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Happily Unhealthy

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So I know it's very much not to everyone's tastes, but this is a somewhat deathfeedist weight gain fit that I've been working on. It will also include lots of talk about being out-of-shape, putting on weight, big bellies, etc. It will be fairly long, with several instalments.


If that sounds like something you might enjoy, please give it a read!




Reaching the top of the stairs, Natasha leaned against the bannister to steady herself. She puffed her cheeks out and exhaled through her mouth, fanning herself with her free hand.


“Fuck, we need a place on the ground floor,” she said. She could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as she sucked in air.


“Says the skinny one,” Natasha’s partner, Laura, replied facetiously, stepping aside to let the younger woman into their apartment.


Natasha chuckled and smacked her too-large gut as she sidled into the second floor walkup. “Yeah, skinny, sure.”


She may not have been quite as heavy as Laura, but she was pushing 210 pounds on a five-foot-three frame and under no illusions about how unhealthy her weight was.


“How was your day,” she asked, regaining her breath.


“Long, but otherwise good,” Laura replied. The older women was an accountant, and with tax season looming, she had begun to put in extra time at the office. As usual, the sedentary work and long hours were taking their toll on her waistline.


“How many lunches?” Natasha asked with a smirk, copping a feel of Laura’s ass as she closed the door.


“Two actually,” she admitted. Her face, already rosey from high blood pressure, reddened further. But her full lips twitched upwards in a smirk. Her delicate features looked as though they belonged on a model or actress, not an overindulged number cruncher, and when she was amused, it lit up her face.


“Really?” Natasha couldn’t suppress her laugh. Her question had been a joke.


Walking away towards the living room, Laura looked back over her shoulder, chuckling self-consciously. “Yeah, McDonalds and then KFC.” She eased herself down onto the couch, adding with a hint amusement, “Dr. Hertz would been so mad.”


Natasha knew that, at 36, Laura’s cholesterol was through the roof. Her doctor had warned that her heart health was on its way to becoming a real problem, and seated on the couch with her fingers interlaced over her bulging midriff, she looked every bit of her 250 pounds. Always prone to carrying her weight in her belly, the obese brunette had spent her adult life steadily packing on layers of excess fat until her body became apple-shaped in the most literal sense possible.


“Yeah, he seriously would be,” Natasha raised her eyebrows as she sat down next to Laura, relieved to take the weight off of her own, overfed frame off her feet. After the rigors of walking from her car and up the stairs, sitting down felt like bliss.


Chronically sedentary, she had been feeling her stamina slowly, but steadily decline over the last couple years. Looking down at her legs, which were on display in a pairs of linen shorts, she reflected that they could not possibly have looked more toneless. The smooth, brown skin of her thighs was unsullied by any hint of muscle.


“I wouldn’t feel too badly,” she said, cheekily. “We both know that you’ve got a wicked fast-food addiction.” Then, after a paused, she kneaded Laura’s fatty flank. The flesh was surprisingly firm--the product of a buildup of hard visceral fat from a lifetime of bad eating and no exercise.


“Don’t I know it,” Laura chuckled. “Gotta have that grease and salt.”


“Speaking of grease and salt, what do we want to do about dinner?” Natasha wondered aloud.


“Hmm… order take-out?” Laura smirked visibly, still visibly amused by the hedonism implied by the evening’s conversation.


Natasha, for her part, needed no encouragement. “Neither one of us should be eating that junk,” she admonished, patty her own belly. “But of course I’m not going to turn down an offer like that.”

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Chapter 1


True to her word, Natasha ordered a hefty supply of McDonalds. By most people’s standards, the meal would have seemed excessive. But both women were accustomed to indulging their glutinous desires with little restraint, and by their standards, the fattening spread was of a perfectly reasonable size.


“I wonder how many calories I’ve had today,” Laura mused aloud, tucking into her double-decker burger. Her oversized gut protruded forward onto her thighs, round and firm despite its size.


“Too many,” Natasha chuckled, reaching over and giving one of Laura’s thick fat rolls a playful squeeze. “Your diet is terrible.”


“Mhmm,” Laura agreed around another bite of greasy food, leaning into Natasha’s roving hand. “You’d know all about that, of course.”


Natasha nodded, still chewing. “Of course.” She put down her burger and switched to fries, onto which she sprinkled extra salt. “I never claimed to be the healthy one!”


“Good thing, too. What was your cholesterol again?”


“Good question,” Natasha snorted. “Like I said, it’s super high. Can’t remember the number, though.”


She had been diagnosed with high cholesterol the previous year, after her steadily thickening waistline had lead the inestimable Dr. Hertz to insist on a test. She had known it would be high, of course, but Hertz had declared it “dangerously elevated” and tried to put her on statins to prevent clogged arteries. Natasha never bothered filling the prescription.


“I’m sure this crap is putting it up,” she snorted, gesturing to her McDonald’s. As she chewed, though, the edges of her mouth quirked up in amusement.


“Oh, that reminds me,” Laura raised her index finger in a ‘hang-on-a-sec’ gesture and began scrolling through her phone. “I mean, it’s not surprising, but…” She handed the device to Natalie, open to a clip from a morning talk show…




The chubby, statuesque face of Savennah Guthery appeared on the screen, framed by wavy, brunette locks.


“Actress Natalie Porterman is the latest celebrity to say she’s embraced a trend that has the nation’s doctors worried.


“Growing out of an Instagram subculture, ‘hedonistic living’ is the trend of indulgence, overeating, and sedentary living. Some have described it as a status symbol. But increasingly, critics say, the movement is normalizing unhealthy lifestyle choices.”


The camera cut to a photo of Porterman posing in a bikini, one hand grabbing her protruding beer gut. Her thin, but untoned legs looked weak and spindly compared to her fatty abdomen.


“Porterman posted this photo on Instagram Tuesday night with the caption, ‘This belly may be catching up with me. Heart’s not too healthy!’” said Guthery.


“We spoke with Porterman about her lifestyle choices, and why she says she’s comfortable with her bad habits.”


The footage cut to Guthery and Porterman lounging in a lush, green yard — presumably part of Porterman’s estate. The middle-aged starlet was wearing a Lycra t-shirt that hugged her midsection and left little doubt about the state of her waistline.


“Natalie, you’re part of a trend that has some experts worried,” said Guthery.


Porterman shrugged. “I’ve never been happier with my body, and I really don’t think it’s the business of doctors what I do with it.”


“There was a time when you were a proponent of healthy living. What changed?”


“I guess I stopped worrying about staying fit,” Porterman chuckled. She placed one hand on her gut, as if to demonstrate her point, but the movement looked unconscious. “I wasn’t trying to be unhealthy, at first, but as fat acceptance became more prominent and more a part of the culture, I felt like it kind of gave me license to stop exercising and stop watching what I ate.”


“But a lot of people would say… there’s a big difference between fat acceptance and saying it’s okay to be unhealthy,” interrupted Guthery.


“I guess I went with both!” Porterman laughed.


“You said on Instagram that your heart isn’t healthy. What did you mean by that?”


Porterman raised her eyebrows and patted her bosom, just over her heart. “I eat pretty badly. I’m sure people know that. But I had been noticing some chest pain after dinner, that sort of thing, just... you know.”


Porterman trailed off, but Guthery nodded and gestured for her to continue.


“So I got checked out, and well, this isn’t really surprising, but I have a couple arteries that are forty-five, fifty percent blocked,” Porterman said. “So mild heart disease.”


“You’re not the first actress to say they’ve had similar issues. Do you worry that Hollywood is encouraging a culture of unhealthy living?” Guthery asked.


“I mean, am I unhealthy? Yes. But I want people to know that it’s okay to be yourself. If you want to eat...”




Natasha paused the video. “Okay, first off, wow. Natalie Porterman. Did not see that coming,” she made a ‘surprised’ gesture with her hands, palms facing each other, chubby fingers splayed. “But also, what do you mean it’s not surprising? She’s really not that big!”


“But I mean, did you see her gut?” Laura asked, gesturing towards the cell phone. “That woman has hella belly fat. And it looks really firm, too. I know her arms and legs are skinny, but all that hard fat around her waist, that’s got to be so bad for her heart.”


Natasha was about to shrug and agree. But after a moment’s thought, she paused, smirking playfully. She reached out and grabbed a handful of fat on Laura’s own, too-thick waist. “I guess you’re qualified to comment?”


“Oh yes,” Laura agreed, shifting closer to Natasha. She wrapped her arms around the younger woman and leaned in for a kiss. “Highly qualified...”

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Chapter 2

Natasha startled awake as her phone alarm blared through the darkness of the bedroom. She slapped her hand in the direction of the nightstand until she found the offending device and hurriedly silenced it.

With the screen dimmed to minimum, she peered at the time—5:45 am. “Dammit.”

Beside her, Laura snored on serenely. One flabby, naked thigh protruded from the blankets, pale skin seeming almost to glow in the phone’s otherworldly light.

Natasha gave Laura’s shoulder a nudge, “Time to wake up, honey.”

More snores.

This time, Natasha gave the other woman’s shoulder a firmer shake.

Still just more snores.

Natasha placed her hand on Laura’s belly—which was protruding skyward like some sort of nocturnal monument to grease, sugar and saturated fat—and shook the mound of adipose hard enough to make the bed bounce slightly.

Laura jolted, coughing and spluttering into wakefulness. Turning her head to make eye contact, she scowled at Natasha.

“Time to wake up, you lazy thing,” Natasha said with a hint of amusement. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Laura’s niece was about to begin her second year of university and didn’t own a car, so Laura and Natasha has pledged their Mercedes to help her move into her dorm. Unfortunately, that commitment came with a four-hour, cross-state drive.

Laura groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Oh… right.” With a sigh, she used her elbows to lever her up into a sitting position. The blankets fell away to reveal naked skin. Her chest heaved just a little with the effort of sitting up.

Natasha had to force herself not to lean in and grab a handful. The site of Laura’s deliciously plump body had never been one that she was able to easily resist, even when the other woman had been 100 pounds lighter and only slightly overweight.

But mindful of the time, she gave Laura’s gut one last, affectionate pat and said, “We’d better shake our overfed asses, or we’ll be late.”

“Ugh, yes, I guess so...” Laura swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up with a sigh of exertion, giving Natasha a rather pleasant view of her ass. Although sizeable, the muscles had long-since begun to atrophy from lack of use, giving it something of a v-shape, rather than the rounded peach-shape of a healthier person’s rear.

“Fuck, that view is distracting,” muttered Natasha, feeling her face redden.

Laura turned around, triggering a highly appealing ripple of fat, and struck a playful, sexy pose.

“I know,” Laura said with a smirk. She departed for the shower with an extra wiggle of her hips, Natasha tilting her head for a better view.

As the bathroom door closed behind Laura, Natasha unlocked her phone, opening the emails app. It was busy season in the world of real estate, and bargain basement interest rates meant that even the pandemic was doing little to dampen buyers enthusiasm.

An alarming collection of messages had accumulated since Natasha left work the night before, and she set to work either deleting or replying to them. But thoughts of Laura, wet and naked in the shower, kept intervening.

After the third time her hand started to slide between her legs, Natasha sighed and flung the covers off. She and Laura would be late that morning.

The bathroom door squeaked as Natasha opened it. Through the steam of the shower, she saw Laura’s silhouette turn to look, and then swing the glass door open: an invitation.

Natasha pulled her pajama shirt over her head, feeling her belly wobble as she moved. She pulled down her flannel pants and kicked them off, breathing heavily as she straightened up. Distantly, it occurred to her that she had become so out of shape that taking her clothes off left her feeling slightly breathless, and she wondered if, like Natalie Portman, her arteries were becoming caked in yellow plaque. She suspected they were.


If taking her pajama pants off had raised alarm bells about how out of shape Natasha was, trying to have shower sex set off a fog horn. 

Leaning against the shower wall and grinding against Laura’s talented fingers, it had been just seconds before Natasha could feel her heart begin to start pounding--not with arousal, but with exertion. 

As her breathing became more laboured, her legs had begun to feel weak and wobbly. She asked so little of them that they were struggling to cope with the mild exertion, she had realized.

The experience did nothing to dampen her arousal, but as her enjoyment grew, she realized that she had to stop; she simply could not keep up.

“Hang on a sec,” she had panted weakly, turning to face Laura. The blonde’s face had been red as a tomato, and she too was breathing heavily. Although, Natasha noted with bemusement, nowhere near as heavily as her.

“Switch to the bed?” she had asked between gasps.

“Yeah,” Natasha had laughed.

After they had finished, Natasha chuckled tiredly. “Wow, okay. So... that’s where we’re at fitness-wise.”

Natasha was laying on her back, legs open. She knew from experience that Laura’s head would be resting on her folded arms, not far from where her tongue had been moments earlier. But the other woman’s face was hidden behind a mound of smooth, brown belly fat. The curve of adipose rose and fell with Natasha’s still-laboured breathing.

“Are you surprised?” Laura asked cheekily. “Girl, I can barely climb a flight of stairs. And you get out of breathing putting on your shoes!”

“Well yeah!” Natasha said. “I’m morbidly obese, if you didn’t notice. Bending down is not my friend.”

“I certainly did notice,” Laura smirked. She reached up and gave Natasha’s lower belly a firm shake, sending a ripple across her fatty abdomen. Natasha let out a contented sigh.

“Considering what both our hearts probably look like, I’m sort of proud of us for making it as far as we did,” Natasha mused.

There was a general agreement between the two women, mostly unspoken but bolstered by the warnings of their doctor, that they were almost certainly both nursing cases of incipient heart disease.

“Mine feels pretty clogged at the moment,” Laura agreed, bemusedly. “Not surprising, I guess.”

“Definitely not.”

Lately, Natasha had been noticing a feeling a pressure in her chest more and more. Her doctor said the sensation was just high blood pressure, and she believed him, but still, she knew it was not a healthy sign. She could feel that pressure now, and felt inspired to share: “You fucked me so good my chest hurts.”

Laura looked up narrowed her eyes playfully, “Shall we add some more strain for that heart of yours?”

“Yes...” Natasha exhaled in anticipation. “We shall...” And Laura’s fingers entered her again.

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