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

[Cyril Figgis]

((And we're back with the rest of Theresa and Carolyn's Christmas party!  Drinking, reminiscing, and cookie thieves--this chapter has it all!  How are things going to turn out for our favorite soccer moms?  You'll just have to read on and find out!  Get yourself a glass of out of season eggnog, sit back, and enjoy!)

CHAPTER 59

Carolyn Brown was in Hell.  She had to be—how else could she explain the agony she was experiencing?  Her throat felt like it was melting from the inside out, her head was swimming, and she felt like she wanted to cry, fight someone, and vomit all at the same time.  Was this because she had stolen a candy bar from that Wawa when she was six, or was it her punishment for having a drunken make-out session with her roommate back in college?  Whatever the case, she was suffering, and her tormentor was a curmudgeonly old biddy named Rose Manson.

“Holy schnikes, Rose, how can you drink this stuff?” Carolyn gagged after downing another shot’s worth of Diesel.  “It tastes like gas fumes smell!”

“That’s what makes it so good, creampuff,” Rose answered with a smirk.  “You could win the Indy 500 with a bottle of this.  I know it’s probably stronger than the chocolate milk your candy ass is used to, but if you’re going to hang with me, you’ve got to be tough.”

Carolyn rolled her eyes and retorted, “I’m plenty tough, thank you.”

The elderly woman across from her snorted, “Don’t kid yourself—you’re as tough as a stick of butter.  You want to talk tough?  Let’s see you get your throat crushed in a folding chair, and then we’ll see how tough you are.”

“Oh, big deal,” the pudgy soccer mom snipped.  She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a splotch of pink, tender skin on her left arm.  “A couple drops of boiling bacon grease flew out of the pan a couple weeks back and gave me first and second degree burns.”

If Rose was impressed, she did not show it, and her dark glasses only made it harder to judge her reaction.  She remarked, “Okay, so you got a grease burn—tough titties.  Take a look at my forehead, kid, and tell me what you see.”

Carolyn leaned over and studied Rose’s forehead on request.  Between her swimming vision and the ring veteran’s wrinkly skin, it was difficult to tell what she was looking at, but she thought she could see a number of scars lining her forehead.  The doughball woman shrugged and answered, “I don’t know.  Looks like you might have fallen down a lot—probably from drinking all this moonshine.”

“Not from falling over, you corn-fed bimbo.  Those are my stripes—all the times I bladed for a match,” Rose sneered.  When her response earned her a blank look of confusion, she scoffed, “Don’t tell me Theresa ain’t told you the lingo.  Back in the day, before we had to curtail to prissy sponsors, we used to use hidden blades to cut ourselves to give the matches a little more juice.  Nothing got a crowd going like seeing someone get smashed into the ring post and come away with a face full of blood.”

“Yawn,” Carolyn ho-hummed at the nonagenarian.  “Big freaking deal—I used to do that all the time in high school, and you don’t see me showing off to anyone.”

Before Rose could ask for clarification, Carolyn poured herself another shot and added, “Besides, I’ve seen some of your old tapes, Sarge—what about all of those negligee fights?  Not exactly a bastion of brutality, if you ask me.”

“In this business, you’ve got to take what you can get sometimes, kid,” the elderly woman retorted.  “I’ve been through it all: put through a table, nearly drowned in mud, and even took a dive in a pool of gelatin.  Let me tell you, that ain’t kinky fun like people make it out to be.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Carolyn snickered before downing her next shot.  Strangely, it no longer felt like she was pouring battery acid down her throat; it was far from pleasant, but she did not feel like she was going to melt from the inside out.  That was a concerning thought—that she had buzzed enough to acclimate to the vile liquor.

“Gonna call it quits, creampuff?” asked Rose as she swished the bottle back and forth.  “For such a tub of goo, you’re a real lightweight.”

The blonde growled through gritted teeth as she held her glass out for another drink, “I’ll show you what a lightweight I am, Crypt-Keeper—pour it.”

***

While Carolyn did her best to keep up with Rose, Theresa was enjoying a much less stressful Christmas party.  She had fixed herself a plate of Peking duck pancakes and slowly worked her way through it while chatting with JJ and the other girls that flocked to their table.  It felt surreal to be the center of attention after being out of the limelight for so long, but Theresa reveled in having a captivated audience once again.  She forgot how fulfilling it was to have a crowd hanging on every word she said, and the girls in the school were practically eating out of the palm of her hand.

“What was it like, training in Rose’s basement when you were younger?” asked Conner as she sucked the meat off a batch of sticky ribs.

“The most excruciating pain I ever went through,” Theresa answered, though the wistful look on her face said otherwise.  “What you have to understand is that it wasn’t just some rinky-dink operation Rose was running down there; it was a legitimate school, and we’d get wrestlers from all over the world training in that dungeon.  I was locking horns with girls from Japan, Mexico, and Canada—some of them twice my age back then—and everyone that came through there wound up winning gold somewhere in the industry.”

“Dang, dude,” JJ hummed around a mouthful of orange chicken.  “That’s so rad.”

“Hell yes, it was rad,” the rotund redhead agreed.  “Let me tell you—if that house was still standing, you can bet that your little butts would be down there, training like your lives depended on it.”

 As Theresa reminisced on her training, JJ zoned out, though all her focus was on the massive matron.  She could not explain why it was that the former champion enraptured her like she did, but ever since Theresa Hartley had waddled in on Nina and her training, JJ was unable to get the redhead off her mind.  It was not as though she was a superfan of wrestling while growing up; that was always something her brothers would tune into and she’d watch if she happened to be in the room.  When Nina, her best friend since eighth grade, suggested that they try out the sport after they graduated high school, she took it up simply because she did not have any other prospects.

All that changed when Theresa joined the class as a student-teacher.  Since that first impromptu lesson on how to perform an Irish whip properly, JJ had done her best to impress the Queen Heart every chance she could.  She tried harder in the ring, she cleaned up her apartment any time Theresa was going to come over, and she did her best to ensure her favorite coach never had to lift a finger.  In return, she got big, squishy hugs that made her feel like she was enveloped in pudding—a dream she had had more than once since Theresa entered her life.

Perhaps that was why JJ was plumping up as much as she was—in some unconscious effort to match her mentor and inspiration.  While never a light eater, the brunette had stepped up her game in the last few weeks, ending many a night with a stuffed belly packed to the brim.  She was never a physical marvel, being a golfer in high school, but all her glutting was undoing whatever tone she had to her name.  Her body had become soft to the touch from head to toe, and when she was high as a kite, she enjoyed sinking her finger into the increasingly pillowy consistency of her tummy.  It was a far cry from how she used to look, but she still had a long way to go if she ever hoped to match Theresa.

As JJ fawned silently, her coach continued to revel in stories of her days on the road.  “Now, the guys will tell you that they had all the fun while they were on the road, but don’t believe it—we got into some pretty crazy stuff when we were out and about.”

“Like what?” asked Zahara in between bites of sweet and sour chicken.

Theresa smirked and leaned back in her chair as she answered, “How about the fact that I’m banned from renting a car in North Carolina because me and some of the girls got into a little bit of vehicular combat?”

“Shut the front door!” Vidya gasped in surprise, hands clapped over her mouth.

“That’s right, kiddies,” Theresa chortled as the memories came back to her.  “Me and two other girls—Sissy Keene and Katya Romanoff—were driving down the freeway to a show in Greensboro when someone started honking at us in the next lane over.  It was another group of gals on the card for that night: the Valentinos, Fiona and Roberta, and the champion at the time, Dominique.  They start jeering at us and calling us out, and so Sissy rolls down the window to snap back at them.  All of a sudden, they pull right up beside us, grab Sissy like a bunch of pirates, and try to drag her out of the car and into theirs.  And keep in mind, this is all going on while we’re both going at least 80 miles an hour.

“Well, Katya grabs hold of Sissy by her jeans while Sissy scratches until Roberta eventually gives up.  We thought that was it, but nope—that was where it all began.  They speed up to get in front of us, and then the Valentinos poke their heads out and just start chucking everything they can get their hands on except their bags.  We got hit with snacks, water bottles, beer cans, and even a bottle of champagne they were supposed to be saving for the next night’s show—and when they ran out of food, they switched to stuff that came with the rental car.  I kid you not—they actually hurled a jack at us and took out one of the side mirrors.”

Conner froze in shock, her hand in mid-air while delivering a forkful of shrimp to her lips.  She asked, “How did you not die from all that?”

Theresa smiled and offered a lackadaisical shrug before answering, “That wasn’t my first rodeo with Dominique and the Valentinos, Conner.  Soon as we lost the sideview mirror, I pulled off at the nearest gas station to refuel and get a load of the damage.”

“And call the police, I hope,” Tara interrupted.

“Hell no, we didn’t call the police,” the former champion scoffed.  “We were settling the score, first and foremost.  Sissy and Katya ran inside the 7-11 and bought up a small fortune in snacks, beers, and sodas before we hit the road again to try and find those skanks.  Not like they had anywhere else they could go—we were all heading to the same place, so we were going to catch up with them one way or another.  Well, we found them again, and then we gave them a receipt by throwing everything and the kitchen sink at them.  I think it was Sissy—no, Katya—who threw a two-liter bottle that took out one of their headlights.”

“It’s a miracle you dudes didn’t die,” JJ remarked.  Equal parts shocked and awed, the story only served to elevate Theresa in her eyes.  “Like, how did you all get away with something like that?”

“Different time,” Theresa retorted.  “Used to be you could throw a tire iron at your friend’s car and it’d be no big deal.  Anyway, by the time we got to Greensboro, our cars were totaled; we were lucky to get them as far as we did.  Since the cars were in my and Dominique’s names, we were put on a ban list through the entire state—doesn’t matter which company.”

The students around her immediately broke into conversation, with some trying to talk to Theresa and others chatting amongst themselves, but all about the story they just heard.  The obese orator whistled to attract their attention again and told the group, “Let me just say right now—I am not condoning that in any way, shape, or form.  If I find out any of your little asses are doing that, I’ll lock you in a cattle mutilator until you’ve learned your lesson.  Got that?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the gallery of girls replied, eager to please and avoid punishment.

“That said, let me tell you about the time Dominique found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, and she set fire to his duffel bag while he was in the middle of a match,” Theresa began before one of the other students ran over to the table.

“You guys, Miss Brown is in a drinking contest with Sarge!  Come on,” the girl told her classmates before returning to the action.

Despite weighing twice as much as any of her students, Theresa was the first to her feet and trundled over to Carolyn with all the speed of a charging bull elephant.  The last she had seen the bubbly blonde, she was about ready to leap over the table and choke the life out of Rose, but that was the best case scenario if she was trying to match the elderly woman.  Theresa had never been around a buzzed Carolyn Brown before, but Rose had a way of bringing the mean buzzed out of someone.  That was the last thing any Christmas party needed—a drunken fight between a fat soccer mom and a senior citizen.

Thankfully, the scene she came upon was far more amicable.  Carolyn and Rose were both still alive and breathing, though the younger of the two was swaying in her chair as if she were at sea.  The bottle was full when Theresa had left, but between the pair, they had managed to drink it down to a quarter.  All around them, the girls gathered and chatted about who they thought would win; some even waged bets and exchanged snacks in place of money.

“You had enough yet, creampuff?  With how doughy that ass of yours is, you must be soaking up all this hooch like a sponge,” Rose taunted her opponent.

Carolyn scoffed and shook her head, her golden locks flopping about her face.  “Not even close, battleax—in fact, I think I’m getting my second wind.”

With that, the hefty woman peeled off her wooly sweater, leaving her in a long-sleeved shirt that clung her thick arms and pudgy belly.  Carolyn wiped her forehead free of sweat and loose hair before smirking at Rose, “Pour me another, Skeletor.”

Theresa stepped in beside her bosomy buddy and whispered, “Carolyn, what the hell?  Since when do you drink--much less moonshine?”

“Aw, it’s not even that bad!” the blonde giggled as she held up her glass. 

The redhead took a whiff and recoiled as if struck by lightning.  She gagged, “It smells like jet fuel that’s gone bad, Care!  How have you almost gone through the entire bottle?!”

“Sheer spite, Tessie,” Carolyn retorted as she returned her attention to her competition.  “I’m going to drink this zombie under the table, one way or another.”

“In your dreams, tubs,” Rose sneered.  “Now, shut up and drink!”

As the girls whooped and hollered around them, Theresa rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.  Why did all of the school’s get-togethers have to end in debauchery and shenanigans?  Between getting stoned off her broad ass on Halloween and getting into a fight on Black Friday, she wondered if she would ever be able to do anything normal with her students.  Then again, these were up and coming wrestlers she was talking about, and when did wrestlers do anything half-assed?

“Reminds me of, like, Christmas at the Jacobs House,” JJ chuckled slothfully as she waltzed up beside Theresa to watch the show.  “It’s so not the holidays if someone doesn’t pass out buzzed, dude.”

“Just wish that she wasn’t the one about to pass out,” Theresa grumbled as Carolyn nearly hit the table while reaching for her glass.  “Her driver’s seat is broken and can’t move back, so I have to squeeze my big Buddha belly in there.”

JJ turned pink at the thought of Queen Heart trying to cram her bulky body into a too tight car, tits blocking her view of the dashboard and belly squished up against the horn.  She pushed those delightful images out of her mind and offered, “Like, you can take my car and I’ll drive Miss Brown’s—no skin off my back.”

“Thanks, JJ,” Theresa replied with a warm smile for her favorite student.  She reached around the girl’s shoulders and pulled her in for a soft, gooey side hug and told her, “Merry Christmas, you little knucklehead.”

“M-Merry Christmas, Mrs. T,” JJ said, a dopey, uncontrollable grin sprouting on her cheeks as she leaned into the hug.

***

While everyone was busy listening to Theresa’s stories and watching Carolyn and Rose try to outdrink each other, one member of the school was left to her own devious devices.  Nina Neverland pulled a Grinch and swiped each and every box of cookies as her classmates were distracted, leaving not even a crumb for the rest of them.  It was only fair after all: everyone else was so busy with their own things, who would notice a few cookies?  She had started with a couple from this box and a couple from that box, but when it became clear that her classmates had forgotten about the exchange, the greedy girl helped herself to the tasty treats.

“Besides, it’s not like their fat asses need the temptation,” Nina snickered, even as her own keister tore a hole along the side of her skirt.

[Cyril Figgis]

((What's this?  A new SHWC on Monday?  That's right, folks: after a rough month or two, we're back to our regularly scheduled program, and just as we hit 300 pages!  Thanks for coming along for the ride, and as a reward, why not celebrate with the very preggers and very pudgy Amanda?  The Not So Little Rich Girl has played Mrs. Claus at the annual office Christmas party, but will she be able to do it this year with an extra fifty-odd pounds on her frame?  You'll just have to read to find out!))

CHAPTER 60

The Global Wrestling Federation’s office Christmas party had been an annual tradition ever since Dave Ericson first moved the business aspect of the promotion to Stamford, Connecticut in 1985.  While the wrestlers generally held their own festivities wherever they pleased, the office party was almost exclusively for the people that worked behind the scenes.  Accountants, sales representatives, and warehouse workers alike all came together to celebrate another year, and while the occasional performer would drop by to bring gifts or thank them, it was an unspoken rule that the talent did not attend.  Not that no one minded having them there, but after the Great Caliph and Crusher Malone destroyed the buffet in ’92 in a drunken brawl, the wrestlers kept their distance to avoid Dave’s wrath.

One of the time-honored traditions of the party had been Dave and his wife, Wendy, dressing up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus.  Dave would entertain the staff and take down the wishes of their kids, and Wendy would distribute treats and toys for children and grown-ups alike.  Even though her political career often kept her away from the GWF throughout the year, the Ericson matriarch always made sure to attend the party just to see the look on the kids’ faces when she handed them a toy.  On the other hand, Dave relished being the center of attention and spreading goodwill and cheer in the name of good publicity for the company.

Eventually though, Dave and Wendy decided that their children and their spouses could take on the role, allowing them to sit back and enjoy the festivities for a change.  Lane, the couple’s son and oldest, had tried it once before leaving the GWF to pursue other avenues for a decade, and while he had been a perfectly fine Santa, the fact that he dared to leave the company had been a sore point between him and his father.  As a result, the role of Mr. and Mrs. Claus had gone to Amanda, the daughter and baby of the family, and her husband, Levi Hunter.

To say that they put a different spin on the roles was putting it mildly.  When he originally started donning the fake beard and red suit, Levi was rather gruff and stilted, though he mellowed out over the years and became a father himself.  Amanda, meanwhile, traded in her mother’s conservative, classy costume for something a little slinkier and more appropriate for the bedroom than the boardroom.  It was a sleeveless red cocktail dress with white fur trim along the bust and the hem, black opera gloves, and knee-high, high-heeled boots—in all, something much more becoming of an exotic dancer than the company president’s daughter, much less Mrs. Claus.

Still, people enjoyed it and the kids did not mind what Mrs. Claus looked like, so long as she still passed out presents and candy.  The only ones who minded the scanty Amanda were a few of the women who had nothing but envy for the Little Rich Girl.  Hopes that she would one day be too fat for the costume were dashed year after year, as Amanda always kept herself thin and fat, and any pounds she gained were lost as soon as they appeared.  Still, hope springs eternal, and they waited for the day when the billionaire bitch would have to at least add sleeves to the slinky number.

As fate would have it, that day had arrived.  Amanda Ericson had been dreading the Christmas party for the first time since she was a teenager and unable to relate to anyone there—this time though, it had nothing to do with being an awkward age and everything to do with her appearance.  She had long since accepted that she would be unable to fit in her MILFy Mrs. Claus outfit, but as her pregnancy continued and her waistline ballooned at record pace, she became increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of being so on the spot.  It did not help that this would be the first time most anyone had seen her since she first left on maternity leave; they would get to see how she had put on over fifty pounds in six months, and that terrified her.

“Honey, I don’t know if I can do the Christmas party this year,” Amanda told her husband after he saw their daughters off to bed and fetched a treat for her from the kitchen.  “Can’t Lane and Melanie handle it?”

“Not without your dad being sour about it for the next year,” Levi answered with a shake of his head.  “What brought this on?”

He sat down beside his wife on the sofa and handed her a large bowl of ice cream over a warm chocolate chunk cookie—Amanda’s latest favorite.  They had not talked about their late night rendezvous from Thanksgiving a fortnight prior, as they could never quite find the words to say.  For Levi, it had been exhilarating to see his once slender wife become a greedy, bloated glutton like one of his fantasies; for Amanda, having her husband be so firm and commanding had sent shivers down her spine like never before.  Though she ate everything he fed her that night, they had not done anything quite like it since then.  The biggest change was that Levi was much more eager to bring her food when she asked, but that was small change compared to what she was already consuming each day.

As she tucked into her third dessert of the night, Amanda failed to realize that she was eating from a soup bowl rather than a more modest cereal bowl.  She scooped up a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and Cool Whip before explaining to Levi, “I just…I’m worried about what everyone will think.  It’s been so long since I was at HQ; I think the last time I was there, I was just starting to show.”

“All the more reason to check in and let people know that you’re doing all right, hon,” Levi reasoned as he paused the movie playing in the background.  It was some shmaltzy holiday flick that Amanda made sure they watched every year, and the only reason he stuck around for it was because she got extra cuddly whenever it was on.

Amanda pouted and whined, “But I’m not all right, Levi!  Sitting around the house with nothing to do all day but snack has turned me into such a foodie—and worse, a fatty.  Do you know I’ve had to get extra-large maternity clothes?  None of the stuff I’ve had since Nicole fits right anymore.”

Hearing those words sparked a fire in the general manager, though he tried to play it cool by consoling her and saying, “Amanda, come on, you’re not a fatty.  You’re carrying triplets; you were bound to be bigger than you were with any of the girls.”

The Not So Little Rich Girl grumbled around a mouthful of ice cream and cookie before retorting, “Yeah, well, maybe in the belly, but my ass is officially out of control.  I had to bulk order a bunch of panties since every single pair I already have fit like a thong, and not in a good way.”

“Agree to disagree,” Levi growled playfully as he wrapped an arm around his heavily pregnant wife and pulled her close.  “I think you are turning into one hot mamacita.”

“More like massive-cita,” Amanda mumbled while leaning in against Levi’s broad chest and resting her head against his shoulder.

Despite her protestations, she never once put down the ice cream, and that was the problem.  Amanda knew that she was getting fat; even if she were blind, she would have been able to tell.  Every day, her body seemed to jiggle a little more and her clothing got tighter and tighter, and there was nothing she could do to fight it.  She had to take medication to help with a chemical imbalance that would have made this pregnancy even more difficult than it already was, but one of the unfortunate side effects was a massive spike in her appetite and severe drop in her metabolism.  This meant that she was spending most of her days in one piece of furniture or another, stuffing her face with food, sleeping, and then repeating the process all over again.

This vicious, delicious cycle had led to Amanda plumping up more than her wildest nightmares.  Her once toned, firm stomach had swollen to globular proportions, but that was to be expected when carrying triplets.  What she had not expected was the thick layer of pudge that camouflaged her baby belly to the point that a random person off the street would be unable to tell if she was pregnant or fat.  It did not help that her breasts, already large and heavy from a little cosmetic surgery twenty years prior, had swollen to the size of cantaloupes, easily surpassing their gains from her first three pregnancies.  Her backside, pert from years of Pilates and jogging, had ballooned and sagged under its weight, and Amanda was not sure if she felt like crying about that or her newfound case of cellulite.

“Besides, I’m not going to be any fun,” the brunette billionaire added after licking her spoon clean of gooey chocolate.  “If I’m on my feet for too long, I’m going to be exhausted; there’s no way I could get through giving out all the toys this year.”

That was a fair point in her favor: Amanda’s stamina had shrunk down to nothing; the only time she could muster up a well of energy was when food was put in front of her.  Thanksgiving had been something of a wash for her for that exact reason because, in an effort to show restraint around her sizeist father, she nearly passed out.  It had led to her gorging herself on the leftovers after everyone had left, so at least it had a silver lining.

Levi stroked his bushy beard in thought before snapping his fingers and suggesting, “What if we trade jobs this year?  The kids could sit on your lap and tell you what they want, and I could hand out the toys at the end; that way, all you have to do is take a seat and pose for pictures.  How does that sound?”

 Despite her trepidations, Amanda had to admit that the proposal sounded nice.  She took after her father and craved attention, regardless of how much weight she had packed on, and this would ensure she would still have her limelight.  The kids would love her, their parents would get their pictures, and she would barely have to lift a finger—what more could she ask for?

“I guess it doesn’t sound too bad,” the billionaire replied, not wanting to sound too eager about the opportunity to sit around and do nothing.

“Great!  I’ll see if I can get a costume together for you,” Levi hummed as he moved his hand down from her shoulder to her side, feeling her blossoming back rolls along the way.  “Want me to get you a refill?”

Amanda turned to give her husband a questioning look before glancing down at her bowl and realizing it was empty.  There were six scoops of ice cream, a whole cookie, and enough whipped cream to completely cover the lot just a few minutes ago, right?  How had she managed to wolf down the whole dish without even knowing it?  She desperately needed to get her appetite under control, or else they would be rolling her into the delivery room—and not in a wheelchair.

Still, she could not bring herself to outright refuse her husband’s offer.  Amanda mumbled, “Oh, I don’t want you to go through the trouble.”

“Of scooping ice cream and microwaving a cookie?  I think I can manage,” Levi chuckled.

“But it’s so late, and all that sugar’s going to keep me up all night.”

“Then what’s the harm in a little more?”

Amanda fumbled for an excuse or the magic word that would end this madness, but all she could manage was, “I, well…um…it’s just that—”

Levi cut her off by cupping her plump chin in his fingers and tilting her head up until she was looking him in the eyes.  There was a smoldering fire in those hazel eyes and a captivating stare that could command a locker room, and Amanda found herself melting in his gaze.  He leaned in to give her a kiss, his prickly beard tickling her soft cheeks, before pulling away and licking his lips.

His next words came out in a rumbling growl.  “I’m going to bring you another bowl, greedy girl, and you’re going to eat every last bite because you’re a hungry little pig.  When you finish that, I’m going to bring you another and another and another, until we can’t fit one more drop of ice cream in that black hole belly of yours.  Do you understand?”

Amanda’s lips opened and closed wordlessly as she struggled for a reply.  When nothing came to her, she squeaked out a soft, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” Levi hummed.  He stroked one of his large thumbs over her cheek, kissed her again, and then untangled himself from her arms in order to fulfill his promise.

If she was in a clearer state of mind, Amanda might have wondered what in the blue hell had gotten into her and her husband.  They had their moments of passion for sure, but never anything like this; Levi never tried to coax her with food, and she had never been so demure to him.  It had to be the medication screwing with her head again—there was simply no other explanation.  There was no way she, the Little Rich Girl and heir to the GWF throne, got off on being mollycoddled and fed like some kind of suckling pig!

That thought went out the window when Levi returned with a fresh bowlful of ice cream and placed it in her softening hands.  She stared longingly and hungrily at the dessert, but before she could take her first bite, her husband scooped up a spoonful and brought it to her wanting lips.

“Open wide, Amanda,” Levi cooed, though his eyes still had that same smoldering gaze.

The billionaire whimpered softly and wanted to contest him, but found herself opening her mouth all the same.  When the first spoonful hit her tongue, she closed her mouth and let out a low, guttural groan while her eyelids fluttered.  Her mattress thighs squirmed together in uncontrollable delight, and she eagerly opened her mouth for another bite.  That one proved to be just as good as the first, as did the next, and on and on until she was licking the bowl clean.

“M…more,” the greedy brunette whined as she lay back on the couch like an overfed housecat.  “Please, baby…I need more.”

Amanda was in an absolute state by the end of the second bowl.  Sweat beaded on her brow despite the cold of the ice cream and a few loose hairs clung to her spongy cheeks, while her tongue lolled out of her mouth and cleaned her lips of the frozen treat.  Her shirt had retreated up her stomach from all her fidgeting, revealing a thick swath of pale belly blubber, and she lacked the good sense to pull it back down.  It was as if she had waddled out of one of Levi’s fantasies.

“Anything for my growing girl,” Levi growled playfully as he bent down and gently nibbled one of Amanda’s love handles, eliciting a delirious moan from the stuffed matron.

When he left her to get another bowl of ice cream, Levi caught a glimpse of his bloated wife rubbing her stomach and cooing softly to herself.  He had no idea what was going through her mind, least of all his own, but he was going to milk this for all it was worth.  Little by little, incident by incident, he was becoming bolder in fattening Amanda, and he wondered if there would come a time when he could admit it to her.  Yet every time he wanted to breach the subject during the day, the words escaped him and he resorted to giving her larger portions and coaxing her with another helping of this or that until her belly was full to the brim.

“Someday,” he told himself while waiting for the microwave and listening to his wife’s soft hums of pleasure in the next room.  “Someday.”

***

Across town, Lane Ericson was enjoying a quiet night in with his wife, Melanie, while they watched Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 after putting their boys to bed.  As the movie played on in the background, Melanie glanced over to her husband and asked, “Hey, the office party is next week, right?”

“I guess so,” Lane answered with a shrug as he tossed a piece of popcorn in his mouth.  “Why?”

Melanie pursed her lips as she answered with another question, “Your sister…is she still going to be doing the whole Mrs. Claus thing?”

Lane let out a long sigh.  Melanie and he had been together for almost thirty years, and in all that time, she never once got along with Amanda.  There was always something that got between them, whether it was something important, like Levi being given greater authority in the GWF, or petty, like taking shots at each other’s fashion sense.  When it came to the annual Christmas party, it was a case of the latter, where Melanie joined others in their envy of Amanda flaunting her tight, perfect body.

While no one in their right mind would call her fat, Melanie had always been thicker than her sister-in-law, especially below the belt.  She was shorter than Amanda, which the Little Rich Girl had often flaunted over her, and she was lacking in bust size, though that was more down to Amanda cheating and getting some silicone assistance.  Reaching middle age had not helped either, as her stomach softened and she had to work even harder to fight the ravages of time compared to her domineering sister-in-law.

“Mel, it’s going to be fine this year,” Lane assured his pouty wife.  “Amanda’s mellowed out a lot since her doctor got her on this new prescription; she’s as docile as a lamb.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Melanie huffed.  “I just know that if she gives me that smarmy little smirk of hers, I’m throwing eggnog in her face.”

“Please don’t,” the eldest Ericson groaned.  “I know I’ve been asking this for twenty-eight years, but could you try to get along with her just this once?”

Melanie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in consternation.  It would be a cold day in Hell before she got along with that rich bitch—in fact, it would likely be longer.  It was far more likely that Amanda Ericson would pork up before they got along…fat chance of that happening, right?

[Cyril Figgis]

((Thought you weren't going to get a new chapter today?  Guess again, SHWC Universe!  Amanda's story could not wait to be told, and I think you're going to love how this plays out.  Sit back, put up your feet, and enjoy!))

CHAPTER 61

In the days leading up to the office Christmas party, Amanda’s appetite grew even ravenous as her nerves got the better of her.  The last time she had been in front of everyone at the GWF, headquarters, she had been a lean, mean, business conducting machine, but that was months ago.  Ever since then, she had done almost nothing but eat and grow fat, wrecking a figure that had remained tight and toned since her college days.  For all her talk of being a model of restraint and different from all the rest of the lazy, overgrown stay-home moms, the Little Rich Girl found she was no better than anybody.

Levi and she made their way out to the party a while after it started, neither of them wanting to risk Amanda overdoing it.  They would have enough time to drop in, mingle for a bit, and then change for their turn as Mr. and Mrs. Claus, which would take a little longer than normal, given the heavily pregnant matron’s unwieldy body.  On the way over, Amanda’s fingers twitched and she checked herself in the mirror more times than she could count, a swarm of butterflies fluttering about inside her mammoth belly.  If she was still the same size she was a few months ago, she might have been able to handle this without fear, but now, she was debating whether or not she should take the wheel and drive back home, where no one would judge her for getting so soft and flabby.

Sensing his wife’s distress—not that it was not glaringly obvious—Levi asked, “Babe, you want to stop and get a snack?  A little treat might help take the edge off.”

Amanda shook her head and folded her hands over her belly in an effort to stop them shaking quite so much.  As she meekly protested against more food, her breathing grew quicker and her words became as frantic as her anxious thoughts, “The last thing I need is more food, Levi.  I had to pour myself into my clothes this morning and just getting into the car wore me out.  I’m going to be talking with people I haven’t seen in months and they don’t know what I look like now and I feel like a huge, big, disgusting blimp but I’m too tired to do anything about it and—”

Suddenly, an invasive straw cut her off mid-panic attack.  So distracted was the brunette that she failed to notice Levi had pulled up to a drive-thru, purchased a large milkshake, and put it in her hands, where she started guzzling it on instinct.  The sweet, rich taste of eggnog filled her mouth, and before she could snap at her husband, she went back for another long drag on the straw.  Whether it was the flavor, the temperature, or simply that she was filling her belly, Amanda felt a little better, even though she knew all those calories would be far from helpful.

 “Thank you,” the meek matron murmured.

“Anything for my princess,” Levi hummed as he reached over and rested his hand on her belly.  “You just nurse that until we get to the party, okay?  Take a couple deep breaths, count to ten, and think about the how the kids are going to love you.”

Amanda nodded and returned to her milkshake, calmed down to the point that she was no longer in danger of hyperventilating.  Levi was right: she needed to slow down, cool her jets, and not worry about what people were going to think.  Today was supposed to be about the kids, and they would not care what Mrs. Claus looked like, so long as she was nice to them and told them what they wanted to hear.  This would be a piece of cake for her—as easy as cutting a deal in the boardroom.  All she had to do was sit back, sip her milkshake, and relax…although, now that she thought about it, the milkshake was missing a little something to offset the sweetness.

“Babe, can you swing through another drive-thru?  I could do with some fries…”

***

By the time the couple arrived at the party, Amanda had finished her milkshake, a large box of fries, and a 12-pack box of spicy chicken nuggets.  Her stomach still grumbled for more, but she knew that she had to start showing some restraint once she got inside.  People were going to see she had gotten fat in her time off; they did not need to see her making a pig of herself.  She pinched her hand to snap out of that line of thinking, lest she start spiraling again, and took Levi’s arm as she waddled into the GWF headquarters.

The party was held in its usual place—the dining hall, which had been dressed to the nines in all sorts of Christmas decorations.  Tinsel was draped this way and that, fake snow sprinkled all about the room, and tree trimmings adorned each table.  A large tree and snowman had been placed in the center of the room, and up against the far wall was a red and white striped throne meant for the afternoon’s entertainment.  They had come a far cry from the early days of the annual party, when the GWF was stretching its wings and budget in its national expansion, and all they could afford was elementary school-level decorations. 

The first people to spot the couple were Lane and Melanie, and their reactions could not have been any more different if they had planned them.  Lane, who had stopped by every other week or so and knew about Amanda’s expansion, greeted his sister and brother-in-law with open arms and a smarmy grin.  Melanie, on the other hand, had not been over a single time since Amanda first announced her pregnancy; she kept her distance in general and had been sick Thanksgiving Day.  Thus, when she got her first glimpse of her now rotund rival, Melanie had to try with all her might to not let her jaw drop to the floor.

There was no way the woman in front of her could be Amanda Ericson Hunter—the Little Rich Girl who ruled with an iron fist.  She had Amanda’s face, but it was puffy, bloated, and, in an unintentionally festive way, rosy-cheeked.  Everything about her was so round and bulbous, it was as if someone had stuck a hose in the commissioner and turned a helium tank to full blast.  This chunky caricature stretched her clothes to max capacity, and Melanie was sure that if she listened close, she might hear threads straining.  She also thought she saw a hint of crumbs around the fat girl’s lips, which Amanda would never be caught with.  No, this was not the woman Melanie had been feuding with for years—this was a doughball who could not control her appetite, let alone a global corporation.

“There they are!” Lane enthusiastically greeted his sister and brother-in-law.  “We were starting to worry you wouldn’t make it, and that we’d have to cancel Christmas this year.”

Levi chuckled and rubbed the nape of his neck as he lied, “Well, we got caught up in traffic.  Holiday shopping, you know?”

After Lane gave his sister a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he went off with Levi, leaving the two wives alone for the first time in forever.  Melanie did her best to hide her schadenfreude, but there was no denying the Grinchy grin that spread across her thin lips at the sight of a very plump and very nervous Amanda.  While she wanted nothing more than to tear her nemesis a new one, she had promised Lane that she would at least try to get along with his sister.  That did not mean she could not be catty; it just meant she had to be a bit more subtle about it.

“My god, Amanda, I hardly recognized you,” Melanie hummed.  “You’re positively glowing!”

Amanda cast her head down and let out a nervous chuckle, “Oh, I’m…I’m really not.”

“Nonsense!  Motherhood suits you, especially with this third go-around,” Melanie remarked.  She reached out and gave Amanda’s massive baby bump a rub, which made the brunette squirm in place.  With a wicked smirk, she told Amanda, “My gosh, you must be ready to pop any day now!”

“N-Not for another few months,” the Little Rich Girl admitted, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment.  She recognized Melanie’s taunt as something she herself had said to her sister-in-law during each of her pregnancies, never expecting it to be turned on her at some point.  All her fears about coming to the party were coming true, and Amanda wanted nothing more than to run back to the car and hide for the next few hours.

Melanie clapped a hand over her mouth in false shock and apologized, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Amanda!  It must just be because you’ve got triplets this time.  Let me make it up to you by getting you some snacks—Rita in accounting made some millionaire’s shortbread that is to die for.”

“I really shouldn’t; I had a pretty big lunch before we left the house,” Amanda fibbed.  “I…I should probably get ready for the kids.”

“Oh, come on, it’s just a couple cookies between friends,” Melanie goaded her sister-in-law.  “Besides, you can’t just run off without saying hi to everyone!  There’re a few gals here who would just love to see how you’ve been coming along.”

With that, the dark-haired woman wrapped an arm around Amanda’s shoulder and pulled her in close before making their way into the party proper.  Amanda could not find the strength or courage to break out of Melanie’s grasp and meekly accepted her fate.  After years of taunting and acting like she was still the queen bee of high school, she knew that she deserved this.  All she could do was hope that her tormentors had the decency to give her backhanded compliments rather than out and out insults.

***

When Levi finally rescued Amanda from Melanie, she had already eaten her way through three plates of appetizers and two glasses of hot cocoa.  He had found her surrounded by several staff members, all women that had an axe to grind with the former beauty queen of the GWF.  Thankfully, Amanda had not been reduced to tears as he had feared she might; indeed, she almost looked like she was having fun.  If only he knew that his wide, weak-willed wife was so anxious that she could not help but grin and laugh, and that she wished she were under a rock.

Once the couple had made their way to a conference room to change into their costumes, Amanda clung to Levi’s arm and took several deep gasps of air, as if she had been holding her breath for the last half hour.  Levi instinctively held his hefty honey close and asked, “Amanda, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Levi, it was awful,” Amanda sobbed into her husband’s shoulder.  “They were all so mean and nasty and now I’m wondering if I was ever that bad and oh god what if I was and—”

“Amanda, slow down,” Levi gently told his wife as he cradled her in his powerful arms.  “It looked like you were all having a good time.  What happened?”

Amanda sniffled, “Everything they said was a slap in the face.  They couldn’t stop talking about how ‘healthy’ I looked, how I must be eating for four, and that they liked how I dressed like I don’t care what people think.  It’s Mean Girl 101, Levi!  God, if I was ever that catty, I need to apologize to just about everyone at my high school reunion!”

Levi rocked Amanda in his arms and held her close as she shook with pent-up panic.  He kissed the top of her head and hummed softly, “Don’t worry about what them; they’re just jealous because you look damned good no matter what.  Just take a couple minutes and some deep breaths—you’re going to be fine.”

After her anxieties subsided, Amanda let go of Levi and got to changing into her costume, though it was a very simple change compared to her husband.  All she had to do was tease off her sweater and wrap herself in a burgundy cloak with white fur trim, while Levi had to slip into an entire Santa suit plus stuff a pillow under his tank top.  He put on a flowing wig of white locks and sprinkled baby powder in his beard, and Amanda threw on a bonnet and a pair of fake spectacles.

“Looking good, Mrs. C,” Levi hummed as he gently placed his hands on his wife’s expansive hips.

“I look like an old biddy,” Amanda grumbled, though she slowly rocked in her husband’s grasp.

“You look adorable, Amanda,” the burly man reminded her.  He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and brushed away some of the powder that was left behind.  “Now, let’s go make some kids happy.”

***

The reaction Mr. and Mrs. Claus got when they walked back into the party was enough to put a smile back on Amanda’s face.  The parents all acted like it was a big surprise that the special guests had come down from the North Pole and the kids were delighted to see their holiday hero making an appearance at their parents’ boring office party.  Levi hammed it up by clapping his fake belly and letting out a jolly, booming laugh, while Amanda smiled and waved like the Queen of England.  It was just what she needed to shake off the jitters from earlier.

“All right, folks, we’re going to do things a little different this year,” Levi told the partygoers as he guided Amanda into her throne for the afternoon.  “Mrs. Claus and I thought it might be fun to change jobs this year—she’ll be taking your Christmas wishes, and ol’ St. Nick is going to give you a little gift!  How does that sound?”

“Sounds like Santa got tired of visiting every mall in America and wanted to share the joy,” Amanda teased, much to the delight of the grown-ups in attendance.

When she took her seat, the fake Mrs. Claus gestured to the side of the throne and told the children, “All right, let’s see if we can’t make a nice line and get started!”

With a little help from Levi and a couple other parents, the kids were able to form a single-file line and waited for their turn with bated breath.  The first in line was a moppet that could have passed for Shirley Temple, and she carried a plate with two sugar cookies and a cup of eggnog.  Curiously, she did not let go of either, even as Levi lifted her up and onto Amanda’s lap.

“Sweetie, wouldn’t you like to set your snack down?” Mrs. Claus asked in a warm, homey tone.

The little girl shook her head and replied, “They’re not my snack—they’re for you!”

“F-For me?” Amanda parroted, her eyebrow arching in curiosity.

“Mommy said that we’re supposed to give Santa milk and cookies, but since you’re switching jobs, we should give them to you,” the little girl explained.  “’Course, we didn’t have any milk—just that gross eggnog—but Mommy says that grown-ups like it just as much.”

Amanda gave a quick glance out to the audience of parents and saw one of the women in marketing taking a multitude of pictures on her phone.  She was in the same crowd that Melanie had presented her to earlier, and was one of many who took delight in seeing the former bombshell’s body balloon.  No doubt this was one more jab at her weight, but the Little Rich Girl was not going to be baited so easily.  She would show those harpies that she could take whatever they threw at her—a couple cookies were nothing.

“Why, thank you,” Amanda hummed as she ate up the cookies and eggnog and ignored the peanut gallery.  “That’s so very sweet of you.  Now, why don’t you go see Santa for your toy, okay?”

Unfortunately, the brunette billionaire did not know she had opened herself up to a deluge of cookies and creamy drink.  It seemed that the moms in attendance had conspired to make a fool of her and their kids had become their unwitting pawns, as each child had a plate of cookies and a cup of eggnog just for Amanda.  She had set a precedent with her first visitor and, not wanting to deny any of the children, had no choice but to accept each offering.  What had started as a seemingly simple task had quickly become daunting, as all the cookies added up in her belly and the eggnog served to fill every nook and cranny until there was no room left.

Amanda’s stomach was already full of her fast food splurge and her snacks from earlier, and all these gifts did little to help her.  She felt like a sack being stuffed to capacity and she worried that the next cookie might be the one to make her pop, but it never came.  The only thing she got from holding on a little longer was fuller, until she felt like the water in her blood had been replaced with eggnog and her DNA had been spliced with sugar.  Through it all, the bloated brunette maintained a jolly disposition, though she clearly became foggier as the line whittled down.

By the time the final child had come and gone and the partygoers applauded, Amanda was ready to pass out on the spot.  Her eyes were glassy, her brain was swimming in all the eggnog, and even more crumbs speckled her ruby lips.  While her cheeks had been rosy from the cold and embarrassment earlier, they were now pink from the sheer exertion of consuming a good few dozen cookies.  She wanted to rest her hands on her stomach for some comfort, but her arms hung limp at her side like wet noodles and she lacked the strength to lift so much as a finger.  The Little Rich Girl was well and truly stuffed, to the point that simply breathing hurt.

“You did amazing, hon,” Levi whispered as he used a napkin to clean Amanda’s lips.  “How are you feeling?”

Amanda could do little but gurgle as her head slump back against the throne.  “So…full…ate…so…much…”

“Well, you just rest here, and I’ll get you a little water,” the burly man hummed as he stroked her cheek before leaving for the drink table.

As Amanda huffed and puffed, Melanie smirked down at her rival, too stuffed to even think straight.  She took one last picture of the fattened heiress and purred, “Merry Christmas to me.”

[Cyril Figgis]

((Welcome back to another installment of the only five-star wrestling/weight gain story out there!  After a rough week or two in the wrestling industry, I thought we could do with some lightness with this new installment.  I hope that you enjoy reading this, and please let me know what you think!))

CHAPTER 62

As the month of December crept on and closer to Christmas, the holiday found its way into all facets of the wrestling world.  Global Wrestling Federation added more and more decorations to the sets for their weekly shows and incorporated festive props into some of the matches in the undercard, like candy canes taking the place of chairs and people getting bashed in the head with presents.  It was all safe, campy fun that did little to upset fans and kept the sponsors and networks happy, which was exactly what Dave Ericson wanted.

The independent circuit did this in abundance and, since they did not have corporate sponsors to appease, shows could often go beyond what was allowed on TV.  During a show in Extreme Knoxville Wrestling, a wrestler dressed as Krampus interrupted a match, beat one of the competitors with a switch, and dragged off a valet in a burlap sack.  The Harlem Wrestling Association once had a group of little people dress as elves to save a Santa impersonator from a kendo stick beating.  High Octane Wrestling held a “1,643 Ornaments Death Match”, wherein the ring was lined with the aforementioned ornaments and, over the course of the match, were all shattered and embedded in the competitors.

Dare-Devil Wrestling was no exception to this demented holiday cheer, as each year featured wrestlers being strangled with string lights, battered with snow shovels, and gagged with stockings.  It was all part of Jack and Connie Nelson’s plans to provide some alternative entertainment to the standard holiday fare and give their roster a chance to unwind after a long year.  The dark humor and creative inversions of the season had become a staple of the promotion, and wrestlers would regularly pitch ideas for their own zany matches.

Of course, not everyone was pleased with these yuletide gimmicks, as was the case with one Maggie Torres.  The diva found herself with her tag partner, Sharon Goode, at the headquarters of DDW, which was a small office in a business park—far from the auspicious halls of the GWF.  They sat across from Connie Nelson, who did not take kindly to Maggie’s uppity attitude and gave her a stern glare every time she spoke.

“I’m just saying, we’re the Wild Roses!  We’re a couple of classy bitches, you know,” Maggie explained to Connie while fiddling with her hair.  “If we’re going to be champions someday, it doesn’t make much sense for us to get involved in this kiddy crap.”

“Maggie, everyone on the roster gets involved in this ‘kiddy crap’ at some point or another—even our top draws,” the elderly booker reasoned with her snooty employee.  “I ain’t saying you have to enter to Christmas carols until the day itself, but you’ve got to work with me here.”

Maggie rolled her eyes and retorted, “Connie, it’s so not happening.  Sharon and I aren’t going to debase ourselves like that—right, Share?”

The bespectacled redhead, who had let Maggie do most of the talking for the meeting, shrugged her shoulders in reply.  She told her friend, “I honestly wouldn’t mind it too much, Mags.  It could be a good way to get some pops from the crowd, and we could use that when we start going for the titles.  We could even make Clip of the Week!”

“Et tu, Sharon?” Maggie groaned.

Connie crossed her arms and looked the diva in the eyes as she explained, “You ain’t got to do anything you don’t want, Maggie, but I’d ask that y’all think about it.  I would never send you out there to make a fool of yourself, especially with what we’ve got for you girls coming down the pipe.  I just need y’all to trust me and be a ‘team player’.”

The trio sat in silence as they mulled over the situation.  Maggie knew that she sounded like a brat making demands, but in her eyes, it was only because she knew her worth as a competitor.  She had big plans for her in-ring career, and she did not want prospective promotions to look back at her work and find some hokey holiday act thrown in there.  Truthfully, she had far more pressing matters when it came to her career—namely, getting her appetite under control.

Over the last few months, Maggie’s starlet figure had gone to **—or rather, potbelly.  A love of dark beer and a burgeoning hunger had led to her toned body softening at the edges, rounding out her angles and dancing her of her glamorous physique.  Unfortunately, she was too vain to recognize that she had truly gained as much as she did; no matter how much people needled her, it could not be anywhere as bad as they said.  Thus, she allowed herself to expand until she had outgrown most of her clothes and attended this meeting in a tacky pink tracksuit, which clung to her like a second skin and made her look even fatter than she truly was.

Mercifully, Maggie’s face had remained relatively slender, though her cheeks had gotten a touch softer and hid her cheekbones.  Her breasts, once the envy of many, were sagging under their new weight due the flab outpacing the muscle underneath.  Likewise, her arms thickened and expanded like two tubes of cookie dough, caking her biceps in a modest layer of pudge that was pliable to the touch.  Maggie’s hips still had just enough roundness to remain sensual, but the saddlebags blossoming beneath detracted from her seductive, voluptuous charms.  Her thighs squished against each other even while standing, and she had taken to using lotion after a long day on her feet.  At least her backside still turned heads, though no one would admit it was because it was far rounder than it had any reason being.

If that were all, no one would have really batted an eyelid at Maggie’s gain, but the part that benefitted from her uptake in calories the most was a bulbous belly that stuck out from her abdomen like a pregnant woman’s stomach.  The globular gut was no mountain of blubber, like her cousin’s gargantuan stomach, nor was it a waterfall of flab—it was the tummy of a drunkard.  Round as a bubble and almost firm to the touch, Maggie had grown a handsome beer belly that reached out farther than any of her other curves and threatened to block her view of her feet.  Like the rest of her fattening form though, the diva turned a blind eye to it and told herself she was still as fit as before.

“Look, I know plenty of people might be fine with it, but I’m not plenty of people,” Maggie told Connie while crossing her arms over her chest and resting atop her stomach.  “When I step out there, I want to show people what wrestling really is, you know?”

“With all due respect, honey, wrestling ain’t never gonna be what it used to be,” the booker rebutted.  “You can’t put the genie back in the bottle, and you can’t go back to the days of rasslin’; the best you can do is roll with it and give people entertainment they won’t get nowhere else.”

Before either woman got stuck and started spinning their wheels, Sharon chimed in and suggested, “What if we work with that?  We could come in and dismiss all this holiday stuff, and the Rodeo Twins decide to teach us a lesson to humble us.”

Maggie and Connie glanced over at the redhead, the latter even waving her hand to show she wanted Sharon to continue.  Blushing, the demure woman explained, “They could jump us either after a match or backstage, using all these presents and candy canes and such, and beat us until we’re black and blue.  That way, we get sympathy and Maggie can say that she didn’t do a holiday match.”

“That might could work,” Connie mused as she leaned back in her chair.  “We use that as a stepping stone, we could start building to something next year.”

Maggie, however, remained nonplussed.  She pouted and grumbled, “Why can’t I just beat their asses then and there?  Our stock would be worth a lot more if we came out on top.”

“Ain’t how it works, Maggie,” retorted Connie.  “Every champion’s got to start somewhere; no one comes out of the gate unstoppable.  You want to be booked as unstoppable, you’ve got to earn them titles—no negotiatin’.”

When it became clear that this was the best deal she could get, Maggie sighed and slumped her shoulders.  “Fine, but I want to make sure this goes places.  I’m a Torres, and we don’t take kindly to being jokes, entiendes?”

“I read you loud and clear.  Now, y’all go enjoy the rest of your day; I’ll be makin’ sure tomorrow night’s show is tighter than a sailor’s knot,” Connie told the tag team as she shooed them from her office.  “I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

***

“She’s going to screw us, Sharon—I just know it!”

Sharon rubbed the bridge of her nose as Maggie complained for the dozenth time since leaving the DDW offices.  It was moments like this that almost made her regret partnering with the bombshell; she knew toddlers that threw tantrums softer than Maggie did.  Ever since their meeting with Connie, the diva had whined and griped nonstop about how unfair it was, how they were going to screw her over, how no one in the promotion liked her, and on and on.  Though she briefly considered steering into oncoming traffic to shut her partner up, Sharon managed to restrain herself.  There were better, less risky ways to silence Maggie Torres.

“Mags, how about we get some lunch before we stop at the mall?” asked Sharon as she pulled into the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maggie answered eagerly.  Despite the fact she had already eaten a hefty breakfast that morning and a ‘light’ lunch of a footlong BLT that day, her pampered belly gurgled for more food.  “I’m probably just a little hangry, that’s all.”

Sharon hoped that a little culinary therapy was all her friend needed, because she was not sure she could handle Maggie Torres’ bitching and moaning for the rest of the afternoon.  The two of them walked into the restaurant and were immediately hit with the smell of fried chicken, rice, and sweet and sour sauce.  It was a quaint place with a modest décor—not like some of the tackier restaurants scattered around town that pretended like they were in Las Vegas and not Albuquerque.  Thankfully, they had gotten in after the lunch rush, and there were plenty of tables for the tag team.

“Can I get you any drinks?” asked the waitress after Sharon and Maggie took their seats.

“Just a water for me,” answered the redhead.

Maggie hummed, “Let me get a Diet Coke—I’m trying to watch what I eat, you know.”

Either the waitress did not quite understand Maggie or she did not believe her, but she smiled and ducked away to prepare the drinks.  That left Sharon and her drama queen partner to peruse their menus, but the more sensible of the duo already knew what she wanted.  Sharon was a creature of habit, and she always got sesame chicken with brown rice and a spring roll no matter where she went.  On the other hand, Maggie had much more difficulty picking something from the menu, as every new item sounded positively delectable.

“Gawd, do I want the sweet and sour shrimp or the Mongolian trio?  The happy family sounds pretty good, but so does the mother and child reunion,” Maggie mused as she licked her lips.

“Don’t forget the sides,” Sharon reminded her hungry partner.  “You can’t not have some fried rice or ** stickers.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to have a huge gut bomb, Share,” the diva replied as she patted her stomach.  “I eat too much, and I’m just going to crash before we even set foot in the mall.”

Sharon bit her lip as she tried not to show how appealing that idea was to her.  Where these thoughts and desires came from, who could say, but as Maggie had swollen up over the last few months, so had Sharon’s want for her.  She wanted—needed—to see how much her partner could consume, and had taken to slipping her food whenever she could.  Sometimes, it would be getting more for Maggie, especially after the diva had one too many to drink; other times, it was offering what was left of her dish.  The lush Latina was none the wiser and gleefully lapped up whatever was given to her, which only served to make Sharon bolder.

“Tell you what—why don’t you let me order for you?” asked the redhead.  “And you want to see something really cool when I do it?”

“You know it,” Maggie replied with a smirk.

When the waitress returned, Sharon looked up to her and asked, "Nǐ shuō shénme fāngyán?”

Pleasantly surprised, the waitress glanced to Maggie, who shared in the shock.  The young woman answered Sharon, “Wǒ shuō pǔtōnghuà!”

After that, the two talked back and forth for what felt like forever, leaving Maggie stunned speechless for the first time in a long time.  She had no idea that her partner could speak Chinese, much less fluently, and could only wonder what Sharon was saying.  It was a shame she could not understand; if she could, she might have been spared a culinary onslaught.

“My friend is really hungry, so I was wondering if I could get a dinner-sized portion for her?” Sharon asked the waitress with a toothy grin on her face.

“It’ll cost a little more, but that won’t be a problem,” answered the young woman.

“Great!  Then she’ll have a plate of orange beef with pork fried rice and an egg roll.  Oh, and when you bring her next soda, could you make it a normal?  Trust me—she won’t be able to tell the difference,” the redhead giggled.

The waitress tittered along with her and told her, “Not a problem.  I’ll be right out!”

As the waitress waltzed off to prepare the order, Maggie leaned over the table and exclaimed, “Share, I didn’t know you spoke Chinese!”

“My family hosted a foreign exchange student for a couple years,” Sharon replied with pink in her cheeks and pride in her voice.  “I’m a little rusty, but I still remember a good bit.”

“Sounded pretty fluent to me,” the diva chuckled.  “What’d you order for me?”

“Not much—just some orange beef with a couple sides.  You don’t need to finish it all if you don’t want to,” answered the redhead.

It did not take long for their meals to be prepared.  When the waitress returned, she left a modest plate of sesame chicken in front of Sharon and a hefty plate in front of a shocked Maggie.  The lush Latina glanced down at the sizable portion and asked, “Is this really a lunch plate?  This could last me for the rest of the day!”

“She said they were a little big,” Sharon fibbed with a shrug.  “I’m not really that hungry, so I just got an appetizer size.  If you run out of room, I could always take a little off your plate.”

Maggie nodded and replied, “Thanks, Share.  Let me see how I’m feeling in a little bit—I haven’t really had much to eat today, after all.”

It was a bold-faced lie, but Sharon was not about to contest it—not if it meant seeing her gorgeous tag partner stuff herself to capacity with greasy Chinese food.  She took her time working on her plate, as she had found it helped Maggie forget just how much she was eating, and watched with bated breath as her friend shoveled in bite after bite.  Shame that Maggie never really drank during the day; if she had a beer to wet her whistle, she would have found the strength to eat even more than this.

Despite her protestations, the lush Latina happily plowed through her meal without a second thought.  It could all be worked off later on, or so she told herself, but the truth was that all the sodium and MSG was going to knock her for a loop as soon as she got back in the car.  That would be a problem for Future Maggie though, as Present Maggie was more than happy to eat until she had consumed every last grain of rice and shred of beef.

“Look, I promise this is the last I’ll talk about it, Share, but I just think we need to think about our careers, you know?” the diva asked her partner in between bites.  “We’re not going to be in Dare-Devil forever, right?  We’ve got to think big picture if we’re going to make it anywhere.”

“I hear you, but there’s no harm in having a little fun,” Sharon contested.  “The wrestling industry is changing, Mags, and what the people want to see is stuff they won’t find anywhere else but in the ring.  Plenty of folks get into crazy stuff!”

“Yeah, but they’re at a point where they can do that and it won’t impact their careers.  If we want to be taken seriously, we need to act like professionals, you know?” Maggie reasoned after gulping down a heaping spoonful of fried rice.

Sharon took a sip of water and answered, “We can still be professionals and have fun, Mags.”

“Only after we’ve made it big,” the diva scoffed, “and I plan on being one of the biggest stars the wrestling biz has ever seen…”

[Guest ratetankmark]

This was just an amazing part, as usual, but I can tell that you really put effort and time into this and I really appreciate that as a reader.  I have no idea how you write such long fics, but they never feel that long and the descriptions of not only the girls' bodies but the little things like describing the Christmas themed set when you didn't really need to shows that you have gone the extra mile with this to help everything feel like you're actually there. Also the banter between the various characters is always a treat to read, I can't wait to see where this goes from here.  

[Cyril Figgis]

2 hours ago, ratetankmark said:

This was just an amazing part, as usual, but I can tell that you really put effort and time into this and I really appreciate that as a reader.  I have no idea how you write such long fics, but they never feel that long and the descriptions of not only the girls' bodies but the little things like describing the Christmas themed set when you didn't really need to shows that you have gone the extra mile with this to help everything feel like you're actually there. Also the banter between the various characters is always a treat to read, I can't wait to see where this goes from here.  

Thank you so much!  My chapters might not be the longest compared to other stories, but I try to make sure they're dense with material.  

[Cyril Figgis]

((Hey everyone, just wanted to give a quick update on the next chapter.  I meant to have it ready for today, but when looking at the in-story calendar, I realized that there was a different subplot I should do before continuing with Maggie and Sharon.  As such, I started a new chapter from scratch, and it's taking a little time to get ready.  I'm going to post the whole thing on Friday, but in the meantime, I want to give you all a little taste of what's to come!))

It was originally supposed to be a nice, quiet trip up to the mountains.  Taylor Rose had made arrangements for her mentor and crush, Maxine Kuhn, and friend and rival, Rea Rider, to spend the weekend up in her uncle’s cabin.  The cabin had some basic supplies in the form of canned goods, but the girls brought plenty of their own, especially Maxine.  Not only did she want to make sure that she kept her two favorite girls satisfied, but also to share in some Hanukkah spirit by whipping up plenty of fried food.  Latkes, sufganiot, honey balls, knishes, and more filled the menu in her head, and hopefully, her partners’ bellies.  It was shaping up to be a nice, quiet trip with a little alternative holiday fun.

Then the blizzard hit—the worst storm of the decade.  The tubby trio was snowed in overnight and woke up to a bed of frost piled all the way to the very top of the roof.  A crew would be out to clear the way, but with how treacherous the mountain roads could be, it would take a few days for anyone to get to the cabin.  Thankfully, there was a generator to provide power to the building, and plenty of firewood to keep things warm.  A quick call into town to let the higher-ups in Youngblood Wrestling know they were safe, and the girls were set for what they assumed would only be a long weekend...

[Cyril Figgis]

((All right, you marks, I promised you a new chapter and it's time I delivered!  This chapter gets a little mushy, but what's wrestling without a little soap opera?  So, sit back and enjoy a new chapter in the Cure for the Common WG Story!))

CHAPTER 63

 

It was originally supposed to be a nice, quiet trip up to the mountains.  Taylor Rose had made arrangements for her mentor and crush, Maxine Kuhn, and friend and rival, Rea Rider, to spend the weekend up in her uncle’s cabin.  The cabin had some basic supplies in the form of canned goods, but the girls brought plenty of their own, especially Maxine.  Not only did she want to make sure that she kept her two favorite girls satisfied, but also to share in some Hanukkah spirit by whipping up plenty of fried food.  Latkes, sufganiot, honey balls, knishes, and more filled the menu in her head, and hopefully, her partners’ bellies.  It was shaping up to be a nice, quiet trip with a little alternative holiday fun.

Then the blizzard hit—the worst storm of the decade.  The tubby trio was snowed in overnight and woke up to a bed of frost piled all the way to the very top of the roof.  A crew would be out to clear the way, but with how treacherous the mountain roads could be, it would take a few days for anyone to get to the cabin.  Thankfully, there was a generator to provide power to the building, and plenty of firewood to keep things warm.  A quick call into town to let the higher-ups in Youngblood Wrestling know they were safe, and the girls were set for what they assumed would only be a long weekend.

Taylor, ever cautious and observant, had her nose in the news all morning long.  Despite Maxine’s assurances that they would be okay until the plows made their way up the mountain, the anxious girl could not help but fret.  Her mind filled with horror stories of all varieties, and they all led to the rescue crews finding a gruesome scene when they eventually made it up—if they ever did.

“Rosie, come have some latkes!” Rea called out from the nook across the room, her mouth full of potato.  “They’re still hot and fresh!”

“In a minute,” Taylor grunted back at the ditzy redhead.  Of all the people she had to be snowed in with, why did one of them have to be Rea Rider?  Though she did not hate her as much as she used to, the stout girl still bore some resentment to Rea for swooping in and stealing Maxine’s attention.  She was prepared for a weekend together with the redhead, but any longer than that and she might lose her mind.

“Hey, Princess, food’s on,” Maxine told her protégé as she crossed the room with a plate of latkes.  “You can take a few minutes to have a snack; the news ain’t going to change anytime soon.”

Taylor sighed and glanced up at her friend, who towered over both her and Rea.  Maxine Kuhn was looking more and more like her old self with each passing week, due in no small part to Taylor and Rea’s companionship and the distance between her and Sadie.  She was constantly working out, squeezing exercise into most activities throughout the day, which helped burn off the flab she had accumulated over the last two years and gave way to firm muscles.  While she was still a thick woman and very overweight, even for someone her size, she felt like a million bucks and carried herself as such.

Her long, brown hair was swept to one side in a cascade of chocolate locks, and she had squeezed herself into a pair of white tights that accentuated her shapely thighs and a sweater that emphasized her diminishing stomach and pronounced bosom.  It was not so long ago that Maxine would not have dared to wear such clothes, opting instead for sweats that could hide her bulk, but the encouragement of her lady friends bolstered her confidence and pushed her back into her old comfort zone.  It had taken some time, but she was feeling like her old self again—the woman she used to be before she allowed Sadie Storme to sink her hooks in.

“All right, all right,” Taylor relented, mostly because of Maxine’s beaming grin.  “Let’s have ‘em.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” Maxine chided with a shake of her head and finger.  “TV off, then snacks.”

Taylor rolled her eyes but obliged all the same, turning off the news and rocking to her feet.  That was becoming more and more common for her—having to gain momentum in order to stand up—but that was to be expected when she looked and felt like she had a basketball at her waist.  Ever since she caught on that Maxine appreciated girls with healthy appetites, the jealous girl had been stuffing herself whenever she was around her Amazonian idol.  Lunches, dinners, and post-workout snacks all found their way to her thickening waist, and with her shorter build, each pound gained from these lavish meals were much more obvious.  She made a conscious choice to avoid the scale, but there was no way she was anything less than 200 pounds.

When she finally rose from the couch, Maxine rewarded her with a latke that Taylor immediately took a bite out of.  She could not deny the little hum of delight that came from her lips, and the stout girl took another, much bigger bite that filled her chubby chipmunk cheeks.  Maxine watched with barely contained glee as Taylor finished off the potato pancake and even licked her fingers clean.

“Good, right?  They’re my Bubby’s recipe,” Maxine boasted with a puffed up chest, like a very fat robin.  “I finally got her to teach me how to make them, even if I had to put her in a half nelson to get her to give it up.”

“Well, I won’t be fighting you for them, but they are pretty damn tasty,” Taylor hummed pleasantly.  “If that’s what we’ve got to look forward to this weekend, I can’t wait.”

“Then sit yourself down at the table, and I’ll bring you over some more with your lunch,” the towering hostess told her diminutive partner with a bump to the hip.

Taylor had a blush on her cheeks all the way over to the nook, where she joined Rea on a bench built into the wall.  The airhead was chomping away at what had to be her third latke in the last five minutes, and she showed no signs of slowing down when lunch arrived.  While Taylor had some reservations about putting on more weight, Rea had taken to the practice like a duck to water.  It was difficult to tell if she was trying to please her gargantuan lover or because she honestly loved it, and Taylor was not about to ask for clarification.  The less she knew about her rival’s sex life, the better.

“Gawd, that smells so good,” Rea cooed when she took a whiff of the aromas emanating from the kitchen.  She then flashed a cheeky grin at Taylor and patted her stomach, saying, “And it’s going to feel even better when it goes in here.”

The Shawnee girl glanced over at her ditzy companion and took stock of how much she had changed since she began courting Maxine.  Rea had not been slender to begin with, but she was thick with muscle and had a four-pack of abs that she displayed proudly in the ring.  Once she got a taste of being stuffed like a Christmas goose on a regular basis though, her muscles became coated with a fine layer of pudge that made her soft to the touch.  Her chest had blossomed into a hefty pair of melons that obscured her view of her potbelly—no easy feat, considering the glob of fat made her look like she swallowed a bowling ball.  Regular exercise meant that her backside remained pert and full, but her cheeks were developing serious heft and bounce.

“Some girls have all the luck,” Taylor grumbled to herself before looking away.

“Wuzzat?” asked Rea, mouth full of potato.

“Nothing—nothing at all,” the jealous girl snapped.

Before Rea could probe further, Maxine returned with a platter full of smoked salmon sandwiches and a plate of latkes for Taylor.  Distracted by the prospect of more food, Rea giddily clapped her hands together and snatched a sandwich before her girlfriend could even set the plate down.  The greediness was not lost on Maxine, who giggled at the display and playfully slapped the redhead’s thieving hand.

“Down, girl—at least let me serve the food first,” the towering woman chuckled.  “I swear, you’re as bad as my old dog.”

“But a lot cuter,” Rea teased.

“Debatable,” Maxine retorted with a wink.

Taylor turned her head so neither woman could see her roll back in disbelief.  It was moments like these when their relationship became unbearable for her, when she felt like an unenthusiastic third wheel who just had to be witness to their sappiness.  Sometimes, she wondered why she even bothered trying to win over Maxine; it was clear that the Amazon only saw her as a friend and nothing more.  Suggesting this getaway had been a bad idea, as it was only bringing out the worst in her, and the snowstorm did nothing to help.

As Maxine sat down to join the two, she looked over to Taylor and asked, “Tay, you feeling okay?  Plenty to go around!”

The stout girl was rather hungry and she was certain that the sandwiches were good, but her heart simply was not in it.  Instead, she rose from the table and told Maxine, “Sorry—I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.  I’ll see how I’m feeling later.”

“Oh,” the giantess replied with a pout.  “Well, I hope you’re feeling better by dinner; I’m making up my world famous brisket!”

“Can’t wait to try it,” Taylor said softly before exiting to her bedroom for the weekend.  The way she was feeling, she would be lucky if she got anything down; her stomach was turning and twisting into all sorts of knots.  Hopefully, some sleep would help settle her fevered thoughts.

Back at the kitchen table, Maxine watched her little friend mope out of the room with her tail between her legs.  While she was not aware of Taylor’s feelings towards her, she cared deeply for the rookie, as she was the first real connection Maxine had made when she was sent to Youngblood.  She hated seeing the poor girl like that, but she hated even more that she had no idea what was causing it and wished that she could do something to help.

“She’s probably just down because of the weather and getting snowed in,” Rea suggested in between wolfing down one sandwich and starting on another.  “All our plans for the weekend all gone up in snow, you know?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Maxine mumbled before glancing back to her thick girlfriend.

“She’ll be fine,” the redhead assured her loving feeder.  “Now, how’s about a little help getting these sandwiches down?  I’m pretty hungry, but I could always use some encouragement.”

Maxine gave one last look back at the hall before focusing on Rea and smirking at her.  She leaned in and hummed, “And I’m more than happy to provide, my plump dumpling…”

***

When dinnertime rolled around, Taylor was still in no mood to eat and kept herself holed up in her room.  She tried to sleep here and there, cocooned as she was in her blankets, but mostly found herself staring at the ceiling and thinking of all the things that made her sick to her stomach.  Every time she imagined Maxine and Rea getting cutesy and touchy-feely made her guts churn, and the thought of them canoodling on the couch made her green with envy.  It was only when the lights went out that Taylor finally untangled herself from her sheets and dared to venture outside.

With only her cellphone to light the way, lest she attract any attention, the Shawnee girl made her way to the kitchen.  Her feelings were a roiling storm inside her, but she had to eat at some point, so she decided to rummage around and scrounge up whatever she could get her hands on.  When Taylor opened the fridge, she found a plate covered in clingwrap and a sticky note on top that read, ‘FOR TAYLOR, WHENEVER YOU’RE FEELING BETTER—MAXIE’.

A small smile found its way to Taylor’s lips as she pulled the dish out and examined it.  Brisket, as promised, with sautéed squash and zucchini, baked beans, and a very creamy looking slaw all filled the plate to the point where she could not see the bottom.  There was also another plate in the fridge that had the remaining latkes, and while they were not explicitly for her, Taylor figured that Maxine would happily make plenty more.  So, after grabbing a beer to accompany her cold dinner, the brunette slid into the kitchen nook and tucked in.

Despite being refrigerated for the last few hours, everything on the dish was still delicious and satisfying for the hungry girl.  The more she ate, the more she realized how little she had during the day, which made her eat faster, and on and on, until she was shoveling food in her mouth as fast as possible.  She tried not to think about Maxine or Rea and focused on her plate, spearing huge forkfuls and scooping hefty spoonfuls into her mouth with abandon until her cheeks could fit no more and she had to pause to swallow.

Before she knew it, Taylor was scraping the bottom of the plate—both plates, as the latkes were reduced to little more than crumbs.  Despite eating a very generous dinner, her appetite had been roused and would not be denied more sustenance.  The bulbous brunette patted her stomach and whispered, “Okay, let’s just see what else we’ve got in the pantry.”

The pantry was as well-stocked as ever, with canned goods of all kinds lining the walls.  There were canned meats that ranged from mystery meat to fine dining, fruits of all shapes and sizes, and enough sea life to fill an aquarium.  Since Taylor was rich with choices, she grabbed a little of this and a little of that, not particularly caring what she got so long as she could carry it.  By the time she left, she had a dozen cans in her arms—enough to satisfy three normal people or one particularly hungry girl.

“Just a little something to tide me over until the morning,” Taylor reasoned with herself, ignoring how much she was truly carrying.  “A midnight snack, really.”

Parking it in front of the TV, Taylor did not bother with prepping any of her selections; that would waste too much time and attract too much attention.  Instead, she cracked a can of crab open and dug in with her fork without a care in the world.  It could have used a little something to balance out the richness and saltiness of the meat, but Taylor was not going to worry about anything like that.  This was all about appeasing a hunger that gnawed at her, replacing the bitterness and envy that plagued her throughout the day.  Was she burying her feelings under a mountain of calories?  Probably, but it would be so worth it to keep them stifled for a while.

The TV was the only light in the cabin as Taylor ate through can after can, but she did not pay attention to whatever was on the screen; it was simply background noise to keep her out of her head.  When she finished one can, she set it down on the coffee table in front of her, followed by another and another, until she was down to a tin of peaches and the table was littered with cans.  By that point, Taylor’s hunger had long since subsided, but she still persisted, working her way through the golden fruits until she finished the last slice and chugged the syrupy juice.

“Guh,” the sated girl grunted once she was finished.  Her stomach was packed so full and round that she could barely muster the strength to bend forward and set the empty can on the table, but she just managed it.  Immediately, she fell back against the couch and let her arms rest limply at her sides as she digested the massive meal in her belly.

That belly had swollen up like a balloon over the course of her glut, to the point that her shirt slid up to reveal a ribbon of pudge packed tight as a drum.  Taylor gingerly rubbed along the surface, fingers gently pressing into her stomach and eliciting a soft burp—a small relief, but relief all the same.  Though she had managed to chase away such thoughts over the last hour or two of eating, she could not help but imagine what it might have been like if Maxine were the one giving her tummy rubs.  She had seen Rea’s face light up whenever she was on the receiving end, so they must have been pretty nice, though that might have been because she was imagining what came after tummy rubs.

“I’ve got plenty of tummy,” the dazed, drowsy girl murmured to herself.  “Where are my belly rubs?  I could eat way more than that stupid airhead…”

Gradually, her remarks turned to grumbly gibberish and then nothing at all as she passed out on the pillowy couch.  Her head slouched back against the cushions and her legs spread ever so slightly to give her stomach a little more room, but she was out like a light.  She was so tired that she missed Maxine walking in while getting a glass of water.

“Oh, Taylor,” the ample Amazon sighed when she saw the state of her friend.  Taylor had specks of food on her cheeks and stains on her shirt, though it was hard to say what was the culprit, considering the myriad of cans around her.

As quiet as a 6’3”, 215 pound woman could manage, Maxine cleaned up the empty tins at Taylor’s feet before taking a warm washcloth to the girl’s face.  When she had wiped away the traces of her binge, save for removing the stain-riddled shirt, the giantess took a blanket from the back of a nearby armchair and draped it over Taylor.  She would have tried to carry the girl back to her own bed, but given the state of her belly, Maxine did not want to risk jostling and waking her up.  This would have to do, and would at least keep her warm until the morning.

“Sleep tight, Princess,” the brunette whispered as she patted Taylor’s stomach before going back to bed.  Poor girl must have felt better and decided to get something to eat.  If that was the case, Maxine would be sure to make her plenty tomorrow and however long they would be snowed in!

[Cyril Figgis]

((Sorry for the delay on this one, folks, but to make up for the wait, we've got a real card for you tonight!  We've got romance--eating--force-feeding--and so much more!  Let no one say we don't try to entertain and titillate in SHWC!  Sit back and enjoy!))

CHAPTER 64

After worrying about Taylor most of the day before, Maxine was relieved to see the squat girl join her and Rea for a breakfast fry-up.  If she was still full from her binge the night before, Taylor did not show it, as she wolfed down everything her hefty hostess put in front of her.  Her appetite had returned in spades, and several strips of turkey bacon, a good half dozen eggs, and four biscuits soon found their way into her belly.  By the time she called it quits, she had eaten almost as much as Rea, who was by no means slouching.

Lunch was much the same, and when dinner rolled around, the awkwardness of the day before was forgotten.  Taylor happily ate everything that was put in front of her, laughed and joked with Maxine and Rea, and even joined them for a movie.  As they watched the film, the two gaining girls in the trio constantly reached for a massive bowl of buttery popcorn; Maxine only had a couple handfuls, preferring the greasy, salty snack wind up in someone else’s belly.  Everything was as it should be in her mind—peaceful and fun, just as intended.  The only question was how long that mood would last, considering that they were still snowed in by Monday morning.

With little to do, the girls had to find their own ways to entertain themselves and pass the time while they waited for the plows to make it up to their neck of the woods.  Taylor took to practicing her booking: she crafted a fantasy wrestling promotion, staffed it with talent real and imaginary, and workshopped a schedule.  Rea drifted to something less creatively stimulating and glued herself to the couch, where she took in the myriad movies and TV shows stocked in the entertainment center.  Maxine was the only one who tried to get any exercise, as she refused to let a snowstorm impede her weight loss.  When she was not working out, the Amazon could be found in the kitchen experimenting with new recipes and testing them on her companions.

“Who wants to try some fried Oreos?” Maxine cooed as she carried a plateful of golden brown cookies that looked to be State Fair material.

Rea stifled a hiccup and brushed the crumbs from her lips before replying, “I’m still good, Maxie—I think I need to let my tummy settle after those pepperoni rolls.”

“I’ll try ‘em,” Taylor offered from her spot at the nook.  “I could probably use some more milk to wash them down though.”

“Be right back with a fresh glass,” said Maxine as she traded the plate of cookies for the empty glass and sashayed back to the kitchen.

While waiting for her milk, Taylor bit into one of the fried cookies and let out a low hum of approval, eyelids fluttering at the gooey richness.  Rea, ears piqued by the sound, glanced over and licked her lips.  Maybe she had a little room for some dessert after all.

“Gosh, those look good, Rosie,” the redhead chirped from her spot on the couch.  “Do you think I could try a few?”

The squat girl shook her head as she popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth and licked her fingers clean.  “Nothing doing.  Besides, I thought you were still full.”

“Aw, come on,” Rea whined like a petulant child.  “Just one?  They smell delicious!”

“And they taste even better,” Taylor retorted, a self-satisfied smirk spread across her lips.

Rea pouted and crossed her arms over her increasingly fluffy bosom.  Yes, she said she was full, but surely Maxine knew that was just code for ‘Feed me more’.  She could always fit a little more in her belly, especially if she had her Amazonian girlfriend helping her.  As soon as Maxine reentered the room, the redhead told her, “Actually, Maxie, I think I do have a bit more room after all.  Do you have any more fried cookies?”

“Sorry, babe, those were the only ones I made,” Maxine apologized while handing Taylor her milk.  “I’ll make you some more after lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” Rea sighed, looking and sounding like a child that was told they could not have a cookie before dinner.  She glanced over at her more bookish companion and caught Taylor looking right back at her, smirking as she dunked a cookie in milk and bit into it with sheer bliss.  Oh, that bitch.

Thankfully, she was able to get her comeuppance when dinner rolled around and Maxine broke out a large sweet potato pie.  Taylor matched Rea bite for bite throughout the meal, but now that the redhead knew she had competition, she would not be outdone.  Rather than dial up her gluttony though, Rea dialed it back a few degrees and allowed her shorter rival to overtake her, which meant Taylor was slouched back in her chair with glassy eyes by the time dessert was served.

Maxine hesitated after getting a look at her protégé, but asked, “Taylor, you want a piece?”

“Mmph,” the Shawnee girl replied, stifling a belch as she tried to breathe.

Rea, for her part, dabbed her lips on her napkin and told her girlfriend, “I think Rosie might want to sit this one out.  Poor thing looks like she’s about to pop!  I’ve got plenty of room though, Maxie, so let me get an extra-big piece!”

“All right, but only because you’re part of the Clean Plate Club,” the brunette hummed as she cut out a large piece for her growing lover.

While Maxine was serving her own slice, Rea took a forkful and slid it slowly past her lips as Taylor blearily looked on.  The flavors were delicious, but the redhead played it up as if it were manna from heaven mixed with pastrami from Katz’s Delicatessen.  She rolled her eyes back and slid down in her seat while caressing her stomach, groaning every inch of the way.  Even though she was fast falling into a food coma, Taylor knew exactly what Rea was up to, and she shot her the best glare that she could manage in the situation.

And thus, a very cold war began between the two.  They tried to outdo each other each meal, which soon expanded into snacks throughout the day, which then turned their entire day into one prolonged meal.  From the moment they sat down for breakfast (save for Rea’s tendency for an early morning nibble) to the time they finally went to bed (save for Taylor’s habit of a midnight snack), the girls did little more than eat during the snow-in.  It helped that they had activities to distract themselves with, but they often glanced over at each other to make sure the other had not outdone them. 

Maxine, for her part, was blissfully unaware of the simmering tension between her best friend and her lover.  She dutifully served them whatever they desired, and spent much of the day on her feet and around the kitchen.  This might have bothered some, but she was more than happy to do so since it allowed her to stay busy during this extended holiday and let her make her two favorite people in the world happy.  What more could a girl ask for?

Unfortunately, as another day went by and they reached their sixth day of isolation, the relative peace began to deteriorate.  The demand to keep the two lazy girls well-fed had only increased, and Maxine now felt like a short-order cook during lunch rush.  If Taylor was not eating, it would be Rea; if Rea could not choke down another bite, Taylor was rearing to go.  It got to be that Maxine could not exercise the way she wanted, and though she still kept busy and stuck to her diet, she wished she could get back to her routine.

All of this would have been fine if things had stayed quiet, but as the days seemed to stretch on and on, Taylor and Rea became far less polite with each other.  It started with a snide remark from Taylor about turning down the TV, to which Rea retorted that she could just work in her room or put headphones on.  From there, they only got worse, as the slightest remark could set either one off and devolve into a screaming match.  Maxine swore that when they got back to town, she would personally hug and kiss every referee in Youngblood, because she had no idea how they did it.

Eventually, it all came to a head on the eighth day during a stone-faced lunch.  Maxine ate quietly, picking away at corned beef and cabbage while Taylor and Rea greedily guzzled down their bowls.  After swallowing a billiard ball-sized mouthful, the redhead slammed her bowl down and let out a deep, guttural belch that would have been over the top in a kid’s movie.

“Jesus, Rea—you ever hear of table etiquette?” Taylor scoffed, nose crinkled in disgust.

“Oh, you want to talk etiquette?  Let’s talk about how you can’t chew with your mouth closed,” Rea sniped at the shorter girl.  “My beagle has better manners than you do!”

Maxine sighed, “Girls, come on, it’s nothing to fi—”

Taylor cut off her friend and focused solely on Rea. “Yeah?  Then why do I have to keep cleaning up around the couch whenever you’ve finished snacking there?  I could build a sandcastle from all the crumbs you leave, you goddamn slob!”

Rea’s cheeks turned red as her hair as she gave a sharp poke to Taylor’s stuffed gut and told her, “How about all the junk you leave lying around after your midnight snacks?  If you love this place so much, maybe take better care of it!”

“It’s really not that bad,” Maxine muttered under breath.  She was trying to maintain her composure, but the vein popping in her forehead said that this was a losing battle.

“At least I’m being productive instead of turning into a couch potato, cow tits!”

“The hell did you just call me, butterball?”

Suddenly, Maxine slammed her hands down on the table top with all the force of a sledgehammer, silencing the two girls as she glared at them with more fury than they had ever seen from her before.  The Amazon glowered at Taylor and Rea with such intensity that she could have melted the snow outside with a single glance.  Her companions cowered in their seats as she loomed over them, daring the duo to start bickering under her watch again.

“I have had it up to here with you two,” Maxine growled as she held her hand up to her forehead.  “You’ve been at each other’s throats for the last few days, and I am absolutely fed up with it.  I can’t get a moment’s peace between cooking and trying to make sure everyone’s happy!”

“Sorry, Maxie,” Rea mumbled, unable to look her girlfriend in the eyes.

“Not as sorry as I am,” the Amazon growled as she stepped away from the table.  “If I had known you two would act like a couple children, I would never have suggested this trip!”

Maxine stormed off to her and Rea’s bedroom and returned soon after in a thick coat, snow boots, and a woolen hat.  As she slid on a pair of gloves, she told her companions, “I’m going outside to dig a way out of the snow because I’m sick of waiting for the plows and listening to you two fight.  You need to kiss and make up by the time I get back, or so help me God, I will tie you both to a tree tonight.”

“Yes, Maxine,” the two rivals answered softly.

With that, the bulbous brawler threw open the front door and pounded away at the wall of snow until she had created a slight slope to freedom.  Taylor hefted herself out of the nook and quickly closed the door before all the heat got out, and then turned back to Rea with fire in her eyes.

“This is all your fault, you know,” the shortstack hissed at the redhead.  “If you hadn’t been such a gross pig, we wouldn’t be having this discussion!”

“Excuse me?  You’re the one that decided to pick a fight,” Rea scoffed at her accuser.  “You’ve had it in for me ever since Maxine and I started going out—don’t deny it!”

Taylor clenched her hands in fists of rage and replied, “I won’t.  If you didn’t stick your nose in our business, it would be just me and Maxine up here having the perfect winter vacation!  And now, just because I’m not some bimbo with cheese curds for brains, she won’t even look at me!”

Rea sarcastically pouted and wiped away fake tears as she retorted, “Boo-fucking-hoo.  Sorry, but last I checked, you and Maxine were never a thing; hell, you were never going to be a thing!  Why would she go for a fat little troll like you over me and my wonderfully fat ass?”

At that point, all Taylor could see was red.  She lunged at Rea, who, still bloated from her lunch, could only fall back in the nook and put her hands up in defense.  That did little good for her, as Taylor grabbed her by her hair and yanked her, kicking and screaming, from the nook.  Rea tried to strike back at the squat girl, but her assailant was quicker and pulled Rea’s sweater up over her head before slapping her pasty belly with enough force that she left a glowing handprint.

“Call me a little troll, will you?” Taylor growled as she tugged Rea back to the pantry.  “I ought to bash your head in with a poker, but you’re so thick, it’d probably just bend it.”

Once they were inside the pantry, the infuriated girl threw her rival down on the cold floor and tugged her sweater up even higher, to where her head was just starting to pop through the collar.  Taylor then tied off the garment, thus pinning Rea’s arms over her head, blinding her to the world, and leaving the full expanse of her pale torso exposed.  She reached out and gave a sharp pinch to the girl’s blossoming love handle, digging her nail into the butter-soft flab and eliciting a squeal of pain from her rival.  Finally, she had her right where she wanted her.

“Can’t see what Maxine sees in you,” Taylor groused as she slapped Rea’s belly from side to side.  “But if you’re so proud of your fat ass, let’s give you something to be really proud of.”

“Wh-What do you—mmph!”

Rea was silenced by a hunk of Spam being shoved in her mouth.  The salty, savory meat was too much after stuffing her stomach at lunch, but Taylor was quick to pinch her nose shut and ensure that she ate every last bite.  It was eat or suffocate, so Rea slowly chewed up the canned meat and was only allowed to breathe when she swallowed the mouthful.  She had little time to rest though, for her assailant was soon emptying a can of fruit cocktail past her lips.

“How about I dump every last can in this pantry down your throat, lard ass?” Taylor sneered as she cracked open a can of tuna and scooped it into Rea’s mouth.  “Does that get you off?”

The redhead gurgled in response, unable to do anything but eat whatever Taylor deigned to feed her.  It was a horrible experience: blind, bound, and pinned by her rival; fed cold canned goods; belly aching with fullness.  The worst part was that despite all of those factors, Rea truly was turned on by the force feeding.  Her heart raced as a peculiar warmth filled her—the same warmth usually reserved for nights with Maxine and a tub of ice cream.  She squirmed as best as she could under Taylor, pained and pleasureful groans coming from her lips.

Curiously, the feeling was mutual.  Taylor licked her lips as she watched Rea struggle beneath her, gulping down mouthful after mouthful and packing her stomach to the point of bursting.  She had never felt anything like this nor even dreamt of such an event, but this was one of the hottest things she had done in a long time.  It would be so easy to toy with Rea some more and push her to her very limits, with all the cans they still had left.  Why, imagine if she could feed every last bite to the redhead—Rea would be fatter than she and Maxine combined!  It was such a tempting, pleasant thought…but in the end, it was just a thought.

After feeding a can of peaches to her rival, Taylor undid the knot in Rea’s sweater and helped it back down over her globular middle.  The redhead was bleary-eyed and punch buzzed, and she opened her mouth as if expecting another can.  Taylor bit her lip and held back a moan of delight before telling her, “I’m going to clean this up.  Go take a nap on the couch.  This never happened.”

“Never…happened,” Rea burbled as Taylor helped her to her feet and over to the couch.

The brunette gently sat her rival down on the cushions before continuing, “When Maxine gets back, I’m going to tell her that we hashed things out and you decided to stuff your face again.  We’re going to go home soon, and when we get back to Philly, we’re going to act like normal, got it?  If I find out you’ve spilled the beans to her, I’m going to feed you so much that your stomach pops.”

“Mmm…beans,” the dazed redhead murmured before passing out.

By the time Maxine came back, Taylor had cleaned the pantry spick and span and returned to her familiar spot at the nook, where she worked on her fantasy booking.  The falsified situation was explained to her and, satisfied, Maxine left to change into a set of fresh, warm clothes.  Taylor occasionally glanced over to Rea and blushed when she saw the redhead’s sweater ride up over her gut, revealing a balloon belly that she helped inflate.

On the ninth day, the plows finally made it up the mountain and cleared the area around the cabin—at least, what little Maxine had been unable to dig through herself.  Good thing too, because they had officially run out of food by then, having made it through the weirdest Hanukkah Maxine had ever experienced.

[Cyril Figgis]

((Hey everyone, just wanted to say that I made a slight edit to the first post.  I decided to add a title and a chapter marker, but more importantly, I added a lovely picture made by Exponential Mass on Twitter!  They did a fantastic job of portraying Mickey at the start of her journey and where she might be heading.  I hope you all love it as much as I do!))

[Cyril Figgis]

((As we get ready for a Smackdown that will hopefully explain what the hell happened at The Horror Show at Extreme Rules, let's go back to Maggie and Sharon as they power through the obligatory holiday match.  No spoilers to find here, friend, so read on and find out what happens next!))

CHAPTER 65

A week before Christmas, it was time for the match that Maggie Torres had been dreading the last several days—the holiday match with the Rodeo Twins.  It was the last show before Dare-Devil Wrestling took off a couple weeks for the holidays and they were going out with a bang, putting on a stacked card full of blowoff matches and setting up feuds for the new year.  The battle with the Twins would be one such match, as the Wild Roses would suffer a humiliating loss that evening before staging a comeback in January.  Maggie would have preferred to do without the ‘humiliating’ part, but that was her ego talking; if she had her way, she would be holding all the titles at that point.

The match started with a pre-recorded segment that claimed to be happening at that very moment.  A Christmas party was taking place backstage and all the usual merrymaking was in full display: people trying to get kisses under the mistletoe, singing Christmas carols wildly out of key, and comparing ugly sweaters.  Carmen and Molly Hill, the Rodeo Twins, were the hostesses of the party, though they were far from the center of attention; if anything, people were having fun despite them.  The girls were catty brats who loved to flaunt their wealth and status, and everyone knew that the party was just one more excuse for them to boast.

“Hope everyone’s having a good time,” Molly, the slightly shorter of the two, told the partygoers.  “No expense was spared in getting this together!  We know none of you could afford any of this, so enjoy it while you can!”

Carmen, taller and leaner, added, “Don’t forget to try the chocolate fountain—it cost more than Jack Nelson’s car!”

The two broke into a fit of haughty laughter, much to the annoyance of everyone around them.  Their laughter came to an abrupt end when someone in the crowd, “This party sucks and you know it!”

Carmen’s snide smile turned into a sneer as she searched the crowd for the person that dared to insult her.  Molly barked, “Who’s the dead girl that said that?”

The crowd parted to reveal Maggie Torres and Sharon Goode standing by the snack table and glaring holes through the Rodeo Twins.  Sharon, in playing to her more sensual character, had slid into a leopard print dress that hugged every inch of her voluptuous body and gave a boost to her already impressive curves.  Maggie, on the other hand, did not look quite as flattering in her red tights and long-sleeved halter top, for the tights could only get halfway up her bubbly beer belly and the top ended just beneath her chunky chest, which left a good few inches of belly exposed and overflowing her tights.  The two could not have looked any different if they had tried, and the difference was only growing wider by the day, thanks to Maggie’s overindulgence.

“Right here,” the Latina snarked at the hostesses.  She munched on a blini covered with caviar before tossing it over her shoulder while her face contorted into a grimace of disgust.  “If you’re going to blow hundreds of dollars on a party, the least you could do is serve some good food.”

“And drinks,” Sharon chimed in.  The bespectacled redhead took a tip from a wine glass before puckering her lips and spitting out the pricey beverage.  “I wouldn’t even serve this wine to my dog!”

“How dare you!” Molly shrieked at the upstarts.  “You have the audacity to come to our party and insult us to our faces?”

“You’ve got some nerve, rookies—and we hate nerve,” Carmen snarled.

Maggie glowered at the angered champion, picked up the bowl of caviar, and dumped it on the floor.  She threw the empty dish aside and sneered, “Then you’re really going to hate us.”

That was all it took for Carmen to lash out at Maggie.  The fashionable brunette whipped her hand across the Latina’s face with such force that it sounded like a shotgun, but that was just the beginning of the assault.  Before her opponent could react, Carmen speared her onto the table and punched her again and again and again.  Sharon quickly threw a drink in the assailant’s face, but she was taken out by an elbow to the face from Molly.  Despite attempts by other wrestlers, no one could break up the brawl, so enraged were the Rodeo Twins.

Thanks to Sharon’s efforts, Maggie was able to wrestle free from Carmen’s grip and hurled a plate of Oysters Rockefeller at the haughty hostess.  She followed this up by punching the brunette in the stomach, which gave her a chance to catch her breath before assisting Sharon.  Grabbing Molly by the hair, Maggie yanked the shrieking blonde away and slammed her face-first into a tureen full of gazpacho.  She dunked her once, twice, three times before tossing Molly aside like a wet paper towel.

“You want to keep going?  We could do this all night,” Maggie taunted, though her heavy breathing said otherwise.  Her thick gut puffed in and out like a bullfrog’s throat as she tried to compose herself and look intimidating at the same time.

Sharon, ever the professional, was quick to pick up her partner’s slack.  She reached down and wiped her glasses on Molly’s prone body as she told the champions, “Can’t throw a good party, can’t take a hit…makes me wonder why you girls are even champions at all.”

That lit a fire in the fallen duo.  Carmen scrambled to her feet and headbutted Maggie in her jelly belly while Molly grabbed Sharon by her heels and yanked her off the ground.  The champions whaled on the upstarts, showing a vengeful, furious side that had helped them secure the titles some months prior.  Every time the Wild Roses tried to make a comeback, the Rodeo Twins had an answer for them and responded by pummeling them some more.

Eventually, the ragged Roses were able to escape their tormentors’ clutches and scrambled out of the party, but they did not get far before the twins caught up with them.  They brawled down a long hallway that led out to the ring, at which point the pre-recorded footage ended and the rest of the scrap unfolded in front of the live audience.  Though the footage had been shot a few days prior, the girls had all managed to maintain continuity, right down to the specks of gazpacho stuck to Molly’s hair. 

The twins took their opponents around the ring in opposite directions, with Molly and Sharon going clockwise and Carmen and Maggie running counter that.  Molly slammed a dazed Sharon against the ring steps, post, and apron, while her sister bashed Maggie’s head into the mat and dragged her along the canvas until clocking her against the post.  When the sisters met, they hoisted the Wild Roses up in front of them like shields and ran them into each other before allowing them to crumple to the ground like limp rag dolls.

“We’re not done with you yet, you uncultured swine,” Molly berated the tag team as she grabbed Sharon by the hair and pulled her to her feet.  Carmen followed suit with Maggie, and they tossed their opponents into the ring.  “I thought you could do this all night!”

“Bite me,” Sharon spat, which earned her a slap to the face.

The Wild Roses tried to get back up, but the Rodeo Twins were quick to slide into the ring and put a stop to their efforts.  Carmen intertwined her legs with Maggie’s as she spun her over onto her belly and wrenched them back while she leaned back until she was nearly sitting on the diva.  Molly, meanwhile, sat atop Sharon’s back, locked her arms around the girl’s head, and yanked back until the redhead was howling with pain.

They held the battered, screaming contenders for a moment before Carmen looked over to her sister and told her, “Molly, phone.”

While still keeping Sharon’s head wrenched back, the brunette pulled her phone from her pocket and tossed it to her sister.  It only took Carmen a second to pull up the contacts and find just who she was looking for.  In a sugary sweet voice, she asked, “Frieda?  It’s Carmen.  Bring us two—no, three pairs of handcuffs, a funnel, and the rest of the eggnog from the party.  Chop-chop now!”

It only took a moment for Frieda, the Twin’s kayfabe assistant, to run out to the ring with a handbasket full of the items Carmen had requested.  Both girls quickly dragged their beleaguered opponents to opposite corners in the ring and shackled them to the ropes—Maggie having both hands cuffed while Sharon only had one.  The dazed Wild Roses were slapped around until they were more cognizant, but could do little in the hands of the vengeful Rodeo Twins.

Carmen held up the funnel and the eggnog—contained to a gallon jug—for the audience to see before crouching down beside Maggie and tauntingly asking, “Hey, Margarita, you want a drink?  Only the good stuff for our friends in Dare-Devil Wrestling.”

“Puh…piss off,” the weary diva spat at her tormentor, despite the fact that she absolutely wanted a drink.  She could not believe she had been talked into such a humiliating, demeaning beatdown like this.  It was so one-sided!  How was anyone going to take her and Sharon as a credible threat to the titles if they could be whupped so easily?

“Now, that’s not very nice,” Carmen chided Maggie before forcing the funnel in her mouth.  “Let’s see if we can’t teach you some manners, gutter trash!”

With that, she tipped the jug up to the lip of the funnel and poured it straight down Maggie’s gullet.  She caught the faintest hint of the creamy concoction and was relieved to find that the producers had at least sprung for some quality eggnog with rum mixed in.  At least she would get a buzz before this was all over.  Since she had nothing better to do, the Latina guzzled down the boozy mix, though she pretended to hate every second of it.

While Maggie was being funnel-fed eggnog, Molly gripped Sharon’s chin and hoisted her up so she could jeer, “See that?  There’s your precious Margarita, and you can’t do jack to help her!  All you can do is watch as we teach her a lesson she won’t ever forget!”

Sharon was a little too distracted to pay Molly much mind—how could she, when the sight before her was so tantalizing?  For the last few months, she had increasingly unusual dreams about her tag partner, and this seemed like it was ripped straight from the Land of Nod.  To see Maggie so helpless as she was filled to the brim with a drink that was thousands of calories sent shivers down her spine; the only way it could have been better was if she were the one doing it.  This beatdown had been her idea, a way to compromise with the bookers, and she was pleased to see it work out as well as it did.

The audience, for their part, chanted, “Chug, chug, chug,” as Maggie gulped down more and more eggnog.  It was not quite the reaction she was hoping for, but then, what else were they supposed to do?  At least they were not shouting ‘this is boring’—the diva’s ego might not have been able to take that.  She tried to drown out the jeers from the crowd by focusing on the task at hand, which was fitting an entire gallon of eggnog in her stomach in one sitting.

“Hey, how’re you holding up?” Carmen whispered as she leaned in close.  “Pull on your right cuff if you need me to lighten up.”

Maggie had taken far more punishment than this when it came to drinking, so she shook her head and continued her rebellious act.  She might not have enjoyed her position in this ‘match’, but she was going to prove to Connie and everyone else in the locker room that she was a team player.  If this was how she was going to get ahead in the company, then so be it.

As the seconds ticked on and on for what felt like an eternity, Maggie became less sure of her capacity for the creamy Christmas concoction.  Her stomach felt tight as a drum and heavy as a bowling ball, yet she still swallowed mouthful after mouthful, filling every nook and cranny in her gut.  She had purposefully avoided eating much, knowing what she would be asked to do, but there was still far more than she had accounted for.  It was not long before it felt like every inch of her body was full of eggnog, from her toes all the way to her brain.  Her arms hung slack above her, feeling more like sacks of concrete than anything else, and she doubted that she could move her legs.  A small part of her wondered if this was how her cousin felt at the end of a huge meal…the fat pig.

Another reason for her sluggishness was just how much rum she was consuming with the eggnog.  Maggie had requested that they make something strong for her, but just as she had failed to account for the richness bloating her up, so too had she disregarded the effect of so much booze in one sitting.  Not that she planned on driving after this, but she would definitely need Sharon’s help for the rest of the night, right up to getting to bed.

Eventually, Carmen tapped the last of the eggnog out of the jug and tossed it out of the ring before looking over her handiwork.  To say that Maggie Torres was a hot mess was putting it mildly: her mascara was running, cream trickled from her lips, and she had turned a distinct shade of pale.  More than that, her stomach had ballooned to new proportions and forced its way out of her leggings, a bright red ring where the waistband had bitten into the flabby gut.  She looked and felt like an expectant mother, but at least this discomfort would be gone well by the next day.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” Carmen told the dazed Maggie as she nudged the girl’s bloated belly with her foot.  “Maybe you’ll think twice about crashing a Rodeo party ever again.  Molly, leave the keys—we’re out.”

The shorter twin shrugged and dropped the keys for the cuffs just inside Sharon’s reach.  She spat at the angry redhead and sneered, “Next time we see you, you’re not going to be so lucky, loser!”

The Rodeo Twins quickly slid out of the ring and sauntered backstage as the crowd jeered them every step of the way.  Sharon could have given chase but her main concern was making sure that Maggie was all right, both in and out of kayfabe.  She knew that her tag partner was a lush and could drink like a fish, but even a fish has its limits—and judging by how Maggie looked, she had hit hers.  The diva had been in a bad way many times before, but never quite like this.

“How’re you feeling, Mags?” the redhead whispered to Maggie while she undid her cuffs.

The drunken gurgled incoherently in response before lolling her head around and muttering, “Como Dios…es mi testigo…nunca volveré…a beber…ponche de huevo.”

“Completely understandable,” Sharon replied softly.  “Come on, let’s get you to the back and get you cleaned up before we head home.”

That was easier said than done, as Maggie was in no condition to move.  Every inch of her body felt sluggish and weighty, as though she was full of wet sand.  Even if she had the strength to move on her own, her belly was stretched so painfully tight that the slightest motion made her feel like she would split in two—and after the humiliation of this segment, the last thing she needed was to pop like a zit in the middle of the ring.  Sharon did not have the strength to move her deadweight partner on her own, so she beckoned for assistance from backstage by crossing her arms in front of her and was soon answered with a referee jogging out for back-up.

Between the two of them, they managed to heft Maggie up and wrap her arms across their shoulders before dragging her out of the ring.  The fans they passed by marveled at the absolute state Maggie was in, with a bold few even reaching out to poke and prod at her gravid belly.   The lush Latina was in no condition to push them away, so she begrudgingly accepted their observations of her globular gut, knowing that this was better than them booing.  That was the one conscious thought she clung to as she slipped into a drunken stupor; at least people did not hate the segment.

When the girls finally made it backstage, they were greeted with applause and cheers from the rest of the roster.  The wrestlers and crew parted like the Red Sea as Maggie, Sharon, and the referee made their way over to a nearby chair, awestruck at Maggie’s condition.  Once the drunken diva was seated, they crowded around her, showered her with praise, and prodded her stomach much like the audience had before.  Still, the heaps of praise that were thrown her way lifted Maggie’s spirits, even if she was in no condition to understand them.

Eventually, the Wild Roses were approached by none other than Connie Nelson—the woman that Maggie blamed for her current condition.  If she could have, she would have spat up on the booker’s feet, but the best she could manage was a bleary-eyed glower.  Sharon, ever the voice of reason, looked to the older woman and asked, “So, Connie—how’d we do?”

“Above and beyond, kid,” the grandmother answered with a grin.  “I wasn’t expecting Maggie to get that whole gallon in her, but damned if she didn’t!  We’ll talk more details after the holidays, but I think you girls just earned yourselves a title shot.”

Hearing those words brought a dazed smile to Maggie’s lips, knowing that all of this nonsense would be worth it if she got a taste of the gold.  Sharon squealed excitedly and hugged her bloated partner, making sure to avoid pressing on her belly.  Both Wild Roses received claps on the back, especially from the Rodeo Twins, as if to apologize for the rough treatment from earlier.

After Maggie had a chance to rest and catch her breath, the girls went home, though not without a parting gift from Connie.  They were sent packing with a Christmas ham the size of an over-inflated rugby ball, despite Maggie’s drunken declaration she would not eat until the new year.  Sharon knew better though, and she could already see herself serving it to her increasingly flabby partner…

[Cyril Figgis]

((A little late tonight, but we're back with another Monday Night SHWC!  This chapter, it's a blast from the past as Mickey reviews one of her grandfather's old matches for inspiration.  This chapter's got plenty of action, but don't worry--I didn't forget what you came here for.  Mickey is at her fattest in this chapter, folks, and you don't want to miss this!))

CHAPTER 66

“All right, folks, up next is ‘Hog Wild’ Ramone taking on the reigning North American Champion, Roscoe Beck, right here in Madison Square Garden!  Ramone has been chasing Beck from town to town to try and claim that title, and tonight might just be the night.  If he can do it, this will make Ramone both the North American Champion and Superheavyweight Champion—a feat no one else can lay claim to in the Global Wrestling Federation.  And now, our competitors are coming down to the ring, and just listen to this max capacity crowd, folks!”

The crowd in the Garden were on their feet as the two champions made their way to the ring.  Roscoe Beck was a former boxer and had a lean, wiry physique that helped him dance across the ring like a discotheque.  His jet-black hair was slicked back like a movie star and his lantern jaw was held high as he looked down on everyone he passed by.  He walked down the aisle in a glistening, fur-lined robe with all the pompousness of a king.  Jeers rained down from on high, but he paid them no mind; after all, why should one concern himself with the rumblings of the common folk?

What he was more concerned about was his hippo of an opponent.  When Lou Ramone made his way down to the ring, the people around him swore that the floor shook with every step of his tree trunk legs.  There was plenty of room in the aisles for two grown men to easily pass by each other, but Ramone was so wide that his hips brushed against the arm rests.  He looked less like a man and more like a boulder with arms and legs, all done up like a greasy biker.  His dark hair was thick, curly, and fell past his ears, and he had a matching horseshoe mustache.  All of his clothes were custom, from his jeans to the vest that read ‘Hog Wild’ on the back, and any ordinary man would be swimming in them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this next match will determine the undisputed North American Champion,” the announcer declared from the center of the ring.  “To my right, we have the current champion—from Seattle, Washington, weighing in at 235 pounds, Roscoe Beck!”

Amidst a chorus of boos from the crowd, the announcer continued, “And to my left, his challenger and current Superheavyweight Champion—from Santa Fe, New Mexico, weighing in at 600 pounds, ‘Hog Wild’ Lou Ramone!”

The audience cheered as one of the largest men to ever grace the squared circle held his fists high and hopped from foot to foot.  Ramone and Beck were of a similar stature, but the Superheavyweight Champion was a balloon compared to the former boxer; even those who had seen a sumo match in Japan had never witnessed a man as large as him.  Every time he was due to appear in a town, folks would line up to see him, because unlike the fat men and women of the sideshow, Ramone could move with the best of them.  Any doubters were to be proven wrong as soon as the bell rang…

***

“God, I love old school entrances like this,” Mickey Ramone told her boyfriend and manager, Ray Valdez, as she watched one of her grandfather’s matches.  “No pomp and circumstance, no flashy lights except from the ringside photographers, and no pyrotechnics.  All you need are two guys coming in from opposite corners of the arena, and you’re golden!”

“Yeah, they just don’t produce these shows like they used to,” Ray replied as he refilled a snack tray at his hefty honey’s side.  “Want me to get you a refill on soda?”

“Si tu fueras tan amable,” Mickey cooed as she offered up her glass and a peck on the cheek.

As the supersized wrestler went back to her review and tossed some chips in her mouth, she scribbled down a few notes in a nearby book full of info she had gleaned from her grandfather’s matches.  She had been researching superheavyweight wrestlers of the past and present to get an idea of how such massive men could move around the ring.  If she wanted to bring back the title that her grandfather had held three times throughout his career, she needed to know everything there was to know about being a 500 pound performer.  She needed to learn fast, because she was already well on her way to that lofty weight class and would likely overshoot it by the time she made her return.

While Mickey was still nowhere close to her grandfather’s size, she was still one of the largest women in the wrestling business—assuming she was actively competing.  Ever since she stepped away in order to lay low and put on the weight required to meet the weight requirements for the Superheavyweight title, La Princesa Violenta had put on three hundred pounds of blubber.  She had kept to a strict routine of diet and exercise that had enabled her to remain fat and strong as she ballooned to epic proportions, packing on a pound per day on average.  That average had crept up to nearly two pounds a day, and no matter how much exercise she did, she still felt enormously, tremendously, unbelievably fat.

Mickey had never been a skinny mini, but she had always been fit and limber; now, there was not a single slender part of her body.  A collar of flab hid her chin and neck from view, and her cheeks were so full that she always looked like she had something in her mouth (which was not far off from the truth).  Her shoulders were similarly padded, which spread down to flabby arms that were wider around than her thighs had been and meatball hands with sausage fingers.  It had taken some time, but her breasts were nearly as big as her head once was; regular exercise had kept them from getting especially large, but they also stayed much perkier than they would otherwise.

Like so many other women in her family, Mickey had proven quite bottom-heavy as she piled on the pounds, so much so that she wondered if she would be able to squeeze through an aisle when she got to her grandfather’s weight.  She had grown so wide that she required two chairs to sit comfortably at the kitchen table, though Ray had promised a better solution at some point.  At least she had a pillowy backside to make up for anything lacking in her seats, as both cheeks were bigger than fully inflated beach balls.  They hung over thunder thighs that rubbed all the way to her knees, which only remained visible thanks to her expanding calves. 

Her pride and joy remained her stomach though, which she and her lover often snuggled with like a stuffed animal.  The mass of spongy flab had stayed mostly intact throughout the gain, though a fold had begun to form around her belly button in the last few weeks.  It hung so low that it completely covered her sex, which might have impacted her Ray’s love life, but only in the sense that they were experimenting a lot more in the bedroom.  In fact, Mickey could even sandwich her lover with her stomach, which was far more pleasurable than either of them could have imagined.

Even if she were not under contract to reach the weight requirement for the title belt as soon as possible, she would have been fattening up as fast as possible since she loved the feel of it so very much.  She had been a longtime fat admirer, and though she had some fears earlier in her gain, the immense woman had taken to this experience like a fish to water.  Every inch of her body was so soft and pliable like dough, and it felt heavenly to give herself a squeeze; it was even better when Ray showed her how much he enjoyed her new curves.  If she had known being this fat would feel this good, she would have fattened up years ago, management be damned.

On this Christmas Eve though, her mind was all on business as she researched her grandfather’s matches.  Mickey knew that larger people in wrestling, whether in height or weight, were relegated to being brutes that could take a lot of punishment but almost never left the ground.  While she knew that her agility and speed would take a hit from the sheer mass and volume she was accumulating, she refused to believe that she would have to cut her arsenal back to the very basics.  If nothing else though, it gave her all the more appreciation for the work her grandfather had put in.

***

In 1967, the Superheavyweight Champion was locked in a bitter struggle against the North American Champion, with neither one willing to give even an inch to his competitor.  Roscoe Beck was far nimbler, but no matter what he did, nothing seemed to faze the lumbering giant that was Lou Ramone.  On the other hand, the zeppelin of a man could barely get his hands on his wirier opponent; even when he did, Beck always found a way to slip free.  They were evenly locked, trading blows time and again as they gauged each other’s strengths.

It was far from the fast-paced matches of the future, but the fans in attendance sat on the edge of their seats throughout the battle.  They cheered when Ramone managed to get ahold of Beck, booed when Beck slithered free, and winced whenever he managed to pop the biker in the face.  Even in the black and white footage, it was clear that Ramone’s head had been busted open, as blood trickled down his face and into his mustache.  Nothing could stop the bulbous bruiser, and he retaliated by slamming his knee into Beck’s chest over and over until his opponent was a crumpled mess on the ground.

Once Beck hit the mat, Ramone had him right where he wanted him.  The hefty man dragged him over to a nearby corner, grabbed the top rope, and then dropped down with all the force of a falling anvil.  The crowd cheered as he did this once, twice, three times before Ramone eventually settled for sitting atop his broken foe as though the North American Champion was nothing but a stool.  That might have been the end for lesser men, but not for Roscoe Beck, who became champion with a broken leg.  He slammed his cinderblock fists into Ramone’s flabby sides again and again, until the superheavyweight was forced to stand up once more…

***

“No, don’t let him get up!  You’ve got him right where you want him!” Mickey cried out at her computer as if her voice would travel through space and time to a match twice as old as she was.

While her grandfather’s opponent got his second wind, the Latina crossed her arms around her chunky chest and grumbled in discontent.  She knew the outcome of the match, certainly, but that did not make it any easier to watch; if anything, it made her antsier, as she had to wait for this moment to pass or that spot to occur.  It was matches like these that made Ray glad he was in the other room, wrapping presents and preparing food for the following day—when Mickey got into a match, she really got into it, and there was no calming her down until the end.

Eventually, Mickey calmed down enough to refocus on the match in an analytical fashion, not some angry fan.  There had been several holds at the beginning of the bout, with her grandfather locking Beck’s head in while the boxer tugged on Lou’s hair.  As the action picked up, Lou would weaponize his bulk by bouncing Beck off the ropes and into his belly or slamming him into a ring post with his boulder of a stomach.  This worked both ways though, as the nimbler Beck would duck around her grandfather or, in one case, leapfrog over him, which would send him tumbling to the mat.  The North American Champion would go for a pin, but Lou always found a way to roll out of it, though he could never pin his wily opponent underneath his girth.

“Maybe if I incorporated a bigger variety of holds,” Mickey mumbled while snacking on another handful of chips.   “Of course, I’d also have to ask permission to use them unless I modified them.”

Being an innovator, Mickey did not want to be seen as a copycat, even though the wrestling landscape was full of imitators.  There were some moves that were old as time itself and used by dozens of people, but there were so many that were intrinsically tied to specific wrestlers.  The trick would be in adapting a move so that it was recognizable yet added a fresh twist, which could turn out very well or very poorly.  At the same time, she needed to consider just how she would make some moves work with her blimp of a body, since she was no longer as limber and supple as she used to be.

It had been months since she had been able to touch her toes, though not for lack of trying.  Mickey regularly stretched as part of her routine, but there was only so much she could do with all the blubber packed onto her body.  If she tried to touch her toes, she would only wind up bunching up her stomach while she went face-first into her cavernous cleavage; even when she tried while sitting, she was impeded by the pile of pudge in her middle.  It was a damn good thing that she did not have to bend over backwards or spider-walk in her new role, or she would be in big trouble.

No, her biggest concern was getting her new gimmick over with the fickle audience that was the GWF Universe.  It did not take much for wrestling fans to shit on something new: some gimmicks were dead on arrival, with fans either loudly voicing their displeasure or, worst of all, being stone silent.  Mickey had always gotten by on being bold and brash, rallying against the system everywhere she went and willingly throwing herself into danger, but would the audience take to her gain?  Fans loved to see old titles revived and a little splash of legacy never hurt, but she needed to hit it big with this or else she would be up the creek without a paddle or a boat.

The biggest stipulation in her gaining was that, if this new angle did not prove successful, then Mickey would be shipped back down to one of the developmental territories until she lost the weight.  That was assuming that the higher-ups decided to keep her on at all; knowing how sizeist the Ericsons could be, she had no doubt that they would screw her over in some fashion.  It was honestly surprising that Dave, who was so fatphobic that he had stripped Shinobu of the title just because she had gotten a little plump, had kept to his word and allowed Mickey to continue with this experiment.  He was probably waiting to the last minute before yanking the rug out and ripping up her contract, the prick.

“What am I worried about?  I’m Mickey Goddamn Ramone,” La Princesa Violenta assured herself as she scarfed up a greedy handful of chips.  “If they think I’m too fat, who cares?  I love the way I look, and there’s plenty of other people that will too!”

All the evidence she needed for that was in the end of the match, which was fast approaching…

***

Buck had thwarted all of Ramone’s attempts to grab hold of him, but even a hummingbird gets tired eventually.  Though he had peppered the behemoth with several jabs and boots, the Hog Wild superheavyweight refused to go down and pulled from a deep well of stamina to stay on his feet.  He lumbered around the ring in search of an opening, biding his time as his opponent tired himself out with constant escapes and attacks.  Eventually, the former boxer slowed down just enough for Ramone to grab a hold of him, and the rest was history.

Ramone took Buck by the wrist and slung him into one of the ring posts before slamming into him like a runaway truck.  Then, he grabbed the North American Champion by the thigh and throat and hoisted him high into the air.  The audience gasped as Ramone held Buck aloft like a strongman would a barbell, and then burst into cheers as he dropped the boxer to the floor like so much trash.  And just for good measure, the burly blimp jogged across the ring like a charging hippo, bounced off the ropes, and ran back to Buck with a fire in his eyes.  The 600-pound man then leapt into the air like a whale breaching the surface of the sea and slamming down on the prone buck.

The referee hit the mat once, twice, three times, and that was it—Lou Ramone was the new North American Champion!  The crowd roared as the new champion climbed to his feet and held his arms high, standing triumphant and basking in the adoration of his public.  When the referee presented him with the title belt, which looked like a child’s toy in his hands, Ramone kissed the gold plating and displayed it for all to see.  After a long year of chasing the title across the country, crossing thousands of miles by land and air, he did the unthinkable and became a double champion.

***

Mickey squealed with glee and clapped along with the audience as her grandfather celebrated in the ring with his manager and a few fans that jumped the barrier.  The picture of him flying through the air was still up at her mom and dad’s house, as was the shot of him kissing the belt.  Watching him achieve victory filled the punk princess with familial pride like nothing else, and it made her wish that she could have known Lou as more than just a photograph and video.

“Did the good guy win?” asked Ray as he returned with more chips and a bowl of queso.

“Hell yes, he did,” Mickey replied with a giddy grin.  She happily accepted the new snacks as she rewound the match to Lou’s finishing body slam, which elicited a low whistle from Ray.

“I’m surprised the ring didn’t break under him,” the manager remarked as he watched the spectacle play out.  “You ought to hold onto that and save it for when you win the title.”

The lardy Latina shook her head while scooping cheese dip onto a stack of three chips.  “Come on, baby, you know that’s not me.  I don’t just want to rip off my grandfather’s moves; I’m bringing his title back, but I don’t want to seem like the next ‘Hog Wild’.”

Ray shrugged as he nuzzled up against his blubbery beauty.  “Maybe so, but we’re talking about a moment that happened fifty years ago—one that holds a special place in your family’s history.  If you can’t homage the past then, when?”

Mickey mulled over the suggestion as she munched on her cheesy chips.  It would be a great way to honor her grandfather, but would the audience see it as her trying to capture lightning in a bottle?  There was too much at stake; she needed to be careful how she presented herself.

“I’ll think about it,” La Princesa told her boyfriend.  “Thank you for the chips, amor.”

“No problem, campeona,” Ray replied with a kiss on her chubby cheek.

[Cyril Figgis]

((And we're back with a brand new chapter!  It's been a while since we checked in on Kat, so let's see how she's holding up after the Red Widow broke her ribs.  Spoilers--she got even fatter.  How much?  You'll just have to read and find out!))

CHAPTER 67

After her ribs were broken in a disastrous segment on Monday Night War, Katherine Donna needed at least a month off to recuperate, and with it being so close to the holidays, it just meant more time at the old homestead.  Her parents welcomed her with open arms, having prepped her room just so she would be able to recover in peace.  Despite how much it hurt to do even the simplest tasks, Kat tried to look on the bright side—namely, that she was going to have a longer reprieve than usual this Christmas.  The holiday season might have been a little slower than usual for the GWF, but that did not mean they stopped at all; the wrestlers were spared only a few days off, which was a more recent trend.

And for the first few days, things were nice!  Relatives popped in to say hi, spend some time chatting, and making her feel a lot better than she did when she first got home.  It also helped that everyone brought delicious goodies with them, from Uncle Terry’s famous chocolate peanut butter cookies to Aunt Ruth carting in a bulk box of swiss cake rolls.  The lion’s share of treats came from her cousin Cassandra, who had plenty of free time while on winter break from grad school.  Cass always had something tasty for her ‘favoritest cousin’, often handmade desserts that were out of this world.

“Well, when I started cooking more for myself, I had to learn my way around a kitchen,” the plump girl had explained.  “I learned some amazing low-fat recipes that don’t skimp on the flavor, if you can believe it!  Don’t worry—we’ve got plenty of time to try them out.”

When Kat heard that, she had assumed that there were just a handful of recipes in her cousin’s repertoire; after all, how many tasty and low-fat recipes could there be?  As it turned out, plenty, for Cass brought over at least two or three dishes of dessert with each visit, each more heavenly than the last.  Sometimes, it was sweets like brownies or buckeyes; other times, it was savory little corndogs and monkey bread.  Whatever came out of Cassandra’s tote bag was guaranteed to be delicious, as Kat’s stomach could attest to.

The wounded wrestler did not have washboard abs when she came home, but all her stuffings on the road had not prepared her for being surrounded by food 24/7.  Kat found herself eating constantly throughout the day: her three square meals had become gut-busting affairs, and the time between each was filled with snacking and grazing; if she could creep around easily, she might have even gone for midnight snacks.  While she had occasionally eaten herself uncomfortably full during her travels, her appetite was taken to a whole new level now that she was back home.  It would have been a scary thought if she paid it any mind, but Kat was in hog heaven now that she wanted for nothing.

“I can just work this off when I get back to the ring,” the blonde reasoned with herself while fixing a BLT that went heavy on the B.  “Besides, Nancy said that I need to focus on taking it easy, so that’s just what we’re going to do—just take it nice and easy.”

That was true: in order to make sure her ribs recovered properly, Kat needed to make sure she did not overextend herself; even if she wanted to, she could not exercise.  Given how much her sides ached, especially the first few days, she was very much inclined to put her feet up and kick back as much as she could.  While she had been taking it easy on her work-out routines before this injury, the formerly fit girl was taking her laziness to a whole other level—not that her family helped matters.

“No, no, don’t get up, sweetheart; you can put the hooks on the ornaments, if you want,” her mother, Brianna, told her as they prepped the tree.

“I’ve got it, champ,” her father, Paul, said as he gathered firewood in the backyard.

“Looks like you need a little more eggnog.  Let me get that for you,” Cassandra offered while they vegged out on the couch and watched a corny Christmas movie.

Kat was happy to take it easy over the holiday month, but there was no denying that such a pampered lifestyle was having an expansive effect on her already soft body.  Weeks of decreasing gym time had caused her fit figure to atrophy, and any weight she lost in muscle was quickly replaced by butter-soft pudge.  While she was chubby all over, the pounds preferred her top half, which made her look fatter than she truly was.  The uninitiated would be forgiven for not knowing Kat Donna had once been a fitness model; if anything, she looked like the ‘before’ model in a diet ad.

She always had a round face, but the new weight had given her chipmunk cheeks and a faint, permanent double chin.  While her arms had never been muscular, they were at least slender and toned; now, they were soft to the touch and looked more like tubes of dough.  Some might have been envious of her cantaloupe breasts, but for Kat, a former high school athlete, it was a new and uncomfortable feeling.  Having to constantly upgrade her wardrobe around her expanding chest was aggravating, but the worst feeling was the tug of the hefty globes and how they made her shoulders ache.  At least her stomach, as big as it was getting, did not offer such frustrations; instead, it offered plenty of its own to balance out.

The gut, for it was neither small nor cute enough to be considered a tummy, stuck out on her like a sore thumb and nearly escaped the overhang of her breasts.  It could not be contained by waistbands, which meant Kat had to let the lump of lard flop out and become even more pronounced.  She could feel it quiver when she walked, and she had to fight the urge to readjust her tops every few feet, no matter how much she thought they clung to her jelly belly.  This also meant that she needed to be careful about reaching for things or bending down, lest she allow her shirts to ride up and expose her thickening love handles.

Despite knowing that she had a weight problem and receiving a reminder of it every time she looked in the mirror, Kat always believed that she could fix this at some point—she just had more important things to worry about.  When she bounced her stomach in her fingers, she swore it would shrink when she got back to work; when she gripped her rump and wobbled it around, she reasoned that it would burn right off just as soon as she hit the road.  What she never did was think about what she could do to curtail her gain in the meantime, like think of a proper exercise routine or, even better, a healthier diet.  No, that was a problem for Future Kat; Current Kat was not going to stress herself out.

Besides, it was not like her family treated her any differently or got on her case about her weight; in fact, it would be downright hypocritical.  Up until recently, Kat and Natalie had been the fittest people in their entire family, with some of their extended relatives even reaching the lofty ‘3-0-0’.  While it was true that Kat had packed on a few pounds over the last few months (if 35 pounds could be considered ‘a few’), she was still one of the thinnest at their gatherings, even though she was unintentionally doing her best to catch up.

The only person that really cared about Kat’s weight was Cassandra, who had to fight back a sinister smile every time she saw her cousin straining her clothes.  Once the ‘fat girl’ of the family, Cass had been on a crusade to lose weight and catch up to Kat and Natalie so that neither one could make fun of her ever again.  She worked her tail off and managed to shed a hundred-odd pounds over the last couple years, but seeing how much her least favorite cousins had plumped up in the last few months felt so much better.  Fueled by that schadenfreude, Cass decided that she would take measures to make sure her role was replaced by her cousins—and since Natalie kept skipping the recent get-togethers, that meant she was taking her frustrations out on Kat.

Cassandra had been plying her cousin with sweets and treats ever since the two of them got back home for the holidays, squeezing in time to see her “favorite” Donna Twin almost every day.  That in of itself would be a problem for Kat’s waistline, but what no one knew was that Cassandra had discovered a dirty little secret about the once sporty superstar.  Not only was Kat so weak-willed around food that she dutifully ate whatever was handed to her—she also seemed to go into a trance whenever she was given large portions.  Cass had witnessed this firsthand at Thanksgiving, when her cousin quietly and hoggishly grunted and snorted her way through three platefuls of home cooking.

So far, in the two weeks since Kat came home, Cass had not seen her act this way, but she had to believe that it was lying in wait.  All she needed was the right opportunity, and Kat would be eating out of the palm of her hand.  That opportunity arrived on Christmas Eve, when the family got together for a Chinese take-out feast before going back to their homes and reconvening for Midnight Mass.  As everyone exited the service and went their separate ways, Cassandra reached out to her curvier cousin and smiled sweeter than a candy cane.

“Hey Katty, you know what would be fun?  A sleepover, just like we used to have,” the slightly younger girl suggested.  “We could watch movies, have some cookies, and stay up till morning!”

Kat might have passed on such an idea, but only if she had her sister for company.  It felt so much lonelier without Natalie around; it was a good thing that Cassandra had come home for the holidays, or she would not have known what to do with herself.  Since the Lowerys lived just down the street from the Donowitzes, Cass had spent a couple Christmas Eves with her cousins, watching movies and late night TV when they could not sleep from all the excitement.  Maybe a trip down memory lane would help shake Kat from her holiday blues.

“Sounds great, Cass!  Just like old times,” Kat replied with a grin, not knowing what her vengeful cousin had in store for the night.

***

After they had cleared everything with their parents and Cass arrived at her house, Kat changed out of her church clothes and into some comfy pajamas—or what had once been comfy pajamas.  The pants were stretched tight around her plump rump, and the Looney Tunes shirt she had worn for years could no longer cover her belly completely.  Since she was not trying to impress anyone, she thought nothing of the exposed tummy flab and simply let it hang out.

Kat wobbled her way to the upstairs rec room and found Cass already there with two TV tables waiting by the couch, but there was not a cookie in sight.  Instead, the leftover Chinese food had been arranged on a couple trays, and Kat could have sworn they put more of a dent in it than this.  There was enough food for four people, easily.

“Um, Cass?  I thought we were going to do milk and cookies,” the Donna Twin remarked as she walked towards the couch.

“Yeah, but I had a real hankering,” Cassandra replied.  “Besides, doesn’t it smell good still?”

It did smell good, and that was the problem.  Kat had been trying so hard to avoid zoning out in front of her family, but she did not trust herself around a spread of MSG majesty.  It had taken all her willpower to avoid pigging out at dinner, though she managed to persevere through it.  Surely she could hold out for just a little longer, right?  Cass had point in that they did not need to eat everything, and Kat would have to hold onto that.

“Fine, but just make sure you stay away from the sweet and sour shrimp,” the wounded wrestler chuckled as she took a seat.  “I swear, I could eat that stuff all day and not be tired of it.”

That was a poor choice of words on her part because, unknown to her, Cassandra had been taking careful note of everything her cousin had eaten earlier in the evening.  Kat had managed to avoid making a pig of herself at dinner, but there was no denying that she had her favorites and went back for seconds of each.  As such, the shrimp joined the pork fried rice, General Tso’s, and lo mein on Kat’s side of the trays while Cassandra kept the healthier options closer to her—not that she intended on eating much of anything.

Unfortunately, it was the shrimp that proved to be her undoing.  Distracted by idle chit-chat with Cassandra and the hokey movie playing in the background, Kat mindlessly gobbled through a plate of shrimp and rice down to the last grain.  She went back for seconds without hesitation, scooping some lo mein onto her dish and tearing into it as soon as she settled back against the couch.  Her meager willpower crumbled against the take-out takeover, and she was soon shoveling food in as fast as she could.  At least she had the good grace to use her utensils, but she still speckled her shirt with sauce and grease like a slob.

“Good, isn’t it?” asked Cassandra, who had mostly picked at her plate and nibbled on the occasional vegetable.  “Want some of mine?”

“Yesh,” Kat grunted, her mouth full of rice as she snatched up her cousin’s plate.

Cass gleefully gawked at the display of piggishness before her.  While Kat was never prim and proper, she always had some etiquette to her, but all of that had gone out the window in the pursuit of filling her stomach.  Her theory had proven correct—that all she needed was a little push, and the blonde would turn into a human garbage disposal.  Now that she had Kat right where she wanted her, it was time to take things to the next level.

“Be right back, Katty—I’m going to get some more water,” Cass fibbed as she skittered out of the room, completely ignored by her cousin.

Left alone with all the food, Kat was free to let her inner glutton out with aplomb.  She piled her plate high with food and dug in with reckless abandon, shoveling meat, rice, and noodles past her lips until her cheeks were full.  Her brain had switched to a single track, and all she could think to do was eat until it finally told her to stop—assuming it ever did.  Everything was so good, it was impossible for her to resist!  And if it was so good, why should she ever stop?

Cass walked back into the room to the cathartic spectacle of her once athletic cousin tilting a Styrofoam container up to her lips to get the last specks of food and sauce contained therein.  It was crazy to think there was a time when Kat and Natalie used to give her extra food they did not want to eat; that same Kat was now eating better than a fat woman in a sideshow.  The only thing that made it even better was how much the blonde’s belly had ballooned over the course of the meal.  The plump globe had expanded like a balloon on a helium tank, and it sat on her lap like a bloated lump of dough—useless and round.

“Time to make it even bigger,” Cass mumbled to herself before speaking loud enough for Kat to hear her.  “Hey, Katty, you know what would be fun?  Let’s check how much we weigh!”

“Don’t wanna,” the gluttonous girl retorted.  “Eating.”

“Would you do it for an egg roll?” asked Cassandra as she revealed a bowl of egg rolls she had hidden behind her back.  “There’s plenty for you if you can make it to the bathroom!”

At the sight of the tube of fried goodness, Kat’s eyes sparkled with hoggish glee and desire.  That was the only thing missing from her Chinese feast—a nice, savory egg roll or three.  With the promise of more delicious food, Kat rocked herself off the couch and plodded sluggishly towards Cassandra, her eyes never once leaving their prize.  Cass stifled a laugh at how her formerly limber cousin labored after her, waddling along with a ball belly like a pregnant woman, and she wondered how much damage she could do before they both went back to their lives.

After being led to the guest bathroom, Kat walked up onto the scale that Cass had pulled out in advance and gobbled up an entire egg roll while waiting for her weight to register.  Her mind was a million miles away as the digital counter pinged at her; all she could focus on was the bowl of egg rolls and the food that was waiting for her in the rec room.  She vaguely registered Cassandra whistling in amazement before the rest of the bowl was put in her greedy hands.

“Okay, Katty, you can have the rest,” Cass told her with a sly grin.  “Enjoy!”

“Thanks,” Kat snorted as she waddled back down the hall to enjoy the rest of her feast.

Cassandra whipped out her phone and took a quick picture of the scale’s reading before it vanished.  There, in black and white, was a big, fat ‘184’.  In just a few short months, Kat Donna had put on over fifty pounds of sloven fat, transforming herself from a viable contender to an overfed cow of a girl.  The icing on the karmic cake was the number Cass got when she stepped on the scale and it came to ‘170’—a loss of thirteen pounds since Thanksgiving.

“I can’t believe it,” the formerly fat girl marveled quietly, holding back a shriek of glee that would have woken the neighborhood.  “I’m thinner than Kat Donna!”

Cass never thought the day would actually come, but she was no longer the fat cousin between herself and Kat.  All those long hours of exercising and the countless meals where she restrained her appetite had finally paid off.  More than that, her cousin was on the fast track to taking her place as the butterball of the family if her gluttonous display was anything to go off of.  The only thing that would have made this moment even better would be if she could rub it in Kat’s face, but it would never have gotten through the fog of food that clogged her brain.

“I’ve still got a couple weeks before I go back to school,” Cassandra reasoned as she made her way back to the rec room and caught a glimpse of Kat double-fisting eggrolls, both dripping with duck sauce.  There was still plenty of time to cement her cousin’s transformation into an out-and-out hog and get some well-deserved payback for years of mockery…

((Hope you've enjoyed this chapter!  Please let me know what you thought--I'm really curious to know what you think as we march on through Year 2 of SHWC.  Comments are greatly appreciated, but even a Like helps.))

[Cyril Figgis]

((And we're back with the WG story that has critics saying "What is a SHWC and why should I care?" Last week, we took a look at how Kat Donna was spending her Christmas Eve, so it only makes sense to check in on her sister.  And if you thought that Cass was bad for Kat, just wait until you see what Sadie has in store for Notapig Natalie!))

CHAPTER 68

Natalie Donna wished she was back in Milwaukee.  She used to think that it was lame to spend so much time with her family, but she would have given anything to be chatting around the Christmas tree, eating Chinese food, and singing Christmas carols at Midnight Mass.  All of the things she used to hate and roll her eyes at seemed so much brighter and delightful, and she wished that she could have been spending her holiday there.  But perhaps that was just the chains talking.

The night before Christmas Eve, her tormentor and sadistic lover, Sadie Storme, had stuffed her to within an inch of popping; telling her that Chinese food was a Christmas tradition in the Donowitz house was a terrible mistake.  Natalie passed out with the taste of sweet and sour sauce still on her tongue, the Land of Nod being the one place she could escape from Sadie.  Unfortunately, she was roused before long and woke to a blindfold over her eyes, her wrists and ankles in cuffs, and cream being spread across her aching stomach.

“Sadie?  What t-t-time is it?” the drowsy Donna murmured.

“The clock just struck midnight, Notapig,” the devious blonde replied as she continued her gentle ministrations across the bloated dome that was Natalie’s gut.  “I just wanted to make sure you were ready for the fun day you’re about to have.”

Natalie could only imagine what Sadie had planned for her while they had some time off for Christmas, and what she envisioned frightened her.  Ever since the conniving woman had sunk her claws into the naïve diva, she had introduced Natalie to a world of humiliation and pleasure unlike any other.  She had done things—on film, no less—that she could have never dreamt of doing before, and was rewarded each time with a mind-shattering climax.  All these games had done a number on the Donna Twin, whose old stuttering issues had resurfaced as her self-esteem took hit after hit from her tormentor—to say nothing of what was happening to her waistline.

When Natalie discovered the world of feederism, she let her diet and exercise slip until both became nonexistent after Sadie lured her in on Halloween.  She was already soft in the middle before that fateful night, but once her stable leader had total control of her, the diva had expanded to sizes she never imagined herself reaching.  Unlike her sister, whose gains favored her upper body, Natalie’s pounds pooled in her lower body, starting with a ball belly that had begun to droop under its own weight like a drop of water.  Her hips were rounding out with saddlebags that made her look like she was perpetually wearing jodhpurs, and her thighs squished together almost entirely to the knee.  She did not fare much better in the back, as her rump had ballooned to pumpkin-sized proportions.

Worse than being forced to wear clothes until she popped out of them, watching the numbers of the scale tick higher with each day, or watch her toned body deteriorate further was that Natalie loved it.  Her descent into this lifestyle had started when she went spying on Sadie for Maxine, who had ballooned while under the blonde’s thumb.  It used to boggle her mind that anyone would willingly let themselves get so fat so fast, but after spending nearly every night with Sadie, Natalie could see why.  For as cruel as she could be, the leader of the Storme Troop was a hell of a lover and made her want to get even fatter, so long as it meant more attention from her.

“What are we d-d-doing t-t-t-today?” Natalie whispered.

“We won’t be doing anything,” the blonde answered as she rolled a gelatinous love handle in her fingers.  “You’re going to have three visitors today, piglet—three girls who are looking forward to playing with my pet hog.  I want you to be on your best behavior for them and do whatever they ask you, understand?  If I hear you’ve displeased them at all, there will be consequences.”

The threat was punctuated by Sadie digging her nails into Natalie’s tender flab, eliciting whimpers from the chubby diva.  She did not need to be reminded of what the blonde bully meant, as she had been on the receiving end of many a punishment thus far.  Her stomach still ached from the time she had to guzzle down two gallons worth of ice cream the last time she had failed Sadie.

“I won’t d-d-disappoint you, S-S-S-Sadie,” Natalie squeaked.  “I’ll be a good p-p-p-pig.”

“I know you will, Notapig,” Sadie hummed.  After she finished applying the cream to Natalie’s belly, she slid off the bed and told her pet project, “Now, I’m going to head out on the town: I found this really cute MILF whose desk job has made her ass balloon, and she wants a little company.  You just get some rest—your first visitor should be here in a few hours.  Ta-ta, piggy!”

Natalie oinked softly in reply, glad to have a little reprieve before whatever was to come.  Unlike Maxine, she did not care that Sadie was a philanderer who spent her nights on the town; she welcomed those times when she found a plaything, since it meant she would not be stuffed until dawn.  More concerning to her was the prospect of the three visitors she was to expect, because she had some notion about who they were, but not what they were capable of.

***

The first one to drop by was Lora Rose, a woman Natalie had once considered a friend but who actually bore a deep resentment towards her like so many others.  Natalie had made the mistake of sleeping with Lora’s boyfriend a couple years prior, and while she thought the Appalachian had forgiven her, Lora had never let go of that betrayal.  Once she found out that Natalie was free game for humiliation, she jumped on the bandwagon of tormenting the doughball diva and assisted in fattening her former friend.

“Come on out of the bathroom, Natty,” Lora called out from the hotel room proper.  “The sooner y’all get started on this, the sooner y’all can finish this.  Sooie!”

“C-C-Coming!” Natalie meekly replied before slowly making her way out of the bathroom.

The Donna Twin that waddled out was a completely unrecognizable from the bold diva that used to strut out on Monday Night War in skimpy outfits more befitting of a lingerie model.  Besides the dozens of pounds she had piled on over the last few months, Natalie was dressed in a neon pink leotard that might as well have been painted on, leather sleeves that completely cover her arms and most of her legs, and a face mask with a built-in nose hook.  Atop her head was a pair of fuzzy pig ears, and nestled deep within her backside was a vibrator that ended in a curly tail.  There was not a single shred of class or dignity in her look; instead, Natalie looked like a very specific kind of fetish model.

“I do declare, ya make a mighty fine sow,” Lora chuckled.  The brunette had changed into a pair of Daisy Dukes that were short enough to leave the pockets exposed, a plaid shirt that was tied off underneath her perky chest, and a broadbrimmed straw hat.  “Y’all just need one last touch.  Get down on yer elbows and knees, and put’cher hands on yer shoulders.”

Natalie did as she was instructed, slowly lowering herself down to the floor and resting herself on her elbows and knees.  The sleeves had built in pads around the joints, so she was not especially uncomfortable around those spots; instead, she was discomforted by the odd sensation of her belly drooping down.  Lora crouched down beside her and buckled her arms together, forearm to bicep, and proceeded to do the same thing with her legs.  The diva could feel her heels pushing into her thigh fat, but could do nothing about it, just as she could not stop Lora from pinching the expanse of her cheeks.

“Just look at’cha,” Lora hummed as she jostled Natalie’s flabby body, poking and prodding at pudge where there had been none mere weeks before.  “Y’all almost look good enough to eat.  Got plenty of bacon on ya, that’s for damn sure.”

She had no idea how she had gotten to this point, but Natalie did not have the capacity to worry about her predicament.  Between Lora shaming her and the vibrator rumbling inside her, the Donna Twin’s brain was frying like an egg; it was all she could do to keep herself propped up.  If this was any indication of how her day was going to go, she might not make it through in one piece.

After finishing her inspection of the blimpy bombshell, Lora stood back up and remarked, “Well, yer mighty hefty, Notapig, but ya still need a few more pounds if’n yer gonna win the blue ribbon.  Good thing I brought just the thing for a growin’ girl like yerself.”

‘Just the thing’ turned out to be a small trough full of cheesy grits with sausage and bacon mixed in.  The smell was intoxicating to Natalie and, after crawling over on her bound limbs, she dove in headfirst and began to scarf it down.  Not only did she want this humiliation to end sooner rather than later, but she was also just that much of a glutton.

***

It took her a couple hours to get through the grits, especially since Lora refilled the trough time and again whenever she got near the bottom, but Natalie made it through.  Once she finished, Lora undid the buckles around her arms and legs, but that was all the help she was going to get from her jilted friend.  After dancing off the pig suit and removing the vibrator, which nearly made her collapse, the bedraggled diva crawled into bed for a fleeting nap.  Her rest was painfully brief though, as her next tormentor arrived not two hours later.

“Notapig, you stand accused of vanity, whorishness, harassment, and most recently, gluttony.  How do you plead?” asked a regal and resplendent Dame Elizabeth Knox, done up like Queen Elizabeth I, complete with broad collar and gown.  Ridiculous attire, sure, but it did not hold a candle to Natalie.

The disgraced diva had a black hood over most of her head, though her mouth was left visible.  Her portly frame was somewhat covered by a burlap sack that only just reached the top of her thighs, which left everything below the belt exposed.  She had been made to kneel on the ground while her head and hands were locked into a wooden stockade that Elizabeth had used from time to time in her gimmick.  The goofy thing used to make her chuckle, but now, Natalie could find nothing funny about it.

“G-G-Guilty?  Not?  I d-d-d-don’t know what you want me to say,” Natalie whimpered as she wriggled around, bare bum bouncing behind her.

Elizabeth sneered at the quivering girl and waltzed behind her to deliver a sharp smack to her rump.  “You are so very guilty, you little tart, and you must be punished.”

“P-P-Punished?” asked the captive diva, but her tormentor did not reply.  Instead, she waited until something sweet and rich wafted under her nose; despite everything surrounding her, she could not help but drool over the delectable scent.

“This, Notapig, is sticky toffee pudding with vanilla custard,” the domineering Elizabeth explained while she slid a forkful of the cake into Natalie’s mouth.  “Quite good, isn’t it?”

“Delishush,” Natalie hummed around the mouthful.

“Good, because your punishment is to eat sticky toffee pudding until you pop,” Elizabeth sneered.  Before her plaything could reply, she grabbed the slice of cake and crammed it into Natalie’s open mouth, smearing crumbs, sauce, and custard around her lips.

It was at this point that Natalie was sure that she was dreaming.  There was no way any of this madness was really happening to her; as much as the girls backstage would love to humiliate her, they would never go to such insane lengths.  She would wake up at some point in her hotel bed with an empty belly and a note from Sadie to stuff herself at the intercontinental breakfast downstairs.  And if this was a dream, then she might as well try to enjoy herself, no matter how demeaning it might be.

“F-F-Feed me,” the disbelieving diva murmured as she licked her lips clean.

“As you wish, Notapig,” Elizabeth sneered while preparing the next of several cake slices, “but what does the piggy say?”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Natalie let out a throaty, well-practiced, “Oink-oink!”

***

By the time her last captor arrived, that was all the bedraggled butterball could say.  Natalie ate pudding after pudding until she could not eat another bite, though not for lack of trying; by the time she stopped, it felt like she was full all the way up to her throat.  She was given another brief reprieve before the last visitor made it, but she did not even make it back to the bed this time.  As soon as she was released from the stockades, the diva slumped onto the floor and promptly passed out—her one comfort being a pillow Elizabeth slipped under her head.

“Mewosamasu, buta,” commanded Anzu Bonny, the woman who hated her most.

When Natalie opened her bleary eyes, she found that she was lying on the bed again but was naked from head to toe.  She could feel hooks pulling her nose up again, the sting of clamps biting into her sensitive teats, and the tug of ropes all across her body.  Her arms were yanked behind her back while her legs were spread wide, and a quick tug revealed that her hands were tied off to her ankles.  The cords dug into her stuffed stomach and flabby thighs and forced her breasts up and out, but her attention was more on the knotted portion of the rope that rubbed against her aching sex.  It was the most surreal torment she had endured in some time and only cemented the notion that this was nothing but a bad dream.

“Just look at you,” Anzu mused as she loomed over Natalie and ran her hand over the diva’s thick curves.  “To think that there was once a time I was afraid of you.  I should thank Elizabeth and Lora for getting you prepped for me; I just hope there’s still room in your gut for more food.  By the time I’m through with you, Sadie might not even recognize you.”

“Umf,” Natalie grunted while she wiggled around on the bed, her mind fraying a little more with each movement.  “Oink-oink!”

Anzu cackled like a witch at the sight of the woman she despised most brought so low.  “So many times, I ran and cried because of all you’d say and do to me.  You always said I’d never amount to nothing, that I should just pack my bags and go back to the rice paddies.  To think that I used to be afraid of such a pathetic loser like you; I must have been out of my mind.”

The vengeful woman’s hands explored every inch of Natalie’s bare body, squishing and prodding her like she was testing a piece of meat.  The sensations rolling through Natalie had her eyes rolling back as she struggled for words—not that she could say much if she found them.  Being toyed with for hours on end by two of her rivals had left her mind a tattered mess, and the thought that all this was just a dream only made it easier to let sanity drift away.

“You’re soft as mochi, but still not big enough for my liking,” Anzu decided while squeezing a handful of Natalie’s rump.  “I have prepared something very special to put some pounds on you, buta.  Would you like to see what I have in store for you?”

Natalie nodded as drool trickled out her open, expectant mouth.  At this point, she did not care what she was fed—all that mattered was her belly be filled.  “Oink-oink!”

Anzu slinked away for only a moment before returning with a keg.  She fixed a tube to the tap and slid it into Natalie’s mouth, at which point she began to pump.  The diva was surprised to find that it was a sort of gelatin being pumped down her throat, and it had a strong coffee taste to it.  Regardless of what it was, she greedily gulped it down while she let out a muffled squeal of delight.

“You like the coffee jelly, do you, Notapig?  I thought you might,” Anzu remarked with a sinister smirk.  “Now, just so you don’t get bored, why don’t we put on something?  I know—how about a playlist of your greatest moments in the GWF?  That should be hilarious, at least for me.”

Natalie was too detached to register her old self slinking across the screen, her toned body a sight to behold and a testament to a healthy diet, steady exercise, and not giving into temptation.  The woman on the television was a far cry from the fattened hog that guzzled down gelatin to sate her gluttonous appetite.  If the old Natalie could only see what she would become…

***

An alarm blared to Natalie’s right, but she was too weak and groggy to reach it.  Thankfully, Sadie was there to turn it off for her, though she quickly returned to her laptop.  The drowsy diva groaned as she fought the urge to drift back to sleep and asked, “What t-t-time is it?”

“A little after 8,” Sadie answered, her eyes not leaving her computer.  “I figured you should get some rest after yesterday’s events.”

“Yesterday?  B-B-But yesterday was the T-T-Twenty-third,” Natalie murmured as a sickening realization dawned on her.  “T-T-T-Today’s C-C-Christmas Eve, right?”

Sadie turned in her chair, allowing Natalie a glimpse of what was on-screen, and she gawked when she saw herself bound with rope and squealing giddily.  The blonde sneered, “Why, it’s Christmas Day, Notapig.  And the girls all agreed—you were the best Christmas gift they could ever ask for!”

[Cyril Figgis]

Hey everyone, just wanted to give a heads up and say that there won't be a new chapter this week.  I'm trying to get caught up with Capes and Cuisines, and I don't want to sacrifice quality for getting it out on time.  I am aiming to have another chapter ready next Monday, come hell or high water.

In the meantime, I'd really love to know what you think of the story so far.  It's been a little over two and a half years since I started this project, and nearly 350 pages later, it's still going strong.  There have been dozens of characters introduced, countless scenarios played out, and several bellies stuffed to max fullness, and we're not even close to finishing!  But what I really want to know is what you, the readers, think.

Who are your favorite characters?  Who do you never want to see again?  Which chapters did you like most?  Is there anything that needs work?  I am open to any and all comments and critiques, because I want to make sure I'm giving you the best story possible.

[Cyril Figgis]

Hey all, just wanted to provide an update on this for the few people that look forward to this story.  I've tried to get back into the swing of things lately, but I'm stuck on the next chapter for reasons I won't get into on a public forum.  Part of the problem is that I feel like I'm posting for nothing--I want to tell this story, but if no one cares, what's the point?  If I were to call it quits here, what difference would it make?  I don't mean for this to sound like I want to be showered with praise or Likes, but I sometimes feel like a guy on the corner handing out pamphlets and everyone just passes by.  Any feedback goes a long ways.

If you came here because you saw the thread updated and were expecting a new chapter, I apologize.  I don't want to be the person that makes posts just for attention, but I'm not in a great space right now and SHWC has taken a hit because of it.  I'm trying to do better IRL, but I really need your thoughts on things.  Do you want me to continue with this, pause for the time being, or stop all together?

I've asked for feedback in the past, but right now, I need it more than ever.

[The_Murp]

16 minutes ago, Cyril Figgis said:

Do you want me to continue with this, pause for the time being, or stop all together?

I've asked for feedback in the past, but right now, I need it more than ever.

I have enjoyed this story, but to be honest there are way too many characters to keep track of. I think you made it a harder story to tell because there are so many parallel subplots going on at once. If you think you're stalling out I'd say just finish the main character arc so it gets wrapped up.  

[Cult-Lit]

Stay strong Cyril! I always look for updates to stories from good writers such as yourself. My personal favorites include the Donna twins, Mickey, Maggie, the Maxine love triangle and Shinobu (could be blanking on the name). I'll echo some of the feedback you've already received - as fun as all of the characters are, it feels like there are too many at this rate. I appreciate the world building and the wrestling setting, but some characters I've completely lost track of or forgot about until their arc was revisited. I'm a sucker for long drawn out plotlines with my fatties, so keep at it if you want to see this one through. If not, I understand your situation and I wish you the best. Feel better soon and I eagerly await your next update regardless of if you update here or not. 

[Cyril Figgis]

51 minutes ago, rerogo said:

I have enjoyed this story, but to be honest there are way too many characters to keep track of. I think you made it a harder story to tell because there are so many parallel subplots going on at once. If you think you're stalling out I'd say just finish the main character arc so it gets wrapped up.  

 

23 minutes ago, Cult-Lit said:

Stay strong Cyril! I always look for updates to stories from good writers such as yourself. My personal favorites include the Donna twins, Mickey, Maggie, the Maxine love triangle and Shinobu (could be blanking on the name). I'll echo some of the feedback you've already received - as fun as all of the characters are, it feels like there are too many at this rate. I appreciate the world building and the wrestling setting, but some characters I've completely lost track of or forgot about until their arc was revisited. I'm a sucker for long drawn out plotlines with my fatties, so keep at it if you want to see this one through. If not, I understand your situation and I wish you the best. Feel better soon and I eagerly await your next update regardless of if you update here or not. 

You both make excellent points about how bloated the cast has gotten--both as characters and as a roster.  I was inspired by long-running stories like the Alice Saga and VL, which slowly worked towards an endpoint but focused more on scenarios than progressing the plot.  In trying to emulate that, I might have overstretched myself and created something very unwieldy.

Focusing solely on Mickey and getting to the end would be good, but maybe not at this point--the endgame I have in mind involves most of these storylines coming together.  I'll have to think on this, but I do appreciate your feedback.

[Guest ratetankmark]

Dude, please continue, you are honestly one of the best writers that I've ever seen in general, not just for weight gain stuff; but I also think that you should do what is best for you, we've all loved this series but if you feel that it needs to go on hiatus then you should do what you feel is right. I just hope that you feel better soon, mate.  Although I will agree that I got a bit confused with the sheer amount of characters, maybe focusing more on less characters would help?

[Cult-Lit]

22 hours ago, Cyril Figgis said:

 

You both make excellent points about how bloated the cast has gotten--both as characters and as a roster.  I was inspired by long-running stories like the Alice Saga and VL, which slowly worked towards an endpoint but focused more on scenarios than progressing the plot.  In trying to emulate that, I might have overstretched myself and created something very unwieldy.

Focusing solely on Mickey and getting to the end would be good, but maybe not at this point--the endgame I have in mind involves most of these storylines coming together.  I'll have to think on this, but I do appreciate your feedback.

Alice and VL (especially VL) are some of my favorites too and I can see the resemblance here with what you're doing. I'm not sure what's going on with this story because I haven't felt this way about any of your other work. Something about the characters feels like a lot of them are...unmemorable? I don't think that's the right word and there's other factors, such as plotlines/subplots. When I look at the Alice storyline it's pretty easy to look at it and segment characters into bins of Alice, Jenn, and Laurie with some overlap in between. Maybe there just hasn't been enough overlap between all the characters here. To list a few different "bins" or "factions" off the top of my head there's Mickey, Shinobu, Sadie, Maxine, Carolyn, the Donna twins, Amanda/Levi (I could be misremembering some of these). Outside of that, I love this story! It's creative, original in setting and character development, grounded in it's own universe and fun to watch unfold. 

[Cyril Figgis]

57 minutes ago, Cult-Lit said:

Alice and VL (especially VL) are some of my favorites too and I can see the resemblance here with what you're doing. I'm not sure what's going on with this story because I haven't felt this way about any of your other work. Something about the characters feels like a lot of them are...unmemorable? I don't think that's the right word and there's other factors, such as plotlines/subplots. When I look at the Alice storyline it's pretty easy to look at it and segment characters into bins of Alice, Jenn, and Laurie with some overlap in between. Maybe there just hasn't been enough overlap between all the characters here. To list a few different "bins" or "factions" off the top of my head there's Mickey, Shinobu, Sadie, Maxine, Carolyn, the Donna twins, Amanda/Levi (I could be misremembering some of these). Outside of that, I love this story! It's creative, original in setting and character development, grounded in it's own universe and fun to watch unfold. 

You make a good point about how the Alice stories are basically limited to three characters, with a fairly small supporting cast that only comes up as needed.  I think if I had kept things tighter in terms of the cast, there might not be as much of an issue with forgettable characters or storylines.

But I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story so far.  For as much as it frustrates me sometimes and all its faults, I consider this one of my finest works and want to see this through.

[KerryNation]

Dude, as a lapsed fan of pro wrestling, I have LOVED this story moreso than any I have read in quite a long while, and for me, while the weight gain is the main draw, the other half of the fun in this story is trying to figure out which characters correspond to which real-life wrestlers (if any). I have really enjoyed the story thus far, and after not seeing it posted on Dimensions in quite a bit, I was honestly worried that something had happened to you. I'm glad to see I was wrong on that account, and if you're more active here, I will be following the story on these boards, should you decide to continue it, which I dearly hope you will. 

 

Stay strong, take all the time you need, and hopefully, come back to this when you're ready. 

[Cyril Figgis]

6 hours ago, KerryNation said:

Dude, as a lapsed fan of pro wrestling, I have LOVED this story moreso than any I have read in quite a long while, and for me, while the weight gain is the main draw, the other half of the fun in this story is trying to figure out which characters correspond to which real-life wrestlers (if any). I have really enjoyed the story thus far, and after not seeing it posted on Dimensions in quite a bit, I was honestly worried that something had happened to you. I'm glad to see I was wrong on that account, and if you're more active here, I will be following the story on these boards, should you decide to continue it, which I dearly hope you will. 

 

Stay strong, take all the time you need, and hopefully, come back to this when you're ready. 

Thanks for the kind words. Yes, I'm generally more active on this forum, at least in terms of providing updates on progress. I will still post to Dimensions as well, but if you want to know the state of things, this will be the place.

[KerryNation]

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.