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Cyril Figgis

The Superheavyweight Champion (NEW CHAPTER ADDED 4/2/2021)

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((After the excellence of Evolution 2018, it's time for a hot new chapter!  Enjoy!))


When Mickey returned to the table with Theresa and two heaping plates of food apiece, Ray raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  He recognized the redhead as the same one his girlfriend tried to identify, but he was just as much in the dark as the punk wrestler had been until a few minutes ago.  After Mickey revealed the mystery woman’s name to him, the manager was floored and practically leaped out of his seat to greet the former wrestler.  Not that he would admit it, but Queen Heart had been one of his favorite women’s wrestlers as a teen, though for different reasons than Mickey’s.  One glance at her cavernous cleavage reminded him what those reasons were.

“It’s such a pleasure, Queen,” the Latino remarked as he shook her chubby hand. “I’ve been a longtime fan.”

“Charmed, Mr. Valdez,” Theresa chuckled, “but please, call me ‘Theresa’.  Let’s not stand on kayfabe here, Ray.”

Ray grinned bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure thing, Theresa.  Let me get your chair for you.”

“Very kind of you, sweetie, but I’m going to need more than one chair,” the blubbery beauty replied in her husky, soothing voice.  While Ray pulled a chair out for her, she got another chair and set it the two of them beside one another.  Mickey and her beau marveled at how the former champion had expanded so much that she needed two chairs to sit down; a closer inspection revealed that she was still drooping over them.

“That is so hot,” La Princesa Violenta mumbled quietly, her manager nodding in agreement.

The two of them took their seats on either side of Theresa and chatted with one another, though the two porkers were not the best for conversation at that moment.  Mickey, despite being on her fourth plate, showed no signs of slowing down; if anything, she was eating even faster than before.  Meanwhile, despite dressing sharply, Theresa was almost as much of a glutton as her fan, whom she was matching bite for bite.  They tried to have a good discussion about this or that, but their mouths were always too full; as soon as they finished making room, another bite filled the empty space.

Ray sat back in his chair, quietly ecstatic at the scene playing out in front of him.  Finally, he broke the ice by saying to Theresa, “So I’ll bet you’re wondering just how Mickey ended up like this: an eating machine with all her muscles coated in blubber.”

The older woman blushed as she realized just how focused she was on eating and not on her hosts.  She cleared her throat with some coffee before remarking, “That has crossed my mind, yes.  I saw her on the first day of the cruise but couldn’t recognize her; Mickey, you look like someone stuck a tube in your mouth and poured a gallon of butter in you every day for the last five months.”

Mickey gagged on her big bite at the comment and squirmed in her seat.  Never mind that her idol had unknowingly referenced one sticky night in June; it was humiliating to hear that coming from Queen Hart.  The redhead seemed to catch that, and she immediately reached out and patted the punk’s hand.

“I don’t mean that in a mean way, dear,” Theresa assured her flabby fan. “I mean, I’m not exactly one to be calling people out on their weight.  It’s just, well, the last time I saw you, you were in peak condition.  What happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that it’s for an angle,” Mickey explained, ignoring her plate for the moment.  It was the second time she had to describe her immense weight gain: the reasons why she started, how she continued, and what the end goal was.  Throughout her story, Theresa continued to eat; by the look in her eye, she was captivated by what she heard.

When she finished, the punk wrestler took an anxious forkful from her plate and looked to her idol with expectant eyes.  It was one thing to tell this to friends; it was something else entirely to talk about it with her childhood hero.  Mickey asked nervously, “So…thoughts?”

The redhead took a moment to daintily dab at her lips with a napkin before she answered. “I’ve heard of some crazy schemes in my day.  Hell, I’ve been in a few of those gimmicks and angles myself.  But this?  This takes the cake, and I love it.”

“You do?” the wrestler asked with a budding smile on her chubby face.

“Absolutely!  It’s the most original angle I’ve ever heard in a dog’s age, and to tie it in with your own family history is marvelous.  I cannot wait to see you back in the ring, holding that belt over your head,” Theresa replied, pearly whites flashing at the young woman. “I also can’t wait to see what sort of gear you use; they don’t exactly have leotards for women our size, you know.”

Mickey giggled like a schoolgirl at that. “Oh, I’m not worried about that just yet.  First things first: I have to get to my goal weight in seven months.”

“Well, just know that I’m cheering you on,” the retired superstar told her biggest, literally and figuratively, fan.  She reached over and squeezed Mickey’s arm again before pulling away to tuck back into her plate. “Hearing that almost makes me want to get back in the game, just so I could be there to see it in the flesh.”

“Why don’t you come back?” asked Ray, casually reclining in his seat. “The fans would love to see you again; I can only imagine the pop you would get.”

Theresa shook her head. “That’s sweet, dear, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I’ve been away for too long, built up too much ring rust.  I can’t do any of my signatures anymore; there’s no way a woman my size could do a proper moonsault without killing someone.”

Her reasoning was followed by a longing sigh as she continued, “But the itch is still there, and it keeps wanting to be scratched.  I miss the spectacle of it all, the adoration of the fans, and traveling to so many new and exciting places.  Even if it were just for one night, I wish I could be back in that ring again.”

Mickey pursed her lips in thought before a clever smirk crossed her lips.  She asked, “Who says you have to be a wrestler?”

Theresa and Ray glanced her way as she told the two, “You may not be able to wrestle again, but I know for a fact that you’ve still got the gift of gab.  You could be a manager!  I know more than a few girls that would love to have you manage them and having you in their corner would really give them a push with the audience.”

Before the redhead could respond, the beefy man on her left remarked, “That could work.  I’ve been working with the bookers and commissioners and they all agree we need more manager figures for the program.  We’re looking at getting big names back in the game too, not just random nobodies off the street; Mulligan told me that the Tycoon is coming back to manage the Desperados.  Having a former Women’s Champion would be a big boost for some of our midcarders.”

Theresa put her chin in hand and furrowed her brow, mulling over the concept in her head.  It certainly had potential, and if she could get some attention for an up-and-comer, it would be even sweeter.  She could get that adoration and thrill her life had been lacking for so long; it was no good being a queen without loyal subjects.  At the same time, she had her family to worry about, especially her two children; she did not want to be on the road for so long.  Then there was the matter of her physique or lack thereof: she was almost three times the woman she had been in the GWF; was there a place for her as she was?

“I’ll need to think about it,” the redhead ultimately decided. “There’s so much I need to consider and weigh out if I am to come back again.”

“No pressure!” Mickey reassured her icon. “It’s just an idea: whether you come back or not is all up to you; if you never want to come back, we’d understand.”

Theresa smiled, amazed at how this girl who once bawled like a baby was now a bona fide professional in her own right.  She took a long draught of coffee before telling the couple, “Thank you both so much; it has been such a thrill to meet you two.  What say we spend these last few days at sea getting to know each other some more?”

“I don’t think I could ask for anything more,” Ray chuckled.  Twelve-year-old him would have been so jealous.

“Like you even need to ask,” Mickey answered with a smile that created darling dimples in her cheeks. “Just know that if you hang out with us, you better have an appetite.”

The former queen smirked and patted her immense belly. “Oh sweetheart, you’ve never seen an appetite like mine; I didn’t get this big by eating like a rabbit, you know.”

The trio shared a laugh at that and clinked their glasses together.  They had no idea what the future held but they were going to deal with it as it came; the next few days were going to be all about living the high life.


And live them, they did.  If Mickey thought she was stuffed all day long before, she was not prepared for the next four days.  She was practically eating from the moment she woke up to the moment she fell asleep, but even that was not enough; the damned ship just had to have a midnight buffet that Theresa insisted they visit.  It got to be so bad that it seemed the only time she left her pool chair was to go to bed; Ray was able to order nearly everything she could ask for and have it brought to them.  Even though she cut out most of the alcohol she had been imbibing the last several days, she made up the difference by stuffing herself until she was food drunk.

Surprisingly, Theresa was able to match her bite for bite and still have room for more like she had some kind of black hole in her stomach.  More than that, Mickey was shocked at how the woman was able to move around after gorging herself with enough food to feed a small army.  She would eat, eat, and eat some more yet still find the strength to take a dip in the pool and swim a lap or two.  Sometimes she journeyed to one of the stores in the ship for a little shopping spree, which normally meant something nice for herself and some snacks for Mickey, as if the Latina needed any more food in her life.

Yet grouse as she might, Mickey would not have traded the last four days for anything in the world.  She was living out a childhood fantasy by befriending Theresa Hartley, who was just as lovely as her heyday in the GWF.  The two got along like best friends that had known each other for years rather than the barest of acquaintances beforehand.  Mickey never brought up the idea of making a comeback after that breakfast, but the notion was still there in all their minds.  Besides, who could think about business when there was so much food to be had?

On the final morning when the ship was set to dock, the lovers were packing up their bags and double-checking to make sure they had not missed anything.  Mickey, clad in a cyan skirt and white blouse, was going through the bathroom when she caught a look at herself in the mirror.  The skirt was a tight squeeze; it clung to her thunder thighs like white on rice and her belly oozed over the top in a fluffy roll.  Her blouse was not long for the world either, if the straining buttons were any indication.  Even her face seemed puffier, her double chin more pronounced than ever before.

“Christ Almighty, it’s like I had someone fill me up with a helium tank,” she murmured as she examined her newfound pudge. “How much weight did I put on these last two weeks?”

It was a question that could only be answered once they got back home after a long plane ride back to New Mexico.  When the couple got back in their apartment, they felt like they had no energy left; the trip was catching up with them something fierce.  Mickey flopped down on her bed and spread her arms out, so glad to be in the comfort of their own home.  She wanted nothing more than to take a nap, but her reverie was broken by her lover, who woke her by grabbing a handful of her tummy.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, amor,” Ray cooed as he released her belly, allowing the fat to slosh back into place. “There’s something we need to do before we can rest.”

“Babe, can we please wait to unpack?  I think I left all my energy back in La Guardia,” Mickey groused.

“Oh, we’re not going to unpack but one thing; in fact, I already got it out for you,” her manager chuckled as he held up a familiar garment.  It was the cute sundress she had worn on the first day of the cruise, the one that fit her like a second skin. “I believe I made a promise that I would fatten you up so good that this dress would never fit you again.  Let’s see if we reached our goal.”

The reminder sent a shiver of arousal through Mickey’s thick body and she felt herself getting excitedly warm at the prospect.  She had seen what she looked like that morning and her straining clothes were a stark reminder of her gain.  There was no way that she had outgrown that dress in the span of two weeks; there was no way she had indulged that much.

“I guess I can move for that,” she grunted as she sat up, an act which should not have been as difficult as it was.  Just one of the perks of having a beachball at her waist, she supposed.

“Come on, gordita,” Ray said as she helped her up the rest of the way. “The scale awaits.”

Mickey walked ahead of Ray, ass bouncing with the slightest movement and belly sloshing around like a sack of gelatin.  Her breath was growing heavy with arousal, which made her gut swell in and out with air like a bullfrog.  The scale sat in its familiar place, beckoning her to its white, plastic surface to discover her fate.  Before she could do that though, she stopped in front of the mirror and turned to her boyfriend.

“Sundress, please,” she requested.  After Ray handed the garment to her, she removed her blouse and skirt much to the overtaxed outfit’s comfort.  Mickey took an anxious gulp before unzipping the back and lowering it down to her lardy legs.  As she stepped inside and started to pull it up, she reached her first snag: her mattress thighs.  The caramel columns proved troublesome to overcome, and only by stretching the dress until she heard a couple threads pop would it rise any higher.  Then came the pair of basketballs she called a butt which refused to be contained; each attempt to surpass them made her whole body jiggle from the effort.

“Pedazo de mierda!  Necesito que encajas, tu gilipollas!” the frustrated fury growled as she struggled with the dress.  Finally, after the sound of more threads popping, Mickey defeated the swell of her ass, only to be stopped by the tag team of her hips and belly.  She took a deep breath to suck in as much of her gut as she could, but that only worked so much; her poor dress was on its last legs and made it known.  After managing to slide the garment up to her chest, she forced her tubby tits inside whether there was room or not.  It was a good thing she did not wear this dress home: her breasts were oozing out the top and her nipples were halfway to freedom.

The Latina looked at herself in the mirror and marveled at the sight in front of her.  She looked like a sausage fighting out of its casing; threads and seams popped all over to reveal the tanned flesh underneath.  It was all she could do to keep it together, knowing full well that one errant move would make it shred like paper.  Knowing that she had gotten too fat for this dress that had once been so big that she was swimming in it made Mickey’s head spin, or maybe that was from her circulation being cut off.

“Looks like it’s hanging on for dear life,” Ray remarked with a sly grin. “There’s just one more thing to test: how many beautiful pounds did we pack on you on this cruise?”

Mickey took tiny baby steps towards the scale, afraid that the slightest movement would make the dress explode.  She stepped onto the scale and heard it beep while it processed her weight.  It was an agonizing ten seconds before the numbers finally settled, but she had to crane her head out beyond the curve of her belly to see it.


No.  No, that could not be right.  She boarded that ship at two hundred-forty pounds on the dot; there was no way she could have put on twenty-five pounds in two weeks.  That would have meant she was averaging two pounds a day.  Her entire trip had been a gluttonous thrill ride, but she had no idea it would be this bad.  The notion made her gasp in surprise, which was the final blow for her sundress.  It tore away like stripper costumes and fell around her in tatters.

“That is the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Ray growled as he wrapped his arms around her.  Mickey felt herself swoon in his arms, strength leaving her at this revelation.  She wanted to go whole hog and by God, she had done it, and she had the twenty-five pounds to prove it.

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((Back with another chapter to wash away the taste of Crown Jewel's mediocrity.  Enjoy!))


It had been a month and a half since the fateful incident in Philly, where KC Skye’s leg was fractured so bad that she needed to have a steel rod inserted in to fix the damage.  Dave Ericson had covered what the wrestler’s insurance would not; he might have been a hard-ass, but his wrestlers had never paid a dime of their own money when it came to their health.  She was confined to a hospital for the last month and was cleared to go home in the middle of August, about when Mickey and Ray got back from their cruise.  Her home was in Little Rock, Arkansas, and thankfully, her cousin lived close enough to move in as a temporary caretaker.

September had just started when Shinobu made her visit to the residence.  The puffy performer had squeezed into a pair of jeans that desperately needed to be replaced; the button was left open because it refused to close around the pale flesh of her waist.  An orange turtleneck that Mickey once referred to as her Velma shirt now clung to her bloated middle, emphasizing the potbelly that had sprouted on the spry woman.  She trotted up to the door of the modest ranch house, rang the doorbell, and waited patiently, taking in the changing colors around her.

“Hey Shinobu,” greeted Agatha DuPont, KC’s cousin. “Glad you were able to make it out; Cassandra was really looking forward to this.”

“Sorry I could not be here sooner,” the Osakan apologized as she walked in and gave a polite bow to the woman.

Agatha looked quite like her cousin, give or take about fifty pounds: she was tall like most DuPont women and had an hourglass figure, though a rather overfed one in comparison.  When she walked through the house, she had an unintentionally sensual sway to her step, which captured Shinobu’s attention handily.  It did not help that the woman’s blue dress clung to her wobbly rump like a second skin, a sight that had the wrestler grow hot under the collar.

“Cassie?  We’ve got company!” the caretaker called to KC as they rounded the corner.  There was the wounded wrestler, propped up in a recliner, leg wrapped up and contained in an intricate brace.  She lacked some of her usual luster, but a beaming smile sprouted on her face when she caught sight of her dear friend.

“Shin-chan!  Get over here, girl!”

Shinobu happily dashed over to her tag partner’s side and gave her a big hug, or as best she could manage when working around the recliner.  KC sighed wistfully as she held onto the Japanese beauty and fought back tears of happiness.  It had been hard having to leave the company behind though it was for her own good, so to have her friend visit for even a couple of days was a great relief from the loneliness.  And with how fluffy the Osakan fighter had been getting, a hug was greatly appreciated.

“How was the flight in?  If you’re tired, you can take a nap up in the guest room.  Hungry?  Agatha makes the best Reubens,” KC told her friend as they finally let go of each other.  After being split up for over a month, her words her spilling out like a faucet and she was not about to stop them.

“I am fine, thank you,” Shinobu answered with a warm smile on her soft face.  Her stomach grumbled a bit, which brought a blush to her cheeks. “Okay, I might take some lunch, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Agatha’s voice came from around the corner as she told the duo, “I’m already working on them!  Be out in just a few.”

The shorter wrestler plopped down on the couch across from the recliner and politely folded her hands over her knee.  She fidgeted with how her tummy now bunched up whenever she sat down; it was one of the many little things she had to get used to as she plumped up.  Her eyes darted around the room, enjoying the cozy feeling of the small home.  So many of their peers opted to live in luxury; naturally, these same ones would have to work well into retirement to make up for the debt they accumulated.  It was nice to see that KC was one of the sensible ones.

“So, how have you been?” the ebony entertainer asked with a smile on her face. “I mean, I watch you on TV all the time, but we never really get a chance to talk for too long.”

There was a pause as Shinobu formed her answer.  On the one hand, she was in good health and spirits outside of worrying over her injured friend.  Life on the road was the same as it ever was, and she was enjoying hanging out with more of the roster while KC and Mickey were out.  On the other hand, something had changed in her booking lately, specifically in how she was losing matches.  Plenty of contenders had come after the Women’s Title and its holder, and while she still retained it, they were not making it easy.  The only reason she had not lost it yet was because of little technicalities, but she worried that would change sooner or later.

“Not great,” the Osakan sighed as she bobbed her head. “I don’t know why, but the bookers are not working with me; they are trying to make my life a hell.”

KC’s face morphed into one of cold anger.  She snarled, “Probably because they’re working with Sadie; that bitch has always been good at worming her way into things.”

“But I always put on good matches!  They know that; I am always giving my all out there.”

“Yeah, but we both know that it’s not just how good you work the ring; you also have to look good while you do it,” the injured woman explained.  When her partner shot her a look of confusion and hurt, she was quick to continue, “I think you look as cute as always, Shin-chan, but I’m not a producer; they have a completely different view of how a woman should look out there.  And I mean this in the best way, but you have gotten puffier since I last saw you.”

The remark made Shinobu fidget in her seat, reminded all too well of her broken button and tight shirt and how they used to fit not six months ago.  KC sighed and asked, “Be honest, Shin-chan: how much weight have you put on since you started this little experiment?”

“It, ah, might be thirty pounds,” the champion mumbled in reply. “I am almost one hundred-seventy.”

Her friend whistled in amazement, surprised at how the slight woman had puffed up in the last couple of months. “I’m surprised they didn’t start burying you right out of the gate; the pigs back there are always on us about our looks.  Hell, I’m sure I would get a flack for this if I showed up tomorrow.”

KC patted her stomach, and it was at that moment that Shinobu noticed something that should have stuck out like a sore thumb the moment she saw her friend.  Somehow, KC Skye had put on weight; a fine layer of pudge coated her entire body, enough to cover the curves of her lithe muscles.  Her abdomen, which once sported a proud six-pack, had grown soft to the touch and left those impressive muscles underneath a comfy cushion of blubber.  Above that, her breasts had finally blossomed and seemed to be making up for lost time; a month and a half of inactivity had grown them into the C-cup range.  Finally, her limber legs were looking much lardier these days as they were squeezed by her sweat-shorts that fit not too long ago.

“Yeah, I don’t know how it happened either,” the ebony woman grunted as she prodded her pudgy tummy. “I think it’s the meds kicking up my appetite and not being able to exercise any of this off.  You know they still don’t want me exercising that much?  God, how do they expect me to kick Sadie’s ass around the ring if I can’t keep myself tight?”

“W-Well, I think that you are cute as always,” Shinobu told KC, a pink tint spreading across her softened cheeks.

The shy remark brought a much-needed smile and chuckle to her friend’s lips. “You’re sweet, babe.  Let’s agree that the both of us and Mickey make this look good.”

“Agreed,” the Japanese woman replied with a playful giggle.

Agatha was quick with the sandwiches and quicker with snacks on the side and drinks to quench their thirst.  Shinobu opted for a soda but was surprised to hear KC request a beer; the woman hardly ever ordered a drink when they went out.  When she caught her partner’s questioning look, the injured wrestler shrugged and popped the cap off.  She said, “If I’m going to take some time off, I might as well enjoy myself, right?”

“Why not?” Shinobu answered with a smirk.  She tilted her can to her friend and said, “Kanpai.”

The two tucked into their meals and put off their conversation until they had their fill.  It was hard to think that just a few months ago, neither woman would eat such a decadent sandwich, much less have chips, pretzels, and cheese curls to accompany it.  Thanks to one’s desire and the other’s heightened appetite, the duo was able to eat more than their fill at lunch; Agatha actually had to refill the snacks before they were finally finished.  All the while, there was nary a word said between either woman, so focused were they on their food.

After scarfing down her sizeable lunch, KC licked her fingers clean of the cheese dust that had accumulated on them.  She cleared her throat before asking, “So, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask: what happened to Maxine?  I haven’t heard a peep from management about her, but she hasn’t been on TV.”

Shinobu gulped down the last of her second soda and rolled the can in her hands as she answered, “She was suspended a few days after the accident, but that’s all I know.  There are rumors though, but I cannot say if they are true.”

“What rumors?” asked KC, shifting as much as she could so she could sit up and get a better look at Shinobu.



While laying out like her namesake on her hotel bed, Katherine “Kat” Donna’s nap was rudely interrupted by the chirp of her phone.  She hissed discontentedly as she reached over to see just who was trying to reach her when she was unwinding from her flight.  It was a text from an unfamiliar number, though the number was far less important than the message itself.

kat its maxine call me plz asap

That raised so many red flags.  Kat could think of the amount of times she had spoken with Maxine on one hand; the amount of times they had spoken over the phone could be counted on one finger.  Sadie seemed to be the only one the giantess ever gave the time of day to and even then, she hardly ever heard the two talking much.  If Maxine was reaching out to her from her home in San Diego, it must be serious.

After calling the number, the blonde heard Maxine pick up the phone.  She assumed it was her teammate at least; it was hard to tell around the sobbing and sound of eating.  Tentatively, Kat asked, “Maxine?  Is…is that you?”

“Mmph,” came the muffled reply.  After audibly gulping down what sounded like quite the mouthful, the woman on the other end cried, “Kat!  Kat, I really need your help.  Sadie’s not picking up her phone and I seriously need someone to talk to because I can’t handle this on my own and I need some help can you please please help me I just—”

“Maxine, baby, hold on a second and take a breath; you’re talking a mile a minute and I can’t keep up.” Kat stood up from the bed, hairs rising on the back of her neck.  The last time she heard someone freaking out like this, it ended in a tragedy she wished she could forget. “Listen, start from the beginning and go slow.  I can help you, but just take a deep breath and go one step at a time.”

There were more sounds of eating on the other end and much sniffling before Maxine meekly replied, “Okay.  I just got a call from Mr. Ericson and they’re ending my suspension next week, but they’re bumping me down to developmental.”

“What?  That’s insane,” the strawberry-blonde fumed.  Maxine might not have been the best in the ring and she had cost KC with that terrible botch of hers, but to kick her back down to one of the developmental territories?  That seemed far too harsh for the mountain of a woman. “Did they tell you why?  If it’s about the botch, that is bullshit; there are guys on the roster who have done much worse and got just a slap on the wrist.”

“He s-said that my work was slipping, that I was getting sloppy and out of shape,” the brunette bemoaned before taking another bite of food. “So he wants me to go out to Philadelphia and work on Youngblood Wrestling until I show some improvement a-a-a-and lose some weight.”

Kat grit her teeth and clenched a fist.  That chauvinist pig!  It was true that Maxine had put on a lot of weight since she joined the company, but to be kicked off the main roster for that was entirely uncalled for.  The lithe wrestler was about to say as such before she was cut off by her giantess companion, who moaned, “And he’s right!  I’ve turned into a big, fat blimp since I got there, and it’s only getting worse.”

“Maxine, sweetie, you can’t listen to Eric.  He’s just an old-fashioned guy who needs to get his head out of his ass and into the 21st century.”

“No, he’s right, Kat,” Maxine muttered around a mouthful. “I’ve put on a hundred pounds since they first put me on the roster.  I checked it this morning: 255, a hundred and five pounds over my old booking weight.  None of my clothes fit right anymore and I have to keep replacing my wardrobe every few weeks, but I can’t stop!  I can’t stop eating, can’t stop getting big and fat and awful and shitty and terrible and—”

“Maxine, breathe!” Kat told her friend.  Thankfully, she heard an audible gasp of air on the other end, though it was punctuated by a hiccup. “It’s going to be okay, baby.  I know it’s really scary right now and you’re not sure what to do, but you need to take a deep breath and slow down.”

The blubbering blubberball hiccupped her way through her reply. “I just don’t know what to do, Kat; I-I-I can’t handle all this on my own.  I’ve tried calling Sadie a dozen times today but she’s not getting back to me, and I’m freaking out.  You’re the only one I can talk to; no one else on the roster will speak to me, I just know it!”

“Okay, okay,” the blonde cooed softly as she paced across the room, “I’ve got you, Maxine; I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Th-Th-Thank you, Kat,” Maxine whimpered before stuffing her cheeks full again.  If this were the normal Maxine Kuhn eating like this, Kat might have made some snippy remark about how sloppy and piggish she was acting.  This was not normal though; this was as far from normal as possible. “Can you, um, can you let Sadie know that I’ve been trying to reach her?”

Kat nodded and answered, “Of course, sweetie.  I’ll get up with her right away and let her know that you really need to talk.  Just keep calm, maybe take a shower or a nap, and we’ll get back to you in no time, okay?  But listen: if you need anything at all, I’m just a call away; we’re going to help you through this, Maxine.”

There was a mumbled, meek reply before Maxine hung up the phone, leaving Kat to stare at her screen in deep concern.  She wished she could hop on a jet right now and help Maxine through this meltdown she was having; wrestling tomorrow night’s show was the last thing on her mind.  Unfortunately, all she could do was try finding Sadie and get her to call the gentle giant of their team to help calm the woman’s nerves.

Natty, u seen Sadie?  Maxine was calling, and she sounded like she was freaking out, the blonde texted her sister.

A moment later, Natalie replied, No idea.  Haven’t seen her all morning.  What’s wrong?

Tell you later.  I’ve got to find Sadie.

Kat pocketed her phone, grabbed her room key, and made for her door but paused just as she was about to turn the knob.  She could hear Sadie’s voice coming down the hall, and she sounded like she was talking on the phone.  A shot of relief ran through her heart; her team leader had gotten in touch after all.  The blonde was about to turn and get back in touch with her sister when she heard something that made her ears perk up curiously.  Her head pressed up against the door to get a better idea of what she was hearing.

“Hey sexy thing!  Hope you brought your appetite, because I’m going to stuff you like a turkey.”

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((Sorry for the long wait between chapters, but to make up for it and ring in the New Year on a high note, howzabout a new chapter tonight and tomorrow night?  Enjoy!))


When Sadie had passed by, Kat leaned back against the door and wondered what in the blue hell was going on.  It was already confusing enough to hear Maxine blubbering like a baby; she had never heard the leader of the Storme Troop talk like that.  What did Sadie mean when she spoke to whoever it was on the phone?  Nothing made sense anymore, but she was going to figure this out one way or another.  All she had to do was wait until Natalie got back from her jog, and they would Nancy Drew this mystery.

“All right, what’s so important that you got me out of my pre-show jog?” asked the returning sister, not at all pleased with the change in her plans.

Kat rolled her eyes and answered, “Walk and talk; I’ll tell you along the way.”

As the twins walked down the street, Katherine leading the way with a faster pace, she explained, “We’re going to follow Sadie and figure out what’s going on with her.  She’s up to something; I just don’t know what.”

“Well, this is Sadie Storme we’re talking about,” Natalie replied with a roll of her eyes.  It was like Kat had never met the leader of their stable before. “She’s like a real-life supervillain; she’s always got a plan for something.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t hear what I heard.  When Sadie was on the phone with whoever it was, she talked about how she was going to ‘stuff you like a turkey’,” the strawberry-blonde told her sister, who grimaced in disgust.

“Okay, TMI, but what she does on her own time is up to her.”

Kat shook her head. “If it was just that, whatever; I’ve seen plenty of people do weird stuff.  The way Maxine was talking a few minutes ago sounded a lot like that time Biff Powell broke up with you: face-deep in a tub of ice cream and a bottle of beer.”

“Hey!” Natalie exclaimed with a blush of indignation.

“So, then I get to thinking: what if Maxine has been getting so fat lately because Sadie is actually a chubby chaser, and the reason she wasn’t calling back was because she’s cheating on poor Maxine?” asked the slightly shorter twin.

Her taller sister grunted exasperatedly and put a hand out to stop Kat. “Do you have any idea how absolutely insane you sound?  You sound like those trolls who think that Berserker was replaced with a lookalike or that Rosen was a double-agent.  The least you could do is come up with a conspiracy theory that wasn’t so damn stupid.”

“Look, you don’t have to believe me right now,” the blonde replied undeterred. “Just help me figure this out, okay?  If not for me, then for Maxine.  Deal?”

Natalie sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  Leave it to her sister to make all these crazy, nonsensical connections.  If they were not so marketable together, she would have left Kat in the dust ages ago. “Fine, but if there’s nothing to this, you’re going to drop this.  We don’t owe Maxine a thing; that hippo should have been fired the second she broke Sky’s leg.”

The two sisters tailed Sadie like a couple of amateur detectives, which was to say they lacked any kind of subtlety.  They acted like a pair of children pretending to be sneaky: creeping behind corners, poking out from behind trees and lampposts, and ducking between buildings all along the street.  Were it not for their mark’s penchant for only looking ahead, they would have been discovered the second they left the hotel.  Thankfully for them, the bully blonde was so engrossed in her phone that a car could have blown up and she never would have known.

Thankfully, their pursuit did not last long: Sadie stopped at a diner, the kind of hole in the wall dive that she would not dare be caught in with other wrestlers.  That made the Donna Twins raise matching eyebrows, and they followed their stable leader inside as the blonde sat down in a booth by herself.  They took a seat on the other side of the restaurant and out of Sadie’s view; they knew enough about stealth to manage at least that simple trick.  It felt like an eternity as they waited for whoever would join the champion, but their patience was finally rewarded when the bell on the door announced a new arrival.

The woman who stood in the doorway was immense, especially below her nonexistent waist.  Her face and neck were so swaddled in fat that her head looked absolutely globular, her arms were as thick as Sadie’s thighs, and her sandbag-like breasts looked even bigger than her head.  A colossal gut slapped against her thighs as she waddled inside, and since her black top could only cover so much flab, a thick roll of belly jelly oozed out from underneath.  Not that the top did anything to hide her blubber; the mesh material left every inch of pudge exposed.  Even her jeans proved incapable of containing her girth, as several holes in the denim proved.

As the human whale lumbered through the diner, she paused at Sadie’s table and glanced down at the blonde.  Kat, being closest, heard her ask, “WindyF5?”

“Hello, JuiciestPear,” the blonde replied in that same, seductive manner that made many a referee turn a blind eye to her actions. “So glad you could make it.  I must say, you’re even fatter than the pictures you sent me.”

The obese woman blushed and shuffled, her gelatinous body jiggling with every slight movement.  She admitted, “I, um, I might have been eating a bit more than normal lately.”

Sadie chuckled and gestured to the empty seat across from her. “I have that effect on people.  Go ahead and take a seat, tubby—if you can squeeze your gut into a booth anymore.”

Kat and Natalie gawked at each other at the exchange, with the former too shocked to boast about being right.  Their stable leader was something of a flirt, but this was taking things to a whole new realm entirely; they had never seen Sadie talk to someone so big, much less have lunch with them.  The doubtful twin gave her sister a look that said she was still not convinced, so they kept their ears trained on the other booth.

It took some squeezing and help from Sadie, who relished in grabbing a handful of buttery blubber, but JuiciestPear finally managed to wedge herself into the booth.  A good slab of tummy overlapped onto the table, which the blonde woman took advantage of by pinching and wobbling it with caliper-like fingers.  She looked back up and asked, “I’ve got to know—how does a former state champion soccer star grow so fat that she could roll down the field like the ball she used to kick?”

“Well, I injured myself at the end of high school, so I couldn’t play on the university team, and then things just snowballed from there,” the brunette answered, as if that was enough to explain how she grew so wide that she filled up her half of the booth.

Sadie caught that and smirked. “Oh, I think you might be leaving out a few ‘juicy’ details, dear.  No one gets so tremendously fat on accident; most people have control enough to stop themselves from turning into enormous butterballs.”

The remark made the woman turn red as a tomato and wiggled in her seat, which left Kat absolutely speechless.  Never in her life had she seen such a display as this, and between her and her sister, the Donna Twins had more sexcapades than anyone in the locker room.  Of course, she knew that there were chubby chasers out there, but she never expected that someone she traveled with all the time was one.  Gears were turning in her head, and she cupped her chin as she thought away.

“Please don’t tell me you’re making a big deal out of this,” Natalie groaned, though her denial was fading fast. “This doesn’t prove anything, and you know it.  Sadie has a thing for fat chicks, big deal; everyone has their kink.  That doesn’t mean she has anything to do with how bad off Maxine is.”

Kat shook her head and retorted, “Think about it, Natty!  Who’s the only person to hang around Maxine since she came in?  Sadie!  Who goes with Maxine while we check in at hotels?  Sadie!  And who talks to the bosses whenever someone gets on Maxine’s case about her weight?  Sadie!  And remember how she looked before she started hanging out with Storme?”

That question made Natalie pause and ponder.  When Maxine first came into the company, she was a far cry from how she was today: there was no helping her impressive height, but she was much slimmer; her body was thick with muscle and pudge, not just caked in blubber.  The giantess seemed so much more threatening, as if every new pound or inch took away from her mystique.  There was still an aura of menace about her, but the rounder she grew, that aura grew dimmer; if the botch did not rob her of credibility, her body would do it for her soon enough.  And near as the Donna sister could tell, Sadie had been there every step of the way.

“I’m going to call Maxine and sort this out,” Kat told her twin while she stood from the table. “Anything happens in here, just let me know.”

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, but sure,” Natalie grumbled, her eyes shifting from her sister to her stable leader.  More than anything else, she was curious as to what Sadie was up to; she had never seen a date like this before.

After the sisters split up, the lookout for the two ordered a chicken sandwich to tide her over while she watched.  She could not believe her ears when she heard her colleague order enough for five people: a double-stacked cheeseburger with fries; a fully-loaded Reuben; a footlong chili dog; a plate of nachos with all the fixings; and a triple-decker grilled cheese with extra bacon.  Then came Sadie’s order, which was just a tuna salad.

“I’m trying to watch my weight, after all,” the blonde told the waitress while casting a smirk at her guest. “Unlike some people.”

When the food came to the table, Natalie watched in stunned silence as plate after plate was laid out on the table, so much so that the entire tabletop was covered.  Everything was so decadent, and she could never imagine a time she was ever hungry enough to consume even half that much; she ate like a hawk, watching everything she put in her mouth and being extraordinarily picky about her food.  Yet this tub of goo, JuiciestPear, was all but salivating as the dishes were spread out before her.

After the waitress left, Sadie chuckled and told her date, “Go ahead, pig—I know you’re just chomping at the bit, and that big belly of yours needs to be filled.”

“I…I really shouldn’t,” the woman murmured, suddenly acting demure in the face of the lavish feast. “If I get much fatter, I won’t be able to fit in my car or even walk!”

“I know, and I can’t wait to see that happen,” the blonde bully grinned impishly. “You can fight it all you want, but we both know you’re nothing but a greedy, hungry beast under all that blubber.  Go ahead and act like you have willpower; that makes it all the more entertaining for me.”

The bottom-heavy woman stifled a moan at the taunt, and she bit her lip in restraint. “I-I’ve got willpower!  I used to diet all the time when I played soccer; I can hold back.”

“Sure you can,” Sadie retorted with a roll of the eyes.  She slid a foot loose and brought it up to jostle the belly roll underneath the table.  Every slight movement made the brunette squirm in pleasure, and she could not help the occasional coo that escaped from her lips. “I’ve seen fatsos like you all over the world: you talk a big game about having restraint, but that’s all a lie.  I think you’re going to tuck into this meal like your life depends on it because that’s how much of a swine you are, and you know how much I love pigs.”

Natalie almost choked on her sandwich as she watched the scene unfold in front of her.  It was unlike any kind of dirty talk she had ever heard before, and the strangest part of all was that she was actually feeling herself get hot under the collar.  She had no idea what was wrong with her, but something just clicked inside her when she heard Sadie taunting the rotund woman and saw her reactions.  Never in her life could she have imagined getting turned on by the sight, especially since she did not know which was hotter—being the playful tormentor or the squealing plaything.

“I must still be tired from the flight,” the strawberry-blonde reasoned to herself, even as she called the waitress over for a side of fries with her sandwich.


When Kat was outside, she hustled to the side of the restaurant, far from the front doors and the street in case Sadie came out.  A quick swipe and tap later, she had her phone to her ear and waited for Maxine to pick up.  She mumbled, “Come on, Maxine…pick up, please.”

Finally, after what felt like an agonizing wait, a muffled voice greeted her. “H’lo?  Kat?”

“Hey Maxine!  How are you holding up, girl?” asked the petite wrestler with as much cheer as she could muster.

“Urgh…just cleaned out my pantry…so fucking stuffed,” the massive woman grunted.

Kat winced at the reply.  Maxine was a big girl with a very big stomach—there was no telling how much she could pack in there.  The Donna sister shook that from her mind as she focused on the task at hand. “Okay, sweetie, I found Sadie for you, but—”

“You did?” the other woman asked excitedly.  The bloated beauty snorted and grunted like a pig as she tried to shift around to a better position, but her stomach was too full for that.  Instead, she lay back and replied, “Thank God.  Can you put her on, please?”

Glancing over her shoulder first, Kat answered, “She’s, um…she’s kind of busy right now, Maxine.  I’ll get her in just a minute, but before I do, I need to ask you something.”

There was a pause before the obese woman said, “All right.  What do you want to know?”

“I need you to be honest with me—what’s going on between you and Sadie?  I know you two are close, but I can think of about twenty people I’d call in an emergency before I looked to that bully,” replied the blonde.  It was a risk calling her stable leader what she was, but that was the truth, and everyone knew it.

Maxine was quiet for another minute before asking, “You won’t tell anyone else?  Not even Natalie?”

“Not even Natalie,” Kat promised, even going as far as crossing her heart.

The widened wrestler took a deep breath before she got into her explanation. “Okay, well…Sadie and I have been dating almost since we first met.  She really helped me find my feet in the company—I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for her.  My ring work, my promos, my look…Sadie helped me figure it all out.  And she’s always sticking up for me, which is why I wanted to get in touch with her; I figured if anyone could talk to Dave, it’d be her.”

All the puzzle pieces were coming together now, and Kat did not like the picture they formed.  There was one last question, the most difficult one to ask, and she felt that she already knew the answer. “I gotcha.  Now, I know this is going to sound rude, but does she have anything to do with why you’ve gotten so big lately?”

Maxine sighed on the other end.  Someone was going to find out sooner or later; at least it was someone she could almost call a friend.  She answered, “Yes.  I know it’s weird and crazy, but that’s what Sadie likes…and if she likes it, that’s good enough for me.  It’s hard to want to lose weight when you have someone who shows you every night just how much she enjoys it.  I’m sorry—I must sound pretty crazy.”

“No, no, sweetie!  I know plenty of people who have changed for whoever they love,” Kat commented as she tried to avoid the inevitable. “My cousin got implants just because her husband was a breast guy, and then matching ass implants when she had an affair with her boss.”

There was a shared, short, awkward chuckle between the two of them before Maxine asked, “So, not that I don’t mind talking about my personal life, but why are you asking me all this?  And where’s Sadie?”

The strawberry blonde sighed, having delayed the answer as much as possible.  She looked over her shoulder one more time before telling her teammate, “We followed Sadie out to a diner in town, where she met up with this other woman—someone she met online, I think.  Maxine, I’m so sorry…I think she’s cheating on you.”

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((And just in case you doubted, here's the new chapter!  As we start up a new year, I'd love to hear your thoughts: how are you liking the story so far?  Any favorite characters?  Let me know!  But for now, enjoy!))


Ever since Maxine’s suspension began, she sought the seclusion of her apartment and rarely left for anything but the absolute essentials.  She stocked her kitchen with all sorts of foods ranging from snacks to full meals—microwavable, of course; the giantess could not cook to save her life.  The time off also gave her a chance to get reacquainted with every restaurant that offered delivery and take-out, so much so that she was starting to recognize and remember the delivery people.  It was not an optimal situation, but until the final verdict passed, it would have to do.

Away from the spotlight, left to her own devices, and sinking in a quagmire of depression and self-loathing, the brunette spent most of her day on the couch.  What little energy she had was devoted to anxiousness and keeping her nerves in check; she had nothing left to give after making sure she did not devolve into a nervous breakdown.  Exercise went out the window, replaced by hours of mindless TV, movies, and Internet browsing, though it was not like she paid attention to any of it.  Half the time, she did not even go to bed; she just crashed on her sofa, which was fast molding to her rotund body.

Another thing that got left by the wayside was her appearance, seeing as she no longer had to get in front of the world every week.  Her hair was constantly a mess, she went days at a time wearing the same clothes, and showering was something she actually had to motivate herself to do.  While her bulbous build was ever growing, she or, more appropriately, Sadie, had found a way to make herself look good in front of the audience.  Now, everything to sag so much more than it used to, stretch marks were appearing on her gut, and pockets of cellulite had formed on her increasingly flabby, flat ass.  Flat in the sense that while it was still gigantic, it was losing any bounce or curve and becoming more like a solid slab of blubber.

She was a train wreck and she knew it, but there was still one glimmer of light left in her life—Sadie Storme.  Throughout the suspension, her girlfriend had been nothing but attentive and supportive: she called every day, sent her care packages, and made sure that she was still eating right.  The only downside throughout it all was that Sadie could not catch a break to come see her, but Maxine understood that.  It was hard living on the road; no one could just drop out to visit people several states away.  GWF would be putting on a show in San Diego in December, and barring any act of God, Sadie promised that she would be there.  Marking off the calendar until that show was the closest thing the massive woman had to a daily routine.

Then came the fateful call an hour ago, and her whole world fell out from under her.  Dave Ericson had called her up personally, handling the messy affair as much as he could on his own, to let her know the decision to bump her down to Youngblood Wrestling, one of the developmental promotions under the GWF banner.  Contrary to his on-screen persona or even the one he put on behind the scenes, he was not barking at her and berating Maxine for screwing up so bad; that would have been the more pleasant option.  Instead, Dave sounded like a disappointed parent, which stung more than anything else.

“We’ll keep an eye on you out there, and when we think you’re ready to come back, I’ll make sure you have a spot on the roster,” the elderly man told Maxine, who was busy fighting back tears. “I hate having to do this, but your work has been slipping for months.  After what happened, I can’t keep you here on good conscience—and I was the one making sure you stayed, even as the booking committee talked about sending you to Philly.”

“Is…is there really no other way, Mr. Ericson?” the giantess asked, feeling like half her height.

“It’s either developmental or out of the company, Maxine,” came the firm answer. “Like I said, if you can get yourself back on track and show us some of that talent you had when we first signed you, we’ll talk about a comeback.  You have my word.”

The second the phone call ended, the brunette moved faster than she had in a month in a half to race to the kitchen.  Weeks of keeping her nerves in check had come to an end, and she needed something to calm herself down before she broke down into a mess.  She threw a mish-mash of food in the microwave, on the stove, and in the oven, but that was not going to be enough.  Orders were sent out to all the restaurants on her phone, but that was still not enough.  It took too long to get food heated up or delivered, so Maxine ran on instinct, tore open a bag of cereal, and dumped it right in her mouth, ignoring how much spilled around her.

Choking on sobs and struggling to catch her breath throughout the devastation, the massive mauler tore through her kitchen like a tornado.  Nothing edible was safe from her stress-induced appetite, but not everything wound up in her stomach.  Before long, her kitchen and dining nook became covered with scraps and remnants of her ravenous feast; anything that did not wind up on the floor wound up on her clothes.  Every time a new delivery person stopped by, Maxine’s stomach was a little bigger and she had a few more stains on her tank-top.  It did not matter how much her belly hurt as the binge went on; all she cared about was burying her sorrow under as much food as possible.

Throughout it all, she called Sadie time and time again, only to wind up getting her voicemail.  The bulbous brunette left a dozen messages and three times as many texts, all of which were not going through; how could she have known that her girlfriend had just blocked her number?  When she had manhandled her phone so much that it was completely covered with grease and sauce and Sadie had still not called back, the panic reached a peak.  Maxine did something she had never done before and reached out to Kat Donna for help in finding her lover.

After making that emergency call, the giantess felt her body finally catching up with her mind and the effects of her binge sank in.  Her stomach could barely fit anything else inside it, yet she was determined to fill every last nook and cranny, consequences be damned.  When she could find no more food to stuff her gullet, she resorted to squeezing ketchup and mustard down her throat, scooping margarine like ice cream, and almost went for her salt and pepper shakers before her crash finally kicked in.  More bloated than she had ever been in her life, to the point that her stomach was red and hot to the touch, Maxine shuffled to the couch and eased herself into the divot her ass had created.

She very well could have slept the entire rest of the week were it not for Kat calling her back, which woke her up like nothing else.  Maybe the Donna had found Sadie after all, then the whole binge would have been worth it; her lover would tell her everything would be okay and how proud she was of her eater.  All those thoughts came to a grinding halt when she heard Kat say the worst words in her life.

“Maxine?  Maxine, are you still there?  Talk to me, sweetie,” the strawberry blonde called out on the other end of the line, panic setting in.

Dazed as if she was punch-drunk, the brunette brawler weakly answered, “I’m still here.  Are…are you sure?”

“About as sure as I can be.  Natty and I tailed Sadie to a diner, and she met up with a woman that was big as a sumo wrestler.  They got to talking, and from the way it sounded and how the other woman reacted, it sounded like they were there for more than just eating.  I don’t know what they were doing, but it wasn’t just lunch,” Kat explained in a wincing voice.

Maxine took another moment to stare off into space as she felt everything crumbling around her, as though the couch was sinking lower and lower until she fell right through it and into nothingness.  It took all the effort she had to mumble, “Thanks.”

“Maxine, sweetie, I am so, so sorry, but Natty and I are going to make it up to you.  We’re going to book a trip out to San Diego, come out and see you, and make sure you’re okay.  Everything’s going to—”

Kat never got to finish the sentence.  The giantess hung up on her and let the phone drop to the floor, where it lay in a Styrofoam carry-out box amidst the remnants of an order of ribs.  It did not matter; nothing mattered anymore.  The one person she trusted more than anyone in the world, who she had opened up to like no one else, who did things to her that she could never have imagined, had left her when she needed her most.  Maxine had taken chairs to the head, kendo sticks to the back, fallen onto a bed of thumbtacks, and even taken glass-covered fists to the face, but nothing hurt like this.  It was perhaps the worst kind of pain—sheer emptiness.  She wanted to cry, scream, or throw up, but she only felt a bitter cold.

Maxine sat on the couch staring holes in the wall for lord knows how long; the only way she knew time passed was how the room got dark before lighting up again.  It was not until the agony in her belly had subsided that she finally stood from the couch, which took no small amount of effort from her atrophied muscles.  She fumbled forward on autopilot, wading through scraps and trash all over her apartment floor until she reached the bathroom.  Her feet stopped in front of the sink and the mirror, where the massive woman took stock of herself for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Her oily, ratty hair was flecked with food, with one stubborn glob of marinara sauce clinging to her chocolate locks.  Everything under her nose was covered in some sauce or another; the mess spread from cheek to cheek.  Her tank-top had not been spotless before the binge began, but now, it looked like a Pollock painting with all the stains decorating it; the top of her sweatpants had not fared much better.  The top had rolled up at some point, which meant that her belly had taken its fair share of mess, the paling flesh looking like she had used it as a napkin—which she had.  As her eyes trailed down to her feet, what little of them she could see beyond her gut, she found they were covered in food from where they had stepped.

When her gaze drifted back to her reflection, she had no idea who the woman was in the mirror.  She was not the collegiate wrestler who took first place at states, nor was she the bright, hopeful girl who won a scholarship to compete on a national level.  Her eyes lacked the intensity of the athlete with the Olympics in her sight, nor did they have the sparkle of the dreamer who signed onto the GWF the second they came calling.  As she took a step back, her hands fell to her belly, which she could not remember having before; she used to be thick, but never so flabby.  This was not her body, not anymore; she had lost it somewhere in the last two years, and she knew who took it.

Sadie Storme.

Sadie.  Fucking.  Storme.

As the fog cleared from her head, everything started to make sense.  Sadie did not leave her bloated and stuffed to go hang out with other wrestlers—she was going off to some other butterball she had lured in.  She had not stuck up to management for her—if anything, she was the one telling Levi and Amanda to keep her back.  That way, she would never get to leave Sadie’s side, and the bitch could have her way with her as long as she wanted.  All those promises were lies as fat as her ass.

Maxine’s stain-covered hands clutched her countertop with such strength that her knuckles turned white from the effort.  Her teeth gritted and ground up against each other until a headache sprouted in her temples, but she continued through the pain.  Hot, fiery air steamed erupted from her nose like a bull, a sign of just how much her blood was boiling.  She glared in the mirror with such hatred, as if she wanted to kill the woman on the other side—the weak-willed coward who had let a viper lead her to its den.  Her head reared back to smash the reflection to pieces, get rid of it completely…

She stopped as reason suddenly came to her like a spark of brilliance.  It would do her no good to get angry at herself, to destroy everything around her.  Sadie had done that perfectly, breaking her down until Maxine felt she could not live without the blonde’s affections, and the state of her body and home showed how effective she was.  Now was not the time to get mad or break whatever she could get her hands on; it was a time to make a change.

The first thing she did was take a shower, which she could not remember when the last one had been.  It did not matter whether the water was hot or cold; so long as it cleaned her body, it was enough.  No soap, no shampoo—nothing but warm water washing away the mess she had covered herself in.

After cleaning off her bloated body, the giantess tackled the biggest project: cleaning her rathole apartment.  Maxine threw on a t-shirt that had seen better days and the last clean pair of pants that still fit her, gathered up the rest of her filthy clothes, and tossed them into the laundry.  While the wash ran, she slapped on a pair of yellow rubber gloves, got herself a bucket of soap and water and a box of trash bags, and set about cleaning the disaster that was her floor.  It took a good few hours to clean it all, but by the time she was finished, she had a mountain of trash bags by the door and floors clean enough to eat on.

When all was said and done, the brunette took another shower, this time to luxuriate and unwind her aching muscles after working hard than they had in weeks.  As she lathered up her rotund curves, she realized for the first time how much she really, truly hated being this fat and out of shape.  They had to invent a new word for how stupid she had been to allow Sadie so much control over her that she looked nothing like her old self.  She pinched and prodded where there had once been muscle, now only useless flab; it made her sick.  Rather than beat herself up about it though, she decided on a much better view of her weight loss—it would be the perfect way to stick it to her ex.

After showering until the water had gone cold, Maxine walked back to bedroom and fished through her laundry for something to wear, pausing only to get a whiff after having forgotten what clean laundry smelled like.  When she had changed, the brunette picked up her phone from the bedside table and saw how many missed messages there were from Kat from the last couple of days.  With a contented sigh, she dialed the strawberry blonde while she sat on the foot of her bed.

“Maxine, thank God!  I was about to hop on a jet if you didn’t pick up soon,” Kat declared the second she got on.

“I’m sorry about that,” the giantess replied. “I had some stuff to deal with.”

“I’m just glad to hear your voice again.  How are you holding up, sweetie?”

Maxine glanced around her room, taking in the made-up bed, the clean laundry, and the vacuumed floors.  She nodded and answered, “I’m doing fantastic.  Better than I have in a long time, actually.”

“Really?  You’re sure?  I mean, that’s great if you are; I just—”

“Kat,” the brunette interrupted her friend, “I’m doing okay.  I haven’t set anything on fire or curled up in a ball to cry; you know that’s not how I roll.  I decided that I’m going to get my life back on track, the way it used to be before that snake got to me.  I’m going to Youngblood next week, and when I get there, I’m going to show them why I deserve to be in GWF—why they scouted me in the first place.  They’re all going to remember how good I was before Sadie, and how much better I am than that talentless hack.”

When she heard nothing on the other end, she asked, “Kat?  You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the Donna twin hastily answered, “I just…that’s awesome, Maxine.  I can’t wait to see you back out there.  Is it still okay if we come by sometime next week?”

“Of course,” Maxine replied. “I wouldn’t have made this decision if it wasn’t for you and Natalie.  There aren’t words for how grateful I am that you two did this for me; if it wasn’t for you, I would still be waiting on Sadie’s call.  I think that you girls might be the best friends I’ve had in a long, long time.”

Kat cooed on the other end before apologizing, “Maxine, I’m so sorry I never reached out to you before; I should have figured something was up when Sadie never really let you get a word in for yourself.  From now on, things are going to be different, I promise.”

“Just knowing that you’re coming to visit is a good start,” the brunette giggled, something neither of them had heard in ages.

There was muffled talking on the other end before the Donna sister told her newfound friend, “I’ve got to get going, Maxie—Natty and I are going out to eat, but I promise we’ll talk more later, okay?”

“I can’t wait,” Maxine replied honestly. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Katty.”

After the two hung up, the giantess flopped down onto her bed and spread out her arms.  Even though she was still immensely overweight, she felt lighter than air for the first time in ages.  The longer she was away from Sadie’s clutches, the more she realized just how much the woman had hampered her career.  That was all going to change now: no longer would she be the meek girl who needed someone to do everything for her; she was going to be the unstoppable force everyone expected her to be.

“Get ready, Philadelphia,” she murmured, “Maxine Kuhn is coming back with a vengeance…”

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((Back with another installment, and this one is special because it actually has some wrestling in it!  Hope you enjoy!))

It was the middle of September, a month after Mickey and Ray’s cruise, and La Princesa Violenta worked her increasingly fat ass off to get back on track.  Her jiggly curves gradually thickened up as she built up muscle underneath them once more, and while her weight was still rising higher and higher every day, it had slowed since those decadent two weeks at sea.  The first few days back had been rough on the poor porker, and what had once been simple exercises left her winded as if she had never set foot in a gym.  Thankfully, Ray was just as good at helping her work out as he was at fattening her up, and they were soon back in the swing of things.

“Going to miss all the bounce on you, babe,” the beefy manager chuckled as he watched his lover’s colossal backside rock from side to side in the kitchen.

“You get plenty of bouncing in the bedroom, the shower, and the kitchen, mamón,” Mickey retorted with a smirk.  She did not include the couch, when the previous night’s movie marathon turned into a very different kind of event. “Besides, as big as I plan on getting, there’s probably going to be plenty of jelly bouncing soon enough.”

The heavyweight waddled to the table with breakfast for her and Ray, though the differences between the two spread could not have been any vaster.  While the manager’s portions had been slowly increasing as he got into his new routine, Mickey’s put his to shame—rather than go for multiple plates, she opted instead to make an omelet as big as her head.  It was loaded with nearly every kind of filling one could imagine for the dish: ham, bacon, steak, and three different kinds of sausage; shredded cheddar, Colby-Jack, and rich Manchego; peppers red and green, spinach (reluctantly added on Ray’s suggestion), and caramelized onions and mushrooms; all of which were stuffed inside a construct of a dozen eggs.

“Better watch out, Ray-Ray; I’m starting to catch up to you.  I’m getting better at cooking all the time,” the porky punk boasted as she tucked into her massive meal.

“Oh, I’m sure.  You did such a great job of picking your fillings and then flipping that beast,” Ray replied with a smirk.  While Mickey was certainly improving in the kitchen, it was still up to him to make the more complicated recipes, like scrambled eggs or cereal.

As the two worked on their breakfasts, Mickey going slow and steady and Ray working at a diligent pace, they got into their plans for the day.  Typically, the couple would eat and then work out together, after which the punk princess would spend most of her day eating while reading a book or watching television while her manager would get in touch with GWF to keep on top of booking decisions.  While the would-be champion was not housebound, she tried to avoid leaving too often for fear of being recognized in her hometown.  Today though, there was something she would not miss for the world.

“We’re still on for the show tonight, right?” Mickey asked after swallowing the last forkful of omelet.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!  Not often you get to see your cousin compete,” Ray answered as he cleared the table. “This is her first match state-side, isn’t it?”

La Princesa nodded and, after stifling a burp, replied, “Yep.  The company she’s with hasn’t been giving her anything good for months, so she’s trying to hop ship with her tag partner.  I told her that Dare-Devil Wrestling was looking for some talent, so I got her in touch with Jack and he offered to give them a shot tonight.”

An idea came to her and she perked up in her seat, even as she rubbed her globular gut to sooth it after her impressive breakfast. “Hey, maybe she’ll move into town if this works out!  How great would that be to have Mags around?”

‘Great’ was not exactly the word Ray would use.  Margarita Torres was great to have around for a few days, but anything longer than a couple weeks and her ‘party hardy’ attitude wore rather thin.  The girl simply could not sit still for more than five minutes; she always had to be up and about, running here or there.  When they had seen each other last, Mickey and Ray had to tap out before they blacked out, but Maggie went all night long, drinking and dancing until the early hours of the morning.  There seemed to be no force in Heaven or Hell that could keep her from having a good time.

“It’ll be something else, all right,” Ray groused as he washed off the dishes. “Oh, and I meant to ask earlier—what are you going to do about going out?”

Mickey winked at her lover from the table and answered, “Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Man—I’ve got it taken care of.”


When it came time to leave, the wildly obese wrestler waddled out of her room in a sweatshirt she would have been swimming in a year prior, sweatpants that had so many Xs in the size that they should have been illegal, and a pink and white wrestler’s mask that resembled a pig.  Mickey flashed her pearly teeth as she told her manager, “If anyone asks, I’m not Mickey Ramone.  Tonight, I’m ‘La Cerdita’!”

The barrel-chested man laughed while he wrapped an arm around his porky princess’s waist, which was becoming a feat in of itself. “Only you, babe—only you.”

Dare-Devil Wrestling, like many independent promotions, did not have the money to put on shows in larger venues like basketball arenas save once or twice a year if business was good.  The show that particular evening was taking place in a high school gymnasium, but they made the most of what they had.  A merchandise stand was set up outside the gym itself, right next to the concession stand, and the commentators were seated at a folding table borrowed from the school’s storage.  Every folding chair was brought out and set up around the squared circle, and the bleachers were pulled out for even more seating.  Not that DDW did exceptional business, but with the promise of some fresh talent from south of the border, they drew quite the crowd.

“Raymundo!  Good to see you, man,” the owner, Jack Nelson, greeted the beefy manager when he walked into the gym.  Ray had gotten to know Jack back when the latter was a wrestler at the end of his career and the former was just getting started.  They had met in the short-lived Superstar Wrestling League, a tiny promotion in Georgia where Ray had also first met Mickey.  Jack had a big hand in getting the neophyte a foot in the door, acting as a mentor and an advocate; it was the good ol’ boy who got him his first booking gig, for example.  The two had stayed close ever since, even as the power couple left for greener pastures and the veteran headed out west to purchase a floundering promotion and turn it around.

As the two old friends shook hands and hugged, Jack pulled away and let out a whistle. “Goddamn, son,” he remarked, “if’n I didn’t know you were coming, I’d never recognized you!  You getting ready for a rumble or something?”

“Couldn’t stay the same stocky, lovable fat guy forever,” Ray replied with a smirk.  Another month hard at work had him in the best shape of his life, with fat slowly burning off his body in favor of firm muscles. “Besides, it’s only helped things with me and Mickey.”

“Speaking of, where is the ol’ girl?  I’d have thought she’d come out to see her cousin,” the mustached man said as he scanned the crowd filing into the gymnasium.

The beefy manager smirked and gestured for his old friend to come close. “You can still keep a secret?”

“Unless somebody’s got a good, strong bottle of whiskey.”

They chuckled before Ray told Jack, “That’s her in the mask…with all the food.”

He gestured to their seats at ringside, where Mickey had already plopped her bulbous behind down and was tearing through her meal before the show even began.  The folding chair was holding for the moment, but the seat was simply too small for a woman of her size, so her immense backside swelled out over the edges.  She had saved Ray’s seat by placing down a tray with all of their food, though most of it was hers.  Candy, popcorn, and bags of chips; pizza, hot dogs, and a cheeseburger; they all filled the tray to the absolute brim.  The only reason she did not have more was because she did not want to deprive anyone else at the show; otherwise, she could have plowed through half the concessions on her own.

“Land’s sake, what’chall been feeding her—lard milkshakes?” asked an awestruck Jack. “She’s bigger than the missus after she had our seventh kid!”

“It’s a long story, but we’ll tell you after the show,” Ray chuckled as he clapped his friend on the back before turning to his seat.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” the old man murmured with a grin on his face.

Back at their seats, the manager patted Mickey on the shoulder, which made the woman jump in her seat—so caught up was she in her eating.  As Ray swiped a handful of popcorn, he whispered, “I see you got started without me, Cerdita.  You really are greedy as a pig, aren’t you?”

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” the masked wrestler giggled before popping a kernel in her mouth. “How’s Jack?”

“He couldn’t believe your new look, for one thing; he thought I’d been pumping you full of lard for months,” the manager chortled.  When he saw an impish glimmer in his lover’s eye, he smirked and squeezed her belly through the sweatshirt. “Maybe some other time, gordita.”

It was not long before the show kicked off in earnest, and it proved to be quite an entertaining one throughout.  The card started with a bout between an evil clown who used every dirty trick in the book to beat a musclebound jerk, and they were followed by a pair of cruiserweights that put on an excellent display of acrobatics.  After that was a squash match where the cowardly loser was forced into a weasel suit that he could not escape from without assistance; a shame that no one was willing to help the conman.  Next came a hardcore match between a denim-clad refugee from the Grunge Era and a giggling lunatic decked out in the remnants of a straitjacket, and then it came time for the tag team bout.

Mickey was on the edge of her seat as the announcer stood in the ring and declared, “The next match is scheduled for one fall.  Introducing first, from Tulacingo, Hidalgo in Mexico, the three-time tag champions: La Osa Amarilla and La Serpiente Morada, Las Reinas de las Bestias!”

Out from the left side of the gym came two masked wrestlers in yellow and purple, respectively.  Osa Amarilla was a short, stout woman who wore a mask that resembled a growling bear, while Serpiente Morada was taller, paler, and wore a mask that made her look like a snake ready to strike, especially when she stuck out a forked tongue.  More than the suits, Mickey noticed how the girls were both rather plump in their own ways: la osa had a pronounced potbelly that sloshed about when she walked to the ring; her partner had thick thighs that thrashed against each for room, and whenever she turned, La Princesa was treated to a good view of the roundest booty she had seen in ages.  She licked her lips with desire as she watched the two chubby competitors bound into the ring.

“Hands to yourself, dear,” Ray whispered while he patted her mattress thigh.

Once the masked wrestlers were in the ring, the announced turned to the opposite doors and proclaimed, “And their competitors tonight!  Hailing from Mexico City, Mexico, making their DDW debut, please give a big hand to Margarita Maggie and ‘Sweet’ Sharon Goode—the Wild Roses!”

Mickey erupted into applause and cheering as her cousin sauntered into the gymnasium with her partner right behind her.  Maggie was ten years her junior, and even if she was near three hundred pounds like her cousin, the young wrestler could not have looked any more different from her.  Her hair was short, wavy, and dyed a platinum blonde, and were it not for her boots, she would have looked at home on the beach than a ring.  Compared to that was Sharon, her partner of two years: the redhead sashayed down to the ring with a pair of glasses, a clipboard, and a pair of fine black heels.  Her outfit was far more conservative, resembling a slinky black dress, but it still clung to her voluptuous figure so as to leave little to the imagination.

“Waddup, New Mexico!” Maggie hollered, eliciting a round of cheers from the spectators.  She threw her arms out and basked in their admiration before continuing to the ring, a bounce to her step that made her tight backside jiggle enticingly.  Sharon, for her part, waved politely to the crowd much like Queen Elizabeth, occasionally blowing kisses to various members of the audience.  Her curves were so full and plump that she did not need to do anything extra; they had plenty of jiggle in their own right.

When they got to the ring, Margarita slid under the ropes and her sweet partner weaved between them with a slow, sensual grace.  The bespectacled girl slid out of her heels and handed them off to a ringside assistant with a wink, which made the pasty man blush from tip to tail.  Once they were in the ring, they looked to their chubby competition with confident smirks like the eager greenhorns that they were.

La Serpiente and Sharon slid back to the ring apron while their partners made their way to the middle of the ring for the traditional handshake.  Just as they were about to shake, La Osa whipped her other hand out and slapped Maggie across the face.  The rookie glared at her with stinging tears in her eyes, lunged at the doughy heel, and the bell rang to declare the match underway.  Back and forth they went, slugging each other left and right with moves that looked so stiff that it almost seemed like they were actually trying to kill one another.

“Is this a shoot or something?” asked Ray, who winced when Maggie took a chop so hard that it resonated throughout the entire gymnasium.

“It might as well be,” Mickey sighed. “These two have been at it for weeks on Twitter, bickering like only rivals can.  But that’s how good they are—you would never guess that they’ve been best friends for five years.”

The slugfest continued as the girls on the outside tried to get tagged in and swap out for their partners, but La Osa and Maggie were not having any of it.  They matched each other blow for blow: the blonde would superkick the yellow wrestler, and the little bear would hit the party girl with a deadly lariat.  At one point, Maggie bumped the referee into the ring post after an errant reversal, which gave the luchadoras the opportunity they were looking for.  La Serpiente slithered into the ring to gang up on the bubbly blonde, checking her with her massive rump and sending Maggie into the ropes.  Amidst a chorus of boos, La Osa wrapped the ropes around the prone wrestler’s arms, trapping her and making her an easy target.

As the dastardly heels delivered kick after kick to Margarita, La Serpiente was knocked silly when Sharon hit her from behind with a dropkick.  The purple wrestler flopped over the top rope, and before La Osa could react, the redhead popped up with a handspring and struck the Latina with a kick to her globular gut.  She collapsed against the ring post with a grunt, but the enraged Sharon was not finished yet—as soon as Maggie was freed, she charged the staggering woman with a knee to the belly.  La Osa looked like the wind was taken out of her, but Sharon kept up the assault, dropping the sensual veneer for one of ruthless aggression.

Just as soon as the attack started, it ended when La Serpiente slid back into the ring and struck Sharon with her forearm.  The redhead turned to fight the new assailant, but the masked wrestler was ready and gave a powerful chop to the rookie’s chest.  Sharon bent over from the blow, at which point the sinister heel wrapped an arm around the redhead’s neck and dropped her to the mat with a DDT.

“Get her up, babe!” La Serpiente told her partner, who was coming to her senses.

La Osa happily obliged and hefted the dazed Sharon off the mat with a huff.  Her purple partner crouched down, hissed, and dashed towards the redhead, who wobbled on her feet as if she was punch-drunk.  The crowd watched in awe as the luchadora went into a series of flips that culminated in kicking Sharon under her chin, which sent the young wrestler rocketing out of the ring and into the crowd below.  In this case, she landed right in what remained of Mickey Ramone’s lap, which made the masked woman squeal in surprise and excitement.

“Sorry about that,” Sharon whispered to Mickey as she propped herself up on the woman’s colossal belly.  Recovering a bit from the blow, she whipped back to the ring and charged back to action, leaving the spectators clapping at her perseverance.

“Go kick their asses!” the punk princess cheered as her cousin got her second wind and leapt back up to the ring apron.  The fight was just getting started…

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((With one week to go before the Royal Rumble, here's a new chapter of the most over story in the FA territory!  Enjoy!))


The instant Sharon slid back in the ring, Las Reinas were at her again, stomping her into the mat again and again.  Just as all hope seemed lost, Maggie leaped to the top rope, vaulted onto La Osa’s shoulders, and whipped around to throw the yellow wrestler into La Serpiente.  While the luchadoras recovered from the blow, the Latina helped her partner to her feet, where they looked to each other and nodded in understanding.  Maggie ducked back under the ropes while Sharon ran over to La Serpiente, who was struggling off the mat with no small amount of difficulty.

“Come on, up and at ’em,” the bespectacled woman told her opponent as she grabbed at the masked wrestler’s thick middle. “The boss wants to see you.”

As La Serpiente staggered to her feet, Sharon hoisted her up, over her shoulder, and over the top rope.  Maggie caught her, only to slam the purple wrestler against the ring apron to the shock and awe of the audience.

“That’s how we do it!” the petite wrestler cheered as she hopped back onto the apron. “Somebody throw me a beer!”

A can went sailing through the air at her command, which Maggie caught without even looking at it.  Mickey’s cousin grinned like the cat that ate the canary and cracked the can open to be showered with a spray of foam.  Wiping her face, she put the beer to her lips and chugged until it was empty in seconds flat, at which point she crumpled up the can and tossed it down at La Serpiente.

Sharon shook her head at her partner’s display, but before she could say anything about it, she was knocked into the ropes by a steel chair clapping against her back.  She glanced over her shoulder and found a vengeful Osa behind her, holding the chair by the legs and ready to swing it again.  It was only quick reflexes that saved her from the wrathful woman, but Maggie was caught instead.  The showboat went flying off the apron and into the crowd below, which left her partner to fend for herself against a very angry bear.

“I’m gonna mess you up, punta!” she howled as she swung the chair about as though it were made of cardboard rather than cold metal. “Nobody hurts my boo like that without getting some!  You wanted to poke the bear?  You got the bear!”

Maddened as she was, Osa landed shot after shot on Sharon, who did everything she could to dodge away from the savage beast.  The redhead crumpled to the floor, taking another strike to the back before Maggie dove in to save her.  Her partner speared the raging luchadora into the ropes, the chair falling to the wayside.  The scantily clad woman helped her friend to her feet before they nodded, raised their fists up, and clinked pretended glasses together.

“Closing time!” they cheered as they untangled La Osa from the ropes.

Maggie spun the dazed wrestler around in her arms and wrapped the woman’s neck in a hold while Sharon hoisted up her legs and set them on the middle rope.  Then, quick as can be, she climbed up the ropes to the top turn buckle beside her partner and her doomed competition.  The voluptuous redhead wiggled her bottom and winked to the crowd before leaping with the grace of a bird to deliver a flying elbow drop to La Osa’s back.  At the same time, Maggie fell back to the floor in a devastating Elevated DDT, which left the yellow wrestler face down on the mat, her gelatinous belly squishing out from under her.

Sharon crawled up and draped herself across her fallen opponent, chest heaving and lips pursed in a sensual smile.  The referee was quick to slide over and clap his hand once, twice, three times, and that was it.

“Here are your winners: ‘Margarita’ Maggie and Sharon Goode, the Wild Roses!” the announcer declared as the crowd went wild.

Ray shot out of his seat right away for a standing ovation, but it took Mickey a moment to rise out of her chair after wolfing down so many snacks.  The globular wrestler had to rock herself back and forth to build up momentum enough to swing up to her feet, and she had to catch her breath when she finally made it.  That did not stop her from applauding her cousin and Sharon for a remarkable showing, especially with their finisher.

“She’s gotten pretty damn good,” her lover remarked as they took their seats again.

“It’s in her blood,” the incognito wrestler retorted as she eased her fat ass back down to the chair. “She was never not going to be amazing.”

Ray smirked and poked his girlfriend in her belly as he teased, “I wonder if she’ll follow you in your grandfather’s legacy.”

Mickey blushed underneath her mask and swatted his hand away. “Fat chance: Lou was my grandfather on my dad’s side; Maggie gets the Torres genes, which mean she will never pack on a single pound.  That girl is going to stay a skinny mini for the rest of her life, mark my words.”


When the show wrapped up and everyone had left, Mickey and Ray met up with Jack, Maggie, and a very different Sharon than the one in the ring.  While her cousin was clad in a pair of skintight jeans and a crop top that left much of her middle exposed, La Princesa Violenta found that the bodacious redhead went for a much more conservative outfit.  She had traded her ring attire for a pair of real, thick glasses, a skirt that went to her knees and gave the slightest hint of her perfectly round rump, and a blouse that downplayed the swell of her chest.  Sharon would not be the first person to look completely different from their in-ring persona, but the stark change from the woman who had flaunted her curves to the crowd was nowhere to be found.

“That was awesome, primita!” a now unmasked Mickey squealed with delight when her cousin came out of the changing room.  She wrapped her meaty arms around the much thinner woman and squeezed her tight against her blubbery body, which elicited a huff of surprise from Maggie.

“Glad you liked it, prima,” the younger wrestler gasped. “Could you let me down, please?  You’re kinda crushing my ribs here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the punk apologized, “but I was just so excited to see you in action.  You looked great out there!  And that finisher—dios mio, I thought you damn near killed that girl!”

Maggie gestured over her shoulder and grinned. “You can thank Sharon for that; she’s the mastermind behind this operation.”

The redhead blushed and readjusted her glasses as she meekly replied, “Oh, well, I wouldn’t say that.  After all, I was just putting out two moves together; you’re the one doing all the hard work, making that amazing DDT and all.”

“The DDT is great, but your elbow drop is the one that makes it bad-ass,” the Latina retorted as she wrapped an arm around Sharon’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for her.”

Jack chuckled as he approached the tag team with checkbook in hand. “Well, whoever’s responsible for the team, I’d want to shake their hand.  You gals put on a hell of a show tonight; shucks, you might have even stolen the whole thing!  If y’all can catch lightning in a bottle, I think you’ll have a good career with us daredevils.”

Both girls lit up with excitement as they received their pay for the night and embraced in a giddy hug.  Mickey looked to her old friend and mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”

The retired wrestler gave her a wave off and grinned, saying, “Now, we’ll work out the details tomorrow, but I think that we’re going to do great business together.  Y’all have a good night, and Mickey, Ray—don’t be strangers now.  We oughta get lunch sometime.”

“If we do, it’s on us,” Mickey laughed as she gave the old man a hug. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I can really put it away these days.”

“No kidding,” Jack chortled. “I think you accounted for half our concession sales tonight!  Next time we’re putting on a show in town, I’ll make sure we have double of everything—just what a growing girl needs.”

The old man saw the group out before returning to finish packing up the equipment for the show, at which point Mickey suggested, “Who wants to go out and celebrate?”

“Me! Mememe!” Maggie cheered as she waved her hand. “And I’ve got the money to treat you guys tonight.”

The idea was promptly shut down by Sharon, ever the more responsible of the tag team, putting her partner’s hand down and shaking her head.  It was like this all the time: every time they got paid for a show, Maggie was quick to go out and spend half of it on clubbing, fine clothes, and a spa day; were it not for Sharon keeping an eye on her, the Latina would likely have gone into debt ages ago.  As it was, it was all she could do to keep her wild friend from flushing her money down the drain, which made her grateful they were paid separately rather than together.

“Your friend might have the right idea, Mags.  Besides, you’re our guests; we’re going to treat you while you’re in town,” Mickey explained to her exuberant cousin.

“All right, but don’t think I’m going to take it easy just because it’s your money,” the younger wrestler chuckled as she pranced to her rental car. “I happen to be a very expensive date, thank you very much.”

The punk wrestler crossed her chubby arms and smirked. “Little girl, I’ve got a GWF salary; I can treat your culo burracho to half the restaurants in town and it wouldn’t make a dent in my wallet.”

Ray led the visitors to an all-night diner that also had one of the largest collections of beer in the whole city, which made Maggie’s eyes shimmer with delight.  Despite the fact that Sharon and she were the ones busting their behinds that evening, Mickey still ordered the most food between them; given the way the waiters acted around them, they were used to the wrestler’s massive orders.  The heavy drinker of the group was quick to sample beer after beer, but it was not until well into her meal that she found her raison d’être.

“What’s this one, the Snake Venom?” she asked the waitress as she came to collect yet another empty pint glass.

“That one’s straight from Scotland, sugar,” the matronly woman answered. “Real dark and very strong—that sucker is brewed with peat malt, two whiskies, one beer, and one champagne.  Best damn dark beer you’ve ever had in your life.”

Maggie licked her lips at the prospect and replied, “Sounds like the stuff made for a queen.  Let me have a pint of that!”

“You sure about that?  Because it’s—” the waitress cautioned before being interrupted.

“It’s probably expensive, I know, but my cousin is buying,” the lithe woman declared as she winked at Mickey. “Thanks, prima.”

La Princesa Violenta rolled her eyes and retorted, “Anything for you, tu puta borracha.”

The waitress shrugged her shoulders and went off to pour yet another glass for the victorious wrestler.  She had wanted to warn Maggie that Snake Venom had two-thousand calories to its name, and the girl had already polished off six other beers while working on a chicken-fried steak with sweet potato tots.  If that skinny thing could put that all away, more power to her, but those washboard abs were on their way out if she kept eating and drinking like this.

Sure enough, by the time the girls had finished their meals, Maggie was cradling a healthy food baby in her lap and moaning about how much she had eaten, ignoring how many beers she had throughout the night.  Mickey picked up the lone tater tot left behind and popped it in her mouth; she still had plenty of room to spare compared to her cousin.  The punk joked, “Only seven beers, primita?  You’re losing your touch!”

The younger wrestler bellyached, “I’m just too full!  I had way too much to eat; I shouldn’t have gotten the steak.”

“Among other things,” Sharon mused as she daintily wiped her lips.

“Shut up,” Maggie whined childishly as she gave a sluggish swat to her partner’s arm. “Mmph…gotta get back to the hotel.  Sleep sounds so good right now.”

“Well, I’m still eating here,” Mickey replied as she gestured to her fourth plate of the night.  Her belly was so large that it was hard to tell whether she was stuffed or not, but Ray could tell after so many days and nights of feeding his lover to the brink.  There was still plenty of room in that cavernous stomach, which likely meant a trip to the convenience store in the near future.

The manager patted her on the shoulder and offered, “I’ll drive them back if you want to eat some more, babe.  Just don’t work the cooks too hard; we like coming here, remember?”

“Hey, I’m putting their kids through college,” Mickey giggled as she put a hand on Ray’s and kissed him. “Gracias, mi amor.  Don’t let Maggie stop you for anything; straight back to the motel, understand?”

“Loud and clear,” the hefty man retorted while he stood up.  As he crossed over to the other side of the table, Sharon rose and lifted her groaning partner out of her seat.  Ray was quick to get Maggie’s other side, and together, they made their way out to the car. “Be back soon, Mick!”

La Princesa waved the trio off before tucking back into her meal until a thought crossed her mind.  She called out, “Hey, Donna?  Let me get a Snake Venom too!”


After they were dropped off and escorted to their room, Maggie and Sharon went about getting ready for sleep; more specifically, Sharon got ready for sleep while her drunken partner passed out on one of the beds.  The redhead shook her head and sighed at how irresponsible the Torres girl could be, whether it was drinking the night away or leaving her to do all the work.  It was a wonder that they had lasted as long as they had, but that was mostly for how much chemistry they shared in the ring; were it not for that, they would have split up ages ago.

When the bespectacled wrestler finished washing her face and brushing her teeth, she walked out of the bathroom to find Maggie already sawing logs.  Sharon rolled her eyes and walked over to the slovenly woman to do what she always did for the Latina.  First, she undid the girl’s shoes and tossed them aside, and then she moved up to work her under the covers.  As she did so, something caught her attention: the bloat of Maggie’s stomach from all the beer and food, so round that it looked like she had swallowed a bowling ball at some point in the evening.

“You really did a number tonight,” Sharon mumbled to the dozing dazzler.

Hesitantly, she reached out a dainty hand and brushed the caramel belly before yanking away as if Maggie could wake up any moment.  When the inebriated wrestler did nothing but continue snoring, Sharon returned to her examinations: she poked, stroked, and even prodded the swollen mass before her partner belched, which made her leap three feet in the air.  The redhead froze for a moment or two before she settled back down and resumed her task of getting Maggie under the blankets and sheets.  All the while, the Latina kept on sawing logs as if she was a chainsaw.

Quick as a flash, Sharon dove into her own bed and shut off the lights so she could be alone with her thoughts.  Not once had she ever been so intimate with her partner, but then again, she had never seen Maggie glut herself that much.  It made the redhead curious about two things: if this was a one-time thing, and if Maggie was more like her cousin than she chose to admit.  If that was the case, then the Latina could expect big things in her future; her cousin had to be close to three hundred pounds, if that.

“Fat chance of that,” the redhead murmured before she drifted off to sleep, unaware that Snake Venom was being distributed in bars all throughout New Mexico and that Maggie had developed a taste for that particular poison…

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((Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages.  CyrilFiggus and Curvage.org proudly introduce to you, the number one contender for Best Story in the Worrrrrrrld--SUPERHEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!  And if you're not down with that, we've got two words for you: that's fine.  Enjoy!))


The morning after the show, Mickey was sleeping comfortably in bed, the sheets pulled over her bulbous body and up to her chubby chin.  Her blissful slumber was broken by Ray gently stroking a finger across her cheek as he whispered, “Levántate y espabila, mi amor.”

“Cinco minutos más, por favor,” the wrestler mumbled as she wiggled under the covers.

“Come on, Mickey, I’ve got breakfast waiting,” her lover told her with a warm smile on his face.

She sleepily scoffed, “That’s a lie; I don’t smell anything cooking in the kitchen.”

Ray shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll tell you about it when you get to the table.  Come on, gordita.”

“Fine, fine,” Mickey grumbled as she peeled the covers away, revealing her impressively large form underneath.  Were it not for the overtaxed bra and panties that contained her bulk, the Violent Princess would have resembled a dollop of caramel sauce on the bed; her flab oozed out to fill up as much space as possible.  In these moments of rest, when her body settled and her muscles relaxed, her blubber spread out more, making her look more like pudding than a professional wrestler.

Like a lazy, spoiled cat, Mickey stretched her arms out to her loving boyfriend, who took them and worked to roll the sleepy woman around to a sitting position.  It was a good thing he was working out so much these days; a weaker man would have trouble handling the punk wrestler, especially if she was acting this way.  Ray managed to get her into a sitting position after sliding her plump legs over the side of the bed, which earned a drowsy smile from the Latina.

“Carry me, baby,” she cooed as her eyes opened to half-lid.  She reached her chubby hands to him, only for the man to squeeze them, pull her in for a kiss, and let them fall to her lap.

“You’re a bit too big for the princesa,” Ray chuckled. “Come on—pretend that’s the championship belt sitting at the breakfast table.”

Mickey grumbled dirty words under her breath as she rocked herself off the bed and onto her feet.  As she cracked the joints in her back, her impressive belly jutted out from her waist like a balloon of pudge, seated beneath two plump melons.  Ray licked his lips at the sight of his bountiful girlfriend in all her glory, but before he could put his hands on her waist, la Princesa Violenta raised a finger and smirked. “Sorry, babe, but I have a title belt waiting for me.”

The couple made their way out to the kitchen table, which looked so sparse without an army’s worth of food filling it up.  As Mickey woke up more, a confused look filled her eyes while she tried to understand what was happening.  When she glanced into the kitchen for any sign of the enormous feast she had grown used to, she could see nothing but Ray cooking something at the stove.

“Um, Ray-Ray, I don’t mean to pry, but where’s breakfast?” the wrestler asked her lover.

The beefy man looked her way and grinned as he answered, “I’m making it right now, Mick.  You’re going to love it, I promise.”

Satisfied, Mickey leaned back in her chair, relishing in how the wood creaked under her mighty bulk.  It was something she was noticing from most of the furniture in their apartment: all the chairs groaned when she sat down, her bed whined in protest, and the couch now had a small crater in it from where she had planted her fat behind.  All these were signs that she was turning into a blimp right on schedule, perhaps even faster than intended.  Either way, it was so electrifying that it sent shivers down her back.

What was less electrifying was what Ray placed in front of her: a plate with a sliced hardboiled egg on toast with an avocado spread, and a bowl of porridge with apples throughout.  These were accompanied by milk and orange juice but no gainer shake.  Mickey furrowed her brow as she studied her breakfast, and her lips dipped into a scowl when her lover sat across from her with much of the same for his meal.

“Babe, what is this?” the punk wrestler asked as she picked at the meager (by her standards, anyway) meal.

Ray glanced up from the newspaper and answered, “I made you some avocado toast with an egg on top, plus I spiced the egg with some cayenne powder.”

“And this?” Mickey grumbled as she lifted her spoon up and let the porridge plop back down in the bowl.

“It’s a new recipe I’ve been meaning to try,” the manager explained with traditional glee. “That’s a grain-less porridge made with coconut milk, cashews, and ground up flaxseed.  Then I sliced up some Honeycrisp apples for sweetness and a nice sauce.  That’s sure to keep you going all day long.”

La Princesa had no doubt to the nutritional value, but compared to her everyday feasts, it seemed so piddling.  That was not to say it was disgusting; Ray seemed incapable of making bad food, and this was no exception.  It was such a disappointment when she thought about how her breakfast yesterday had been a stack of pancakes and half a quiche.  She felt like an orphan who was given one and only one bowl of gruel to start the day.

“Ray, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but is that everything?” she finally asked as she tucked into the porridge.

As if he had expected that question, the beefy man replied, “That’s everything this morning, mi amor.  I’ve got a special something planned for later, so I wanted you to save your appetite.”

Mickey pursed her lips, knowing how Ray was with his surprises; he was not going to tell her no matter how many pouty faces she gave him.  She would have to be patient and wait until he revealed what the ‘special something’ was, even if that meant starving herself throughout the day.  With little other choice, the wrestler focused on her meal, downing it rather easily and much quicker than she had expected.  Acting on instinct, she reached out for another plate that was not there and was disappointed to find she was finished already.

“If you want anything else, Mick, you can get yourself a snack,” her boyfriend told her as he worked on his breakfast. “Just try not to spoil your appetite.”

“A little late for that,” she groused while she patted her belly, which angrily grumbled at her. “I’ll hold back; I used to be disciplined once upon a time, you know.”

Ray smirked at that and pointed his spoon at the mound of blubber that was her stomach. “Yes, but that was before you started pouring calories down your throat like water.”

The Violent Princess blushed and stuck her tongue out at the man. “Har-har.  I’ll last however long I need to, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.  So keep your gainer shakes and six-course meals to yourself; I’ll get by just fine.”

“If you say so, gordita, if you say so,” the manager chuckled. “Just be ready to eat by 5, okay?”

Mickey glanced at the clock and scoffed, “Eight hours?  Please, I can make it twice as long without stuffing my face.”


That boast proved more difficult to uphold than she first thought, as the wrestler was on the verge of caving throughout the entire day.  It started when she got back from working out and very nearly tore off the doors from the pantry, but Ray was able to bide her some time by fixing her a good-sized lunch.  Mickey had to settle for snacking throughout the day, but even her snacks were much more limited than normal; begrudgingly, she ate in moderation in all facets until the late afternoon.  She had never realized how accustomed she had gotten to massive portions of food, even after she dialed it back after the cruise.  Whatever the big surprise was, she hoped that it would be worth her stomach grumbling for hours on end.

When 5 o’clock rolled around, Mickey was seated at the kitchen table and felt like she could eat an entire horse; given how much Ray had been cooking that day, it seemed to be a very real possibility.  The punk was chomping at the bit when her lover brought out the first course: a steak that was almost as big as the plate itself, seated atop a thick bed of buttery mashed potatoes.  Before the manager even had a chance to explain, his girlfriend tore into the steak like a ravenous lion.

“I’ve got to say, Mick, I’m impressed,” Ray chuckled as he sat beside his rotund partner. “I was sure you were going to crack at some point, like I’d walk into the living room and find you surrounded by fast food wrappers.”

“Told you,” Mickey grumbled through a mouth full of food.

“You sure did,” the beefy man replied with a smirk, “but I wonder if you’re ready for tonight.  We’ve been keeping your big belly stuffed constantly, and after the cruise, your capacity has skyrocketed.  Tonight, I want to test just how much you can truly stuff in that fat gut of yours—that means stuffing you until you can’t hardly think straight, let alone walk.”

That sent a shiver down her roll-laden back.  La Princesa had glutted herself time and time again since she had started on this jiggly journey, but she had never tried to gorge until she was at her absolute max capacity.  She had to hand it to her boy—he had taken to the role of ‘domineering feeder’ like a duck to water.  Not wanting to disappoint, as well as being curious about her own limits, Mickey tucked into her meal with a gusto like never before.  The evening was going to be the biggest challenge of her career, even more so than flying fifteen through the air and into a flaming table covered in barbed wire and somehow not dying.

It was a good thing she had kept herself hungry throughout the day, as the dishes Ray brought out were bigger than any he had ever given her in an eating challenge before.  Everything was massive: macaroni and cheese served in a mixing bowl; a patty melt as tall as two copies of War and Peace stacked atop each other; an entire salt-baked chicken.  To make matters even crazier, the gigantic proportions kept coming non-stop, hence why the man had been working in the kitchen all day long; he had been preparing this massive smorgasbord for hours and hours, and judging by the sounds she heard, he was still cooking even as she ate.

Yet no matter what the chef brought his massive girlfriend, Mickey wolfed it down as though it were a piddling snack.  It was a bad idea to one’s food too quickly, as it led to indigestion and other assorted problems, but the super-sized, big, beautiful woman seemed impervious such complications.  She scarfed down food like combination of a machine and a competitive eater, only without the unsavory tactics such gluttons employed.

It was a good few hours into her feast before the punk wrestler felt the first signs of fatigue.  By that point, her stomach all but divided into two separate parts: up top was the dome of her stuffed gut, which steadily inflated like a food balloon throughout the evening; below was a thick swath of blubber that wrapped around her waist like the world’s doughiest belt.  Mickey slowed her roll and ate in a more controlled manner, if for no other reason than to ease the wear and tear on her body; she could already tell that her jaw would be hurting in the morning.

A couple hours later, long after the sun had gone down, the Violent Princess slowed her pace even further as her stomach filled to capacity.  She was hovering around the maximum limit, and when she finally crossed it after eating an entire pizza, the wrestler groaned and rested a hand on her belly.  The fat sucker grumbled at her like a grumpy cat; just like a feline, rubbing the engorged mass helped soothe the beast.  For the first time in five hours, Mickey Ramone had to catch her breath, which her lover did not miss.

“Throwing in the towel already, babe?” he joked, which earned him a slothful swat that was easily dodged.  The manager brought a cool towel over and wiped the glutted woman’s brow, eliciting a hum of contentment from her.

“Not on your life, Ray,” Mickey purred as she stroked her belly. “I’ve been through Iron Woman contests that were tougher than this.  The only way I’m quitting is if I pop, and that ain’t going to happen.  Now, bring out the next plate before I have to waddle out and get it myself.”

“As you wish,” the beefy man hummed.  He gave his lardy lover a kiss on her chubby cheek before departing into the kitchen once more.

Despite her best efforts, the punk only managed to last another hour before she slumped down in her chair.  She burped and hiccupped intermittently, stomach bouncing painfully with each one, and her cheeks were a rosy tint from her effort.  It felt like she had a boulder sitting on her lap, though a bomb was a more appropriate comparison; Mickey felt like she was going to explode any moment.  Her arms fell to her sides as if they were full of wet sand, and her jaw hung open as she breathed deeply.  Never in her life could she have imagined being this full, yet here she was.

“How you holding up, Mickey?” asked Ray as he waltzed into the room and sat beside his fattened lover. “You look like you just went ten rounds against Butterbean.”

“You mean I look like Butterbean,” the dogged wrestler retorted with a tired smirk.

Her doting lover gently caressed her swollen gut, stroking it with the slightest hint of pressure.  The caramel mass was warm to the touch, and though it was hard to tell, he could detect a faint red glow from the dome.  Ray leaned in and gave it a kiss, which earned a groan of pain and pleasure from Mickey.

“It is my belief, as your trainer and manager, that you are past your limits, young lady,” the beefy man explained softly as he wiped her sweat-riddled brow with a damp cloth. “I am sure that if you ate even a single bite, you would pop.  You did well, but we’re going to call it a night; it’s late and I don’t want to clean you off the walls.”

“Gilipollas demente,” the wrestler grunted as she lifted a hand up. “Carry me, baby.”

“Como desées,” Ray hummed as he took her hand and heaved her out of the chair.  The process took longer than expected due to Mickey’s stuffed state; her lover tried to be as gentle as possible.  When they finally got her standing, he wrapped one arm around her waist and led her shuffling into the bedroom, though they paused when they passed by the kitchen.

“Babe, what’s that?” the bleary-eyed wrestler asked as she pointed to a three-layer cake on the counter.  It looked like a grand wedding cake, the kind she had wanted to have ever since she went to her uncle’s wedding as a child.

The manager sighed and tried to direct her attention away while he explained, “It was a little something I had prepared for the end of your meal, but I guess we couldn’t get to it this time.  We can always save it for another day; I can cut it up and have it frozen.”

Mickey felt her stomach churn and she had to cradle her gut with one hand, yet she could not take her eyes off the cake.  In spite of everything she had already eaten and all the pain that came with it, she wanted that tower of decadence more than anything else.  It was ridiculous that she could even think of eating anything else, but la princesa did not care for her own safety; all that mattered was sating the hunger that was ever growing inside her.

“Give me the cake,” she mumbled as she released her hold on Ray’s waist and waddled back towards the table, though he caught her before she could get too far.

“Uh-uh,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Not going to happen.  You’re so stuffed that your stomach is more like a ticking time bomb than anything else.  You seriously think you can eat even a single bite of that, much less the entire thing?”

The punk wrestler turned her head and flashed a daredevil grin at the man while she retorted, “You told me you were going to stuff me until I couldn’t think, let alone walk, right?  Guess what—I’m still walking, and I think I want me some cake.  Now, pretty please, con azúcar encima, get me a fucking plate and fork.”

Ray stood flabbergasted at how his girlfriend was still standing after eating for six hours straight, but he knew better than to be surprised anymore.  When Mickey set her mind to something, neither Heaven nor Hell was going to stop her; she was going to trudge onward until she reached her goal.  It was one of the many reasons he stayed by her—to see this amazing, unstoppable woman conquer the world of wrestling.  So, despite his initial misgivings, the beefy manager retrieved a plate and fork and began to serve her slice after slice from the three-layer cake.

“Happy Three Hundred, amor,” the man cooed as he fed cheesecake to his eager feedee.

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Guest Byzantlaw

absolutely excellent 

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"Damn Mickey, I knew your stomach was cavernous, but this takes the cake!" :D


love the new part.

looking forward to her struggling to squeeze that cake in.

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38 minutes ago, djfex said:

"Damn Mickey, I knew your stomach was cavernous, but this takes the cake!" :D


love the new part.

looking forward to her struggling to squeeze that cake in.

Glad you liked it!  Not sure if I'll actually show her struggles with the cake, but rest assured--this won't be the last time she pushes herself to the absolute limits.

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((As we approach 100 pages, I thought I might try something different.  Today and tomorrow, we're going to take a look at what our lovely, lardy ladies dream at night.  Each one is just a snippet, but if there are any that pique your interest, I might expand on them in the future.  Enjoy, and be here tomorrow for the next installment!))


Dreams are funny things: despite so often being a mish-mash of elements in our life, they reveal so much about us, like our fears, our hopes, and secrets we dare not share.  Everyone has dreams and nightmares, but what do our superstars dream of?  Let us take a look…


Sharon Goode was not sure how it happened, but she found herself in a medieval castle and dressed in a straight, simple dress with a wrap around her crimson locks.  She was hustling around a kitchen while gathering this plate and that from an array of chefs and placing them on a cart, along with a flagon of ale.  Once the three shelves of the cart were covered, the redhead carefully wheeled her way out to the throne room, where a booming voice echoed through the cavernous hall.

“It’s about time!  Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting?” the furious Queen Margarita (or Maggie for those lucky few she deemed worthy) bellowed at her handmaiden.

If Sharon did not know better, she would have never guessed that Maggie used to be one of the most toned and gifted athletes.  After marrying a powerful prince and gaining the crown, Her Majesty took to the life of luxury like a duck to water and allowing her powerful body to fill with pampered, slothful fat.  A fine face had grown round and doughy, rings of fat encircled her neck, and firm arms were now blanketed in flab; modest breasts plumped up to the size of healthy pumpkins, thighs that could crush melons now engulfed her poor knees in pale pudge, and her royal backside was so colossal that it took extra hands to help squeeze her in and out of the throne.

Most impressive was her enormous gut, which swelled out almost to her knees when it was empty and actually reached past on the rare occasion the monarch was full.  Maggie always loved her beer, and being queen meant she had access to some of the richest ales in all the world, which in turn meant she would drink to her heart’s content.  All the rich drink and food had led to her gaining a belly that looked like a boulder when undressed and a balloon when wrapped in one of her many ill-fitting dresses.  Not that she or the king seemed to mind—many was the night where Sharon could hear their lovemaking throughout the halls.

“Honestly, Sharon, you must tell the chefs to work faster,” the queen grunted as she tore into a leg of mutton drenched in gravy. “I was this close to starving!”

“It shall be done, Your Majesty,” the redhead politely replied, averting her gaze lest she linger on Maggie’s bountiful bosom, which threatened to spill out of her neckline.  Sharon walked up beside the throne and tipped the flagon of ale to the monarch’s plump lips. “Is there anything else I should tell them?”

When the flagon was pulled away, Maggie let out a belch that made her entire body tremble like a thick pudding.  She reached a gloved hand out and pat would she could of her gut; it was getting so hard to reach it these days, caked in fat as she was.  The monarch stifled a belch before answering, “Yes—tell the head chef that I have heard tale of a way to make a cake out of ice cream, and that I should like to try one for my half-birthday on the morrow.”

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Sharon complied.  As she made a mental note to speak with the overworked chef, she also thought to call a craftsman.  The throne was creaking something fierce these days, and it was only a matter of time before Maggie’s royal behind caused it to crumple…


The GWF Women’s Champion, Shinobu, opened a door that led from a memorably awful motel in Nevada to her high school in Osaka.  It was exactly as she remembered it when she was a student: tidy halls with aged walls, a perpetual takoyaki smell that wafted through the building, and the grandfather clock that sat outside the front office and never told the correct time.  The plump wrestler took a deep breath and released it in a contented sigh.  It was good to be back, even if she had no idea why she was at her alma mater.

“Come on, Shin-chan, it’s time for the sports festival!” Mitsuki, one of her friends, called out as Shinobu rounded a corner.

“Coming!” the young woman exclaimed as she jogged out to the field behind the school.

Strangely, the act of running took a lot more out of her than she thought, and her gym uniform felt tighter than normal.  When she paused to adjust her shorts, Shinobu realized the reason why everything was so tight—she was almost three times as fat as when she was younger.  The portly woman glanced down and saw how her t-shirt clung to her like a second skin, and how it failed to contain a thick roll of belly jelly.  Her navy shorts were consumed by her thunder thighs and backside that they looked like bloomers instead, and not very school-appropriate ones at that.  Seeing her pale flab on display made the wrestler blush a fine pink, but it was too late to change or look for replacements—her class was counting on her for the games.

When the Osakan finally waddled out to the field, she needed to catch her breath before she joined her classmates.  Ayano, one of her old friends, gave her a Pocari Sweat and a fresh towel, which Shinobu gratefully accepted.  Her belly quivered as she guzzled the drink down, and she absentmindedly swiped a fat-swathed arm over her forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat forming.  Osaka was humid most days of the year, but she did not recall it being this bad in October; then again, she had not weighed almost three hundred pounds while she lived there.

In spite of her weight, Shinobu still participated in a few events, albeit in a very different role than she remembered.  When the girls of her class came together to make a human pyramid in the kumitaiso event, she was one of the anchors that helped prop up all the other pixie-sized students.  She was able to put her enormous backside to good use when it came to balloon popping as well, though she had a slight advantage with how her hips crowded the bench.  Her favorite of all events was the bread-catch, when she had to jump up and grab a loaf of sweet bread off a rope without her hands.  It was her favorite not so much for the strain on her lardy legs, but for the melon bread that she got to enjoy.

Throughout the event, her classmates kept her well-fed, either from snacks or extra from their bento boxes.  While so many others were running around the field in relay races, tug-of-wars, and other events, Shinobu sat on the sidelines like a fat lump of mochi.  She stuffed her chubby cheeks all day long, and when it came time for the closing ceremonies, her shirt had risen even higher on her bloated, sunburned belly.  Her class had won amongst all other second-years, due in no small part to the gelatinous girl’s efforts in the few events she competed in.

When all was said and done, Mitsuki asked, “Shin-chan, Ayano and I are getting burgers after this.  Want to come along?”

Despite eating all day long, the wrestler licked her lips and answered eagerly, “You bet!”


KC Skye was having the same nightmare that plagued her since the night she shattered her leg and went on medical leave.  She saw herself as a beautiful, ebony harpy with glorious wings and the lean, formidable body of an expert hunter.  Every few nights, the former aerialist envisioned herself flying through the air faster and higher than all the other creatures of the sky, and every few nights, her flight was grounded by a terrible accident.  While the prey she hunted always changed, the result was still the same—she would misjudge her dive and crash into the earth, crumpling one of her beautiful wings like a piece of paper.

Her loving cousin, Agatha, was a matronly bird and took helped take her back to her roost in the hills, and that was where KC was forced to stay.  The harpy hated having to rely on someone even if she was so heavily injured, and she would try to fly time and time again, only to wind up hurting herself a little more every time.  When her cousin caught wind of this, the older woman decided on a desperate measure that would also aid in recovery—keep her patient so full of food that there was no way she could jump, much less try to fly.

As word got around about the former hunter’s injury, plenty of creatures came around to check on her well-being: Amandevi the two-headed ogre; Shinobu the Harionago; Mickey the moon rabbit, among so many others.  Each one brought gifts of food which KC reluctantly ate, not wanting to seem rude in refusal and finding that her appetite grew by the day.  All these gifts and Agatha’s care had made the once high-flying harpy swell to an immense size, one she never thought possible.  Her bosom had plumped up to the size of ripe melons and her stomach was so immense that so many asked if she was heavy with eggs.  The worst were her powerful thighs, which were now so big around that some compared them to tree trunks.

“Look at the mighty hunter now,” gloated Sadie the satyr, KC’s most hated rival and the one she was sure had caused her accident.  The goat-woman clomped over to the hefty harpy and slapped her lush legs, which caused a ripple to emanate throughout her entire body. “You look less like a bird of prey and more like a turkey fit for a feast.”

“Piss off,” the ebony aerialist growled as she ate up a roasted trout. “It’s your fault I’m like this.”

Sadie guffawed with laughter before reaching in and grabbing a handful of KC’s belly. “Maybe I caused your accident, maybe I didn’t, but I’m not the one who made you stuff your face until you were too fat to move.  And to think, I once thought of you as a threat—now, you’re about as threatening as a glob of jelly.”

That was it; KC could only take so much of this humiliation.  She stripped the fish clean and tossed the bones aside while she fixed a glare on Sadie.  With Herculean effort, the harpy pushed on the rocks on either side of her in an effort to stand up again.  Every one of her atrophied muscles screamed with effort as she defied gravity and rose to her trembling, clawed feet.  The dark woman gasped for breath while she gave Sadie a glare that could melt ice, and that was when she saw the sycophant satyr do something she had never seen before—she ran in fear.

“Oh no you don’t,” the harpy growled as she lunged at her antagonist.  Despite her best efforts, Sadie could not get away fast enough; a combination of her shock and KC’s rage was her downfall.  The satyr was squashed under several hundred pounds of ebony flab, and no matter how much she thrashed, her corpulent captor only smirked in victory like a happy hippo.


It started off like a nightmare Maxine Kuhn had experienced many times in the past: she stood at the top of the entrance ramp at a GWF show in an arena that seemed endless, and she was clad in little more than a bikini.  On top of that, the heavyweight was much fatter than she was in her waking hours, easily twice her size and resting at an uncomfortable five hundred pounds.  Her tits were as big as her head and overflowing her top like water over a damn, and her arms were as thick as the average woman’s thigh.  A titanic tummy eclipsed any view of her bottoms and oozed out over her mattress thighs like a sack of pudding.  If her gut had not covered them, her backside would have done the job; two beanbag-sized cheeks gobbled up the black bottoms with ease.

The only thing out of the norm was that Maxine did not feel fazed by her immense girth or the jeers it elicited from the audience; rather than shrink into herself, the heavyweight stood tall with her head high.  She had to, because waiting in the ring for her was the person she hated more than herself—Sadie Storme.  The blonde bitch looked as cocky as ever while she rested on the ring ropes, so sure that she could win the match.

“Well?  We’re waiting!” she called out to Maxine.

The blubbery bruiser scowled and put a hand to her chest to grab a fistful of flab.  With a terrific yank, she pulled her hand away and brought with it her rotund body.  Her flabby form came off like tearaway clothing and revealed a toned, firm body underneath—the same body she used to have before Sadie got her hands on her.  Maxine was still thick and curvy, but gone was the mountain of excess fat that had come to define her career for the last two years.

Shed of all that weight, the bruiser careened down the ramp like a rocket was strapped to her back, and she leaped into the ring as though a trampoline was waiting for her.  Maxine stuck a superhero landing that made the whole arena shake, which made the enigmatic audience go quiet for a moment before immediately erupting in applause.  Sadie, on the other hand, was quaking in her boots and seemed much more like a small child than the heartless monster that ruined her life.  If it were anyone else, the brawler might have felt some pity, but not now and not for her.

With inhuman speed, the reborn wrestler blasted her ex-girlfriend into the ropes, and when Sadie bounced off, Maxine gave a sharp kick to the blonde’s chin.  Her former partner crumpled like a house of cards, but the brunette bruiser was not done with her yet.  She lifted the dazed wrestler up and wrapped her in the fat suit that had wrecked her life; just like that, the roles were reversed.  A smoky referee hoisted Maxine’s hand and gave her the title belt before vanishing into the ether, and the crowd belted Sadie with boos and barbs about her weight.

“Payback, bitch,” Maxine jeered as her ex struggled to her feet, cloaked in fat as she was.

As the brawler left the ring, she was approached by two familiar faces who looked much different than she remembered.  Natalie and Katherine Donna ran up and wrapped the brunette in a sandwiching hug, which the giantess was more than happy to return.  When they let go, Maxine was able to get a good look at them, or more specifically, how much they had grown—both Donnas looked like they had put on a good hundred or so pounds.  Natty was the more voluptuous of the twins, with all her curves in her hips and bust, while Katty carried all her weight in her belly and backside.

Smirking proudly, Maxine squeezed both their bubbly backsides and asked, “Who wants to go celebrate back in my room with a fast food feast—my treat?”


“And as you can see, our ratings are rising and expected to continue for the foreseeable future!”

Amanda Ericson basked in the claps that came from the GWF board of directors, and could not resist holding her arms out and head high.  Years of being in the business had led to her taking the proverbial throne, and what had once been a ‘career’ modeling merch in the early days now saw her at the top of the mountain.  Sure, being the boss’s daughter had a little to do with it, but it was all thanks to her cutthroat tactics and determination.  No other woman in the business could compare—not even that Carter chick down south.

As the claps subsided, one of the board members remarked, “Amanda, you have a little something on your blouse.”

The Little Rich Girl glanced down at her top and saw wet stains around her breasts that looked a lot like…no, that could not be it.  There was no way she was lactating again; she already had the triplets and lost all the milk weight.  She tried to cover up the stains by adjusting her jacket, but her bust seemed much larger than before—in fact, it looked to be swelling before her very eyes.  Amanda could only watch in mute horror as the top-most button popped off while her udders plumped and swelled their way to immensity.

“When are you due?” asked another member, who sounded younger than a few minutes prior.

“I’m not pregnant!” the billionaire squealed in frustration.

“My mistake—you just looked like you were carrying triplets!”

A whimper escaped Amanda’s lips as her hands reached down to her stomach in time for it to explode in size.  What started as firm abs were quickly replaced with a glob of flab that grew into a mound of dough big enough to droop over her skirt and down to her thighs.  The Little Rich Girl swung her arms around as she struggled to keep her balance, but she soon recovered when her ass caught up with the rest of her.  Her bouncy booty that won her husband’s heart inflated like a balloon until it stuck out enough to be used like a table.  Naturally, her designer business clothes could not contain her blubber, and they exploded off her into ribbons of cloth.

“Look at that!  She looks like the fat lady at a circus,” exclaimed a very high-pitched young woman as she pointed at the confused Amanda.

Amanda fidgeted around as she struggled to cover her most private areas.  She meekly retorted, “It…it’s not nice to point.”

“She’s all naked!” a board member childishly giggled.

Before Amanda could reply, she felt a firm hand on her shoulder and was met by the loving gaze of her Levi.  He growled playfully, “Brought you some clothes for you, big mama—hope these fit that sexy bod of yours.  And kids, be nice to your mother.”

In a flash, the massive mother found herself dressed again, but not in Gucci—she looked more like she had stepped out of a K-Mart.  Tacky t-shirt that left the lower portion of her belly exposed and stretched the writing up top to obscurity and sweatpants that clung to her flabby thighs like leggings.  As she adjusted to the constrictive, plain clothes, Amanda felt a sinking pit in her stomach.  She had become what she feared most—she looked like an overfed, out of shape soccer mom.

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((Okay, so...this is a little late.  I meant to have this up on Tuesday, but personal stuff came up and things have been more than a little hectic.  They're calming down now, so I finally have this ready to post.  I will try to have a new chapter up on Monday, but I can't make any promises.  I hope you understand, and as always, enjoy!))


Dreams have a funny way of making us see things; no matter how bizarre a situation, we often assume that everything is perfectly normal.  Such was the case for Katherine Donna, who found herself dreaming of being a toy in a toy shop—specifically, a doll waiting to be stuffed with filling.  She looked just like she always did except her hair was now yellow yarn and her hands were like mittens, but she paid this no mind.  To her, this was how things ought to be; she was a doll waiting to be purchased and filled with fluff.

Finally, her day came.  Katherine watched as eager kids ran around the store grabbing this toy and that, always passing her by for dolls of her sister—if her mouth could move, she would have pouted.  Just when she was about to give up all hope of leaving the toy shop, she saw a giant of a woman pick her off the shelf and look her over.

“You’ll be perfect,” Maxine chuckled as she held the limp doll like a precious keepsake. “Let’s go get you stuffed, pretty thing.”

Katty wished she could jump for joy.  She had been picked, and the woman buying her seemed so nice; what more could a toy ask for?  The glee continued unabated as she was brought up to the counter, where the nice woman handed her gently to a clerk.  Hopefully the clerk would make her nice and fluffy for her new owner—she wanted to be the best doll for Maxine.

The girl behind the counter took Katty, poked a little hole in her mouth, and stuck the nozzle inside.  When the machine rumbled with life and the cotton started flowing, the doll felt like humming with delight; she would never have guessed that the filling would taste like cotton candy!  She greedily guzzled down the fluff as fast as the machine could pump it out, which was why she plumped up as fast as she did.  Her limp body filled quickly, bringing her to normal proportions for a doll, but her greediness made her bigger than she could have anticipated.

A good majority of fluff went to her stomach first, which filled up until it was a dome the size of a softball, at which point the cotton went to other areas.  Her tubular arms and legs billowed outwards, expanding wider and wider until they looked like fat cones that were nearly impossible to move around.  Then came her backside, which blew up like two bubbles crammed together before finally getting so full that they melded with her pillowy thighs.  Up above her stomach, she blushed as her breasts filled with cotton so fast that they skipped right past globular and simply became a part of her stomach.  The final touch was her back rounding out with the rest of her, giving her entire torso a spherical shape.

“How’s that look, ma’am?” asked the clerk as she turned off the machine, much to Katty’s chagrin.  There was still so much filling inside the device—it was a crime to leave it be.

Thankfully, Maxine looked down at her and smiled while she answered, “Let’s make her as big as she can get; I want to see if she’ll make a good pillow.”

Katherine squealed with glee as the pump turned on once more and filled every last crevice in her body.  Her head rounded out with the rest of her, to the point that it looked like an overstuffed beanbag.  Despite the occasional creak from her stitches, her spherical form grew bigger and bigger, even going so far as to consume her arms and legs in her fluffy body.  It was only when she reached the size and shape of a basketball that she was removed from the pump.

“Perfect,” Maxine hummed with delight, and Katty could not have agreed more…


Natalie Donna rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.  In contrast to her sister’s bizarre dream, the strawberry blonde’s was mundane—she was back in Ms. Diaz’s classroom, waiting for the bell to ring.  She always hated homeroom: it felt like a glorified detention or study hall, she had no phone to play with, and no one had the guts to approach her.  After all, she was THE Natalie Donna, queen bee, fashionista, and trendsetter; she was leagues apart from the rest of her classmates.  The only thing that brought them together was the tacky uniform they all had to wear, though Natty wore hers rather differently.  Her skirt fell high up on her thighs and her topmost buttons were undone, which showed off a good deal of her gorgeous body.

As Natalie watched the clock with frustration, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to meet the girl behind her.  The student, whose name escaped her, held up a pack of Pop-Tarts and asked, “Want some?  We’ve still got tons of time before lunch.”

The twin’s stomach answered for her, growling in response.  Begrudgingly, Natalie took the breakfast treats and munched on them disinterestedly.  She would normally never eat garbage like this, but she was hungrier than she thought; in fact, she had never been hungrier.  Her stomach was getting noisier and noisier, which attracted more attention and more snacks.

“Want my pizza?  I’ve got some candy!  You want my cookies?  I might still have some donuts.”

Each and every one of her classmates was bringing her food, and despite Natalie stuffing her face as fast as she could, her desk was soon covered in junk food.  She whimpered softly as she tried to tell people to stop; even if she could talk around all the food, her stomach would not let her quit.  It was like it was through being denied and wanted to eat everything the blonde normally scorned, and so it growled like a ravenous beast.

The results of all this eating soon made themselves apparent on the Donna twin; the more she ate, the faster the pounds poured on.  Her thighs, thick with muscle from varsity volleyball, lost all definition and bloated into pillars of lard that oozed out over her tiny chair.  Likewise, her bulbous backside forced her skirt higher and higher until everyone behind her could make out her lacy panties.  A quick glanced downward showed Natalie that even if she wanted to button her shirt to the collar, it would be impossible; her tits had fattened up to the size of juicy cantaloupes.  Most impressive of all was her belly, a fat blob of dough that wrestled its way out onto her lap until it was split by her desk.

“Please, no more!” Natty whined as she waved flabby arms around. “Look at me—I’m too fat to get out of my desk!”

A chillingly familiar voice retorted, “Well, that’s what you get for being such a greedy hog.”

Out of the crowd came Sadie Storme dressed like she had stepped out of a horny teen’s “hot for teacher” fantasy.  The blonde pushed fake glasses high up on her nose as she approached Natalie and prodded her gut with a ruler. “My, you are quite the porker, aren’t you?  So young and yet such a fat pig already.  That’s what you are, Natalie—the class swine.”

“I..I am?” the twin meekly asked, an unfamiliar heat washing over her.

“That’s right,” Sadie answered. “And what do fat, stupid pigs say when they want more food?”

The words escaped Natalie’s lips before she could even think about it. “Oink-oink…”


While Mickey Ramone dozed in her dining room chair, having demolished the last of her seven-hour feast, she dreamed of the house she wished to own someday.  She could see it now: a ranch house out in the countryside with a sprawling front and an even bigger back yard; a spacious basement that could double as an entertainment room; beautiful décor honoring her family’s lengthy wrestling history.  Most importantly of all, she could see the dining room that was big enough to house her entire family, right down to the most distant of cousins.  It was in that gigantic room that Mickey found herself surrounded by so many familiar faces.

Down on the far end of the table was her cousin Maggie, who was greedily ladling butter sauce and gravy all over a mountain of mashed potatoes.  Small wonder why; her baby cousin had to be the size of a baby elephant.  The nimble wrestler wore a sleeveless sweater that showed off blubbery biceps as big around as a normal woman’s thigh, and the material could not hope to contain her mountainous gut.  When she had poured enough sauce over her food to make it swim, Mickey’s porcine cousin snorted hoggishly before tucking into her meal.

Further away was Shinobu, whose tough girl image was forever ruined thanks to all the fat swaddling her body.  Her dark hair framed a face that had grown so round that it was impossible to not look jolly, and her many chins rippled as she guzzled down her dinner.  While she was not as sloppy as Maggie, the Osakan still had the occasional spill, as evidenced by her decorated blouse.  Thankfully, nothing landed on her lovely skirt, but that was only because her watermelon-sized breasts took up so much real estate.  They rested atop a globular belly that was almost hidden by the massive milk bags, and the tubby tummy rested atop thighs that were bigger around than most women’s hips.  Her growth was capped off by a rump that was so fluffy that it acted as its own generous cushion.

Across from the former brawler was KC, who was doing a very poor job of hiding her gluttony.  A promising wrestling career had given way to a bakery she owned with her cousin, and the effects of being surrounded by goodies all day were showing.  While the ebony empress still had a slim face and a plump upper body, the rest of her physique had exploded with flab.  Her stomach drooped down into a cascade of blubber that slapped against her thighs when she walked and oozed out almost to her knees when she sat.  Below the belt, her hips and backside had grown so wide that she needed two chairs to support all her girth, though at the rate she was eating, it would not be long before she needed a third.

Mickey smirked haughtily when she glanced into the corner of the room and saw Sadie Storme seated with all the children.  The blonde had a constant scowl on her lips but could do nothing as the wild urchins pelted her with food until she looked like a walking Pollock.  She scowled at the hefty host before shoveling a forkful of turkey in her mouth, just in time for a wad of green bean casserole to smack her in the face.

All of her guests were fat in some way, but the fattest of all was the lady of the house.  At Mickey’s side was her loving, attentive Ray, who fed her by hand now that the champion had gotten too fat to lift her arms on her own.  La Princesa Violenta had grown so wide that not even three chairs could contain her bulk; her backside rested atop a sofa for four, and even that was shrinking fast.  Fittingly, her breasts, now balloons of fat, were as big as couch cushions; if she sat just right, she could use them as trays.  Most impressive of all was the mountain of pudge that she called a belly, which had grown so big that she was leg’s-length away from the table.  Mickey had set out to become the biggest wrestler the world had ever seen, and in her dreams, she had reached it by a good thousand pounds.


Several states away, as Sadie drifted to sleep after leaving her latest conquest a quivering mess, she dreamed of the building she wished to own someday.  Not a house—she already had a mansion that she never actually set foot in before.  What she dreamt of was a facility where she could keep as many fat fuckers as possible; a place that would allow her to turn even the thinnest woman into an immobile blob that could do nothing but eat.  A stable out in the countryside, far enough from civilization that no one would come looking for her porky prisoners.  Just thinking about it sent shivers down her sinister spine, and she had not even envisioned her chubby captives.

In her dream, the blonde bully saw herself dressed like Daisy Duke: denim cut-offs that stopped just shy of her pert ass, designer cowboy boots, and a flannel shirt tied off to expose her plump breasts.  The only thing off was her stomach, which seemed softer than normal;

It was a rhetorical question: no matter how much her porkers ate, they were always hungry; the stimulants she mixed into their feed helped with that.  The psychotic heel sauntered down the hall, making note of how her livestock were growing—she had so many prize cows, pigs, and turkeys assembled in the hall.  The cows were the women who carried most of their weight in breasts as big as a pregnant woman’s belly; Sadie enjoyed draining their milk and mixing it into shakes for the other captives.  The pigs were those whose bellies grew the most and weighed more than anyone else in the stable.  Last were the turkeys, whose lower bodies had grown to such extremes that they could overflow a queen-sized bed just by sitting down.

The value of each fatty grew as she went down the stable, pen by pen.  First came the conquests she had plucked up from dating apps—tubs of lard that Sadie lured in by promising to fulfill their deepest fantasies, the caveat being that they could never get away after that.  Then came her portly peers in the wrestling industry: those she had desired, those that angered her, and those who would never be missed.  Last was her prize possession, a fat ass so enormous that she took up four stalls.

In her tour, Sadie stopped by KC Skye’s pen and grinned triumphantly at her defeated foe.  Ever since the incident in Philly, the aerialist had taken up residence in the stable and plumped up to such a degree that she needed a new pen.  KC had been fitted with a brown bikini, a feathery tail inked on the small of her back, and a fake beak over her nose to complete the demeaning look.  She had been defiant when she first entered the stable, but after being fattened so much that she needed help to get up, the wrestler had accepted her flabby fate.

The same went for her former tag partners: Maxine and the Donna Twins were done up like perfect pigs, complete with pink lingerie, a curly tail tattooed above their rotund rumps, floppy ear headbands, and hooks that pulled their noses into snouts.  The trio oinked happily when they saw their mistress walk past, and Sadie rewarded their eagerness by filling their troughs with cake and pudding.  She would have stayed longer to remind them of what useless sows they were, but she had bigger burgers to grill.

At the end of the stable was her prize heifer: Mickey Ramone.  The former punk had been fattened so much that she was as tall as Sadie even when sitting.  All the drugged food had dumbed her rival down to the point that the Violent Princess was even dumber than a cow; at least a cow got angry when pushed around.  A horned headband topped her globular head, cow print had been tattooed all over her now pale body, and a vibrating tail wedged in her backside.  Sadie licked her lips at the sight of her rival dumbly mooing for her next meal—the only thing Mickey could think about, thanks to her.


Theresa Hartley, the former Queen of Hearts in the GWF, was seated in a movie theater all to herself.  It was a good thing she had a private screening; she needed all the space she could get.  The busty redhead took up two seats on her own quite handily, and her bulbous backside was slowly creeping into a third seat.  She had indulged in decadence since leaving the world of wrestling, but it only seemed to pick up after her cruise with Mickey and Ray.  At the rate she was going, she was liable to be 400 pounds by the spring, though not necessarily out of an active desire to gain; if anything, it was because she could not stop herself.

Even in her dreams, the former wrestler was stuffing her face, so prevalent was food on her mind.  To her right was a cup of soda the size of a toddler and a straw that stretched over to her so that lazy queen did not have to turn her head.  To her left was an equally large bucket of candy that never seemed to dwindle no matter how much Theresa scarfed down.  Lastly, she had a barrel full of popcorn in front of her, the contents of which were so drenched in butter that the redhead’s hand was slick with oil with every greedy mouthful.  For some women, this would have been a personal fantasy, but for the Queen of Hearts, it was as mundane as watching grass grow.

When she first started putting on weight, it had been fun to let loose after so many years of diet and restraint, plus the encouragement of her husband.  After having her darling Owen, the new mother tried to curb her appetite, but she always found ways to put off dieting and exercise until snacking and gluttony became a part of her life.  It got to the point that when she first told her son stories about her wrestling days, he did not believe her; he could not imagine a time his mother had ever been anything but fat.  That should have been a wake-up call, but the damage had been done—Theresa could not stop growing even if she tried.

Hence, she sat in a theater by her lonesome like Howard Hughes, regaled with films of her glory days on the wrestling circuit.  The rotund redhead watched with dull eyes as the woman she used to be flipped around the ring like a gymnast and went toe-to-toe with some of the best competitors in the business.  It was strange: her last match was seven years ago, yet the wrestler on screen looked so alien to her; there was no part of her that Theresa recognized.  All those title bouts and five-star matches might as well have been a lifetime ago.

The Queen of Hearts needed only glance down a hair to see a glimpse of her enormity.  It had been years since she had seen her stomach, let alone her feet—her enormous breasts took up so much of her vision.  They had gotten so large that her arms could not even rest at her side properly, opting instead to stick out at a slight angle.  Theresa’s breasts were not the only thing fat about her, as the gut resting on her lap could attest, and the creaking of her jeans reminded her of her tremendous thunder thighs.  There was not a single part of her that was thin, not even her face; a second chin had sprouted in the last year or so.

As she mechanically gulped down her soda and crammed candy in her craw, Theresa watched the most recent addition to her dream film reel—meeting two of her biggest fans last month.  She had mulled over their suggestion of returning in a managerial role time and again, but dread held her back no matter what.  Too much time had passed since she had been in the company; if she could not recognize the woman in the film, how could anyone else?  It felt like she was trapped for the rest of her days, doomed to this malaise of constantly eating and outgrowing her glory days.  A part of her wondered if she could ever return, but that part was always silenced with food and buried in a fat roll.  Why bother at this point?  Why fight the flab?  This was who she was—a has-been.

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Hey everyone, I hate to say this, but there won't be an update this week.  Things have been a little rough the last few days, and writing hasn't been easy.  I am hoping things will change by next week, but I won't say for sure.  

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