent.

Mr. Patterson shook her hand and wished her good day. He called later that evening to let her know that she had the job. Now, in a few hours, she had gone from a chilly fall day in Nantucket to an island in the Bahamas.

A car met her at the landing field and drove her to the house. Amanda gasped. This was no little island shack. Miss Young was obviously a very wealthy woman. The grounds were kept up nicely, and the mansion was gorgeous. She was met at the door by the head housekeeper, Mrs. Stratus, a rather plump lady with a smiling face.

"Welcome to the 'Big House,'" she said smiling as she gave Stephanie a large glass of ice tea. “This is our special blend from the plants grown here on this island.”

***​

“Nope, nope, nope,” Levi grunted as he delighted everything he had typed, which was little more than swapping out names and locations from the original story. “I can do better than just ripping off something that someone else has done. I was Leonard Lloyd Sondheim, and I made that shit gimmick into gold; I’ll write my own story, and it’s going to be the best damn piece anyone’s ever seen!”

That promise made, the semi-active wrestler decided to call it a night. It was easy to chalk up his troubles to it being so late, and after he had promised to take his daughters ice skating later that day, he would need all the sleep he could get. Levi made a mental note to think on ideas throughout the day though, when he had a chance to really concentrate. He would not be undone by a simple setback as writer’s block—not he, who had come back from tearing both his quads.

After stopping in the bathroom to wash off his face, Levi returned to bed, only to find Amanda gone, along with the bowl of s’mores brûlée he had left by her nightstand. If she was neither in bed nor in the bathroom, then there was only one place his pregnant beauty could be, especially if she had already finished her leftover dessert. The burly father tiptoed down the stairs and crept towards the kitchen, where he caught Amanda eating straight from a carton of peppermint bark ice cream.

In all the years they had known each other, Levi had never been more attracted to his wife than in that moment. Melted ice cream smeared around her lips like a child playing with lipstick, her breasts rested lazily atop her gravid belly, which peeked out from under her maternity shirt, and her hips were just starting to overflow her chair. Despite her protestations and complaints about her rising weight, Amanda hummed happily as she gobbled up spoonful after spoonful of the ice cream, blissful despite knowing exactly what all those calories would do to her fat-laden body.

It was too enticing a sight for him to remain in the shadows. Levi announced his presence with a harrumph, causing Amanda to jump in her chair—as much as a pregnant woman who weighed over 200 pounds could jump, anyway. When she turned to look at him, she still had the spoon in her mouth, too lost in the frozen treat to stop even when caught red-handed.

“I believe that was meant to be a special treat for Josie’s birthday this weekend, hon,” Levi teased as he crossed the room like a lion eyeballing a plump antelope. “Haven’t you had enough sweets tonight? Or was your fifth helping of s’mores brûlée not enough for you?”

Amanda’s chubby cheeks turned a fine pink and she lowered her head into her chest, which only served to emphasize the double chin she had been growing in the last few weeks. She meekly mumbled, “I...I just couldn’t help myself. I wanted—I mean, the babies were craving something sweet, and this was all I could find. I only meant to have a little!”

Levi glanced into the tub that his overfed wife held close to her flabby breasts and clicked his tongue. “You didn’t just eat a little, Amanda—you almost ate three whole pints! That’s 1800 calories, babe. You think you really need that much at your size?”

A few months ago, Amanda might have slapped the beard off his face for saying that, but the massive matron sat in that chair was far removed from the confident, commanding woman she once was. She could shook her head pitifully and whimpered when Levi gently took the tub from her hands, but whether that was because she was embarrassed or still craving more, who could say? All Levi knew was that he was enchanted by the changes that had come over Amanda in the last few months, and he could not wait to see what lay in store for her in the year to come...

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 73

Noah Hartley was stirred from his peaceful sleep by a kiss on his scruffy cheek. He opened one eye and saw his rotund wife’s bosom hanging inches from his face, which was one of the best ways to wake up first thing in the morning. His gaze drifted up to Theresa’s soft face and he could not help but smile when he saw the beaming grin spread from cheek to chubby cheek. It was a welcome reversal of how things had been not a few months prior, when it was a struggle for Theresa to just get out of bed.

“Morning, angel,” Noah yawned as he shifted around in bed.

“Morning, hon,” the robust redhead replied. She took a step back and adjusted her top before holding her arms out and asking, “Notice anything different today?”

Having just woken up, it was hard for the groggy man to respond, but he could pick a few things. Theresa had been in an increasingly better mood ever since October, when she became involved with a wrestling academy headed by her old mentor, but this was the first time in months that she had woken up before him—at least on the weekends. Not only that, but she was dressed and ready for the day while he was still trying to remember what day it was. The clothes looked familiar, but otherwise, Noah was at a loss.

“You did something different with your hair?” he asked, even though it was the same wavy do that Theresa had been sporting for a couple years.

She shook her head and answered, “Nope. It’s the clothes—I haven’t been able to wear these in almost a year! My sister got them for me last Christmas, but they were already tight then and I hid them in my closet since last February. But they fit like a glove now!”

Theresa gave a little twirl, which sent an enticing jiggle through her entire body, but Noah tried to pay more attention to the outfit. His wife had squeezed herself into a lavender blouse that accentuated her watermelon-sized breasts and hid her ample stomach, and a pair of white jeans that were skintight around her keg-like thighs. He remembered the outfit well, along with the delight when Theresa received it and her shame when she burst the button on the jeans and the blouse revealed a good inch or three of belly blubber. It was quickly stored away in her closet, along with other items she had long since outgrown but could not bear to part with. All her time working with the wrestling school helped her shed a few depression pounds though, and it fit her perfectly.

“You look amazing, Tessie,” Noah remarked. He sat up and kicked his legs over the side of the bed as he watched Theresa strike a variety of poses in her newly wearable clothes. “Maybe there are other clothes back there we can dig up and try out.”

“Already got it planned,” the redhead replied. “Carolyn and I are going to go through our closets over the next few days to try on some of the clothes we’ve been hanging onto for way too long, and I’m more than welcome to give you a private fashion show.”

She waggled her fat fingers to him, and he answered the call by rising from the bed and joining her in the rays of the sun that peaked through the blinds. They basked in each other’s presence for a moment before Theresa stood on her tiptoes and gave her husband a long kiss on the lips. After a moment passed between them, she let go and hummed, “Much as I’d love to have a little morning fun, I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting Rose and Carolyn to go over some plans for the school.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” asked Noah.

***​

“An exhibition at the fair? Are you out of your lard-covered brain?!”

Theresa sat with Rose Manson and Carolyn Brown at a diner as they shared a breakfast between them and discussed plans for Rose’s students. Even though the two mothers had become involved with the wrestling school by pure accident, they quickly ingrained themselves, to the point that it would not have been the same without them around. Rose, for her part, was torn on the matter, as she was happy to see her old student getting back into shape but did not much care for her friend—and the feeling was mutual. Carolyn was much against Rose’s hardnosed style of teaching, while the elderly ring veteran found the blonde soccer mom’s mollycoddling insufferable. Still, the two had become unofficial teachers and the girls looked up to them both, so she tolerated it for the time being.

Rose had been about to take a bite of sausage when Theresa dropped a bomb on her. Her fork slipped out of her hands and she was frozen for a second before snapping at her former protege. “Them girls couldn’t wrestle their way out of a paper bag, and you want to stick them in front of an audience? You want me to be the laughing stock of Montpelier?”

“Rose, the girls are a lot farther along than you give them credit for,” Theresa replied, so used to the sharp-tongued senior that her remarks did not faze her. “I think it’s about time that they had their first public matches, and the Ice on Fire festival will be the perfect place for it. We’re not sticking them in front of a hardcore audience or a bunch of smartass marks—just some people looking to get out of the cold and see some action.”

“And besides, I’ve got an in at the festival that guarantees us a spot,” Carolyn added, furrowing her brow at Rose. “We can make it happen.”

“When I want your opinion, Thunder Thighs, I’ll ask for it,” Rose hissed at the blonde before returning her attention to Theresa. “That festival is at the end of this month. You can’t expect them to be ready for this in just a few weeks.”

The rotund redhead took a sip of her coffee and told her mentor, “They know all the fundamentals, and a few of them have even got amazing finishers. We give them a little more polish over the next few weeks, and they’ll be more than ready for prime time.”

Rose leaned back in her chair and crossed her bony arms. “That ain’t what I’m concerned about, Hartley. I know they’ve got all the moves down-pat; you and me taught them the stupid things.”

“So what’s the issue then?” grumbled Carolyn.

“The ‘issue’, Brownie Butt, is that ever since you two started coming around, my girls have been turning into butterballs,” the elderly woman seethed. “It started with those snacks you’re always bringing around, like this is one of your Little League games and they’re a bunch of five year olds pretending to play baseball. Now I catch them getting candy bars from the vending machine and posting pictures on their Facegrams about all these big dinners they’re eating! “

Theresa rolled her eyes and retorted, “Rose, it’s really not that bad.”

Rose prodded the redhead’s chunky chest and snipped, “You’re right—it’s worse! Last week, I caught Vidya about to split her pants when she practiced sliding into the ring, and Tara’s tits were fixing to pop out of her bra. How am I supposed to present these girls as credible threats when they’re losing matches with their clothes, for God’s sake?”

Turning red as a tomato, Theresa slapped the fork away and spat at the senior, “You’ve been in the business for literal decades, Rose; you should know how to market someone that’s not a Size 0! And don’t go acting all high and mighty like you were some Skinny Minnie in your prime, because I’ve seen those pictures of you squeezing into an Army uniform.”

“That was water weight, you moo-cow moron!” Rose sneered, clutching the table as if she was ready to lunge across and tackle her student.

It took Carolyn slapping the table to distract them both, and the blonde reminded them, “Hey, meatheads, we’re in a public restaurant! Sit down and eat your breakfast like civilized human beings, for crying out loud!”

Theresa and Rose glanced around them and realized that all activity in the diner had stopped as all eyes focused on them. Chastened, the two wrestlers sat back down and tucked into their meals, though not without silently glaring at each other. As the other customers returned to eating and conversing, Carolyn crossed her arms around her pillowy breasts and scoffed, “Honestly, I can’t take you two anywhere, can I?”

“Stick it up your tuchus, Blondie,” Rose grumbled under her breath.

 

[Vongola27]

Undeterred, the bubbly mom asked her elderly nemesis, “Look, Rose, I get that you think our being around has led to the girls getting a little thicker, but is that really such a bad thing? Ever since I started coming to the classes, I’ve started watching wrestling matches more in my spare time, and let me tell you—there are plenty of girls out there right now that are much bigger than your students are. And they’re good at what they do too!”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about folks that are already out there and have had at least a few years experience,” Rose contested around a mouthful of food. “These girls are all beginners, unfit to take on even a career jobber.”

“Then we’ll make them a credible threat,” Theresa chimed in. “Maybe we can’t get them to lose weight before the show, but we can get them working hard to bulk up and show them how to really work at a new size. We can make it happen, just you watch.”

The senior ring veteran dabbed away the syrup at her lips as she glanced back and forth between her assistant coaches. Loathe as she was to admit it, they had a point—there were plenty of women out there of all sizes, from skinny toothpicks to heavyweight heifers. Who was to say that the girls in her class couldn’t be the next Aja Kong or Bull Nakano?

“All right, but you need to push those slackers like never before,” Rose told Theresa with a bony finger pointed at her chubby face. She then turned to Carolyn and said, “And you—no more snacks. If we want these girls getting into fighting shape, the last thing they need are blondies and fluffer-nutters.”

“What do you take me for—some mad fattener?” the blonde scoffed. “I know how to make healthy snacks, thank you very much. But rather than just carrots and celery, I was thinking something a bit more…substantial.”

As Carolyn laid out dietary plans to an attentive Rose, Theresa sat back and finished her meal with a smile on her face. It was a gamble to set up an exhibition for the class without Rose’s approval, but Queen Heart had never gotten anywhere in her career without taking some risks. She had faith in her students though, as they all worked hard as they could to be the very best. With a little more work and a goal in sight, she had no doubt that they would be ready for this exhibition—except two, maybe…

***​

Jamie ‘JJ’ Jacobs was enjoying her Saturday morning the only way she knew how—a breakfast sandwich from the deli down the street, cartoons on the television, and a bong at her lips. The bespectacled stoner took a long drag from the bubbling contraption—a snorkel that had been converted into paraphernalia—and held it in for a moment before releasing a series of smoke rings from her lips. A lazy chuckle chased them, and she sat the bong down to take a big bite of her sandwich.

“You better have gotten me one,” her roommate groggily remarked as she stumbled into the living room in a t-shirt and thong that were both too tight.

Nina Nevinger had been friends with JJ for years, so it only made sense for the two of them to move in with each other after graduating high school. The only problem was that the two were so irresponsible, they barely added up to one functioning adult, as evidenced by the less than clean condition of their apartment. They simply enabled each other’s faults, whether it was Nina smoking up with JJ or JJ sneaking food from Nina. And more recently, their vices had turned to the culinary, with the two growing girls packing away the food and piling on the pounds.

While neither was in peak athletic condition before, their recent descent into decadence had led to a thick layer of padding forming over their slender bodies. Clothes were getting tighter and spaces were getting smaller, but they paid little mind as they ate and smoked their way to new pant sizes. Nina was lucky, only in that her gain had limited itself to her waist and below, but at that point, she ballooned outwards. Her t-shirt, which she had held onto since middle school, could not cover all of her puffy stomach, and her lacy thong was swallowed up by her pale cheeks. JJ, meanwhile, had sprouted a second chin despite weighing less than Nina, and followed Theresa’s example by blowing up in the chest and belly like a strawberry.

“On the counter, dude,” JJ droned, her eyes glued to the latest episode of Justice United. “I got it with extra cheese and hot sauce, just the way you like it.”

“Sweet,” Nina hummed as she turned to the kitchen and found her sandwich sitting atop their mail pile, which was more like a mail landfill.

The punk had never been one for the culinary arts before, but over the last few months, she had become quite the foodie. When she unwrapped the foil around her sandwich, Nina took a deep whiff of the gooey treat and felt her legs turn to jelly—more so than they already were. She took a big bite of the sandwich and could not help but moan in delight as the flavors hit her tongue, from the sharp cheddar to the spice of the hot sauce. It had come as a shock to her that the deli just down the street sold such good sandwiches, and she wondered why she ever passed it up. Of course, if she bothered to look at the grease that dripped from the sandwich and coated her fingers, she might have realized, but that would also mean admitting that she had a problem.

That same denial did not apply to everyone around her though, as Nina glanced over to her longtime friend and wondered how JJ could have let herself go as much as she had. The stoner was in a tank-top that stretched tight around her ample chest and offered a good view of her fluffy stomach, not to mention the tubes of cookie dough that she called her arms. Those Miracle pajama pants were looking a lot tighter too, and Nina was fairly certain that they used to sit properly on JJ’s waist, not curled underneath her stomach.

“Some girls just don’t care about their figures enough,” Nina mused as she wolfed down her sandwich, a strand of melted cheese hanging from her lips.

Still, while Nina was quick to point out the flaws in others, she was not about to chew out JJ for getting chubby. Her lackadaisical friend would probably let her get away with murder, never once getting on her case for not doing the dishes or taking the last of the pizza, dumplings, or donuts. That was why they worked so well together, at least in Nina’s eyes, which were blind to the effects of such a lifestyle were having on both their bodies.

“What’s going on this week?” the punk asked as she raided the fridge for something to cool her tongue. “Are the Wolf and the Miracle making out still?”

“Nah, that ended back in Season 2,” JJ answered before taking another drag on her bong. “It’s tryouts for the team, and one of the contenders is a villain in disguise.”

After grabbing a tub of ice cream from the freezer to substitute for a lack of yogurt, Nina sashayed back to the living room and plopped down on the couch beside JJ. She handed a spoon to her friend and rested the tub between them, ignorant of how the space between them was getting shorter by the day. “Which one? The one that looks like a devil?”

“That’s Speed Demon—she’s a super good guy,” JJ answered. As she held her sandwich in one hand, she scooped out ice cream with the other and slurped it up. “My money’s on the archer dude. There’s been something sketchy about him the last few episodes.”

“Sweet beard though,” Nina remarked around a mouthful of ice cream. “Give the animators credit—they know how to make a CILF.”

And on their morning went, the two mindlessly grazing on this and that as they watched cartoons and little else. While their classmates were busy at work or exercising, the doughy duo soaked up tons of calories as they shared the bong between them. They could have gone until the afternoon were it not for JJ’s phone buzzing, startling the two sluggish girls enough that they actually opened their eyes all the way.

“Shit…got a message,” JJ grunted as she slipped her hand into her cleavage and fished out her phone, making sure to wipe the screen on her shirt.

“If they don’t have pizza, get rid of them,” Nina snorted before taking a swig of soda.

It was only when JJ saw the message that her stupor was shattered. She held her phone out to Nina and told her, “Dude, we missed class and Miss Hartley’s on her way here right now!”

Her punk friend saw the series of texts on the screen and slumped back against the sofa with a resounding, “Fuck.”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 74

With Theresa’s arrival imminent, JJ and Nina scrambled around as fast as they could to get their apartment in some semblance of tidy. They filled three garbage bags with the accumulated junk on every available surface, tossed anything dirty into the dishwasher, including their clothes, and tried to mask the pungent aroma of pot that filled the air. It was a struggle to get their sluggish minds and bodies in full gear, particularly for JJ, who had been smoking for the last seven hours, but they were quite pleased with how the apartment looked when they were finished.

The only thing left to do was change, lest they be caught in their pajamas—or, in Nina’s case, panties. The two dashed into their bedrooms, their chubby bodies bouncing and jiggling as they hurried through the motions. Unfortunately, it was not easy to find anything that fit well even on a good day, but particularly when they were in a hurry. JJ’s full chest and plump belly transformed most of her shirts into crop tops, and Nina’s prodigious hips proved insurmountable obstacles, assuming she could get anything past her thighs. By the time they heard banging on their door, the girls had just barely squeezed themselves into whatever fit.

“Coming!” they both called out as they raced for the door.

JJ was the first to reach it, and she quickly brushed her mousy hair down before opening it to reveal a red-faced Theresa. If this were any other day, Nina might have made a crack about her teacher running out of steam just climbing the stairs to their apartment, but she had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. The glare that the redhead shot the two of them was hot enough to melt ice, and when she squeezed through the door, she seemed like a savage beast barely restrained.

“Care to explain why you missed class today?” asked Theresa as she glowered at her students.

The two truants cast their heads down and shuffled their feet, but neither said a word. Theresa took the opportunity to glance around the apartment and winced at what she saw. There had been some slapdash attempt to get things cleaned up, no doubt started in the twenty minutes it took to get from the gym to the loft, and a very familiar odor that peeked through a heavy curtain of air freshener. She had a few good guesses about why Nina and JJ had skipped class that day, and none of them cast the two in a good light.

Then there was their appearance, which was sloppy to say the least. JJ was normally very plain, opting to go minimal on makeup and keeping her hair flat and straight, but Nina was missing the effort she usually put into her punk appearance. They looked like they had gotten out of bed and thrown on whatever they could find, which, in this case, were clothes they would not even wear to practice. Nina was in a concert t-shirt that left a strip of pasty tummy exposed and purple leggings that were stretched so tight that they paled around the thickest parts of her legs. JJ, on the other hand, had squeezed herself into a white shirt that cut into her plush arms and clung tightly to her bosom while showing off her healthy belly, and black short shorts that gave her a generous muffin top.

Finally, JJ mumbled, “We were just, like, cleaning and we lost track of time.”

“Yeah,” Nina replied after finding her voice. “We so meant to get there on time, but the next thing we knew, it was 3:30 and class was over.”

“Sorry, Mrs. H,” JJ whimpered, unable to look her favorite teacher in the eyes for fear of what she would find there.

Theresa crossed her arms around her enormous bosom and gritted her teeth as she growled, “Turn around and march your butts over to the counter—now.”

For once, Nina obeyed without talking back and shuffled over to the counter, JJ right by her side and Theresa close behind. When the two truants reached the counter, their furious teacher ordered them, “Grab the counter and stick your butts out.”

The roommates glanced at each other with fear in their eyes and sweat on their brows, but they did as instructed. No sooner had they stuck their plump backsides out than there was a sharp crack across both their behinds as Theresa spanked them again and again. Nina bit her lip and JJ felt hot tears well up, but neither made a sound through the entire ordeal, for fear of angering their teacher further.

“Of all the times you decided to be a couple of irresponsible, inconsiderate boneheads, you just had to pick today!” Theresa barked at the two before clapping her hand across Nina’s rump. “Skipping class is bad enough, but you just had to pick today to play hooky and smoke up!”

JJ choked out, “We…we didn’t—” before being silenced with another sharp slap on her backside.

“Save it, Jacobs! You think I don’t know the smell of weed? How stupid do you two think I am?” Theresa snapped before delivering one last spanking to both.

When she stepped away, the redhead was huffing and puffing like a wolf while her students whimpered like scared little pigs. Their clothes hid it—less so in Nina’s case—but their rumps were crimson from the series of slaps and stung like they had been pricked by an entire hive of bees. Nina and JJ straightened up and turned to face Theresa, who gave them both a ferocious look that was normally reserved for the authoritarian Rose.

“I got you all a booking,” the matron finally explained as she put her hands on her hips. “The entire class is going to have an exhibition showcase at Ice on Fire…your first real matches for a real audience. Rose told me it would be a bad idea, that you all weren’t ready, but I pushed as hard as I could to make it happen. But maybe she was right, at least when it comes to you two.”

Theresa reached out and pinched both girls’ plush love handles, squeezing them tight as she seethed, “The both of you need more work than anyone else in the class; I’ve been in the ring with celebrities who didn’t know a body slam from a suplex from a duplex, and they’re better than you sorry sacks of lard. I have tried to teach you to both be professionals, but if you don’t have the decency to show up to class, then maybe I ought to stop bothering.”

When she released her students, JJ was the first to speak up. Her lips quivered as she sobbed, “We’re so sorry, Mrs. H…we’re really, really so sorry. You’re the coolest and best teacher we’ve ever had, and we love working with you! Please don’t kick us out!”

“What she said,” Nina grumbled. When she looked into Theresa’s eyes, there was not a single flicker of her rebellious fire. “I’ve wanted to be a wrestler for the last few years, and I’ve learned so much from you since you came on. We want this showcase…just please, tell us what we need to do to make it happen.”

Theresa’s face remained hard as stone as she glared holes through her two problem students, and for a brief moment, they wondered if this was the end of the road. Eventually, the redhead let out a long sigh and deflated, her shoulders slumping and her thick middle drooping as she let out the breath she had been holding in. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and groused, “You two really want this?”

“More than anything,” Nina answered, with JJ nodding so hard that her neck almost snapped.

“Then from now on, there’s going to be some changes,” Theresa told them. “When I tell you to do something, you do it without a single word of backsass—and that means you, Nevinger. You do what I say, when I say, or I will chop you like an onion; if I give you an instruction, the only words coming out of your mouths should be ‘Yes, Coach’. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Coach!” the tubby truants replied.

“Second, you’re spending extra time in the gym with me. I am going to whip you both into shape for this exhibition, and that means that we’re bumping up your training schedule. As of today, you no longer have off days; if you don’t have class, you’re still coming in. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach!”

“Lastly, and I don’t think you’ll have a problem with this, you’re going to bump up your eating,” Theresa huffed. “You’re too small for what we have in mind, so we’re going to get you on a diet meant to bulk you up.”

 

[Vongola27]

Nina cocked an eyebrow and asked, “I thought you were—” but was silenced by a sharp slap to her exposed stomach.

Her coach glowered at her and hissed, “Not another word, Nevinger. Right now, thanks to the both of you deciding to spit in Jenny Craig’s face, you’re in a precarious position when it comes to your weight. You either need to lose thirty pounds or gain sixty more, and given your track record over the last few months, I have some notion about which way you’ll head.”

“B-But we can lose weight, du—ma’am!” JJ contested, though her outburst was met with a chop to her flabby stomach.

“I highly doubt that, but more than that, it’s not just about fattening up,” Theresa explained. “It’s about bulking up, building up muscle underneath that thickness so you can be a force to be reckoned with. What’s more, just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you’re entirely limited in what you can do in the ring. There are plenty of bulky workers out there who are flying around the ring and giving cruiserweights a run for their money.”

Nina and JJ shared a look between each other as they weighed out their options. Despite living in denial for the last few months, Nina was well aware that she had put on a considerable amount of weight, as had JJ. Theresa was as blunt as an atom bomb, but she had a point that they were quite talented at packing on the pounds. To try and shed all that weight before Ice on Fire, just a few short weeks, would be near impossible, but bulking up some more? That would be easy as pie.

“We’ll do it,” they answered in agreement.

“Glad to hear,” Theresa replied. “Now, I want you to go change into something you can practice in without tearing, and then we’re hitting the gym. When we finish class, I’ll treat the two of you to dinner—but you’re going to eat whatever I order for you, understand?”

“Yes, Coach!” the two chubby girls answered before scurrying off to their rooms.

Only when they were gone from sight and earshot did Theresa truly allow herself to relax, as she felt like she was ready to pass out. She had not had to come down that hard on someone in a long time, but after the girls had skipped class that day, all she could see was red. If Nina had been her usual snobby self, Theresa might very well have slammed her into the apartment below with a tombstone piledriver. It was good that the two had been so amenable, and she hoped that continued after the fog of weed cleared from their heads.

“I’m going to need to talk to them about that too,” the redhead mused as she glanced around, knowing that JJ had a stash somewhere but not sure where. “I just hope that Carolyn’s getting on well with the rest of the class.”

***​

“No more, Ms. Brown…I can’t eat another bite!” Vidya Anand groaned.

Like most of the girls in Rose’s class, she had been ecstatic at the idea of having an exhibition at the fair in the next few weeks. It was what they had all been working towards—a chance to showcase their skills and get onto the scene. The only downside came when Theresa and Carolyn started talking about new dietary restrictions, but not the kind that she had imagined. Vidya knew she had been getting a little thick over the last few months, as her wardrobe could attest, but they were talking about going even bigger.

This led to the girls going to Carolyn’s house afterwards for a meal and to talk about what they could expect going forward. What awaited them was less of a meal and more of a feast, as the bubbly blonde wrestling mom whipped up dish after dish. Vidya wolfed down what had to be four fish tacos and three chicken shish kebabs before throwing in the towel and cradling her aching stomach.

“Fine,” grunted Conner Trent as she swiped the last taco from Vidya’s plate. “More for me.”

The brawny girl chuckled at the pout that sprouted on her classmate’s lips but still bit into the saucy taco with delight. Being a big girl anyway, Conner thought little of the plan to plump up the class; if anything, she would have done something similar before long. She did not take into account the twenty-five pounds she had already put on over the last few months, most of which sat in a gut that was starting to creep out onto her lap.

“Ms. B, these are the best damn tacos I’ve ever had,” Conner hummed in delight before taking another big bite. “If you keep cooking like this, I’ll meet whatever weight goal you have no problem!”

“Especially if you keep swiping food from my plate,” Vidya groused.

Her larger friend scoffed and poked Vidya in her stuffed stomach. “Not my fault you’re such a tender belly, Vidya. Better get working on that, or there’s going to be a lot more swiping.”

“Girls, girls, girls, there’s plenty to go around,” Carolyn cooed as she stepped between the two and placed another taco down on Vidya’s plate. “And Vidya, if you don’t want Conner stealing your food, there’s a pretty simple solution, dear.”

“Yes, Ms. B,” the diva puffed as she shifted around in her seat and got to eating once more.

Over in the family room, Tara Green hummed in culinary bliss as she finished up her fifth kebab and cleaned it of any remaining meat and veggies. She called out, “Ms. Brown, you’ve got to share this recipe with me! I’ve got a family barbeque coming up, and they’d love this!”

If there was anything Tara enjoyed more than wrestling, it was cooking, and being exposed to Carolyn’s had awoken the foodie within her. She loved to sample snacks and meals, and now that she was on a strict diet for the upcoming showcase, she could not wait to try out a wider variety. The only downside was that all this sampling was wreaking havoc on her waistline, as she tugged her shirt back down after waving to Carolyn. Her stomach had been getting rather plush lately, and it was only bound to get bigger as the month ticked on.

“It’d be my pleasure, Tara,” the culinary queen giggled before turning her eyes on Zahara Morgan, who poked at her food but never brought a bite to her mouth. “What’s wrong, Zahara? Is your stomach feeling okay?”

The softest in spirit among her classmates, Zahara blushed and answered meekly, “It’s fine, Ms. Brown…I guess I’m just worried. I’ve put on a lot of weight lately, and I don’t know if I should be eating like this, even if it’s for our matches.”

Before Carolyn could answer, Rose butted in and pointed her fork at Zahara. “You listen here, missy. There’s no shame with a few more pounds, especially in this line of work. You take a look at the independent scene lately? There are girls so big that they make Blondie there look like a stick figure. So long as you keep to my exercise plan, you don’t need to worry about getting a little chunky.”

“Th-Thanks, Ms. Manson,” the timid Zahara replied before tucking into her meal. It seemed that the approval of her drill sergeant instructor was all she needed to get her spirit back, as she was soon eating faster than even Conner.

Carolyn glanced over to Rose and shared a silent nod with the elderly veteran. They had come to a sort of agreement between them over this arrangement: if the girls were going to bulk up, Carolyn would prepare meals and diet instructions for them while Rose would prepare exercises. Rose was still not entirely on board with the entire project, but the two moms had sworn that they would help the girls slim back down after the fair if they did not get over. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and bite back her usual vitriol, which was easier said than done.

“Vidya, come on—that was my taco!” Conner whined from the kitchen.

“I don’t see your name on it, beer belly!” Vidya retorted.

“The hell did you just call me, thunder thighs?”

Carolyn sighed and made her way back to the kitchen, leaving Rose to sit among her other students and enjoy the homecooked meal. If she was being honest with herself, this was about the happiest she had ever seen these girls—or, for that matter, any of her students. She was so used to a hardnosed style of teaching that left her with alumni that never spoke to her again, and mentioned her with begrudging respect, if any. To be in such a warm environment felt unusual, but not unpleasant…perhaps those butterballs had the right idea after all.

“And maybe pigs will fly,” Rose grumbled as she watched the button pop off Tara’s jeans.

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 75

Though she knew that the road to recovery would be a long one, KC Skye was dismayed by how weak she still felt after getting her cast off. She had to tread lightly with her injured leg, for if she stepped even a smidgeon too hard, it felt like she was stepping on a nail. As such, her physical therapy proved to be more taxing than she had imagined, especially for a woman who used to work out by doing consecutive front flips and backflips. The fire was still burning inside her, but the former aerialist was finding it hard to keep it going when even basic exercises were painful.

“Keep it going, KC, you’re almost there,” her instructor, Tyler, encouraged KC.

It seemed so simple on paper: lie on her stomach, raise her leg backward about a foot off the ground, hold for a few seconds, and lower it down; do that two or three times a day, a dozen reps each. Yet somehow, it was more excruciating than the learning how to go straight from sitting cross-legged to a backflip. KC’s muscles were so weak from being unused for months on end, and no amount of exercise, however basic, seemed to be working. Sweat beaded on her brow as she held her leg up and waited for this infernal torture to be done with.

“All right, last one!”

“It’d better be,” KC growled as she raised her leg one more time.

That she was too weak for these simple routines was insulting enough, but the former gymnast felt even more ridiculous in her outfit. KC had squeezed herself into a pair of Juicy Couture tights that clung to her like a second skin and a t-shirt that had once been baggy but now revealed a thick strip of stomach flab as her breasts took up much of the real estate. Laying on her stomach like she was, her plump melons oozed out from under her and she was sure that her backside wobbled like pudding when she so much as twitched. She used to have the smallest BMI percentage in the GWF; now, the calipers for the test would not be able to fit her.

“And that’s it!” Tyler announced, much to KC’s relief. “Great job, KC—you’re making some real progress! If we keep at it, you’ll be good as new in no time.”

He meant well, but KC wanted to spit in disgust. They had two very different definitions of ‘good as new’: KC wanted to be able to do everything she used to; Tyler meant just walking like a normal person. It was hard to think that she was making actual progress, especially when simple hamstring stretches were agonizing, but there was little else she could do. The grounded aerialist had to put her faith in her physical therapy if she ever wanted to set foot in the ring again.

“Thanks, Tyler,” the bloated woman huffed as he helped her to her feet. “I’m sure I’ll be running marathons in a few weeks. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. Go ahead and get some ice on that, and try to take it easy for the rest of the afternoon,” the young man instructed her. “We’re going to work on the quads tomorrow!”

“Can’t wait,” KC lied through her teeth.

Her cousin, Agatha, poked her head out and asked, “All finished? I’ll see you out, Tyler.”

KC maintained her phony smile until she heard the door open and shut, at which point the smile dipped into a terrible scowl. Tyler was doing his best, bless his heart, but his eagerness and enthusiasm were grating on her like nails on a chalkboard. She used to be considered a machine of a woman, able to pull off insane acrobatics without breaking a sweat, and that had all been stripped from her by that horrible accident. It was humiliating to be talked down to like she was some grandma who just had her hip replaced, even more so when she could remember so clearly how to do all her old stunts. She wanted so desperately to get up on a chair and do a moonsault onto the sofa to prove she still had it, but Agatha was watching her like a hawk.

Instead of practicing swanton bombs, KC flopped down on the couch, propped her leg up as she had become so used to doing, and turned on the TV. She would never have thought of cooling down with some mindless television, but the former aerialist did not feel like she had the strength for anything else. Her leg felt like it was on fire, and she ached too much for any other exercise—at least, that was what she told herself.

When Agatha returned, she asked, “How was therapy today?”

“If he tells me what a good job I’m doing one more time, I’m going to ram my fist down his throat,” KC grumbled, her attention fixed on her screen.

“He’s only being nice,” Agatha reminded her grumpy cousin. She crossed over to the sofa and stood behind KC as she asked, “You know what we should do? Let’s go shopping!”

With a roll of the eyes, KC answered, “I’d rather have Typhoon break my leg all over again, thank you very much.”

Agatha sighed and leaned over the couch to steal the remote from KC. Before her sluggish cousin could reclaim it, she turned off the television and told her, “You need to get out of the house, Cassie. Not only are you going to need a new wardrobe now that you don’t have a cast to worry about, but you should be moving around instead of sitting around.”

“I was going to move in just a little bit, Ags,” KC contested, even though she knew that she could have spent the rest of the day on the couch. “PT was a killer today, okay? So what if I want to take a break with some TV—what’s the big deal?”

“What’s the big deal? Cassie, do you even hear yourself?” asked Agatha. “You were so excited to get that cast off, you were counting down the days like a prisoner scratching tallies on the wall! And now you’re telling me that you hurt too much from doing a few simple stretches? You’ve been injured before, so what’s so different about this?”

“What’s different is all this!” KC barked. She poked and prodded all over her pudding-like body, sinking her fingers into the abundant adipose that encased her like a full body cast. “Yeah, I’ve been hurt before, but I’ve never spent six months on the sidelines getting so fat that I need a completely new wardrobe three times over!”

With an incredible amount of effort and grunting—mostly grunting—KC managed to get to her feet and glowered at Agatha as she grabbed her thick stomach and jiggled it like jelly. “I used to be so slim that you could shred cheese on my abs! I could break watermelons with my thighs and not even break a sweat. And now, I can’t even pretend to have abs anymore, and my thighs couldn’t even crush a grape! All my muscles are gone—I’m just a huge tub of lard now. So don’t tell me that this isn’t anything new, because no one is supposed to get this fat this fast!”

As hot tears streamed down her plump cheeks, KC winced and hissed, “And now, I can’t even stand up too fast because my fucking leg hurts!”

That was all Agatha needed to hear. She shuffled around to the other side of the couch and wrapped in the biggest hug she could manage, letting her baby cousin collapse into her shoulder as her frustrations turned into sobbing babble. It was rare that she had seen KC in such a state when they were growing up, but this past year had seen her breaking down in so many ways. Now that she finally had a chance to turn things around, Agatha had thought that she would be going full steam ahead in trying to rebuild herself, but that was easier said than done.

“It’s going to be okay, Cassie,” the caretaker cousin cooed as she rocked KC in her arms until the sobbing stopped. “Why don’t you go lay down for a bit? I’ll make us a bit of lunch, and then we can figure out the afternoon, okay?”

KC did not have a reply, instead skulking off to her room with a heavy waddle in her step. When she was out of sight, Agatha let out a deep sigh and sat down as she wondered what she could possibly do to help. To see her once spirited and vivacious cousin so weak and miserable broke her heart, especially when she had no idea how to fix her spirit.

Then, just as she put her head in her hands, she heard KC’s phone buzz on the coffee table and glanced at the incoming caller. Her eyes went wide and she snatched up the phone to answer, knowing that if there was anyone that could shake her cousin’s funk, it would be her…

 

[Vongola27]

After sleeping off some of her pain, KC was coaxed into going to the mall with Agatha to visit at least one store and get a few new outfits, mostly for her therapy and future workouts. It was difficult for the wounded woman to get out of the house, and not because of a practicality matter either. When KC went out, she did not feel like herself: she was so used to towering over everyone and looking like a force to be reckoned with; saddled as she was, she felt small and helpless as a mouse. She shied away from the crowds in the mall and kept close to Agatha like a scared child clinging to their mother’s coat.

Actually shopping was no less fun, due in no small part to the fact that KC’s insanely hourglass figure did not lend itself to a wide selection. For being so flat-chested a few months prior, she had ballooned out of normal proportions and even the far end of the scale for the average store, such that she had to special order new sports bras. While her waist had certainly grown outwards, it was vastly outpaced by her chest and hips, which meant getting creative with her choices. And for someone who was as fashion unconscious as KC, this meant falling back on Agatha for assistance.

She finally made some choices, but the thickened woman was no less miserable after the whole experience. If anything, walking around only made her feel worse, as her leg was killing her and even carrying her shopping bags felt like too much. It was all she could do to not whine about going back home, but her face said it all—she wished she was anywhere but the mall. KC all but collapsed when she got back to the car, too exhausted to even drown her sorrows in food court cuisine.

By the time she got back to Agatha’s house, she went straight back to her bedroom to sleep until dinner was ready. KC paused to look at herself in the mirror and winced at what she saw, so unfamiliar was her reflection. It was not enough that she had blown up to almost double her weight, but she looked like all the life had been sucked out of her. Her leg had still not regained its color, she had heavy bags under her eyes, and her hair seemed limp as the rest of her. Where was the chutzpah that had made her so big in the GWF? Where was that cocky smirk that she had when she won the tag team belts with Mickey Ramone back in April?

“Who knows?” KC grumbled as she fell onto the bed, her curves rippling from the impact. “Sure as hell ain’t here.”

The next few days passed in much the same fashion: KC would lounge around the house until it was time for PT, wince and squirm through the entire ordeal, and then spend the rest of the afternoon doing as little as possible. The only things that did not hurt were eating and watching TV, and since those were so easy to do, she became a couch potato. She knew that this was not going to help her get back into shape, but how could anyone expect her to lose weight when attempting to do so felt like she was stabbing herself in the leg? All the fire that had carried her since she first broke her leg was gone, snuffed out by her painful reality.

Friday morning saw the sluggish woman right on the couch, watching daytime talk shows and becoming acquainted with her third bowl of cereal. With her leg propped up on an ottoman, it was as if KC had never gotten her cast off, reverting back to square one. Her hair was a mess of curls more befitting of a Scottish princess and even though it was well past 10 am, she had yet to change out of her pajamas. This also meant that she was braless, allowing her heavy chest to slope downwards and perch atop her flabby stomach. It was tempting to just go without altogether, rather than constantly having to go up in size—much easier on her wallet.

KC was in such a state of malaise that the sound of the doorbell did not even register to her; she was much more invested in what Wendy Williams had to say about the latest celebrity gossip. Agatha shuffled behind her, telling her cousin, “I’ll get it!”

“’Kay,” KC mumbled before taking another spoonful.

She could hear the door open but missed the excited whispering afterwards. She paid no mind to the creaking floorboards as someone approached from behind. It was only when a pair of plump hands reached around to cover her eyes that KC sat up, nearly spilling her cereal in the process.

“Dare ga bakkuda to omou?” asked a very familiar voice.

KC’s mouth dropped open and she squeaked, “Shinobu?”

“Long time, no see, KC-chi,” her visitor replied in a warm hum.

When she could see again, KC spun around as best she could and was greeted by a very chubby Shinobu Misawa. Her hair had grown just past her shoulders, her blonde dye job was beginning to fade, and she was fatter than she had ever been, but there was no denying that it was her old friend. The chubby girl waggled her fingers at KC and greeted her, “Ohayo-gozaimasu!”

Moving faster than she had in ages, the wounded wrestler scrambled off the couch and raced around the other side to wrap her friend in the tightest hug she could manage. They had been talking constantly for the last couple weeks, ever since KC got her cast off, but to actually see and hold each other was simply too much. The two girls sobbed and giggled as they squeezed each other so tight that they thought they might pop, and they remained like that for a good minute or three before they finally came apart and wiped away their tears.

“Oh my god, you have no idea how good it is to see you,” KC finally said when she found her voice again. “When did you get back from Japan?”

“Just this morning,” Shinobu explained. “I hopped on the first flight I could after your cousin told me you were having some problems with therapy.”

KC’s eyes went wide and she glanced back to the kitchen, where Agatha gave her a small wave before wandering off to leave her cousin alone. Flummoxed, she struggled to find the right words as her giddiness over seeing Shinobu gave way to awkwardness when she realized what an absolute state she was in. She did not know what to fix first, so her hands moved in a flurry as she tried to smooth out her hair, pull her shirt down to cover her stomach, and brush any crumbs of cereal from her chest.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she meekly apologized. “If I had known you were coming, I would have cleaned up or put on some proper clothes or a bra or—”

Her frantic reply was cut off when Shinobu put a finger to her lips, which brought a blush to her cheeks and silenced her for a spell. The plump girl simply smiled and told her, “You look fine, KC-chi—so much better with your cast off.”

KC fiddled with a stray lock of hair as she anxiously giggled, “Well, you…you look even better. Looks like Osaka treated you well.”

That was an understatement. When she left, Shinobu had been rather portly, but after spending the last month eating constantly with her old friends, she had ballooned. She looked like Mickey after they first discovered her plan to gain weight; it was crazy to think that this was the same girl who used to be a little bundle of muscle. A thick, heavy gut filled out all the space in her sweater, as if she had swallowed a watermelon whole, and breasts as big as softballs rested comfortably atop it. Her jeans strained around her keg-sized thighs and pillowy backside, which made KC wonder what would happen if she tried to squeeze into one of her cosplays.

“It was a lot of fun and I had a great time with my friends, but I’m sorry to have made you worry so much,” Shinobu replied as she reached out and held KC’s hands. “I did not think about how you would be after getting your cast off, and I want to make it up to you.”

KC’s cheeks warmed the longer Shinobu held her hands, and she stammered out, “Wh-Wh-What do you mean?”

The Osakan led her friend back to the couch as she explained, “I mean that I want to help you get better—your leg, your body, and your spirit. You are one of the toughest wrestlers I have ever known; I still can see you slapping the bitch out of Sadie Storme. I had to go away to find myself after what happened at Global War, but I found myself with the help of my friends, so that’s what I want to do for you. I want to help you find the KC Skye I know and love.”

Those last few words hung in the air as both women processed that, but though Shinobu turned bright pink and buried her cheeks in her sweater, she did not take it back. KC bit her lip as the words rang in her head, but she pushed them aside as she asked, “So, where do we start?”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 76

“This is Jeanie Sutherland with Dare-Devil Wrestling, and I’ve got an exclusive interview with the Wild Roses—the Number One Contenders for the Women’s Tag Team Titles. Tonight, the Wild Roses are going to compete in a no holds barred contest with the Rodeo Twins, Carmen and Molly Hill. Ladies, how are you feeling going into what might be your biggest match since you started at DDW?”

Jeanie Sutherland was a short woman, not even cracking five feet, but she carried herself with enough poise to make up for it. She was an interviewer for a variety of promotions in the Southwest before settling in for a regular gig with DDW, endearing herself to the audience for her passion and commitment. It was as if she had taken it on herself to bring back the dying art of the backstage interview, giving every Q&A session her all and not backing down, even in the face of threats from the heels of the company.

Opposite her were the Wild Roses—Maggie Torres and Sharon Goode—as they prepped for their title match. The redheaded Sharon flipped her crimson locks over her shoulder and rocked her neck from side to side, making sure to give her curvaceous body a shimmy in the process. Her partner, meanwhile, hopped up and down on her feet, sending ripples through her chubby frame and causing her jeans to ride up her plump backside—not that Maggie was aware of how thick she had gotten.

“Jeanie, we’ve been ready for those titles since we first stepped into the ring,” the dark-haired diva replied as she came to a stop and bent down to Jeanie’s microphone. “When we first came to the States, we had gold in our eyes, and we’ve spent every single day since proving that we’re championship material. Everyone except for the Twins knows that we kick ass, but they’re about to find out—what are we going to do to them, Sharon?”

Sharon let out a heavy sigh as she approached the microphone and answered, “We’re going to tear you apart and send you back to Beverly Hills in pieces. You thought you got us good at Christmas, but no one makes the Wild Roses look like fools and we’ve made sure to pay you back a dozen times over. Tonight, we get our vengeance by taking the one thing you care about in this world more than your fancy cars, mansion, or those little rat dogs you carry in your purses. We’re walking out of the building tonight with those belts around our waists, so kiss them goodbye!”

Jeanie glanced back and forth between the newcomers and asked, “The Twins have been able to hold onto those belts for as long as they have because they are experts at strategy—how do you plan to counter them when you step into the ring?”

Maggie flexed her bicep, which might have been more impressive thirty pounds prior, but as it was, there was little change in her arm. “Let me tell you something, Jeanie: it doesn’t matter what sort of trick those hacks have up their sleeves; we’ve got raw strength and technical skill on our side. End of the day, we’re top dollar athletes and they’ve got to resort to cheating to win their matches.”

“That’s why we demanded a no holds barred match,” Sharon explained as she sidled up to her partner and pulled her close, her pale fingers sinking into Maggie’s love handle. “They can’t save their skins by disqualifying themselves, and we’ll be ready for anything. So, let me tell the Twins this: it doesn’t matter if you pull a chair, a ladder, or a kendo stick out from under the ring; you can call down anyone from your fleet of personal assistants, but it won’t help you. We’re going to make you regret the day you ever pissed off the Wild Roses.”

“Bottom’s up, bitches,” Maggie declared, her arms crossed under her plump chest.

The Wild Roses sauntered off backstage, leaving Jeanie to wrap things up by telling the viewing audience, “And there you have it, folks. The Wild Roses have made their declaration, and it doesn’t look like they’ll go down without a fight. We’ll see how well they do against the champions later tonight!”

***​

As soon as she was off-camera, Sharon dropped her cool and confident attitude and became a bundle of excited nerves. She could not stop giggling or hide her grin even if she wanted to—and why would she, when Maggie and she were on the cusp of victory? Their years of hard work were finally paying off, as the booking committee had deigned them ready for a run with the tag team titles. It was their first taste of championship gold, and it was all Sharon could do to not shriek with glee. Thankfully, her partner was there to help keep her grounded.

“Shar, dial it back,” the plush Latina snorted. “Christmas was last month.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the redhead replied as she ceased bouncing on her heels. “I just…ooh, I’m so ready to go! We’re walking out of the gym tonight as champions! How is this not the best moment of your whole career?”

“Because I’ve got plans, thank you very much,” Maggie hummed as she patted her blobby belly with a smug smile spread on her cheeks. “This is great and all, but it’s just a stepping stone for us. We’re going to get our name out there, then get picked up by a bigger promotion, and then a bigger one after that, and on and on until we get to the Global Wrestling Federation itself!”

Sharon rolled her eyes at her friend’s cocky attitude, but it was nothing new to her. She had spent enough time with Maggie to know that the Latina thought wrestling royalty should be handed to her on a silver platter. It was good to be confident, but if Maggie kept that attitude, she could only expect a lot of burnt bridges in her future. Still, it was pretty sweet to imagine the two of them standing victorious in the center of the ring at the Showdown Supreme, the GWF Tag Team titles in their hands.

“All right, but we’re here now and this is the coolest thing in the world,” Sharon insisted as she tried to bring Maggie down from the clouds. “Let’s focus on putting on the best match we can, yeah?”

“Don’t I always, Shar?” asked her partner as she sauntered past. “It’s like I said to Jeanie—we’re top dollar athletes, and any promotion worth a damn would be lucky to have us.”

As Maggie waddled her way back to the locker room, Sharon wondered when she would realize that she was no longer the skinny mini she used to be. The diva had ballooned since they got to the States, thanks to a fondness for high calorie beer and spending her paycheck on clubbing and food. She was a slender thing at one point, not even weighing 120 pounds, but her hedonism had led to her packing on over fifty pounds since September. And while the image conscious Maggie was blissfully unaware of how much she had put on, it was obvious to anyone who could see that she was chunky.

It used to be that her problem area was her stomach as it bloated out like a balloon from the constant deluge of beer and soda, but after the last couple months, her tummy decided to spread the love to the rest of her body. Maggie now had a soft double chin that formed whenever she so much as opened her mouth, and her cheeks were developing permanent dimples. Her breasts were slightly bigger, which no doubt fed into her delusion that a few pounds were not such a bad thing, but they paled in comparison to the rest of her. Those arms she had bragged about to Jeanie were softer than pudding, and one would have to give a good squeeze to find the muscle underneath. This should have been a wake-up call for her, but the delusional diva paid the changes no mind.

That beer belly of hers was undeniable though, and even Maggie would be the first to admit that she had a gut now, downplay it though she might. It was round as a balloon and jostled whenever she walked, but there was little jiggle to it; it was as though she was constantly bloated with water weight. Ever since Thanksgiving, little rolls had begun to grow along her side though, with plush love handles poking over her waistbands and starter back tits growing around her bra. It was almost enough to distract from how her hips were growing wider, with thick saddlebags sprouting along her flanks and her gait subtly adjusting for the new size. Add in her chubby cheeks eating up her golden trunks, and it became clear that the only person who did not realize Maggie was a bona fide fat girl was herself.

“What do you want to do after this? I was thinking we could celebrate with a steak dinner, but I’m not sure what place is going to be open that late,” Maggie asked, licking her lips at the thought of a fully loaded baked potato.

“How can you think of food when we’re about to get our first title match?” Sharon asked in return, even though she knew the answer. The real answer was that Maggie had become a glutton without knowing it, but her partner just gave a nonchalant shrug.

“I’m not going to sweat this, Shar, and you shouldn’t either. In a few years, when people ask you where you won your first title, you’re not even going to remember working in a Podunk territory like this,” the diva assured her friend.

 

[Vongola27]

As tantalizing as her body had become to Sharon, there was no denying that Maggie’s attitude was as rotten as a brown banana. It was a miracle that they had earned this title shot in the first place, since the doughball did not want to seem weak to anyone—getting her to go through with their spot at the Christmas show had been like pulling teeth. Maggie thought she was a wrestling queen without having any legitimate credentials to her name; she expected accolades to be thrown at her just for showing up to a match. Sometimes, Sharon wondered if she would be better off with someone who required less maintenance, who did not require her to act as mediator and babysitter for.

“God, I could do with a snack,” Maggie remarked. “Hey, Shar, mind grabbing something from craft services for me?”

Sharon was shaken from her thoughts by the sight of her pudgy partner shucking her shirt off, exposing the flabby belly she hid underneath and the plump breasts that rested atop it. Her eyes were glued to the tantalizing wobbling as Maggie slipped out of her shirt and tossed it aside. It was like a big scoop of mocha ice cream, and she tried to find opportunities to grab hold of it whenever she could. If ever there was a reason for why she stayed with her drama queen of a friend, that big, beautiful belly would be it.

Her staring did not go unnoticed, as Maggie snapped her fingers and said, “Earth to Sharon! Are we getting craft services or not?”

“Wuh?” Sharon mumbled before coming to and turning as red as her hair. “Oh, um…yeah. I guess maybe a snack would be good for now. What do you want?”

“Whatever looks good,” Maggie answered with a shrug.

If they did not have a match in an hour, Sharon might have taken the opportunity to put together a three-course meal from the cheap offerings at the craft table, but her desire for a plumper Maggie was outweighed by the desire to put on a stellar match. With a quick nod, she turned and shuffled off to find the food and splash some cold water on her face—anything to get rid of that image. If she had stared any longer, her brain might have short-circuited.

When the redhead skittered out of the locker room, Maggie shook her head and muttered, “Where is that girl’s head?”

The diva finished undressing—shimmying out of her jeans, slipping out of her panties, and unhooking her tight bra—and took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror. Anyone could see that Maggie had gotten downright chubby over the last several months, but to the self-centered starlet, it could not have been more than a few pounds. Her stupid cousin was always trying to tell her that she was fat, but what did Mickey know? That heifer had to weigh 500 pounds by now, and she had the audacity to call someone else fat?

“She can talk about how much she loves being fat, but I know that she’s just jealous,” Maggie hummed to herself as she ran her hands over her curves. “She’s this big, fat blimp, but I’m just thicker than a Snicker; if she showed some restraint, that cerdita would still be able to see her feet.”

As much as she lambasted Mickey, Maggie was dangerously close to the same scenarios she snarked about. She had to either suck in her stomach or crane her head down to be able to see her feet, what with the wall of tummy that blocked her view, and she was far thicker than a king-size Snicker. It was only through the fog of denial that she was able to keep blissfully unaware of how plump she had gotten as she ran her hands down silky thighs that squished at the touch. Even slapping her rump did not set off any red flags, as she convinced herself that a little jiggle was all right.

“Vanity, thy name is Maggie,” a shrill voice beside her sneered.

The diva turned and met her opponents for that night—Carmen and Molly. While not identical twins, they tried to match as best they could and wore the same outfits, styled their hair the same way, and even applied the exact same level of spray tan. They did their absolute best to be the absolute worst and had enjoyed a good run with the tag team titles before they were approached with the decision to move the belts to the Wild Roses. It was a shame to lose the belts, but at least they were happy to drop them to the other team—more specifically, one half of the team.

“If you’re going to fondle yourself, Maggie, could you do it at home?” asked Molly, hands on her hips as she glowered at the bratty butterball.

“I live by a very simple motto, Molly—when you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Maggie scoffed, unabashed by what she perceived as comments from a jealous rival.

As she pulled her gear from her locker, the dark-haired diva was interrupted by Carmen slamming up against the locker beside her and glaring a hole through her. She growled, “I bet you’re so happy to be winning the titles tonight—the titles that we helped to mean something. Or is it beneath you to care about any belt that’s not with a major promotion?”

Before Maggie could answer, Molly came in behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll bet this is just one more merit badge on your sash, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah?” asked a confused and irritated Maggie. “Becoming the champion of a local promotion doesn’t mean jack when there are bigger fish out there. It’s like being the best player in a minor league baseball team: yeah, you’re good and everyone knows it, but if you were really good, you’d be in the Yankees.”

Carmen looked over her shoulder at her sister and asked, “You hear that, Molly? Miss Piggy here thinks that she’s too good for the indies. I’ll bet you’d just love to hop ship to New Japan or Impact, wouldn’t you? Get yourself a nice TV deal so everyone can see your pretty face.”

“Yeah, and who do you think you’re calling Miss Piggy?” Maggie hissed before Molly reached around and slapped her belly.

“You, you prima donna,” the petite blonde spat. “You think you’re too good to compete in high school gyms and bingo halls with the rest of us, but I’ve got news for you—you aren’t even the reason we’re dropping the titles tonight.”

“If it were up to us, we’d give them both to Sharon and leave you with jack all,” Carmen seethed. “Unlike you, she’s a professional with class, and she’s managed to stay in shape.”

Maggie had a retort ready before it was cut off in her throat when Carmen dipped her thumb into her belly button, pinched her stomach, and wobbled it around. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks were burning red, but her hands refused to cooperate as Molly held her by the wrists. Though she wriggled and squirmed in the blonde’s grasp, Molly had her cinched up tight, allowing her sister to do whatever she wanted with the flabby wrestler.

Carmen jeered at her prisoner, “Sharon’s the one that’s got potential, not you. She’s the champion—she’s the talented one. You’re just her fat friend riding on her coattails, holding her back from her true potential and claiming all the success for yourself. If there was a recruiter here tonight, you know what they’d say? ‘We’ll take the redhead, but tell the fatty to lay off the snacks.’”

Before Maggie could say anything, Carmen used her free hand to squish her cheeks together and push her lips into a pucker. The taller blonde scowled at her and growled, “You think you’re so special, being related to Mickey Ramone and coming from the Torres family, but you’re the black sheep, Maggie. Your name is only going to get you so far, and where will you be when people realize that you’re the Jannetty of the Wild Roses? While Sharon’s off on her fifth World Title run with the GWF, you’ll be running a piss-poor OnlyFans and charging people $20 for a hug—the only affection you’ll be able to get, you worthless cow.”

Satisfied, Carmen and Molly let the fuming diva go and turned to leave. The shorter of the two turned back and told Maggie, “When you go get drunk after this—and you will—lay off the Snake Venom. Any more of that stuff and you’ll be round enough to roll.”

Maggie watched her tormentors depart around the corner before she let out the breath she was holding and collapsed against her locker. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, and she wished she had a paper bag to breathe into to stop her hyperventilating. As she came down from the panicked high, she glanced down at the ball of pudge at her waist and grimaced when she felt where Carmen had dug her nails into her tender flab.

Hot, angry tears ran down her chubby cheeks as she muttered, “No soy inútil…soy asombrosa.”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 77

After grabbing a few select choices from craft services, Sharon made her way back to the locker room and passed by the Rodeo Twins heading in the other direction. Molly gave her a polite nod and smile, while Carmen offered a high five and told her, “Hey, break a leg out there, Sharon. Make sure you give it everything you’ve got.”

“I can’t do anything less,” the redhead hummed as she returned the high five and continued on to the locker room, where she found Maggie choking back sobs as she squeezed into ring gear that was far too tight for her.

Sharon nearly dropped the plates of food in her hands when she dashed over to her tag partner and asked, “Oh my god, Maggie, what’s wrong?”

The diva’s cheeks turned red with effort as she fought to get her skintight trunks up over her plump backside, but they refused to budge and left a good bit of overflow behind. She ground her teeth with such intensity that Sharon could hear them scraping together, and she stamped her feet in frustration, causing ripples to course through her jiggly body. Maggie all but tore the teeny trunks off and tossed them in her locker before collapsing on a bench and burying her face in her hands.

“Everything’s wrong!” she sobbed. “Everyone hates me, I’m hungry, and I can’t fit into my stupid ring gear that cost a few hundred dollars! I’m a fat, pathetic blob, Sharon—why did no one tell me? Why didn’t anyone say a single word to stop me?”

The redhead bit back the obvious answer—that people had told her how she was plumping up, but she refused to listen or believe it—and sat down beside Maggie. After pulling her close, Sharon hummed, “It’s okay, Mags, it’s okay. I guess we were all trying to spare your feelings—we meant well.”

“Fat lot of good that does me,” the diva groaned through her tears. Despite the revelation that she was far from the pleasantly thick she assumed she was, Maggie snatched up one plate of snacks and crammed a handful of chips in her mouth. “I’ve got the match of my career coming up, and I’m too much of a cow to fit into my ring gear. What am I going to do?”

In the long-term, the solution would be to stop eating so much, but Sharon was just as concerned about the match as Maggie was. She pursed her lips as she considered their options and told her partner, “What if you wore your street clothes like this was a street fight? I’ll see if I can get a shirt from the merch stand, and then you can just go to town. Some of the best matches in history have been done in a pair of Levi’s, after all.”

Maggie did not really have a choice, considering how she could not get her gear on, but she wished that she had something that was at least flattering. Wrestling in t-shirts and jeans was for old timers who no longer had bodies worth flaunting, and she refused to believe that she was in that category already. Something needed to be done, but for the time being, she would have to make do with what she had.

“All right,” she mumbled around a mouthful of chips.

Sharon gave a soft smile to her and wiped the tear tracks from Maggie’s chubby cheeks before getting up. “I’ll go get that shirt. Take a few minutes, get your breath, and we’ll get you all gussied up for the match. We’re going to go out there and put on the best damn match these people have ever seen, and we’ll be one step closer to wrestling greatness.”

The diva had a hard time believing that, but she gave a silent nod in reply, which was good enough for Sharon. Once her partner was out of sight, Maggie looked down at the ball of pudge that oozed out onto her lap and winced. She was ashamed that it took the Rodeo Twins’ taunting her to realize just how out of shape she had gotten, especially when it was so obvious. All the times she had complained about the washer and dryer in her apartment not working right had just been her making excuses for her own expanding waistline. When was the last time she had truly eaten healthily instead of grabbing something easy, like fast food or microwave meals? It was as if she was a blind person that had been blessed with sight, and she hated what she saw.

“God, I let myself go,” she whispered, even as she shoved another handful of food in her mouth. It had simply become second nature for Maggie to mindlessly eat; after all, no one put on as much weight as she had in just a few short months by counting calories. “I need to start cutting back, or else I’ll look like my mom—or worse, mi prima gorda.”

After finishing the snacks on one plate, Maggie rose from the bench and brushed an avalanche of crumbs off her chest. She slapped her cheeks and shook her hands as she told herself, “Okay, you need to get your head in the game. Don’t let those putas get to you—you can kick their asses any day of the week, with or without Sharon. You’re a Torres, goddammit, so act like it!”

A renewed sense of confidence filled her chest, but that did not make the task of getting dressed any easier for the doughball diva. She had been struggling with her clothes for the last few months, but the difference was that she now knew exactly why—and she hated it. It was her own fault that she had to hop to get her fat ass into her jeans and suck in just to close the snap in front. Even when she did get them on, she was left with a puffy muffin top that bloated over the waistband and made itself known to the world.

Maggie winced at her reflection and squeezed at her flabby stomach, remembering just how Carmen had taunted her by wobbling her around like a water balloon. It was going to take a lot of hard work to get back to form, but she was certain that she could make it happen. After all, the first step was admitting she had a problem, right? She just needed to keep at it, and before long, she would have washboard abs that she could flaunt all day long.

By the time Maggie had gotten her jeans on, Sharon popped back into the locker room with a t-shirt in hand. The redhead readjusted her glasses and apologized, “Sorry, Mags. I’m not really sure what your size is, so I hope that this will work.”

“It’s going to have to,” the diva grumbled as she took the shirt from her partner. “Not like we have time to run out and pick up something else.”

The shirt that Sharon had picked out had the Wild Roses’ logo splayed across the chest, two martini glasses in the center, and the words ‘DRINK UP’ at the bottom. Maggie flipped it open and pulled it over her head, noting that she could get her head through the collar fine but the sleeves were a little snug on her arms. It fell to just below her belly, which meant that even a slight movement would expose a ribbon of pudge for all to see, and the designs were all stretched out. Was it flattering? Not even close, but it was all she had to work with.

“Okay, this is manageable,” Maggie kidded herself as she fiddled with the shirt. “What size was this, by the way?”

Sharon bit her lip and glanced away for a moment before replying, “It was a Large.”

Maggie’s eye twitched as she struggled with the fact that she not only needed to wear a Size Large, but that even that was tight on her. The first thing she was going to do tomorrow was take a hard look at her wardrobe, because she barely owned any Mediums, let alone Larges. That was all a problem for Future Maggie though, as the Present Maggie had a match to get ready for.

“Can’t really sweat it now. I’ll still make it look good,” the diva insisted. She returned to one of the plates of snacks and took a big bite of a turkey sandwich as she continued, “Let’s keep our eyes on the prize and go over the match, okay? I want to make sure that we give the Rodeo Twits the fight of their life, and that these people go home having seen some genuine wrestling.”

Sharon nodded and sat down beside her tag partner to map out their upcoming match. It was not something Maggie normally prioritized when it came to their bouts; she usually went in without any plan in mind and went with the flow. The Rodeos had to have struck a nerve if she was going to put some thought into her match, especially when she was writing off the title bout not ten minutes prior. Still, it was good to see her so invigorated, and Sharon was eager to deliver a stellar match in turn.

“We’re going to knock them dead,” she assured her drama queen partner.

“We most certainly are,” Maggie replied with a smirk, thinking more on her opponents than the crowd. She was going to show the Rodeo Twins just how ‘useless’ she really was…

 

[Vongola27]

When it came time for the title match, the Rodeo Twins were called out to the ring first, the belts wrapped around their slender waists while they waved to the audience as though they were both Queen Elizabeth. They were showered with boos from all sides, but they paid them little heed as they sauntered into the ring. Both Carmen and Molly looked like movie stars, with flowing locks and designer tights that they claimed cost over a hundred thousand dollars (even though the actual price was just shy of the four digit range). The referee checked them for any foreign objects and made sure to confiscate their phones along with the belts, lest they call in any of their assistants for support.

Finally, it came time for the Wild Roses to make their entrance, their entrance music played but their march down to the ring was anything but normal. While the music playing them down was a thumping beat fit for any dance floor, the girls were not playing up to the crowd like they normally did. Sharon and Maggie were intensely focused on the ring, their fists balled up in anger and their eyes red with rage—a far cry from their usual, playful nature. For Maggie’s part, it was also a necessity, as any dancing she did to the ring would only cause her shirt to ride up and expose her flabby gut for the audience to see.

Once they made it to the ring, they allowed the referee to check them for foreign objects, but their eyes never left the Rodeo Twins. Maggie especially glared daggers through Carmen, whose insults burned like a fiery brand; just thinking about the incident earlier made the diva snorting mad. She clutched the ring ropes until her knuckles turned white, ready to release the instant the referee finished pretending to pat her down.

The bell had barely rung when Maggie charged across the ring and caught Carmen in the neck with a clothesline, sending her rival to the mat. Molly tried to swipe at the berserk butterball, but Maggie swatted her hand away and gave the shorter girl a kick that sent her flying off the apron. While Molly rolled around on the mats outside the ring, the diva turned back to Carmen, who shot off the mat and glowered at her with a disdainful glare. They stared holes in each other as they circled about the ring, daring one another to make the first move.

It was Carmen who took charge and lunged at Maggie, only for the flabby girl to duck low and catch her in the middle. They toppled to the mat and rolled around for a bit before it became clear that Maggie had her nemesis in a vise-like grip, yanking back on her head as if she was going to tear it straight off her neck. The diva barked at her rival, “Who’s the talented one now, huh? Who?!”

“Not you, fatty,” Carmen gritted her teeth as she just barely got her foot onto the bottom rope.

The referee called for Maggie to release her hold on Carmen, which she did begrudgingly and with a sour look on her face. Before the Beverly Hill bully could get back to her feet though, Sharon yanked her feet out through the ropes, catching her on the bottom rope and allowing Maggie the chance to stomp her head—or as close as she could get, even though the diva desperately want to crush the nasty girl into the mat. They could have gone on, had Molly not come to her sister’s rescue and slapped Sharon away.

Carmen crawled to her feet, but Maggie did not give her any chance to catch her breath before kneeing her in the gut and elbowing the back of her neck. The diva then grabbed her rival by her designer belt, wrapped her arm around her neck, and lifted Carmen up and over into a suplex that left her a crumpled heap on the mat. It was an impressive feat of strength, but Maggie was more concerned with how her beer belly popped out of her shirt than anything else. As she lay on the mat and caught her breath, the great gut swelled in and out like a bullfrog’s throat, and her jeans felt like they were trying to cut her in half.

“Just ignore it, just ignore it,” Maggie muttered as she got to her feet.

Unfortunately, the breather she had taken gave her opponent enough time to crawl to the corner, where Carmen weakly slapped her sister’s hand and tagged her into the match. Molly quickly hopped over the top rope and booted Maggie in the gut, which sent the flabby girl reeling into the ropes and clutching at her stomach. She grimaced at the shrimpy girl, who continued her assault with a flurry of punches, some of which were fake and some which were all too real.

“Don’t want this to be too easy on you,” Molly whispered before the referee pulled her away, allowing Maggie a chance to get off the ropes.

As Molly stepped back and played up to the chorus of boos from the audience, she missed Sharon sneaking behind Maggie and discretely tagging her pudgy partner out of the ring. The shorter Rodeo Twin lashed out with a superkick to the diva’s chin, but Maggie ducked to the side and slid out of the ring so Sharon could take her place. Her face crinkled in a wince as she rubbed her reddening stomach, aching and sore from the barrage of blows combined with her skintight jeans. It was so tempting to pop the button on her jeans and alleviate some of the pain, but her pride would not allow her to debase herself so—not in public, at least.

Sharon and Molly continued the match, swapping blow for blow and grap for grap while their partners recovered on the outside. Maybe it was because of the insults from before, but Maggie took the time to really watch Sharon as she fought with Molly. Even though they had been wrestling together for the last couple years, the diva had never truly studied how her partner performed in the ring, as she was always more focused on when it was her turn to tag in. And loathe as she was to admit it, Carmen was right—Sharon was damned good at what she did. Every move she made in the ring was methodical and planned out, from the way she honed in on certain weak points on Molly to the way she outmaneuvered her smaller opponent.

“Goddamn,” Maggie muttered to herself, “she really is the talented one.”

The match carried on for what felt like an eternity to the girls in the ring as they battered each other and worked the crowd into a frenzy. There were several moments where it seemed like the Wild Roses would win, only for the Rodeo Twins to kick out, and vice versa. While they never took it easy on either girl, Carmen and Molly made the road to victory especially brutal for Maggie, as they delivered several hard blows to her that would leave bruises later on. If they expected to see her cry about it though, they were sorely mistaken, for every blow they landed only made the diva more determined to pay them back tenfold.

Finally, it came time to bring the match to a close. The Rodeo Twins attempted to pull off their finisher, the Ritz Blitz, on a punch-drunk Sharon, only for Maggie to leap clear across the ring like a fat, angry turkey and drop kick Molly out of the ring. This left Carmen open for a walloping from the furious, flabby fighter, who slammed her face-first into the turnbuckle once, twice, three times. When Sharon recovered, she patted Maggie on the shoulder and raised a pretend glass in a toast.

“Fuck yeah, it’s closing time,” Maggie grunted, disregarding their traditional setup.

The Wild Roses hoisted Carmen up until she was horizontal, her feet resting on the middle rope while Maggie cradled her head in her hands. As Sharon climbed up the nearest ring post, the doughball diva whispered to her opponent, “Te veré en el infierno, vaca inútil.”

Before Carmen could reply, if she had one at all, Sharon’s elbow went straight into her back while Maggie drove her head into the mat with a DDT. The butterball was quick to crawl atop her prone rival, and the referee delivered a three count that was echoed by all in attendance. As soon as the bell rang, Maggie flopped onto her back and gave a weary fist pump as she caught her breath, too exhausted for much else. In her head though, she was screaming with joy and dancing all across the ring—and distinctly slimmer than she was in reality.

Sharon quickly helped Maggie to her feet and hugged her tight, her slender figure squishing against her partner’s untoned flab, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. She held Maggie’s hand high as the announcer declared them the winners and they were presented the tag team titles. The crowd was on their feet applauding the new champions, and for a brief moment, Maggie felt like she was in the middle of Madison Square Garden, all lights on her.

“First step on the road to greatness, right?” Sharon asked her amid the noise of the crowd.

“Let’s savor it for tonight,” Maggie mumbled as she stared at the glistening belt in her hands. She then turned to her tag partner and friend and told her, “Tonight, let’s just pretend we’re the biggest, baddest bitches in the whole wrestling world.”

“Like that was ever in doubt,” the redhead chuckled as she pulled Maggie in for another hug.

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 78

The Global Wrestling Federation prided itself on having super-cards every month of the year, and January was home to one of the oldest—the Global Gauntlet. The marquee matches were battle royals that pitted various members of the GWF roster against each other, along with surprise entrants that ranged from veterans to celebrities. It was simple enough—30 wrestlers, each coming to the ring 3 minutes apart, and the only way to eliminate an opponent was to send them over the top rope—but to be the last wrestler standing was a grueling task for anyone. The winners of the Gauntlets would then be given a chance to go after a title of their choosing at the Showdown Supreme in April.

Gauntlet Season was a great time for a wrestling fan, as speculation ran wild as to who would enter and win the gauntlets, but it was nerve-wracking for the talent behind the scenes. A spot in the gauntlet was guaranteed to no one, and while some were given the chance to last the entire match, many were relegated to fleeting, ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ appearances. This meant that if they wanted to garner attention and not become another statistic, they needed to be at the peak of their game and appearance. As such, many flocked to the GWF performance center in Connecticut, where they had a state of the art gym to help them prepare for the upcoming gauntlets.

There was, however, one person that was not headed to the performance center to get into shape—not if her feeders had anything to say about it. Notapig Donna had it rough over the last few months, as submitting herself to Sadie Storme’s control had opened her up to torment from some of the other members of the roster. None of them would have dared done so when she still looked and acted like a supermodel, when she was considered equals with Sadie, but as she had been stripped of her appearance and confidence, it was open season on the diva. She was a target of constant ridicule from people who she had bullied for the last few years, both in the locker room and among the production crew, but the worst came from three particularly sadistic performers.

Elizabeth Knox, Lora Rose, and Anzu Bonny: three women who all had an axe to grind with Notapig, and now had the permission to do it. They were just as bad as Sadie when it came to debasing and humiliating the former bombshell, stripping her of what little self-worth she had left as they took fiendish glee in reminding her of how far she had fallen. Notapig could do nothing to fight against them, so scared was she of Sadie blackmailing her and using her feeding sessions to ruin what little credibility she had left. At least, that was how it was at first, but the longer she remained under their thumbs, the more she relished in the torment—she could not end it even if she wanted to.

Still, even though Sadie had fattened her past 200 pounds, she still had to maintain a pretense that Notapig was a professional, and the porker found herself visiting the performance center for the first time in months. She had not set foot in the gym since falling under Sadie’s control, and now that she was, she felt her lardy knees knock together in fear. It would be bad enough if it was just her and her primary feeder, but there were other people from the locker room there. Dare she flaunt how much of a pig she had become in the last few months?

“Nervous, Notapig?” Sadie whispered as she slid up behind her pet project and pinched a thick inch of her blubbery butt. “Why don’t you have something to take the edge off?”

The blonde bully pulled a chocolate bar from her purse and held it in front of Notapig, who tore it open and crammed it in her mouth in the blink of an eye. While she had not been much of a foodie previously, eating had become both a sexual release and a stress reliever for her as she ballooned out of her designer wardrobe. As her backbone withered away, she had taken to snacking throughout the day to ease her frayed nerves, to the point that she would eat anything put in front of her if it would help. A small part of her wished that she could get things under control before it got too late for her and her waistline, but that part was growing smaller and quieter with every new pound.

“D-D-Do we have to do this, Mistress?” Notapig whimpered as she stared at the locker room door and her heart raced like a Buddy Rich solo.

“Of course, my little pet,” Sadie cooed in the same silky voice that she had used to lure this juicy fly to her web. “I managed to get you a spot in the Women’s Gauntlet, and I need to make sure you’re in shape for the event. Besides, your friends are all going to be there to help out!”

That was the part that she was scared of the most. Her tormentors were far from subtle when it came to teasing her, even if they were in front of others, and Notapig feared for what they would do to her in the gym. Would they make her squeal like a pig in front of the others who were not in on their little game? Would they mock her loud enough for all to hear, reminding her of how pathetic she was? Anything was it possible when it came to that trio, and while she should have been terrified of the prospect, Notapig could not control her thunder thighs as they waddled her into the locker room.

When she got into the locker room, the porcine performer was relieved to find that Sadie and she were the only ones inside. If she hurried, she might be able to get changed and into the gym without anyone seeing her in the clothes that Sadie had picked out for her. Sadly, fate was not on her side, and she had just shucked off her jacket and track pants when the door to the gym opened.

The distinctly Jersey voice of Kaylee Gray could be heard saying, “So I sez to King Mabel, I sez…”

When the former dancer rounded the corner with Iris Lonergan and spotted Notapig changing, she froze in place and paused midsentence. It was impossible to ignore how much weight the Donna Twin had put on since summer, but not everyone had seen her while stripping. The strawberry blonde had squeezed herself into a t-shirt that read ‘I ATE IT ALL AT MAXIE’S ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET’, but half the words were stretched around the globe of her belly. Said stomach was so round and drooping that the shirt could not contain it all, leaving a thin strip of flab exposed at all times.

What was most impressive was her lower body, which had simply exploded as her hips and butt soaked up calories like a sponge. Notapig had been prided herself on sensual curves all her life, which had gotten her modeling contracts and even music video cameos, but those curves were so wide and exaggerated now that she looked like a parody of herself. Her hips now stuck out so far that she had trouble sitting in most chairs with arms, and thick, quivering saddlebags had sprouted along the side of her legs. While she used to have a bouncy, pert ass, Notapig’s rump had both ballooned and deflated as it got bigger, swelling outwards while losing its perkiness and beginning to sag. Cellulite dotted thighs that were as big as her waist used to be, and even her feet seemed plumper than they used to be.

Kaylee and Iris’s speechless reactions left Notapig turning a fine pink, and she fished out a pair of white yoga pants to clothe herself as quick as she could. While she turned away from her coworkers, Sadie greeted them with a polite wave. “What’s up, ladies? You just wrapping up?”

“Yeah, just wanted to squeeze in a quick session,” Iris answered when she finally found her voice again. “It’s Monica’s birthday, and I’m taking her out for supper in a few.”

“Same—I needed to tone up a bit for my spot in the gauntlet,” Kaylee replied with a smirk.

Notapig gulped down her fear, knowing that the smirk and the remark were both meant for her. Kaylee was fit as a fiddle and had curves in all the right places, with any thickness being a thin layer of padding over firm muscles. She was nimble enough to leap over the top rope of the ring and pull of gymnastics that acrobats would gawk at; if anyone needed to tone up, it was not her. No, her remark was to remind the resident swine of just how flabby and bulbous she had become.

“I feel you,” Sadie snickered as she shucked off her shirt, revealing a firm four-pack of abs. “It’s important we look our best out there—right, Natalie?”

“Y-Y-Yep,” Notapig fumbled, focused more on getting her skintight yoga pants up her ponderous legs. She could not remember the last time she had clothes that fit right: Sadie would not let her go out in anything that was not at least a size too small for her, and the only way she got new clothes was if she ruined the old ones.

As the porcine wrestler concentrated on getting changed as quickly as her chubby body would allow, she could overhear whispers from the other side of the locker room. No one was exactly subtle when talking about Notapig behind her back, and Kaylee and Iris were no different. It started with Iris murmuring, “My god, get a load of that ass. You could serve dinner on that thing!”

“Right? And just get a load of her nose! I swear, she’s going to have a corkscrew tail before the Showdown,” Kaylee chuckled under her breath.

 

[Vongola27]

Notapig brushed her fingers over her nose and whimpered at the truth in those words. Thanks to Sadie making her wear nose hooks to bed every night and whenever they were alone, her button nose had been pulled upwards in a parody of a pig’s snout. She thought back to that fateful Halloween night, when she allowed herself to fall under Sadie’s spell and took her first steps into becoming the sadistic woman’s plaything. Back then, she had protested that she was not the pig Sadie made her out to be, and her team leader rebutted by putting the nose hooks on her for the first time. Now, there was no way for the poor porker to deny that she was simply a sow—Sadie had seen to that.

As she laced up her sneakers, the bloated blonde gave a few quick, envious glances across the room at her coworkers. There was a time when she had beaten Kaylee for the Best Booty in the company, but those days were long gone and buried under several layers of adipose. Iris, fitness freak she was, was a walking advertisement for CrossFit and was even more chiseled than Sadie. A shiver ran down Notapig’s spine as her thoughts drifted to what a powerful woman like Iris could do to a fat hog like her, and she found her thighs squirming together at the dark fantasies that filled her head.

When the duo sauntered off to the showers, Sadie sat down beside Notapig and reached around to stroke along her muffin top. She hummed, “What’s going through that piggy head of yours, pet?”

“N-N-Nothing, Mistress,” the weak-willed girl mumbled as she wriggled in her keeper’s touch. “C-C-Can we go, p-p-please?”

“Why, whatever for, Notapig?” asked Sadie, her eyes gleaming like a hungry tiger’s. She ran a finger along the stretchmarks that formed along her pet project’s flanks, tracing along every inch of the once perfect skin. “You do need to work out and tone up some of this lard if you’re going to be out there for all the world to see.”

“I…I c-c-c-can’t,” Notapig whimpered. “I’m t-t-too fat for this.”

The resulting growl from Sadie set Notapig on edge and she squished her thighs together as hard as she could to stifle the heat that instinctively ran through her. The former leader of the Storme Troop sank her fingers into her plaything’s jelly belly and pinched the flab tight as she hissed, “God, I love hearing you say that—it lets me know I’m doing a good job. You’re not the same queen bee you were when you last came here, are you? What happened to that toned tummy of yours? Where’s that cute booty you loved to flaunt?”

Notapig squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip so hard that she feared she might draw blood, but Sadie continued to probe her pet project. She peeled the gelatinous girl’s shirt up to her chest and pressed her hand into her belly as she coolly remarked, “Look at how much my hand sinks into your tummy, Notapig—it’s like you’re made of pizza dough! Then again, I guess you are what you eat.”

There was some truth to that, as Sadie had forced so much pizza in her belly the night before that Notapig felt stuffed all the way to her eyeballs and the water in her body had been replaced with marinara. The former knockout was torn on how little control she had over her body and life, knowing that for as much as she meekly protested, she would follow whatever Sadie’s orders were like a loyal dog. If her mistress told her to waddle out into the gym naked, she would do it in a heartbeat; if she ordered her to stuff her face in front of the whole locker room, she would not hesitate.

After groping and kneading her way along the length of Notapig’s belly, Sadie leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t fatten you up so you could hide in the locker room, lardy. You’re going to go out there and show everyone what a weak butterball you’ve become, and if you’re good, I’m going to treat you right tonight. How does the idea of licking cheesecake off every inch of my body sound?”

It was a mouthwateringly tantalizing idea, but Notapig was not sure if it was because of the chance to pleasure Sadie or the idea of that much cheesecake. She was brought back to the reality of her situation when her fiendish feeder sank her nails into her tender tummy and hissed, “But if you want to act like a scared little bitch, I will throw you to the Weird Sisters and make sure they stuff you until you’re one bite away from popping. Understand?”

The pain mixed with her pleasure and left Notapig’s head swimming, and it was all she could do to nod. When she did, Sadie released her grip on her plaything and gave her belly a gentle pat as she cooed, “Good girl. Now, get that blubber butt of yours moving and let’s show them what an absolute chunker you’ve become.”

Notapig softly oinked in reply—the noise having become second nature to her by then—and she rocked herself to her feet. Standing was no easy task when the large majority of the near 100 pounds she had put on were located in her lower body. When she finally stood, she waddled past Sadie and made her way to the gym doors, only to pause when she passed by a mirror. Even though her malicious mistress loved to show her how much she had changed, especially with before and after comparison photos, her radical new appearance never failed to stun her.

The woman in the mirror was completely unrecognizable to her, and looked more like the sort of girl Notapig would have bullied once upon a time. Her strawberry blonde locks, once luscious and voluminous, now hung limp and wiry in a pair of ratty pigtails. She had not been allowed to visit a tanning salon or use any lotion to give herself a glow, which left her skin pale and pasty. While the lion’s share of her weight made its way to her hips, her face was not as slender as it used to be, with chubby cheeks giving her a permanent dimple and a double chin forming whenever she opened her mouth. If she looked closely, she could even see the start of a couple pimples around her snout—which she had to remind herself was her nose.

Was this how Maxine had felt when she was in Sadie’s clutches? Notapig remembered how she used to think so poorly of her gigantic teammate, wondering how someone could ever let themselves go like she had. She found out all too late how easy it was for someone like Sadie to manipulate her into becoming whatever she wanted. The platinum blonde princess had a way about her of pushing all the right buttons, preying on desires her victims never knew they had. Now, she was almost 220 pounds and left with no way out, assuming she even wanted to get out.

“Sooey!” Notapig squealed when Sadie gave a sharp slap to her blubbery backside.

“You can take time to admire my handiwork later, fatty,” Sadie growled in her ear. “We wouldn’t want to keep your friends waiting, would we?”

“N-N-No, Mistress,” the whimpering piglet sniffled as she shuffled out of the locker room to a chorus of laughter from Kaylee and Iris.

***​

Late in the day as it was, there were not too many performers left in the gym—at least, none that had a vendetta against Notapig. The American Dragons were practicing their flips along a set of steps across the room, La Santa and Terra Carter were side by side on the treadmills, and Bastian Cage was doing squats in the power rack. All of them were fit as can be, between the lean muscles of the American Dragons to the bulging biceps of Bastian Cage, and they put Notapig to shame as she waddled into view. None of them seemed to pay her any mind as she waddled in, and they likely would have continued had Elizabeth not called out to the pair.

“Yoohoo, dearies! Over here!” the bratty Brit shouted from a weight bench.

Notapig glanced over to her trio of tormentors and gave a meek wave as she trudged towards them. Each was built differently and came from wildly different backgrounds, but they all had something in common—a deep-seated resentment against the former bombshell. Elizabeth Knox was a more than capable wrestler from across the pond but was never given a chance to grab the brass ring, unlike Notapig, who had once been given several title opportunities without the talent to back them up. Lora Rose had once been a close friend of the dominated diva, but after finding out that her now ex-boyfriend had slept with Notapig while she was out of the country, she had turned into a bitter enemy.

Those grievances paled in comparison to Anzu Bonny, who had suffered directly under Notapig’s hand. Back when the blonde still had a lick of confidence in her, she had tormented the Japanese wrestler—taunting her for her accent and pronunciation, pulling pranks on her, and spreading salacious rumors about her in the training school. It had taken upper management putting their foot down to end things, and while Notapig moved on without a second thought, Anzu had borne a grudge for the last few years. Now that she had an outlet for it, she planned to make the former Natalie Donna suffer for all the indignities she had heaped on her when they trained together.

“I hope you’re ready, Notapig,” Anzu chuckled as the porker waddled in. “We’re going to work your fat ass harder than it has in months…”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 79

Notapig never liked going to the gym, even before she put on seventy-odd pounds. Back when she was a drop-dead diva, she did the bare minimum to maintain her svelte physique; she did not want to sweat like a pig or have unsightly amounts of muscle. This was reflected in her workout gear, which was all designer and placed style over function but managed to make sure she turned heads whenever she walked into the performance center. While her sister worked her tail off and practiced new moves in the ring, Notapig would be off to the side, flirting with one of the attendants or making catty remarks with Lora Rose—and that was enough.

Now, the former model was a shell of herself and wished she could curl up under a rock rather than be in the GWF Performance Center. While she was far from the heaviest person to ever grace the gym, she was probably the most out of shape, especially in comparison to the others on the floor. All around her were cut, rock hard bodies and wrestlers that were in peak physical condition, and then there was Notapig, who could not run a quarter of a mile without running out of breath.

Of course, her feeders knew exactly how unfit she had become, as they had seen to it that the only exercise she got over the last several months was stuffing her mouth and thrashing on her bed. A shiver ran down Notapig’s spine when she thought of what awaited her, for each machine in the gym looked like torture devices to her. Would they run her ragged on the treadmill, or humiliate her with the chest press? Maybe they would take her into the ring for a few minutes and show everyone just how weak she had allowed herself to become—the possibilities were endless.

“You look so cute today, darling! You must tell me where you got that adorable shirt,” Elizabeth remarked, even though she could not have cared less where Notapig got her clothes.

“T-T-T-Target,” the pudgy porker mumbled as she cringed under the judgmental gaze of the Brit. Elizabeth was rather homely, at least by the narrow standards of GWF management, but what she lacked in starlet looked, she made up for in sheer physicality. She was built like an old school wrestler and fought as hard as one too, which had earned her hardcore accolades across the pond.

“Did y’all get your hair done? I’m so jealous of how it shines,” Lora giggled as she ran her fingers through one of her plaything’s pigtails.

“It’s nothing s-s-sp-special,” Notapig meekly replied, knowing that Lora’s compliment was all backhand. Sadie had not let her wash her hair for a few days—punishment for being disobedient during a stuffing session—and her tormentors knew any shine was grease. It did not help that Lora had all the makings of a pinup model, and if she had been born a few generations prior, she would have been painted on fighter jets.

The only one to not hide her contempt with flowery words was Anzu, although she masked it with a smile and a hug. She told her former bully, “Anata wa nante futokute iyana butana nodeshou. Dono yō ni anata jishin to issho ni sunde imasu ka? Anata ga watashi o hazukashimeta no to onajiyōni, watashi wa anata o hazukashimemasu. Awarena.”

Notapig had no idea what Anzu was telling her, but she knew it could not be anything good. All she could do was bow her head and whimper, “Buu-buu.”

It was Sadie who broke up the party by clapping her hands and telling the other tormentors, “Ladies, thank you so much for coming out today. As you know, the Gauntlet is just around the corner, and we need to get my tag partner here in shape for her lucky #27 spot! Natty’s going to have all eyes on her, so it’s important she looks her best.”

It was considered good luck to enter the Global Gauntlet in the 27th spot, as several wrestlers had either won the match from that point or gone on to great success. Notapig knew that neither was likely for her, as she had only been given the spot thanks to some meddling from Sadie—and even then, it was all meant to be a joke. She knew that everyone would laugh at how she was the 27th entrant and joke about how maybe she really had a chance of winning, even though she had a snowball’s chance in Hell of coming out on top.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s you and me get some time on the treadmill, Natty,” Lora giddily suggested as she took Notapig by the wrist and tugged her towards the line of treadmills. “Nothin’ like a good run to clear the head and get the heart pumping, right?”

“R-R-Right,” Notapig mumbled as she waddled along after Lora.

As they neared the treadmills, Lora glanced to the only other ones using the machines and asked, “Y’all mind if we join you for a minute?”

“All yours,” Terra Carter replied, barely registering Lora but focusing on Notapig, who shrank back at her withering stare. A smirk crossed the Canadian’s lips as she told the former diva, “I know you’re going to be the belle of the ball at the Gauntlet, Natty.”

“O la cerda de la pocigla,” La Santa snickered.

Notapig gulped and waddled up onto the treadmill beside Terra, doing her best not to look at her reflection in the mirror. If she did, she would see that one of her thighs was almost as big around as her neighbor’s waist, and where Terra had a stomach that could grate cheese, Notapig looked like she was smuggling marshmallows under her shirt. It hurt what was left of her pride, and she wondered if she would ever be that tight and tiny again.

She did not have long to think about it though, as Lora turned on the treadmill and forced Notapig to start plodding along. The Appalachian refugee explained, “Now, y’all are gonna need to be quick on your feet out there, Natty, especially when you’re running down the entrance ramp. Let’s see if we can’t get those legs pumping!”

The only thing pumping was Notapig’s heart, as she was red in the face mere moments into the power walk that Lora had her doing. Her jaw hung open dumbly as she gasped for air, even though she was moving at a fraction of the speed of Terra and La Santa. The off-brand, tacky shirt she wore was slipping up the swell of her belly, revealing a good few inches of stretchmark-riddled flesh that bobbled and shook with each ponderous step. Her thighs felt like they were on fire, but not from effort; rather, the slabs of lard were grinding together that she felt the friction would tear her tights apart.

“You’re doing great, Natty, just great!” Lora cheered from the sides, knowing full well that Natalie looked ready to collapse. “Why don’t we pick up the pace though?”

“Wuh-huh?” Notapig wheezed before forcing her legs into a plodding jog as the treadmill grew faster beneath her. It had been so long since she had been on a proper jog that even if she was not as slovenly fat, her gait would have been all wrong. As it was, she looked less like a professional athlete and more like a toddler that still had not gotten the grasp of walking. Her clumsy thighs slapped against each other and her flabby backside bounced around like a basketball, which was humiliating enough, but Lora was not going to let her get off with that alone.

“Atta girl, Natty, atta girl! Work those buns!” the snide brunette crowed from the sidelines. “Just picture a big, juicy burger—shucks, I mean belt!”

She might not have thought it possible, but Notapig’s cheeks turned even pinker when her neighbors burst into a giggling fit. The saddest part was that Lora was right: if there was a steaming hot burger sitting in front of her, the porker might have run even faster, if only to bury some her anxiety underneath a mountain of calories. Yes, a big burger with three patties, heaps of bacon, and cheese melting down the sides…crispy onion straws, fried jalapenos and pickles…thick globs of aioli…

“Oh my god, Eva, she’s actually drooling,” Terra whispered to La Santa, knowing full well that Notapig could still hear her.

The pitiful, plump performer turned her eyes to Lora and pleaded in between gasps for air, “L-L-Lora, please…c-c-can’t…g’wan…”

“Aw, shucks, Natty, y’all only been at it about seven minutes! Can’t say that’s much of a workout, can ya?” Lora teased her pathetic plaything, only for Elizabeth to turn off the treadmill.

“Come now, Lora dear, it’s not all about cardio,” the British bully told her partner in crime. “Our darling Natty also needs to get a little lift in, I think.”

 

[Vongola27]

CHAPTER 81

While Notapig was ‘prepping’ for her role in the Gauntlet, her sister, Kat, was doing the same, but back in their home state of Wisconsin. The more athletic-minded of the Donna Twins was looking forward to a run-in at the Gauntlet as a way to announce her return to active competition, but there were two roadblocks in her way. First, she was coming off having two ribs broken, and her doctor insisted that she take it slow while getting back in shape. Second, and most frustrating of all for her, was that she had plumped up a good bit since she got back home to recuperate.

“205 pounds, Cuz,” read Cassandra Lowery as she checked the number on the scale for Kat.

“Shit,” the bloated blonde hissed. She squished her soft middle and doughy chest in to confirm that, yes, she had managed to put on forty pounds since the end of November. “God, how did I let things get this bad? I’ve put on a couple pounds over the holidays before, but never this much.”

The answer was because unlike those other times, Kat never had someone helping her gain weight. When her cousin, Cassandra, had seen how much the formerly fit girl had softened up at Thanksgiving, she made it her mission to fatten her up as much as she could while she was recuperating. Aiding the devious girl in her endeavor was the knowledge that Kat had little to no willpower when it came to food; if given the opportunity, she would slip into a hoggish trance where the only thing that mattered was filling her belly to the brim.

Not that Cassandra ever told her cousin about that, since she was finally the thinnest between her, Kat, and Natalie. She had nursed a grudge against the Donna Twins ever since they were children and she was known as ‘Fat Cass’, so seeing her two supermodel cousins fatten like hogs gave her the most exquisite case of schadenfreude. Since she could not get her hands on Natalie, who was always absent from family get-togethers for one reason or another, she decided to exact her revenge on Kat by making sure she was fat as possible before going back to work.

“Oh, don’t beat yourself up, Katty,” Cassandra told her roly-poly relative, reaching around Kat’s waist to ostensibly give her a side hug—and in reality, sink her hand into the blonde’s muffin top. “After all, this was a pretty unusual year. When was the last time you spent the holidays with an injury?”

Kat sighed and pinched a roll of fat at her waist. “I know, but…geez, I didn’t think it was possible to get this big this fast. How am I going to shift any of this before I have to fly out for the Gauntlet?”

“We’ll find a way, don’t you worry. More importantly, how about we go shopping for a few new clothes? I know you were saying you’ve got a lot of things that don’t fit right anymore, and I know you want to look your best when you get back,” the devious Cassandra hummed.

“I guess a little retail therapy couldn’t hurt,” Kat replied, knowing she would have to get a wardrobe upgrade at some point. “Thanks, Cass.”

“Anytime, Cuz,” the lighter blonde said with a sly grin on her face. “Oh, you know what we should do? Let’s get a picture so you can start a weight loss diary for yourself! I know that it’s really helped me to know how far I’ve come since I started.”

Cassandra was proud as can be about her personal weight loss, having worked her tail off over the last two years to get to where she was. Gone were the days of struggling to find cute clothes that fit, snacking mindlessly as she went about her day, and lazing around when she had nothing to do. The former butterball finally had enough teasing and taunting, and she made good on her promise to lose enough weight to match her more famous cousins. Little did she know that while she was losing weight, Natalie and Kat had both gained an exorbitant amount of weight since August, so much so that both were now fatter than Cassandra. If they kept pace, it would not be long before they were bigger than their formerly chubby cousin had ever been.

“I don’t know, Cass,” Kat mused through pursed lips. She was not one for keeping track of any personal progress, good or bad, and cataloguing how plump she had gotten was far from appealing. “I’d rather not have a reminder of this moment.”

“That just means it’s the perfect fodder,” Cass insisted. “Come on, I’ll do one with you—I need to get an update for my log.”

Having company helped ease some of Kat’s worries, as did the assurance that tracking milestones helped her cousin. The formerly fit blonde slumped her shoulders and asked, “What do I need to do? Should I change for any of this?”

“Why don’t you get some of your ring gear for the picture? That way, it’ll give you an incentive to fit into them again,” Cassandra answered in a half-truth. It was a good enough reason, but more than anything, she wanted to see how much the now chunky Kat poured out of her wrestling gear—if she could even get it on at all.

Kat snorted at the suggestion and crossed her arms under her plush chest. “That stuff was skintight on me fifty pounds ago—there’s no way I could get it on now.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” her cousin replied, puffing up her lip and widening her eyes into a pitiful puppy dog face that let her get away with anything.

And the trend continued, as Kat slumped her arms to her puffy sides and grunted, “Fine, but after this, we are going to get some clothes that fit me…and calling my designer to see about getting some more tights in a bigger size.”

While most of her gear was back at her apartment in San Diego, the younger Donna Twin had a few older outfits in storage thanks to her parents never getting rid of stuff. She fished around for a spell before happening upon a regrettable outfit from her stint in Mid-West Championship Wrestling—a blue crop top and short shorts that made her look less like a wrestler and more like a streetwalker. It had been a blatant attempt to cash in on some cheap sex appeal, and she was more than glad to ditch the look when she got to the main roster. Unlike her sister, Kat wanted to be known as more than just a pretty face, and dressing like she swung on a pole for a living was not part of that plan.

“I only really started putting on weight recently, so these shouldn’t be too bad, right?” the blonde asked herself, even though her voice was filled with doubt. “Yeah…yeah, this’ll work. Maybe.”

It did not. Kat had only been growing recently, yes, but her gear had been tight on her even when she was at her peak. The straps for her top bit into her softened shoulders, and while she was supposed to run some lacing in front of her cleavage, the strings were unable to meet on the lowest rung. Worst of all, she had too much boob for the top, to the point that tit meat oozed out of the sides and bottom, saying nothing about how her areolas peeked out the front. Even her old logo, DEFY ALL, was stretched to the point of illegibility, with the ALL scrunched up and wedged between her bountiful cleavage and her billowing belly.

But she had always been top-heavy, especially in comparison to her sister—surely her briefs would fit better. Alas, Kat’s hopes were dashed when the slinky material caught on her chubby thighs only halfway up, leaving her hopping around in a desperate attempt to get them higher. The blue shorts creaked in agony as she worked, but Kat was not going to be deterred, especially not by a piece of clothing that cost as much as a college textbook. Despite her best efforts though, she was only able to get the shorts to just underneath her chubby cheeks before they refused to go any higher.

“Shit,” Kat gasped, the act of getting dressed being the most exercise she had gotten in weeks. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How did I let myself get this fat?”

It would have seemed obvious to anyone watching from the outside, but the formerly fit girl was at a loss as to how she had plumped up so much. Sitting around on her duff for the last few weeks had not helped, true, but surely she had not done this much damage to herself over the last few months. Kat still ate well and exercised, though as the doubts set in, she wondered when the last real workout was before her injury. And what had her diet been like before the holidays, when she was deluged in delights day in and day out? She tried to recall the last time she ever said no to a plate or passed on sides and appetizers, but she could not remember.

“Well, we’re going to change that,” Kat assured herself as she grabbed her gelatinous middle and gave it a wobble. “Gonna lose this gut, lose some of the tatas, and show them we can still be championship material…assuming Sadie’s willing to give it up at some point.”

When she was part of the Storme Troop, Kat had enjoyed being associated with Sadie, since the blonde looked after the members of her clique. The Donna Twins would have had a much longer road to tag team glory if not for her backstage politicking, and she would always be thankful to her former leader for that. Of course, Sadie always made sure to look out for number one, and trying to get her to give up a title was like pulling teeth. Kat hoped that their history would mean something to her, but given Sadie’s track record, that seemed as likely as her squeezing back into her tights in the week.

“No, we’re not going to worry about that now,” the former bombshell scolded herself. “First order of business is actually getting back in the ring—the gold will come later. Let’s just get this stupid picture over with, then we’ll go shopping, and then all will be well.”

 

[Vongola27]

Cassandra did nothing to hide her laughter when she saw Kat shuffle out of the closet in her hopelessly undersized gear, though she did play it off as more good-natured than it actually was. She took several pictures of her cousin from a variety of angles, but no matter where Kat faced or how she stood, she looked fat. Each picture taken felt like a poke to her belly or a slap on her ass, a reminder of how out of shape she had let herself become and how much she needed to change.

Once the impromptu photo session ended, Kat changed into more comfortable clothes as quickly as possible and made sure the old tights were buried deep in her closet. Unfortunately, even her comfiest clothes were snug on her, leaving a stomach roll peeking out from under her sweater and her jeans whiskering around the zipper. That the clothes were tight was discouraging enough, but knowing that these were clothes she had just gotten for the holidays torpedoed her confidence. While she was not the narcissist that she made herself out to be, Kat still liked looking her best and hated that she could actually pinch an inch of herself.

“All right, sorry about the wait, Cass,” the blonde butterball apologized as she made her way down the stairs. “I’m just about ready to go, and…what smells so good?”

When she reached the kitchen, she got her answer in a plate full of grilled cheese sandwiches and Cassandra making another at the stove. Her cousin glanced over at her and answered, “I thought it would be wise if we didn’t go shopping on an empty stomach, so I made us some sandwiches. Then I thought, ‘You know what’s great for a cold winter day? Grilled cheese and tomato soup!’ Problem is that we don’t have any tomato soup, but at least we’ve got plenty of bread, butter, and cheese!”

“Cass, this is really sweet, but we don’t need this much,” Kat insisted. “Besides, you’re not supposed to shop hungry if you’re going to the grocery store, dummy.”

“Well, the mall has a food court, and I know how you get around Chinese food,” Cassandra replied with a wink, though the meaning was lost on Kat. “Come on, grab a seat and we’ll just have a nice lunch. Not like the mall’s going anywhere, after all.”

Despite her meager protestations, Kat felt her stomach gurgle in hunger and made her way to the table. The mall would still be there when she finished her lunch, true, and it would be rude to not eat after Cassandra went to the trouble of cooking. She had been such a big help during the holidays, when Kat was cooped up and letting her ribs rest, and it felt so nice to just relax and hang out like they used to. It was going to be a shame to part ways again, especially since Cass had gotten so good at cooking, but Kat had to get back in the ring at some point.

“You go ahead and get started, Kat, and I’ll be right with you,” her cousin said as she set a large serving plate full of sandwiches in front of Kat.

The Donna Twin looked over the stack of gooey, crispy sandwiches and had to wipe away a drop of drool that formed at the corner of her lips. It reminded her of the patty melt she had gotten back on Halloween, when she made her first real plunge into indulging her appetite. In a way, it was fitting that her last blowout be part of the same food that drew her down the rabbit hole in the first place. That line of thinking made it easier to accept the meal, and so, with her mind made up, Kat picked up a slice and took a big bite.

It did not take long for the snorting to begin, much to Cass’s delight. Kat was still oblivious to how much of a piggy she became whenever she ate, but it had been getting worse as the holidays went on. While the worst of it was reserved for her private times with her cousin, the former fitness freak’s hoggish tendencies were bleeding into her normal meals, causing her to occasionally snort and grunt in approval as she wolfed down her mother’s cooking. She never went full hog around the rest of the family, which made it all the more special for Cassandra—like it was her little secret.

“You like it, Kat?” asked the once Fat Cass to her heavier cousin. “I made sure to put some bacon and tomatoes in there for a little added flavor.”

“S’good,” Kat grunted around a mouthful of sandwich. “Gimme more.”

“Patience, patience, tubby…I’ll have another batch ready soon enough,” Cass chuckled while working on another sandwich. Since Kat disappeared into her own little world while eating, her once chubby cousin had gotten much more relaxed with teasing her as she gorged. After all, her schadenfreude would not be complete if she did not get a few verbal barbs in there.

It was hard to imagine that Kat was worried about how much weight she had put on just a few minutes prior, for she attacked the sandwiches as though she had not eaten in days. Any semblance of the normal Katherine Donna was lost, replaced by a gluttonous fat girl who only cared about satiating her hunger. If a glob of cheese fell from a sandwich, she let it sit and focused on the rest of the food on hand; if the bacon should drip grease onto her cashmere sweater, so be it. She did not care that her jeans bit into her waist or her sweater rode up on her belly—she was hopelessly lost in consumption.

Just as she finished up the last slice on the plate, Cassandra returned with another platter, which Kat greedily snatched up before her cousin could even set it down. Cassandra laughed at the display and asked, “Gosh, where are your manners, Kat?”

“Don’t care. Eating,” the ample athlete snorted before stuffing her mouth until her cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s.

Cassandra smirked at the porcine woman before her and placed her chin in her hand as she watched Kat devour the grilled cheese sandwiches. She remarked, “You know, I used to be so jealous of how you could run around so fast and got those shiny medals and trophies—all I ever got were ribbons for showing up. But look at you now: you eat more than I ever did, you weigh more than I do now, and you’re not slowing down at all.”

When her barbs went ignored, the formerly chubby girl continued, “I never thought you could be such a pig, but here you are—ruining your designer clothes all for some sandwiches. The best part of watching you grow the last month and a half has been knowing that all this is ingrained in you. You’ll try to go back to business as usual, but it won’t be long before you’re pigging out again.”

“Mmf,” Kat snorted, oblivious to her cousin’s taunting until Cassandra snatched up a slice before she could reach it. The blonde’s face twisted into a scowl of confusion and frustration as she reached for the sandwich, growling, “Gimme! S’mine!”

“Snort like a piggy for me, and I’ll give it back,” Cassandra ordered the bloated beauty, not that she needed to at that point.

“Rrnk-rrnk! Gimme!” grunted Kat, a pathetic whine creeping into her voice.

As she reached out for the slice, her jeans let out an ominous creak before suddenly releasing around her. She was too far gone to notice or care, but the button had popped clear off her pants and fell to the floor with a plink that most people would have missed—not Cassandra though. To the former fat cousin, it was like music to her ears, and she wished could have seen it happen.

“All right, fatty, here you go,” the devious blonde cackled as she gave the sandwich back to Kat, who crammed the entire thing in her mouth. “I’m going to make a few more and then get you some sides—don’t want you going hungry, after all.”

Kat Donna had once been a nimble athlete who could have gone to the Olympics if she had not pursued careers in modeling and wrestling. She was fit and lithe, with just enough padding to give her body sensual curves that made men want her and women want to be her. Her goals in life were to become a World Champion, headline a Showdown Supreme, and make it into the GWF Hall of Fame. Now, she was a swollen parody of herself, so thick and flabby that it was hard to recognize her, and she was no closer to her wrestling dreams than when she started…