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The Superheavyweight Champion (NEW CHAPTER ADDED 6/6/2022)


Cyril Figgis

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14 hours ago, KerryNation said:

Just dropping in to check on you and see how you're doing! Hopefully better than when we last spoke! By the way, I don't know if you follow Asuka's YT channel or not, but over on KanachanTV she just showed off quite the haul of crab that she claimed, very playfully, that she was going to "eat every last bite" of! Maybe that could be incorporated into your story via Shinobu starting her own YT channel? Or maybe Shinobu even meets up with the girls from J-Pop band Big Angel? 

 

Just throwing some things out there! Stay safe, friend. 

I'm doing all right, man--thanks for asking.  I love Asuka's channel, especially whenever she tries food.  Shinobu getting her own channel isn't a bad idea--it'd certainly work for her character.

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((Hey everyone, just wanted to provide a little update on how things are going.  I've been working on the next chapter over the last couple days, and I'm on track to post on Monday.  It's been a while since the last post, so I want to give you a little sample to whet the appetite.  Hope you enjoy, and I'll be providing an update on the state of things in a few days!))

 

Christmas Morning should have been a quiet, restful time for Mickey Ramone.  She ought to be able to sleep in with her loving boyfriend, have breakfast at her own time and pace, and spend several hours in her pajamas.  Not only was it a holiday—it was also her birthday, and she should have been able to spend it however she wanted.  Most years, she would have taken her sweet time with the day before heading over to her parents’ house for presents and dinner.  This was not most years though, and Mickey was experiencing one of those rare moments where she regretted her decision to chase after the Superheavyweight Championship.

“Estúpida aspiradora,” the butterball growled at her vacuum as it died out for the third time that morning. “Tienes que dejar de mamar, y empezar de succionar!”

“Cursing at that isn’t going to make it work any better, babe,” Ray called out from the kitchen, where he had been most of the morning.

“Métetelo por el culo!” Mickey retorted before giving the vacuum a sharp kick.  When it sputtered back to life, she begrudgingly continued cleaning up the remnants of her midnight snack.

The reason for the cleaning was because, unlike the normal Christmas routine, Mickey was having her parents over to her place.  Part of it was to make sure she remained as incognito as possible while she gained, but also to make up for missing Thanksgiving Day, and there was no way they would not celebrate their not so little girl’s birthday.  Thus, La Princesa woke herself up at the ungodly hour of 7 AM on Christmas Day and got to work cleaning up and making sure the apartment was spick and span.  She knew it was going to be rough, but she had no idea how taxing it would be trying to shift her ponderous body around to clean as much as she could.

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((I promised you fine folk a new chapter on Monday, and by God, I aimed to deliver.  We're back, ladies and gentlemen, with another installment!  This week, it's Christmas Day and Mickey's birthday.  She's been a very, very good girl this year, so I think she deserves something nice.  What's coming up for her?  Read on to find out!))

CHAPTER 69

Christmas Morning should have been a quiet, restful time for Mickey Ramone.  She ought to be able to sleep in with her loving boyfriend, have breakfast at her own time and pace, and spend several hours in her pajamas.  Not only was it a holiday—it was also her birthday, and she should have been able to spend it however she wanted.  Most years, she would have taken her sweet time with the day before heading over to her parents’ house for presents and dinner.  This was not most years though, and Mickey was experiencing one of those rare moments where she regretted her decision to chase after the Superheavyweight Championship.

“Estúpida aspiradora,” the butterball growled at her vacuum as it died out for the third time that morning. “Tienes que dejar de mamar, y empezar de succionar!”

“Cursing at that isn’t going to make it work any better, babe,” Ray called out from the kitchen, where he had been most of the morning.

“Métetelo por el culo!” Mickey retorted before giving the vacuum a sharp kick.  When it sputtered back to life, she begrudgingly continued cleaning up the remnants of her midnight snack.

The reason for the cleaning was because, unlike the normal Christmas routine, Mickey was having her parents over to her place.  Part of it was to make sure she remained as incognito as possible while she gained, but also to make up for missing Thanksgiving Day, and there was no way they would not celebrate their not so little girl’s birthday.  Thus, La Princesa woke herself up at the ungodly hour of 7 AM on Christmas Day and got to work cleaning up and making sure the apartment was spick and span.  She knew it was going to be rough, but she had no idea how taxing it would be trying to shift her ponderous body around to clean as much as she could.

Mickey wiped a thick forearm across her brow and fanned herself as she vacuumed.  The apartment was not especially warm, but all the blubber swaddling her body bumped the temperature up a few degrees.  As such, the wobbly wrestler was bedecked in a tank top that was the size of a garbage bag and shorts that could have fit two of her before this experiment began, and she was still sweating like a pig.  Her chubby cheeks were flushed red and she took a long drink of water before continuing with her chores, but all she could think of was being done so she could sit down.

“Mick, do you want me to take over for a bit?  I whipped up a snack for you if you need a break,” Ray offered as he exited the kitchen.

To the outside observer, one would be forgiven for thinking that Raymundo was the wrestler in his and Mickey’s relationship.  He had been steadily dropping weight and working out as his lardy lover grew bigger and fatter by the day, and it had gotten so eight months in, he looked like a completely new man.  His flabby gut had been traded for a stout barrel chest, his chunky arms had tightened into firm biceps, and he no longer waddled with a penguin-like shuffle.  On top of that, he had been letting his hair grow out for the last few months and now sported a thick, curly mane and scruffy beard.

“No, no, I want to do it,” Mickey insisted, even though she felt like she could melt at any moment.  “I need to work on my endurance if I’m going to be a credible contender when I come back.  And if I can’t handle some housework, how are people supposed to think I’m championship material?”

“Princesa, it’s Christmas and your birthday.  If ever there was a day you could take off, it’d be this,” Ray hummed as he crossed over and patted her on the hip.  “Let me give you a hand.”

Despite her determination to prove that she was capable of cleaning her own apartment, size be damned, Mickey melted at her lover’s touch.  The couple had never been chaste before, but ever since La Princesa began her plan, they had been unable to keep their hands off each other for long and had spent many a day going at it like rabbits.  One would think that all this time together would mean such rampant love-making would get boring after a while, but as Mickey expanded throughout the year, they had plenty of new options to explore.  Just the night before, she had capped off the evening by wrapping her cantaloupe breasts around Ray’s member and bringing him to completion—something she could not have done even a few months prior.

“Just let me spoil you today,” Ray cooed in her ear while his fingers slid into one of her belly rolls and gave it a squeeze.  “You can always help out tomorrow.”

“But I wanna help now,” Mickey whined softly as she shut the vacuum off and let it rest against her.  “I don’t want to be like some lazy housewife munching on snacks while her man does all the work.”

“Mick, you’re one of the hardest working women in show business.  You’ve spent the last eight months building up a body that would take years for other people to cultivate.  If anyone deserves a day off, especially on their birthday, it’s you,” the scruffy man reminded his lardy lover.  He kissed her chubby cheek, took the vacuum handle from her, and whispered, “Grab a seat and I’ll bring you a little snack to get some strength back.”

Mickey shivered as Ray gave her blubbery love handle a wobble before acquiescing and waddling her way to their kitchen nook.  It had once felt quite cozy, but as she grew to the size of a baby hippo, the pudgy punk found it getting smaller by the day.  Once she crossed the 300 pound threshold, it became impossible for her to squeeze back into her usual spot, so she had to make do with sitting with her back to the living room—the widest part of the nook.  On top of that, she now had to use two chairs to sit comfortably; she was not so large that she filled both to the max, but her rump could not be contained in a single seat.

“Wonder how long it’ll be before I outgrow this whole place?” Mickey asked herself as she took her seats while Ray finished up in the kitchen.

It was a question she had asked herself time and again as her gaining progressed over the course of the year.  The life of a wrestler meant that Mickey did not spend a ton of time at her apartment, but she adored the little getaway; it had always been there for her when she needed to take a breather or rest from a real injury.  Like her wardrobe though, she was fast outgrowing the two bedroom apartment, and she found herself thinking more often about what the next step would be.  Should Ray and she spring for another, larger apartment—preferably on the ground floor, since stairs were becoming a monstrous obstacle?  If they decided to go with a house, what should it be like?  And perhaps the biggest question of all, how fat was she really going to get?

Mickey had reached elephantine sizes in a short time, and she still had a few months to go before she made her grand return.  Her goal was to be the first Superheavyweight Champion in decades, but how long would she hold onto the belt?  Would she stay this weight, lose it over time, or grow even bigger?  That last thought made her tremble with excitement and she squirmed in her seat as she thought of getting too fat to move, much less wrestle.  She still had a good few years in her, but it was so tempting to just let go and pile on the pounds until she was big enough to fill a ring.

“Someday,” she murmured to herself just before Ray set down a plate of eggnog French toast.  As she tucked into the sinfully sweet dish, Mickey was certain of one thing—no matter how fat she got, she was going to have a damn good time getting there.

***

After her mid-morning snack (which was more like a second breakfast), Mickey spent the next two hours getting herself ready for her parents’ visit.  That might seem extravagant for most people, but for someone of her size, she needed all the time she could get to go through a standard routine.  Showering was taking longer and longer by the day simply because there was so much bulk that she needed to scrub clean and she did not have the flexibility to reach much of her body.  Then came dressing, which often required a second set of hands for the same reasons as showering, in that Mickey could no longer bend over quite so easily.  At least she had some decent clothes she could squeeze into and did not leave her flab exposed—provided she barely moved.

The wobbly woman had poured herself into a lightweight blouse and sweater that just barely covered her belly; if she so much as lifted her arms, a sliver of caramel flab would peek out.  That mammoth belly was bisected by her slacks, creating a thick roll that oozed over the waistband and a generous FUPA that pushed against the fly.  The seat of the slacks was stretched tight around her rump, to the point that she could hear threads creaking with every ponderous step she took.  She hoped that one of her gifts was a gift card for some new clothes, because she was in desperate need of some at the rate she was growing.

When noon rolled around, Mickey was the first to get the door when she heard the bell go.  She brushed her dark locks back, checked herself in the mirror one last time, and then swung open the door with a joyous, “Feliz Navidad!”

“Feliz cumpleaños, Michaela!” Santigo and Elena Ramone crowed as they hugged their daughter as best they could.  Between the two of them, they could reach their arms around her; alone, they would not have had a chance.

Santigo was a stout man with a jolly face and a full head of gray hair, while Elena was diminutive and lean, to the point that her daughter was almost four times her size.  They had both once been in the wrestling business together, with Santigo competing in the Southern territories with Elena as his valet, but they had long since moved on.  The father operated a game room décor business and spent much of his days putting together items like billiard tables, and the mother worked at a thrift store—respectable businesses for respectable folks.  But though their time in the wrestling world was long past them, they had done all they could to support Mickey in her dream of making it big, quite literally these days.

“Gracias, Mama y Papa,” Mickey replied as she hugged her parents in return.  She made a quick mental note of much she dwarfed them both before stepping aside and allowing them in.  “You guys had a good morning so far?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” Elena answered as she hung up her jacket.  “I spoke with Lora this morning, and she wanted to wish you a very happy birthday; she might stop by later with her gifts.”

“I’m sure she’ll also want a little break from the festivities at her house,” Mickey giggled, knowing full well how chaotic the holidays were at the Torres household.  When she noticed her father had not yet taken off his jacket, she asked, “You planning on staying, Dad?”

Santigo grinned and explained, “Just need help getting something out of the car.  Is Ray in?”

“Just finished putting something in the oven,” the man in question answered as he sauntered into the room while wiping his hands on his apron.  “Merry Christmas, Santigo; merry Christmas, Elena.”

“My goodness, Ray, I barely recognized you!” Elena marveled.  “I never pictured you as the bearded type, but it looks good.”

Ray blushed beneath his scruffy beard and replied, “Thanks.  Not sure if I’m going to keep it after the holidays, but Mickey says she likes it, so we’ll see.”

“I think it makes him look more rugged,” his butterball girlfriend remarked before kissing him on the cheek.  “Would you be a doll and give my dad a hand?”

“Of course,” Ray answered as he followed Santigo out the door.

When the two men left, Mickey glanced down and realized that not only was her mother carrying two bags of presents—her father had left two behind as well.  She rolled her eyes and told Elena, “Mom, you really don’t need to get so much for Ray and me.”

“Of course I do,” her mother retorted as she made her way into the living room.  “You’re our daughter, Ray’s basically our son, and if we want to spoil you, let us!  Let an old lady feel some happiness by giving her kids tons of presents.”

“You’re barely over fifty, Mom,” Mickey sighed.  Bending over to pick up the other bags was no easy feat, what with her belly bunching up in front of her, so the globular girl made do by tilting over at the side and grabbing them that way.  She trundled behind her mother and set about distributing the gifts where she and Ray would be sitting—Ray in his armchair, Mickey on the loveseat that she almost filled to completion.

After all the presents were laid out where they should be, Mickey plopped down on the love seat and tugged on the collar of her sweater.  She had no idea what had possessed her to wear a full sweater; no matter how low they set the temperature in the apartment, she was going to be steaming.  Elena took note of this, as she filled a plate with snacks and passed it to her doughy daughter, along with a full glass of ponche.

“Mom, you didn’t need to do that for me,” Mickey meekly protested, though she still took a bite out of a marranito.  “You’re my guest—if anyone should be getting food for someone, it’s me for you!”

“Nonsense, mi conejita gordita,” Elena hummed as she patted her daughter’s chubby cheek.  “We only get to do this once a year, so you just put your feet up and let me treat you.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” the massive woman mumbled even as she filled her mouth with gingerbread.  She liked taking it easy as much as the next girl, but she did not want to make a habit out of it.  To take her mind off the fact that there seemed to be a concentrated effort to make her lazy, Mickey asked, “Can I get a hint on what the boys are bringing in?”

Her petite mother tittered, “You can’t wait a few more minutes, mija?  So greedy, even after all these years.  I’m surprised it took you this long to get so big, the way you used to sneak cookies and snacks when you were little.”

Mickey turned a fine pink at the gentle teasing from her mother.  While she would not necessarily describe herself as greedy per se, she would be the first to admit that she could be impatient and want a little more.  She distinctly remembered her sixth birthday party, where she wanted the biggest slice of birthday cake with the most frosting and then promptly getting sick when she ate it all.  Her childish gluttony gave way to an exuberance and drive for wrestling as she got older, but with how much she had filled out over the last year, there was no denying she had fallen back on old habits.

“I’m just curious, that’s all,” La Princesa retorted.  “I want to make sure you guys didn’t get us a big TV or furniture.”

Elena waggled her finger at her daughter as she sat down across from her and told her, “This is going to be the year where you learn the virtue of being patient, Michaela.”

“Spoilsport,” Mickey giggled before sticking her tongue out.

It did not take long for Ray and Santiago to return, and from what Mickey could hear, it sounded like whatever they were bringing in was heavy.  She tried to crane her head around to the entryway, but that proved to be nigh impossible with how round she had become.  The best she could do was wobble around until she sat sideways on the loveseat, and by that point, her boyfriend and her father had already marched into the room with their load.

When she saw what it was, she clapped her hands over her mouth and gasped.  In their hands was a dark cedar bench with wrought iron arms and legs, just like one would find at a park.  That alone would have been surprising enough, but Mickey’s shock grew even greater when she saw that burned into the back of the bench was her name, exactly as it appeared on GWE television.  There was even a big red bow placed right on top, as if it were a Lexus in a Christmas ad.

“Is that for me?” Mickey asked as she all but bounced in her seat.

“Don’t see any other Mickeys around here, mija,” Santigo grunted as he shifted the bench around in his hands.  “Ray told me about your set-up in the kitchen, and no daughter of mine should have to deal with discomfort when she’s eating.”

“First thing first though, we’ve got to get it into the nook,” Ray added through gritted teeth.  Even though he had been getting stronger over the last several months, he was struggling to keep the bench up, though not as much as Mickey’s father, who had to take a break at the top of the steps.

When it became clear that the guys were having a hard time with the bench, Mickey sighed and rocked herself off the couch.  She waddled over to Santigo and told him, “Papa, let me take care of this.”

“But it’s your—”

“Don’t say it,” Mickey sternly told her father, a deathly glare in her eyes.  The older man relented and held on just long enough for his daughter to take over, only to be amazed when Mickey hoisted the bench without breaking a sweat.  She helped Ray the rest of the way into the dining room and set the bench down before brushing her hands off and asking, “Now, who wants to open presents?”

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((Hey everyone, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!  I want to thank everybody that gave me their insight on how the story is going and what I could improve on--you've been a big help in figuring out how to proceed.  From what I've gathered, the consensus seems to be that the story is a little bloated: too many characters and too many plot lines to keep track of, especially when I might not touch on a character for weeks at a time.  That's a very valid point, and I've done some thinking about how best to tackle that.

When I first started this story, I had no idea it would spin out like it has.  I was originally going to focus solely on Mickey and Ray, with occasional characters popping in to react to her gain.  Some things would have remained the same--Shinobu starting her own gain, Amanda getting heavily pregnant--but none of them would have stolen the spotlight.  If I had stayed on topic with Mickey, this story would have been over back in 2018, and I might not have run into some of the problems that I currently have.

Therefore, I've worked out a new plan, but once again, I need your feedback.  I've put too much time and effort in SHWC to stop it completely, but I'm thinking of putting it on hiatus while I work on a simplified version of the story--the way it was originally going to pan out.  It would trim all the fat of the current version while still keeping that CyrilFiggis charm you've come to know and tolerate, while giving me time to plan out how I want the main version to go.

Once again, this version isn't going anywhere: I'm not going to put the kibosh on another story while it's still ongoing, especially not one as long as this one, and I don't want to deprive anyone that enjoys the various subplots.  What I want to do is make a version that's short and simple for those that want something a little easier to digest.

Let me know what you'd like to see!))

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  • 3 weeks later...

CHAPTER 70

After getting the bench settled at the kitchen table, Mickey helped fix some drinks and snacks for everyone before returning to her spot on the couch, her eyes darting to the presents at her feet.  She might have been put off by her mother’s teasing, but there was no denying that she could be impulsive and impatient when she wanted.  If it were up to her, the floor would already be covered with torn wrapping paper and discarded ribbons; there were no toys in the lot, but that did not stifle her childlike impetuousness.  La Princesa managed to restrain herself though and bided her time, sipping on mulled cider and making idle conversation with her family as she waited for her turn to tear into her gifts.

Just when she started to drum her fingers on her thighs and thump her foot like a rabbit, everyone decided it was about time to open their presents.  Thankfully, they could all go at the same time, which meant Mickey was unfettered and went through her stack of gifts like a whirlwind.  She paused just long enough to reflect on each item and graciously thank either her parents or Ray, and then it was onto the next.  Her sausage fingers made quick work of the wrapping paper, savagely ripping it apart and leaving a good stack by her feet without a care in the world.

“Just like when she was 10 and woke up at 4 in the morning,” Elena remarked with a smile.

“Ate all the candy in her stocking, was wearing all her new clothes, and put all her toys through the wringer, all before we ever got out of bed,” Santigo chuckled at the memory.

It was a good haul for the Ramones and Ray that year, from tickets to New York for Mickey’s parents to a collection of El Santo movies for La Princesa to exotic cookbooks for Ray.  Mickey was also treated to a few new items for her wardrobe, which Elena insisted she show off due to how ridiculously big they were.  Though she did not change into them immediately, the wobbly wrestler was more than happy to show how her parents could both fit into her new jeans, her dad in the left leg and her mother in the right.  Her new dress was so large and flowing that it nearly covered her arm chair, and she would have been swimming in her new blouse if she was still the same size she was last year.  Each outfits served as a stark reminder of how wildly obese she had become in so short a time.

Eventually, it came time for supper, and Mickey escorted her parents to the table while Ray got everything together.  The plump princess was delighted to find that the new bench fit her perfectly and was far more comfortable than spreading out across two of her dining chairs.  She wiggled about happily on her seat and told her father, “Dad, this is just fantastic!  I didn’t have to go through the trouble of making this just for me!”

“For you, mija, it was no trouble at all,” Santigo replied.  “I got the idea from your old tortilla press—that little wooden one I made for you when you were just una niñita.  If you’re going to keep getting bigger, you’re going to want to be able to keep your seat at the table, and this should hold you until you get the title.”

“And I can’t wait to see that happen,” Elena sighed wistfully.  “Your grandfather would have been so proud to see you carry on his legacy—and sticking it to your polla of a boss.”

Mickey blushed at the comparison to her grandfather, having wondered several times just what he would have thought of her new gimmick.  It was an odd legacy to fight for, but it was her family’s, and by God, she would fight for it with everything she had.  The only thing standing in her way was Dave Ericson’s narrow mind, and while she had followed their agreement, she did not trust him to uphold his end of the bargain.  If she got any hint of their deal going south, La Princesa Violenta would live up to her name and remind Dave why no one ever screwed over a Ramone.  She had never been afraid to stand up to a promoter before, and she would not cow down to the most powerful man in the business.

“Well, you know me—I’ve never been one to sit on my laurels,” Mickey admitted.  “I don’t want to be one of those wrestlers that gets complacent and stays in the same role for their whole careers.  And really, it doesn’t matter to me what the management thinks; I just care about the fan reaction.”

“They’re going to love you, dear,” her mother replied.  She reached over and squeezed one of Mickey’s hands, silently marveling at how even that was plump.  “You’ve been able to win over crowds everywhere you go; they care about you as a performer, not your looks alone.”

“Gracias, Mama,” La Princesa said softly, a sweet smile crossing her lips.  While her cup ran over with confidence, it always helped to have reassurance from someone less impulsive than she, and to know that she had the support of her parents meant the world to her.

As the Ramones conversed about this and that, Raymundo brought out dish after dish from the kitchen until the entire table was covered.  Mickey’s parents marveled at each dish as it was uncovered, amazed at the spread that lay before them.  They knew that Ray loved to cook before this, but they had no idea he was this accomplished.

“Raymundo, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Santigo remarked.  “Elena and I would have been satisfied with the basics, but you’ve got a smorgasbord out here!”

“Well, Mickey’s little experiment has given me a chance to really spread my wings,” Ray explained when he brought out the last dish—a large bowl of chicken pasole.  “I’d be remiss if I just served her the same old things, so I decided I’d try a little of this and a little of that.”

“I keep telling him that he ought to open a restaurant,” Mickey chimed in while placing a pair of tamales on her plate.  “His talents would be much more appreciated there than with the bookers.”

It was something of a joke, but there was also truth in what she said.  Ray had never been a big man on the totem pole when it came to the booking committee in the GWF, and ever since he decided to stay home with Mickey, his role had diminished to the point that he was almost an afterthought.  As much as Dave Ericson talked about how he appreciated people who worked hard and reached for the proverbial brass ring, the fact was that some people had ‘it’ and some did not—and in Dave’s eyes, Ray did not have ‘it’.  The couple had talked about making a change when they got back to work, but until then, they would have to make the best of the situation.

“But enough talk about work,” Elena told everyone at the table.  “We’ve got a lovely dinner here, and I’m sure I’m not the only one ready to eat.  Mickey, be a dear and say grace, would you?”

Mickey nodded, reached out for Ray’s hand as she took her mother’s hand again, and bowed her head.  Thoughts of the past year filled her head: how she had made new connections while still mostly cooped up at home; how she had seen her cousin break out in the business; how she had been given the chance to explore some of her deepest fantasies.  While not everything had been stellar, she would not have traded the last eight months for the world; if anything, they just made her look forward to the next year that much more.  There was so much that she wanted to say, but she was with her mother in wanting to tuck into the feast.

“Lord, thank you for this meal we are about to receive and all the blessings we have had this last year,” Mickey hummed.  “For letting Ray be with me every step of the way, for letting me see my parents today, and for all you do to keep me strong as I grow, we thank you.  But if you could find a way to get the title back on Shinobu, that would be great.  Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone echoed, though not without a cheeky grin from Ray.

With the formalities finished, everyone dug in and ate heartily from the assorted dishes.  Attempts at conversation were made here and there, but by and large, every person at the table was too enamored with the food to talk that much—none more so than Mickey.  While she still maintained a sense of decorum around her parents, her months of overeating had ballooned her appetite to immeasurable proportions, causing her to make quick work of anything that hit her plate.  La Princesa would not break any records for speed-eating, but the fact that she was able to maintain her pace throughout the entire meal was more than impressive.

Of course, Mickey Ramone was not simply a glutton who devoured everything that was put in front of her.  Ray’s culinary experiments over the last year allowed her palate to expand with the rest of her body and gave her an appreciation for the finer parts of her meals.  When she bit into some boneless ribs, she could pick apart and identify each spice used in the rub; when she had her fill of fruit salad, she could appreciate how fresh each ingredient tasted.  As such, she let out little hums of delight throughout the feast—hums that would have likely been a bit more adult had her parents not been right next to her.

One by one, the Ramones and Ray put their utensils down and threw in the towel, but Mickey kept going as if she had not eaten more than all of them combined.  While her folks had been around for various meals here and there since she started her gain, this was the first time they had ever seen her eat so much in a single sitting.  It was a sight to behold, and while some might have been put off by La Princesa’s unbridled indulgence, Santigo and Elena were simply in awe.

“Goodness, mija, did you get a black hole put in your stomach?” asked Elena, her eyes dipping down to her daughter’s belly.  Like a balloon, it had filled up over the course of the meal and now resembled a medicine ball in how round and full it was.

“Nope,” Mickey chuckled after clearing her throat with a swig of cider, “I’ve just been pushing that bad boy to its limits so much that it’s stretched out like a shirt.”

“Something tells me that you won’t really have to worry about leftovers after tonight,” Santigo chuckled while silently taking stock of how little food there was left on the table.

“We’ve stopped using that word around here,” Ray replied with a grin.  “It’s been weeks since Mickey couldn’t finish everything in one sitting; even if she couldn’t eat it all right now, she’d just go back to it an hour or two later.”

Santigo let out a low whistle at that, amazed at how his little girl had grown up into a round all-rounder.  It seemed that no matter what she did, she would always commit herself to it one hundred percent; nothing less would suffice.  He had some reservations about this plan of hers when it first began, as any parent might, but after Mickey laid it out for him and Elena, Santigo came to accept it.  She might have outweighed him two to one, but she was still the same Mickey that begged for wrestling lessons, gave more importance to her debut match than her quinceañera, and wore her tights under her graduation gown because she had a show to get to after the ceremony.  Mickey had never done anything in half-measures; why should gaining weight be any different?

Big and voracious as she was, even Mickey had her limits and finally set her utensils down for the last time.  She leaned back in her bench and rubbed her stomach through the sweater, gently working the stress out of the stuffed dome and helping her hefty meal digest.  A gentle groan came from her lips which might have sounded like pain to the uninitiated, but for Ray, he knew all too well what that meant.  The half-lidded gaze Mickey gave him only solidified the meaning, which meant that it was time for the Ramones to say farewell.

Thankfully, he did not have to kick them out, as Elena looked to her watch and remarked, “Oh, we’d best be on our way!  I promised Lora I would stop by later to watch Love Actually.”

“Which means I’ll be watching a game in the other room,” Santigo added with a wink.

“Well, it was great having you over,” Ray replied, with Mickey nodding in agreement.  He rose from his chair and offered, “I’ll help you get your gifts to the car.”

“Gracias, Ray,” Elena told the burly manager.  The spritely woman wrapped her arms around her doughball daughter and pecked her on the cheek as she said, “Happy birthday and merry Christmas, mija.  I hope you have a good rest of the day.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Mickey cooed, too full to wiggle around and return the hug.

Santigo gave her a hug goodbye as well, though not without adding a teasing poke to her stomach.  “Enjoy the rest of your holiday, mija, but best take it easy—one more bite, and you’ll pop!”

Mickey rolled her eyes at the joke and swatted her father’s hand away with a smile.  “I’m a big girl, Dad, and it’s going to take a little more than food to take me out.”

Once Ray helped her parents get their belongings together and led them out, La Princesa began the arduous task of getting to her feet.  It might be hard for a layman to imagine such a simple feat taking any sort of effort, but for someone who had a veritable boulder stuck to their midsection, it could feel like a Sisyphean endeavor.  Mickey had to rock herself back and forth to gain some sort of momentum; grabbing onto the table would only succeed in overturning the IKEA purchase, as had already happened once before.  Thankfully, her bench did not scoot around like her dining chairs did, which meant that she did not have to worry about losing any ground in her efforts.

Finally, the mammoth girl rose to her feet and paused to catch her breath.  She rested her hands atop the swell of her stomach and gazed down blearily at the empty table that lay before her.  Between the four of them, they had managed to put away enough for eight, with Mickey eating the lion’s share.  Her tongue slid across her lips, recollecting the myriad flavors that passed through during the bountiful feast and imagining just what all those calories would do for her.

“Oh, you are so very well fed, aren’t you?” she asked her stomach as she cradled it in her arms.  It had grown out of control, like a flower bed left untended, and was now so big around that she could not hope to join her hands except at its peak.  “You like to just eat and eat until you can’t fit another bite, not that you won’t try.  Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I could say the same of you, cerdita,” Ray growled playfully as he slinked up behind his plush girlfriend and sank his hands into her hips.  “I should have known since that cake back in September, but there really is no stopping you, is there?”

Mickey trembled at the touch and wiggled around in her lover’s grasp, which looked more like a balloon bobbing from side to side.  She nodded guiltily, like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and replied, “No…I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.”

“And I’m sure that even after all that, you could probably still fit more in that big ball of flab you call a tummy,” her boyfriend teased, his beard tickling her tender skin as he planted a series of kisses on her neck that made her swoon.

“Always,” La Princesa moaned, her pent up desires coming out in throaty, dusky groans.

“Good thing I made extra just for you,” Ray whispered.  As she trembled in his grasp, his hands worked their way around to the hem of her sweater and slowly dragged it up, exposing the thick roll of blubber oozing over her pants.  He tapped at the straining button on her pants and murmured, “I’m going to make it so you can’t wear these pants ever again.”

Mickey felt like she might collapse as her lardy legs turned to jelly.  She reached a hand back and stroked along Ray’s bearded cheek, cooing, “Feed me, Ray…I want you to make me so fat that no clothes will ever be able to fit me.”

“Como desées, mi amor,” Ray hummed.  He gave her one last kiss before patting her gelatinous backside and telling her, “Go waddle this sexy ass into the bedroom, and I’ll be in with your birthday cake in a few minutes.”

The wobbly wrestler tittered with glee and tickled his chin as she replied, “All right, but don’t keep me waiting; I might just take an after-dinner nap if you take too long.”

“Not if you could see the cake I made for you,” the beefy man teased.

With the promise of cake, her lover, and cake with her lover, Mickey found new wells of energy and waddled off to their bedroom faster than anyone would think her capable.  She worked to get her sweater off as quickly as she could, fed up with how hot it made her but also wanting to savor Ray’s touch that much sooner.  Promises of the night ahead danced through her mind as she plodded along, her heart racing at the thought of what awaited and her stomach grumbling for yet more food.

“Happy birthday to me,” she hummed contentedly as she made her way into the bedroom, still struggling with her sweater.

While Mickey got herself ready, Ray fetched the cake from the fridge and set it out on the counter, along with a few other items.  First were a few brochures for houses on the market—a last minute gift from Santigo and Elena, who were helping Ray with house hunting.  They were thrilled at the idea of the young couple getting their own place and offered to help however they could, starting with scouting out a few places on the way over.  The other was a jewelry box that Ray had just gotten a few days prior, had taken a good few months of saving, and was holding onto for just the right occasion.

“Otro momento,” Ray mused to himself as he pocketed the box and picked up the cake.  It was a big question, and one he did not want to make while he fed his oinking girlfriend thick slices of gateau…

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Hey all!  I'm cooking up the next chapter right now, but in the meantime, I thought I might share some lovely art I got from the wonderful Cyorck.  This time, it's of Kat Donna.  She might not be that fat just yet in story, but it's only a matter of time before this little piggy gets there.

 

KatDonna_Cyorck.jpg

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  • 3 weeks later...
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((Boy, it's been a hot minute since the last chapter, hasn't it?  I'm sorry for making my adoring fans wait--all five of you--but I am back and better than ever, I think!  Seriously though, I'm back, people, and it's time to get this train a-rollin'.  You're not here to read my babbling, so let's get the show on the road!))

CHAPTER 71

Getting her cast off was the best belated Christmas gift that KC Skye had gotten in years; not even the tickets to her first Showdown Supreme back in middle school could compete.  The sound of the doctor’s saw cutting through plaster was music to her ears, and she would have jumped for joy if she was not deathly afraid of reinjuring her leg.  After spending the last several months sitting on her duff as she recovered from the grisly break, she wanted nothing more than to race to the nearest gym, but she knew better than that.  If KC wanted to get back into the ring, the best thing to do would be to follow her doctor’s orders and work her way there.

“Well, Ms. Skye, looks like everything healed up nicely,” Dr. Ralston remarked as she rolled KC’s calf around in her gloved hands.  “The color should come back with time, and the scar will fade too.  You might notice some discomfort for a bit, but that’s perfectly normal.”

“It’s been uncomfortable for the last six months,” the grounded aerialist grumbled as she ran her hand down the length of her leg.  “What’s a few more days?”

She had been around enough injuries to know that it was never pretty when the bandages first come off, but she had not expected it to look so gruesome.  There were splotches of yellow discoloration here and there around a gnarly scar that ran clear from her calf to her thigh, along with dry skin that reminded her of a lizard.  Her dark skin had paled to a stony gray, and the smell was nigh unbearable, but KC paid none of this any mind.  All that mattered was that she was free of this ungodly burden, and that she could work on getting back into proper shape once again.

“Now, I’d take it easy for the next couple of days as you get used to being out of the cast and off crutches,” her doctor recommended.  “After that, we’ll get you set up with a physical therapist who can help you get back into shape; now that you’re up and about, there’s no excuse not to work off some of that flab from the last few months.”

There it was—the ol’ Dr. Ralston bedside manner.  The old woman never hesitated to speak her mind and giving her opinion on what her patients were doing wrong, regardless of whether or not they were physically capable of doing anything about it.  It had been her recommendation in the first place to take it easy and not try anything too strenuous, so where did she get off on harping on KC for getting a little soft during her recovery?

“Guess so,” the wrestler growled.  “Anything else?”

“Nope,” Dr. Ralston replied, oblivious of the murderous intent radiating from her patient.  “Just take your paperwork to the desk and you’ll be good to go.  We’ll see you in a couple weeks to check how you’re holding up and how the therapy’s going.”

The last thing KC wanted to do was come back, unless it was to deliver a dropkick to the old bat, but she bit her lip and nodded.  Following directions had gotten her this far; she could last a little while longer.  Whatever it took to get back to the GWF, she would do it, so long as it gave her the chance to deliver the most well-deserved beatdown in history.

She hobbled out to the waiting room on her own accord, refusing any help and carrying her crutches under arms.  Walking on her own two feet again was a surreal sensation, as her right leg felt as strong as ever but her left leg felt like it was filled with pins and needles, as if she had let it fall asleep.  For someone who used to fly around the ring with all the grace of a falcon, finding walking to be so difficult threatened to drag her spirits back down into the muck, but she kept her eyes on the prize.  KC was going to make some changes and get back into a wrestling ring, come hell or high water.

Thankfully, her cousin was waiting in the lobby to help buoy her.  When Agatha saw KC shuffle out, she immediately leaped out of her seat and ran over to offer a shoulder to lean on, only for her baby cousin to shrug her off and give her a thumbs up.  The older woman lit up like a Christmas tree and bounced like a kid in a toy store as she watched KC walk through the lobby without her crutches.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!  Cassie, that’s amazing,” Agatha gleefully remarked as she fought the urge to tackle her cousin in a hug.  “Does this mean you can start your physical therapy?”

“Bingo,” KC answered as she continued to slowly make her way out to the waiting car.  “Gonna take the next few days to see how things are looking and get my leg cleaned up, but when I do, I’m going to push myself like never before.”

Agatha eyed her cousin warily and retorted, “Within reason, I hope.  I’ve seen some of the videos you used to post of yourself in the gym, and I think that you’ve got a ways to go before getting back to that level again.”

KC grimaced at the reminder of how far she had fallen from physical perfection six months prior.  She had once been so fleet and nimble that any circus would have been lucky to have her on their card; it had been a joke among the family that if wrestling did not take, she could always have a place in Cirque du Soleil.  Unfortunately, the metal rod in her leg meant that her days of flying through the air with the greatest of ease were in the past.  She would have to undo years of practice and learning to develop a whole new arsenal of moves if she wanted to continue doing what she loved.

That was the biggest obstacle in her way, but a close second was the weight problem she had developed since breaking her leg.  It seemed like she had been packing on the pounds from the minute she crumpled onto the mat back in July, having gained close to a hundred pounds in the last six months.  Even though she was friends with two very fat women in the form of Mickey Ramone and Shinobu Misawa, KC had never imagined getting quite so fat herself—or fat at all, for that matter.  She had been a lean, mean, flippy machine, but her slender physique was now buried under several inches of lard.

Even before she trained her body into a wrestling machine, KC had never been blessed with curves; the difference was that she used to be merely scrawny as opposed to ripped.  Perhaps they had been waiting for the right time, but ever since the injury, her body had filled out in a ridiculously voluptuous hourglass.  What had once been mosquito bites on her chest had blossomed into a bountiful bosom that needed a DDD-cup bra to support, and even that was getting tight.  They eclipsed the thick layer of pudge that had accumulated at her waist, which some women might have been grateful for—not KC, who saw every extra inch as an unwelcome settler on the holy land that was her body.

Most disconcerting was her lower body, which had exploded in lard and cellulite since she started soaking up calories.  KC had been extremely relieved when she was allowed to upgrade from a wheelchair to crutches, as her expansive hips had grown to the point that she was afraid she would be wedged in the seat.  It was a good thing she upgraded when she did, as a quick glance at her side revealed that her hips stuck out so far that she could not set her hands down perfectly straight.  There was no chance that she could fit in the wheelchair they had first given her after her surgery, and several pieces of furniture in Agatha’s home were becoming uncomfortably tight.

That would have been humiliating enough, but the gain carried on through the rest of her body.  She used to carry a small amount of pride that she did not fit the stereotype of being bottom-heavy, and that pride had been dashed when she realized that it looked like she was smuggling basketballs up her skirts.  Her rump had grown exponentially over the last few months, swelling up like someone was slowly inflating it with helium, until it got to the point that she could actually tell a difference whenever she sat down.  Between that and the swell of her hips, buying underwear that actually fit had become a nightmare, as it seemed that she needed to size up every few weeks.

And then, there were her pride and joys—her legs, which had helped carry her to one reign with the Women’s Championship and two reigns with the Tag Team belts.  KC used to be able to do standing flips, front and back, but even if her bones had not been broken, there was no way she could have been able to do that.  Her thighs rubbed clear to her knee and were streaked with stretch marks along the inside and cellulite on the back, to say nothing of the flabby saddle bags that had sprouted near her hips.  Even her calves had expanded more than she expected, swelling up like a pregnant woman’s and ballooning to the point that she had blossoming cankles.  If anyone looked at her now, they could never have imagined her so much as jogging, much less doing a moonsault from the top rope.

“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…

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((As we get ready to throw this old year in the trash where it belongs, we could use a little brightness, and what better way to celebrate than with our favorite bunch of big, beautiful wrestlers?  This chapter is something of a refresher and jumping on point as we take a look at each of the main players and see where things stand with them.  I've got some big plans for the new year, and I can't wait to share them with you.  For now though, sit back, grab a cup of kindness, and sing along!))

CHAPTER 72

‘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…

‘But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne.’

Though her leg still had its aches and pains, KC Skye felt more like her old self than she had in a long time.  The past week had been spent getting used to walking without any support and building up muscle that had atrophied over the last several months.  She knew that she had a long road to a full recovery, especially with the thick coat of blubber all over, but she was determined to get back to the ring sooner rather than later.  And if her colleagues could come back from life-threatening injuries, then she could work her tail off and lose this weight.

Just as soon as she got rid of the leftovers from the holidays.  Family, friends, and family friends had stopped by so much during Christmas and going into New Year’s, all of them bearing some dish or another for the season.  It was bad enough that Agatha cooked up a storm between Thanksgiving and Christmas; she did not need half of Little Rock bringing her food as well.

“Guh,” the grounded aerialist groaned as she dropped her fork on an empty plate that used to have two thick slabs of meatloaf, sauteed squash and zucchini, and three slices of sourdough.  “Ag, please…no more tonight.  Any more meatloaf, and I might turn into one.”

“But there’s only a little bit left,” her cousin replied as she held up the thin heel for KC.  “Barely enough for a lunch portion.”

KC stifled a belch and slouched in her seat, defeated by yet another dinner.  She groaned to herself, “God…how do Mickey and Shinobu do this?”

‘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 b**s 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!”

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  • 2 weeks later...

CHAPTER 73

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.

***

‘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 b**s 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...

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I'm loving these new, bite-sized chapters (although I just love this story in general, so any time we get MORE SHWC is a good time!) and I am eager to see just who emerges to challenge Mickey for the belt, once it becomes a thing! Will it be a MASSIVE Shinobu? Or a super-sized Sadie Storm, hellbent on being the BIGGEST star around? 

Can't WEIGHT to find out! LOL! 

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1 hour ago, KerryNation said:

I'm loving these new, bite-sized chapters (although I just love this story in general, so any time we get MORE SHWC is a good time!) and I am eager to see just who emerges to challenge Mickey for the belt, once it becomes a thing! Will it be a MASSIVE Shinobu? Or a super-sized Sadie Storm, hellbent on being the BIGGEST star around? 

Can't WEIGHT to find out! LOL! 

Buckle up, because it's going to be a wild ride from here on!

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CHAPTER 74

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.

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.”

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Guest ratetankmark

Really glad to that I gave this a read, it's some really amazing stuff, as usual and I love the different characteristics and the banter between the characters and how not everything is perfect and not everybody gets along judging by how much of an utter asshole Rose is. Really great work, man and I can't wait to see where this goes. :) 

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CHAPTER 75

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 ** 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 **?  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.”

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 ** 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.

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  • 2 weeks later...

CHAPTER 76

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…

***

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?”

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CHAPTER 77

“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.

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 ** 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.”

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Guest ratetankmark

Oh my god, this is just fucking amazing and that promo was better than a lot of promos on main roster WWE or AEW (with the exception of people like Eddie Kingston and MJF) but I really, really love where this is going and part of me feels kinda bad for Maggie. Can't wait to see where this goes!

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